The Dragons of Andromeda Page 14

  Nasri smiled and gripped Veber’s hand a little too tight.

  “You’re too kind,” she said. “I’ve chosen these colors for my royal house. Do you like them?”

  “Of course! They certainly make a statement...”

  “Well, it’s important to make a good first impression,” Nasri replied. “Am I really the first to arrive?”

  “Fashionably early, let’s say.”

  “Good.”

  A robot directed Lady Nasri to her seat. As she sat down, a figure appeared in the doorway. Dressed in a tunic of dark red with black pants, Lord Andre Santos paused before crossing the threshold.

  Veber laughed, spreading her arms apart. “Come in! Come in! There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  The ship captain approached and kissed the back of Veber’s hand.

  “That remains to be seen,” he replied with a narrow smirk.

  “This room is perfectly safe,” she assured him. “The Five Families have had many a summit here and managed not to kill each other.”

  “Did you add the extra two chairs for our arrival?” Santos asked, motioning toward the table.

  “Every chair represents a house,” Veber replied, “but the table still has enough room.”

  Lady Veber and her guest walked to the table. A robot had already brought Lady Nasri a wine glass. Santos nodded to her.

  “Captain,” he said.

  “I prefer Lady Nasri, if you don’t mind,” she replied.

  “It looks like you’ve traded a flight suit for dresses now,” Santos remarked.

  “And you’ve finally picked your family colors I see,” Nasri said.

  “Black and red seemed fitting somehow,” Santos replied.

  She scoffed. “Only for a revolutionary...”

  Lady Veber cleared her throat.

  “We’ll have time to discuss the finer details of symbolism,” she said, “but first let’s sit down and eat dinner. I’m starving and nothing good ever comes from an empty stomach.”

  The others agreed and everyone took a seat while a small cadre of robots brought in trays of food and drink, all of it looking delicious and expensive.

  When Annis the handmaiden entered Philip Veber’s private quarters, she found the main room dark and musty and the window shutters closed. An older woman with a round face, Annis put down the tray containing Philip’s dinner and grasped the octagram amulet around her neck.

  From the bedroom, shimmers of light shone through a crack in the doorway. The handmaiden passed through the main room and slowly pushed the door open. Inside, Philip’s bedroom, which had been quite open and large, was now crowded with cages containing a menagerie of different animals. Instead of making noise, they each seemed eerily quiet.

  On the far side of the room, where the bed formerly sat, Philip Veber stooped over a wooden table, his back to the handmaiden.

  “Lord Philip?” Annis asked.

  Philip straightened and turned. On the table, a small mammal the size of a cat lay immobile. Annis noted that the animal was completely shaved and archaic lettering was tattooed across its body. Also, the same octagram design as the handmaiden’s amulet was carved crudely into the table top.

  “What is it, Annis?” Philip replied, somewhat irritated.

  “I brought your meal,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  Curiosity overtaking her, the handmaiden stared at the creature on the table. “What are you doing?”

  Philip’s eyes brightened, as if happy to share his work.

  “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  Annis approached the table. For the first time, she noticed a soldering iron beside the animal. She also smelled the faint odor of burnt flesh.

  “I should really thank you,” Philip went on, putting his hand on the handmaiden’s shoulder. “All of this is because of you.”

  “Really, sir?”

  “Oh, yes. If it wasn’t for you, my mother would have never known of the Necronea and the gifts they offer us.”

  “They give hope,” Annis said.

  “More than that!” Philip said excitedly. “Death is no longer to be feared! We can now harness death and make it do our bidding...”

  The handmaiden’s eyes settled again on the motionless animal on the table. “Is that what this is?”

  “Absolutely! Since re-awakening, fresh knowledge has been flooding into my mind as if the Grand Master was talking to me...”

  “The Grand Master? Do you mean Ghazul?”

  “Yes, of course! His mind talks to mine and each day my abilities grow stronger!”

  “To do what?”

  “To reanimate the dead!”

  The handmaiden’s heart was beating rapidly. She found it hard to catch her breath.

  “Lord Philip,” she said. “I didn’t know this would happen...”

  The young Veber smiled. “It’s no matter. I still have you to thank.”

  Annis bowed her head. “I do my best to serve you.”

  “Indeed,” Philip replied. “I appreciate all that you’ve done.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But,” he went on, “there’s one more thing I need to ask of you. Only then will my powers be complete...”

  Much to Sheba Nasri’s surprise, the meal Lady Veber served was no better than what her own robots fed her back home. Nasri sat at the round table with Lady Veber between her and Lord Santos in his ridiculous red tunic. The rest of the chairs were vacant but with place settings nonetheless, as if the other royal families might show up at any moment.

  “Such a delicious meal,” Nasri lied, putting down her fork.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Veber said, casting a glance at Santos, hidden behind his napkin.

  “Yeah,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I’m going to get fat if I keep eating like this!”

  “Actually,” Veber said, “there’s pills for that. Little nanos will burn the extra calories for you.”

  “Of course there is...” he murmured.

  “Let me guess,” Nasri remarked, “you’re against pills that keep you from getting fat?”

  “It’s no coincidence that the rich are fat cats,” Santos said. “But at least you can tell who the enemy is...”

  Nasri rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s your enemy here, Andre.”

  “Said the spider to the fly...”

  Robots brought cups of coffee and tea from the kitchens. Both Nasri and Santos chose coffee while Veber preferred tea. Nasri poured sugar and cream into her cup while Santos kept his coffee black.

  “I must agree with Lady Nasri,” Veber said finally. “I hope you don’t view any of us as your enemy, Lord Santos.”

  “As I see it,” Santos replied, “I’m a fly in the ointment that you rich folks have been bathing in for centuries.”

  Nasri scoffed loudly, showing her scorn.

  “There are no crowds here to rabble-rouse,” she said. “You can stop with the rhetoric.”

  “It’s the truth!”

  “Alright,” Veber said calmly, holding her hand above her tea cup. “We’re not here to insult each other.”

  “Why are we here?” Nasri asked.

  “My family has always enjoyed the position of mediator,” Veber replied. “As a largely neutral party, we’ve resolved many of the royal squabbles that have flared up over the years.”

  “That was with five families,” Nasri went on. “Now with seven, does your family really have the same clout?”

  Lady Veber smiled but Nasri thought she heard teeth grinding behind those lips.

  “Anyway,” Nasri said, “I’ve shown my willingness to live within the rules of royalty. I fully intend to be a productive voice in our dealings. I don’t see any value in rocking the boat.”

  Now it was Santos’ turn to scoff. “That’s pretty obvious!”

  Nasri pointed a slender finger at the captain. “Do you really think you can change a system that’s been around for seven hundred years?”

  “I can ce
rtainly try!” Santos said.

  “As one of the original Five Families,” Veber said, nodding to Lord Santos, “I want to assure you that your voice is being heard. If there are changes you feel should be made, we are willing to listen.”

  Santos, perhaps not expecting that response, raised an eyebrow and then his shoulders in a shrug.

  “If that’s true,” he said, “then maybe things will work out.”

  “Good,” Veber replied.

  “But words are cheap,” he continued. “I want to see real action before I’m convinced.”

  “Of course,” Veber said gently. “Now, I’m sure the two of you are tired after your trip from the capital. My staff has prepared suites for both of you to rest. I hope they’ll be to your satisfaction.”

  Skirting the edge of the Lokeren atmosphere, Magnus Black opened the airlock of the Starling to the outside. He took a moment to peer through the visor of his vacuum suit at the turquoise oceans and an island chain, like a string of pearls, more than twenty miles below. Magnus then took a step through the hatch and began falling.

  Plummeting past the speed of sound, Magnus checked the altimeter several times before deploying his chute. A black paraglider, coated in sensor-absorbing material, unfurled, slowing his descent to a manageable speed. Once Magnus reached an altitude with sufficient oxygen, he removed his helmet and let it fall away. The wind rushed across his closely shaved scalp. Still high above the water, he could already smell the salt in the air.

  Magnus timed his drop to coincide with the setting of Lokeren’s sun. The orange light was receding along the distant horizon as Magnus rode the paraglider several miles toward his target. When the Veber estate became visible, it was a small incandescent spot growing larger and brighter with each passing minute. From his research of the mansion’s security, Magnus knew they were only scanning for vehicles at least the size of a gravcar. They could also detect a transmat signature, but since the Starling lacked a transmat, the point was moot.

  While still in orbit, Magnus received an encrypted transmission, giving him more details about who he came to kill. He now knew the room and when the target would be there. Tracing the message back, Magnus was surprised by its source.

  Now in darkness, the estate was cast in deep shadow except for the walkways lit with small lamps. Magnus knew there were spotlights too, but he hoped to avoid seeing those turned on until he was already gone.

  Magnus landed softly on the roof, the white gravel barely making a sound. Bundling the paraglider into a ball, Magnus hid it beside an AC unit, along with the rest of his vacuum suit and rigging. He took stock of his position, orienting himself with the map of the compound he had memorized. Moving quietly to the edge of the roof, he took a quick look over the side and was pleased to see the balcony he expected.

  With a rope, Magnus lowered himself down. Light, filtered through sheer curtains, came from within a suite beyond a pair of French doors. Magnus was prepared to pick the lock, but trying the handle, he found the doors were unlocked. Through the glass, he could see someone moving.

  Magnus waited until the person disappeared into a side room before he cracked the doors open and crept inside. The air, especially compared to the cool breeze outside on the balcony, was muggy and warm. The furniture was mostly teak and rattan, the dark browns contrasting with the white linens covering cushions and pillows around the main room.

  Magnus removed a wand-like tube from his belt, pointing the device at the doorway where the target had gone. When the man reappeared, he was wearing a pair of black pants and a red tunic, opened down the side to reveal a plain undershirt.

  “Good evening,” Lord Santos said calmly.

  Magnus pointed the tube at him.

  “Is that a gun?” the captain asked.

  “Something like that,” Magnus replied.

  “So, you’ve come to kill me?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Shouldn’t you get on with it then?”

  Magnus lowered the weapon a few inches, but still pointed it in Santos’ direction.

  “I received final details about your location while I was still on my ship,” Magnus said. “It was encrypted but I managed to trace its origin.”

  “Oh, really?” Santos replied, his eyebrow arched.

  “It came from this room.”

  A sly grin rose in the corner of Santos’ mouth. After a pause, he shrugged and smiled broadly. “So it did.”

  Magnus shook his head. “Why put a hit out on yourself? Do you have a death wish?”

  “One dead martyr is worth a thousand screaming revolutionaries,” Santos replied.

  “That’s nuts.”

  “Is it?” Santos asked. “I want to bring down this empire, but I’ve seen enough revolutions to know one voice, even a well-placed one, is easily drowned out by others. Change, I mean real change, comes from extraordinary circumstances. A shocking assassination for example...”

  Magnus nodded. “Batshit crazy.”

  “Well, let’s agree to disagree,” Santos went on. “But I paid you to do a job and I expect you to finish it.”

  “How will I get paid the rest if you’re dead?”

  “It’s all arranged, Mr. Black. I promise you’ll get what’s owed.”

  “Fine,” Magnus replied and raised the wand.

  “What is that, by the way?” Santos asked.

  “It’s a sonic weapon,” Magnus said. “Silent but effective.”

  Santos chuckled, but his laugh died quickly as an invisible wave ruptured the blood vessels in his lungs. He coughed and blood poured from the sides of his mouth. He fell to his knees before collapsing onto his side. His eyes, still open, were red where they were once white.

  Magnus prepared to leave, but the door to the suite burst open and several robots, each armed with blasters, came charging into the room. Magnus fired the sonic wand, but the weapon had no effect on the robots.

  “Drop it!” one of them shouted.

  Seeing no other alternative, Magnus let the tube fall to the carpet. From behind the robots, a woman came forward. Magnus recognized her immediately.

  “Who are you?” Lady Veber asked.

  Magnus didn’t bother answering.

  “No matter,” she said. “It won’t be hard to find out.”

  “How did you know I was here?” Magnus asked.

  Veber smiled. “There are hidden cameras in all the suites.”

  Magnus closed his eyes. “That’s disappointing.”

  “I’m sure,” Veber replied and motioned to the robots. “Take him away.”

  Bentley the butlerbot found his master, Lord Devlin Maycare, hidden behind a stack of books in the Maycare estate library.

  “Catching up on your reading?” the robot quipped.

  Maycare’s head popped up, his usually robust and carefully manicured hair tangled and flattened.

  “Don’t be an ass,” he said.

  “My apologies, sir.”

  “Where did we get all these books?” Maycare asked.

  “Well,” the robot replied, “most have been in your family’s possession for generations. However, since you hired Miss Doric, she has acquired a good deal more.”

  “Why so many? Shouldn’t they be scanned in somewhere?”

  “I suspect a good many are,” Bentley said, “but it’s good to have the originals on hand safe and sound, so to speak.”

  “It’s just as well,” Maycare sighed. “I’m not much of a reader. I don’t suppose some of these have been made into holofilms?”

  “Doubtful, sir.”

  Maycare sat back heavily in his chair. Some of the books toppled over, sliding down the pile onto the table and then onto the floor with a thump.

  “Damn it,” he said.

  “No luck helping Lady Veber, I take it?” Bentley asked.

  “Of course not!”

  “You could just apologize to Miss Doric.”

  “No!”

  “Pride can be a painful thing,
” the robot said. “It often gets in the way of what we want.”

  Maycare glowered at the stack in front of him. “If only I was smarter.”

  “Yes, that would be helpful, sir.”

  His master glared at the robot instead of the books.

  “You can be replaced, Bentley.”

  The robot shrugged his mechanical shoulders.

  “Are you familiar with King Lear, sir?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve never heard of the Lear family,” Maycare replied.

  “Actually,” Bentley said, “it’s a play from an ancient Englishman named William Shakespeare.”

  “Is it a holofilm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I still haven’t seen it.”

  “Anyway,” Bentley went on, a pained look in his eyes, “it’s about a king who’s surrounded by people who only tell him what he wants to hear. In fact, he exiles one of his own daughters, the only person brave enough to tell the truth.”

  “I can see why I didn’t see the film...”

  “The only other person who tells the king what he actually needs to hear is the king’s fool.”

  “So?”

  “The point I’m making, sir,” Bentley replied, “is that every king must have a fool or risk becoming a fool himself.”

  Maycare stared blankly at his butlerbot.

  “Nevermind, sir,” the robot said. “I’ll bring in your dinner.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The forest grew brighter as a heavy morning mist hung among the low branches. Sisa Oakhollow, her hands tightly bound, followed the Katak warrior in front of her while several others trailed behind. The leading frogling trudged ahead, his webbed feet making hardly any sound among the leaves and twigs. His back, moist and shiny, reflected dapples of dawn piercing the canopy from above.

  “Where are you taking me?” the girl asked, but the front warrior said nothing. None of them had spoken a word since dragging her out of bed and into the night. She could sense the froglings were agitated. They had lost many fighters in the attack.

  Sisa reached out with her mind.

  Why are you doing this? she thought.

  The lead Katak stopped. Turning to face her, his throat swelled and he made a loud croaking noise. In her head, Sisa heard him think, Be quiet!

  They started walking again, but after an hour or two, they stopped. The warriors formed a perimeter in a semi-circle between the girl and a stand of birch trees.