“Cyani has been relieved of her duties and belongs to me,” the Grand Sister announced.
Cyani watched Cyn carefully. She could barely recognize him. Even his expressions seemed different as he calmly addressed her as a Union diplomat.
“I apologize for the misunderstanding, but Captain Cyani has not been cleared of her final mission. She is to aid me in my current assignment as is clearly stated in the log orders filed U.C.O.-55467.82 section L. Until I sign her clear, she is under the jurisdiction of the Union Treaty of Common Arms and is subject to criminal prosecution under military tribunal if she rejects this assignment. Surely you don’t want to break the Treaty of Common Arms, your holiness. The Union and Azra have a long-standing alliance in good faith. It would be unfortunate to have Union rights enforcers rethink your exemptions from the T.C.R.” Cyn prattled in the flawless Earthlen accent he had undoubtedly picked up during his leisurely youth on Earth, while Cyani suffered through the trials for his freedom.
The Grand Sister flushed, though her face remained as stony as ever. She brought up the holo-screen and scrolled through the standing orders. As she read, her lips pressed into an even harder, thinner line.
“Earthlen,” she grumbled. “We had an incident on the landing platform where your ship is docked. It seems a trans-shift energy pulse went off. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Because deliberate interference with our communications systems could be viewed as an act of aggression on Azra.” The Grand Sister carefully studied him, but Cyn didn’t even blink.
“I apologize. My discharger must have been damaged during my last assignment. No offense was meant. As you can see, my ship never left the landing platform.” He bowed to her.
“Indeed.”
“And after your very thorough search of my ship, I trust that you are satisfied with the confirmation of your security measures.” Cyn smiled his most charming smile.
The Grand Sister drew a long slow breath before turning her back to Cyn and addressing Cyani. “I expect your return,” she stated. “You know what’s at stake. If you fail me, I will send Yara to the ground cities for your brother. Are we clear?”
Cyani fought the urge to look at Cyn. In the corner of her eye she could see him absentmindedly study the carvings on the Azralen throne as if he had not just heard orders for his own execution.
Yara was the best, the font size="3">“So you’re telling me, none of us knows where we’re going?” Cyn growled. Bug zoomed around, either confused or amused by Cyn’s irritation.
Cyn vigorously rubbed his shorn hair and ran his hand over his face. “Fine. I’ll ask Xan when we meet him. If that old space rat doesn’t know where it is, then we’ll have to get creative.”
Soren didn’t like the sound of that. At the same time, any delay in reaching his home world was a blessing. All that waited for him there was the grave. As long as he remained with Cyani, he had hope.
But she had taken that hope and left it behind. It was nice to know that it only took an hour or two for everything they had shared, everything they had survived together to mean nothing to her. She looked hard and regal in the white clothing of her planet.
He had offered her a way to escape, and time and time again, she returned to her duty.
He loved her so terribly it was going to kill him, and yet he came second to her orders.
And even with all of that, he could see the price she paid for her duty. It was killing her, too. The way her hand had strayed to her neck hadn’t escaped him. She wanted the necklace. Her face seemed shadowed and hidden, as if she were trying to hold back from him.
She should have known she couldn’t do that.
“What duty did the Grand Sister lay on your shoulders?” he asked. At the very least she could tell him why she chose her path instead of his.
Her eyes slowly pulled up as her full lips pressed into a stiff line. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled.
“No, it’s not,” he countered. He was losing her, and with her, his life.
The gut-dropping surge from the drop out of macrospace caught Soren off guard. He cradled the baby closer, protecting his little head with his palm.
“Right on target,” Cyn commented as Soren caught a glimpse of a large, tattered ship orbiting a deep blue and gold moon.
“Damn it, Cobra, do you have to jump down so close?” a very deep voice boomed through the popping static of the communication channel.
“I’ve got three for you, Xan. Keep it down, the baby’s asleep,” Cyn answered. He carefully maneuvered the ship above the much larger one, and with a shuddering clunk, they docked. “Are you ready to go, little ones?” Cyn asked the young girl.
She clung to his hand. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”
Essa put her hands on Calya’s shoulders as Soren stood up from the bunk, still carrying the baby. He understood. He didn’t want to let go either.
Cyn knelt down. “I’m sorry, princess. I can’t go with you. You can trust Xan. He will take you to your new home.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
Just then the hatch opened and a hard-looking man with shoulder-length barley gold hair entered the hold. He had the confident swagger of a man who started fights—and won them. Even though he wore dark eyeshades, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the dim light.
“For the love of a fat woman, Cobra, are you trying to blind me?” he grumbled. “Again.”
The pirate crossed his thick arms and squared his heavy shoulders over his somewhat stoc a quick appraising look. “You look too damn respectable. Who do you have for me?” he asked before glancing at Soren. “A Byralen? Where’d you find him?”
Soren felt his eyes flash in warning. Calya tucked herself behind his thigh.
Cyani crossed the quarters to stand at his side. “Don’t worry, Soren, he’s Hannolen.”
“He’s scary,” Calya commented.
The pirate laughed, then knelt down and motioned for Calya to come closer. She peeked from behind Soren’s thigh, but wouldn’t budge.
“It’s okay, duckling. I’m going to help you.” Like magic, with a flick of his wrist, he pulled a scarlet flower out of thin air. The little girl reluctantly came forward only a centimeter.
“You look like a very bad man,” she scolded.
He smiled. “It’s a disguise,” he admitted in a conspiratorial whisper.
“That’s true,” Cyn added. “He’s really a prince.”
Calya looked up at Cyn, then back at the pirate, who managed to glare through his dark shades.
Essa took Calya’s hand as Soren reluctantly handed the baby to her. “Don’t worry, Calya, I’ll protect you,” she stated, though her voice wavered. “Thank you, both of you. I will keep them safe.” She nodded a quick good-bye and joined a sweet-faced female crew member of Xan’s ship who helped them through the hatch.
Soren’s arms felt very empty and cold. He took a step closer to Cyani, but she closed herself off from him. Vicca wound around his legs, but it was little comfort.
Cyn and Xan clasped hands like old friends.
“I wouldn’t ask this of you, unless I had to,” Cyn began. “We need to know the coordinates for Byra. The Garulen know where it is.”
“I haven’t come across it, or heard of anyone who has. If the location of Byra became common knowledge . . .” The Hannolen tipped his head to the side.
If the location of Byra were known, Soren’s home would be overrun the way Hanno was.
“You could ask your people,” Cyn suggested. “The ones still held by the Garulen might have heard something.”
The pirate stiffened. “I’m going to forget you just said that, and don’t ever ask again.” He turned back to the hatch. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.” He glanced up at Soren, “Good luck finding your way home.” And with that, he disappeared.
“Now what?” Cyani asked, collapsing into the copilot’s seat.
Cyn shrugged and stalked over to the cramped galley. “I say we get drunk.” He poured a glass of amber liquid from a silver cylinder, and tipped it toward Soren. Soren flicked his wrist to take him up on the offer. He could use a drink.
Cyani shook her head at them, but Cyn just smiled at her. His face fell when the ship detached and shook with the force of Xan’s ship departing.
“Godspeed, little ones,” he muttered and lifted his glass. Soren solemnly took a sip and nearly choked. The liquid burned like fire down his throat and left his mouth filled with the taste of smoke.
“Well,” Cyn mentioned, cracking his knuckles. “I guess we’d better do this the hard way. Tell me everything you know aboutit d him like a man who knew a thing or two about making peace with women. “You shouldn’t be fighting.”
Soren reached out and took the necklace. He rubbed the edges of the carved blossom with sad reverence.
“It won’t do any good. She took it off.” He could almost taste the bitterness in his voice.
“Bug,” Cyn commanded. “Show him.”
Bug stopped his singing and floated in front of Soren. A small square of light appeared above him like the one that would float in front of Cyani’s eye machine. It filled with color, and Soren could see leaves and a gleaming white flower that looked like Cyani’s tattoo. The leaves dropped down, and through a small gap in the foliage, he could see Cyani and an older woman with a white whip.
The older woman spoke. Soren barely processed the conversation. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Cyani.
The view on the small screen zoomed in until Soren could only see the still expression on Cyani’s face. She was holding back. In the depths of her eyes, he could see her fear and her rage.
“That is a lovely necklace,” the old woman said. “Was it a gift? Or have you simply forgotten you should not be adorned?”
She reached up and snapped it off Cyani’s neck.
“Hold there, Bug,” Cyn ordered. The screen filled with the unmistakable look of horror on Cyani’s face as the necklace was torn from her.
Perhaps the expression had only lasted a moment, but Bug had caught it. There was no mistaking her anguish. She looked as if someone had just plunged a knife into her heart.
“Bug caught the necklace when the Grand Sister threw it off the balcony,” Cyn mentioned.
Soren let himself fall back in the chair, numb with shock.
Cyani loves me.
She really loved him. She couldn’t hide it. It was there in her clear blue eyes.
He clenched the necklace, squeezing the beads until they dug into his palm. He pressed his lips to the necklace and tucked it away in his pocket.
“Soren, listen to me, Cyani can’t . . .”
Soren didn’t listen to him. Instead he launched himself into the living quarters.
Cyani woke with a start, drawing her flick knife across her chest in defense.
“Soren, what is . . .”
He took her face in his palms and kissed her hard. Her soft sweet lips parted beneath his as he poured all his love into the intimate kiss.
Her shock waned, and she relaxed into his caress for only a moment before she stiffened and pulled away.
“What in the name of Isa the Bold do you think you are doing?” she asked him. Bug floated near his head and made a low clucking sound that sounded distinctly like a metallic chuckle.
Suddenly a female voice crackled through the flight controls.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now, Cyrus Smith, an alleged Earthlen, shadow trader, Union linguist, rogue smuggler, ralok champion, and Falc blade expert. Am I missing anything?” The voice sounded cold, skeptical, and far too knowledgeable about Cyn.
“How completely unflattering, Nu. I believe you forgot Hunmalen Ale master craft brewer, Lavarilen teatteringapprentice of the art of Tanro, and most importantly, humble servant to the glorious and beautiful people of Yeshu,” Cyn responded in flawless Pyri. Soren raised his eyebrows at Cyn’s tone. He sounded as if he were talking himself back into the graces of a scorned lover.
A square on the screen flashed with the picture of a stern woman with stark white hair, icelike silver eyes, and very pale skin. “Humble? You are as humble as a rutting yak, and if you dare bring up Tanro again, I’ll skin you alive. What do you want, Smith?” she asked. “I’m not going to fall for your crap a second time.” Her eyes flickered toward Soren as he climbed back into the cockpit, and her attention caught immediately.
“I greet you with generosity and honor,” Soren offered.
She looked shocked then a smile broke over her face. “I am Commander Nualsha of Hel. What is the name of your family honored Byri?”
“I am Soren of Eln, Nualsha of Hel. Yours is a strong and noble family. We have had many honorable and fair trades between your blood and mine,” he responded, careful to keep to the formal trade language between their people.
Murmurings rumbled in the background as the Yeshu ship came to life with voices shouting and cheering.
“Ranock’s feet! I don’t believe it. Soren, son of Councilhead Rosson?” she asked. She seemed to have forgotten Cyn’s presence completely.