Empyrion I: The Search for Fierra (18 page)

“Come then. Bed with me,” he said, offering his hand. He smiled. “I am tired too.”

Yarden caught the implication of his words, but was not alarmed by it. “Where do you sleep?” The kraam, as far as she could see, was but a single large room.

Bela laughed. “Wherever I like; it makes no difference.”

“Do you all sleep together?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Tonight I want to sleep with you.”

The directness of his approach confused her; perhaps she misunderstood. “For pleasure?”

“Yes.” Bela sank down beside her, grinning. “What else?”

Yarden peered back at him, not quite sure what her response should be. Certainly Bela was an attractive man; she could see that he would likely be a sensitive lover. She felt herself drawn to him, yet repulsed at the same time. At any rate, she doubted whether she could make love in a room full of strangers.

She was saved from having to make an answer by a clamor which arose across the room. “Bela!” someone shouted. “Bela! Dera is here with the flash!”

Bela looked away. A tall, flame-haired woman with large dark eyes and a shimmering yos that matched the color of her hair stood in the doorway. “Dera, my delight!” Bela called, jumping up. “What have you brought for us?”

She came to him, stepping over the knot of people on the floor in front of the holoscreen. Yarden watched as the two exchanged a lingering kiss. The woman's long fingers played in Bela's dark curls.

When they separated, Dera reached into the folds of her yos and drew out a black bag. Bela took the bag and hefted it, then opened it and put his nose in. “Ohh!” He rolled his eyes. “For this you will be made immortal.”

Others had gathered around, grabbing at the bag. “Share it, Bela. What are you waiting for?”

“Patience!” He lifted the bag away from them. “You will have yours. Dera has brought enough to soak a priest.”

He turned to Yarden, knelt, and held out the bag. “You first. You have been longest without it.”

Yarden reached into the bag and withdrew several flat, dark pellets the size of beans. They were highly polished and slightly oily to the touch. “What is it?”

“Flash,” said a curly-headed man in a brilliant, flower-printed yos. They all watched Yarden, smiling encouragingly. “Go ahead, you'll soon remember.” The others laughed, and the man snatched the bag away. Attention now turned to the flashbag as it was passed quickly around.

Yarden gazed at the lozenges in her hand. They had a faint aroma, like roasted nuts. She glanced up to see Bela still watching her. “Flash?” she asked.

“It has other names,” he said, taking one of the pellets. “Each Hage has its own. The Hyrgo call it bliss beans, and among the Bolbe it is known as third hand. Don't ask me why, but that's what they call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Here, I'll show you.” He placed the seed between his front teeth and, tilting his head back slightly, bit down hard. The seed cracked, and a thick syrup oozed out. He closed his eyes and sucked his lips shut, and in a moment his features softened. When he looked at Yarden again, his eyes were muzzy and unfocused.

“Try it,” he said, then laughed with sudden giddiness, rolling on his back. Instantly Dera was on top of him, a seed between her teeth. She bit it and then kissed him, sharing the syrup between the two of them. They came up laughing moments later, and then rolled into another embrace.

Yarden looked around her. The man in the flower-print yos was giggling loudly as he twirled around, his arms outstretched. Someone put a seed in his mouth and he bit it, then fell full-length backwards onto two women who were caressing each other. They broke apart, laughing, and began pulling off his yos.

Others were cuddled together, working each other out of their clothes, naked limbs writhing. Music had begun playing: a light, drifty sound like wind in the trees or water slipping over stone in a tide pool.

Yarden put a seed in her mouth and bit down hard. The syrup splashed onto her tongue, and she tasted smoked honey. With the taste came a rush of pure pleasure—a flash which burst over her and then ebbed away, taking all thought, all tension, all desire with it. Her first thought was, “More! I need more!”

She quickly popped another seed in her mouth, bit, and felt time coiling around her like a silken rope. Her mind reeled in the sheer joy of flowing forever through endless time, flowing like music, rich and many-toned and deep as an ocean.

A picture floated up into her mind of a vast, limitless sea of gold and green. She saw herself floating beneath gentle waves, sinking, drifting. The water was warm; the current tugged her along past long ribbons of undulating seaweed. Down and down and down.

Yarden began to cry; tears rolled over her lashes to splash down her cheeks. The picture, she knew, was from her other life—the life she could not remember anymore. She felt that other life slipping further away beyond her reach. The tears fell heavy with strong, sweet sorrow. She took another seed in her mouth and let the waves carry her away.

Director
Hladik rode the lift down toward Cavern level, the lowest level of Nilokerus section. Slanting bands of light flickered over his face, each marking a terrace or kraam level. Four levels above Cavern, he slowed the liftplate's descent, dropping the last two levels at quarter-speed and braking hard as Cavern came up. It took quick reflexes and an utter disregard for safety, but Hladik enjoyed overriding the automatic controls.

Hladik felt the momentary tug of gravity in his stomach and stepped through the capsule door, striding out into a rock-cut chamber before the lift had come to a complete stop. “Fertig!” he shouted, his voice echoing back from the empty spaces.

He waited, then marched across the chamber to the entrance of a tunnel, switching off the unidor at the console pedestal before the tunnel entrance. Lights blinked on as he stepped in, faint green lights at foot level illuminating the tunnel floor. Along the sides, a red light above each one, cell doors yawned, their unidors opaqued.

At the end of the tunnel, the Nilokerus Director halted before a rock wall. He reached into the folds of his yos and produced a sonic key, pressed it, and waited. From behind the wall came the sound of muffled hydraulics, and the wall tilted up and away. He ducked under the receding wall and entered the hidden room.

A guard in the white and red of the Nilokerus snapped to attention, giving a quick, stiff-armed bow, eyes to the floor. “Where's Fertig?” Hladik demanded, barely acknowledging the salute with an impatient wave of his hand.

“Subdirector Fertig is with the prisoner,” the guard replied.

“Have the physicians been summoned?”

“Yes, Hage Leader. They are with him as well.”

Hladik nodded, and the guard stepped aside. He pressed his sonic key, and the portion of the wall behind the guard rolled outward. Stepping over a puddle of water, he slipped through the opening quickly.

“Director Hladik, I—” began Fertig, glancing up as his superior entered.

“Will he live?” Hladik asked, moving to the side of a suspension bed. He looked down at the gray-faced body in the bed.

“It is too early to tell,” replied Fertig uneasily.

Hladik turned on him with a fierce scowl. The Subdirector swallowed hard and added, “We may have lost him, Hage Leader.”

“Does Jamrog know?”

“No, he has not been notified.” The Subdirector glanced uncertainly at his superior. “Do you wish it?”

“I do not!” Hladik snapped. “I will deal with this personally.”

A physician, a heavy-shouldered woman with short, white hair and sharp blue eyes, mumbled something and Hladik glowered at her, saying, “Speak up, Ernina. I didn't hear you.”

The woman frowned, her lips creased in wrinkles of sharp disapproval. “I merely wondered how long you will persist in killing your prisoners and then expecting us to revive the corpses?”

Few people dared speak to a Director so frankly, and ordinarily Hladik would have had the offender removed for reorientation without a second thought. But he just glared at the flinty physician across the bed; hers was a mind much too valuable to throw away lightly. Still, it didn't do to allow first-and second-order Hagemen to hear her address him like a wastehandler.

“You question my directives, physician?” he growled.

“Not at all, Hage Leader,” she replied. Her tone mocked him. “I merely point out that if you wish us to save your sorry experiments, you must give us more to work with. This—” She gestured helplessly toward the body before her. “This wretch is almost beyond hope—even for me.”

“But he can be saved?” asked Hladik. He glanced down at the body; the man's straw-colored hair was matted and tangled, his eyes and cheeks sunken, his jaw slack. If he still breathed, there was no outward indication.

Ernina, a sixth-order physician, the best of the Nilokerus, shrugged. “We will see. But I warn you, Haldik, one day soon you will go too far in this conditioning of yours and there will be nothing left to save.”

Hladik accepted the warning; it was sincere. But for the benefit of the others looking on, he replied, “Perhaps reorientation is not so unpleasant as we might suppose. Would you care to find out for yourself, physician?”

She tossed off the warning with a shrug. “Hmph!” Then she turned to the other physicians gathered around her. “Have you taken root? Remove him. We can do nothing in this dank tomb. Get him started on the aura equalizer, and one of you go take an offering to the Hage priest for a healing benefice of ten clear days. Tell him we must have no astral interference for at least ten days. Make certain he understands. Tell him the directive comes from Hage Leader Hladik—that ought to get his attention.”

Hladik nodded sourly as the physicians pushed the bed away. Ernina stood with her hands on her wide hips, her blue eyes snapping.

The Director grumbled, “Out with it. What else is bothering you?”

“When will you learn that you cannot carve human flesh to fit your ridiculous power schemes? The mind-body exists in a tenuous balance. Upset that balance and the entire astral entity is threatened.” She gazed at Hladik unflinchingly. “I know you think me a prattling old mother, but mark me well, Hladik: Cynetics will be served. Your tinkering will weaken us all.”

“Bah!” Nilokerus Director made a face and dismissed her with a quick gesture. “Just make certain this prisoner survives— that's all I care about. I want twice-a-day reports until he recovers. Understood?”

Ernina inclined her head stiffly. “Of course, Hage Leader. When have I ever disobeyed you?” She smiled in grim satisfaction and swept past him with a swish of her red-hooded yos.

Hladik watched her go. “One day, woman,” he muttered, “you'll go too far.”

In a kraam on
the Sunwalk level in the Bolbe section of Empyrion, Tvrdy, Cejka, and Piipo—each dressed in the blue-hooded yoses of the Bolbe—debated the wisdom of trying to contact the Fieri spies. They had been talking for nearly two hours, but were now getting to the heart of the matter.

“You oppose the plan, Piipo,” said Tvrdy, careful to keep his voice even. “Yet, you do not put forth a plan of your own.”

“Don't judge me hastily,” replied Piipo, his small, close-set eyes flashing across the table. “I have my own reasons for urging caution.”

“We're all for caution,” said Tvrdy, “but—”

Cejka cut in. “You have information?”

Piipo nodded slowly.

“What have you heard? Tell us.”

The Hyrgo Hage Director's eyes flicked from one to the other of his co-conspirators. He hesitated, weighing, making up his mind.

“Tell us now!”

“Wait, Tvrdy,” cautioned Cejka. “Give him time.” To Piipo he added, “It isn't our way to pressure anyone, and we do not use threats, but time is short. If you have any information that can help us, then tell us. Whether or not you join the Cabal, we—”

Piipo held up his hand, palm outward. “I understand. If I hesitate, it is only because my reply will bind Hyrgo Hage to a course of action which could mean our ruin, not to mention the destruction of the work of six centuries.”

Tvrdy nodded solemnly, “You remind us of the seriousness of our task. I thank you for that. And I hasten to assure you that we would not like to see another Purge. But our work is ruined if Jamrog gains Threl leadership.”

“I agree,” said Piipo, “or I would not have come.”

“We respect your discretion,” offered Cejka.

“Flattery is not necessary, Rumon. We know each other well enough, I think; we can dispense with formalities.” Piipo took a deep breath. He had made up his mind. “I will join the Cabal. I have seen enough; it is time to act.”

Tvrdy smiled broadly. Cejka slapped the table in approval. “I wish we had brought some souile to celebrate this moment,” he said, grinning.

“We will save that for Jamrog's defeat.” Piipo's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. “You said time was short. I'll tell you what I know. A Hyrgo administrator of the dole encountered one of the Fieri spies when he came for his food allotment.”

“Where? Jamuna Hage?”

“You know this already?” Piipo looked at Tvrdy in surprise.

“Only that the spies have been located,” replied Cejka. “We know that those placed with Jamuna and Chryse have been seen in public. The Chryse is a woman; therefore, it must have been the Jamuna your dole administrator encountered.”