Horizon Storms (46 page)

He stepped in front of the robot and planted himself firmly to deny it passage. “Halt. What are you doing here?” Designate-in-waiting Daro’h watched, impressed by his uncle’s bravery.

The robot buzzed, then stared at the Designate. “I am investigating.”

It lumbered forward, and Udru’h had to step out of the way to keep from being trampled.

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He strode after the robot. “This is an Ildiran world. Klikiss robots have no business here.”

“We decide where we have business—especially if Ildirans no longer abide by our ancient terms.”

“Ancient terms?” Udru’h grew angry now. “Perhaps you would do well to remember those same terms.”

“Our memories are not faulty,” the robot responded.

The Designate laughed. “Oh? That isn’t what you tell the humans, is it?”

“Our dealings with humans are not your concern.” The robot proceeded inexorably toward the breeding compound. Behind the fences, human captives stared in awe at the ominous black machine, never having seen anything like it before.

Udru’h followed, raising his voice. “Hydrogues have attacked Ildiran settlements at Qronha 3, on Hyrillka, and others. Clearly, the Klikiss robots either cannot or will not provide the vital services to which they agreed.

Ildirans have the right—no, the imperative—to protect ourselves. If you won’t do it, we will.”

At the fence, the robot flashed its optical sensors, scanning the humans, the Ildiran medical kithmen, the low breeder barracks. Bureaucrats and doctors ushered children out of sight, but the robot clearly recognized that many offspring were half-breeds between humans and Ildirans. The tall black machine absorbed it all in silence.

“Because of your bad faith, Klikiss robots are no longer relevant to us,”

Udru’h persisted. He gestured, and nearly a hundred soldier kithmen swarmed around the robot to prevent it from further observation. “Depart now. You are not welcome here.”

The robot hesitated for a long moment, assessing its options. Finally, it spun its torso and lumbered on metal fingerlegs back to its still-cooling ship. The robot had completed its mission here, though Udru’h suspected it was not satisfied with what it had seen. He felt a deep uneasiness.

Daro’h remained silent and nervous, watching as the Klikiss mechanical craft roared upward in a blaze of expended fuel, scorching the ground and damaging the nearby support facilities. The Designate-in-waiting finally turned to his uncle, his face full of questions.

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Udru’h put a strong but faintly trembling hand on the young man’s shoulder. “We must send a message immediately back to Ildira.”

785OSIRA’H

After the departure of the sinister Klikiss robot, Osira’h returned to her intense mental studies with wholehearted diligence. Once again, she pretended that she didn’t know what was really happening here on Dobro. . . .

So far, every year of her life had been focused on a single goal. Her instructors and keepers, the lens kithmen and the Designate himself, had nurtured her, claiming to be friends. They had hammered into Osira’h a belief in the vital role she was destined to play. The young girl had always done her best, taking great pleasure in Udru’h’s pride each time she succeeded in a difficult exercise.

Until the night Osira’h had finally met her mother.

She had sensed a calling, the yearning of a strange yet familiar woman.

That telepathic link had drawn at the girl’s heartstrings, forced her to break rules and go outside, slipping through the shadows. There, at the edge of the breeding camp, she had met the female green priest. Nira Khali. Her mother—a secret that Udru’h had kept from Osira’h all her life.

She hadn’t wanted to know, didn’t want to believe everything that Nira had shared with her through a swiftly forged telepathic link, but the memories were hers now, clear inside her head, and Osira’h could not deny her devastating knowledge. In her own heart, she felt everything her mother had felt, experienced the joy of love for Jora’h. It was almost too much to bear, but her mind and her heart were strong. Udru’h had trained them to be that way for his own purposes.

That night Osira’h had learned all about how the human breeding pool O S I R A ’ H

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was comprised of unwilling slaves, descendants of secretly kidnapped humans. She had discovered to her dismay that the Designate—her mentor and the man who claimed to care for her more than anyone else in the Empire—was the mastermind of the current horrific scheme. Udru’h himself had raped her mother in order to get her pregnant with Osira’h’s brother Rod’h. And when she had been discovered with her mother, the guards had brutally clubbed Nira and dragged her away. And all her thoughts had been replaced by an empty void.

Lies . . . so many lies.

Later, Osira’h had attempted to use her powers to pry deep thoughts from Udru’h’s mind. She had tried to be subtle, but her mental touch was fumbling, and the Designate caught her each time. Fortunately, he had been pleased to see her expanding her abilities, never guessing her true intent.

From that point on, Osira’h was very careful, unwilling to let the Designate see that she now, finally and painfully, knew the truth. She did not challenge him, did not reveal the terrible things she understood. Instead, she continued her mental training, working with a furious intensity now because she wanted to make herself strong—for her own reasons.

Osira’h no longer trusted the paternal Designate, no longer took pleasure in his stories about her destiny. He came to see her, smiling and charming as always, completely satisfied with her progress. She had to steel herself not to let her heart melt under the heat of so many fond memories.

Udru’h seemed to truly care for her . . . or was that all deception as well?

Now, whenever he checked on her, Osira’h formed a solid wall around her thoughts to prevent him from suspecting her true intentions or her grave doubts. Not once since that fateful encounter with her mother had the girl allowed herself to be completely open with him. She couldn’t risk it.

Luckily, Udru’h’s confidence in her had never seemed to flag. In fact, of late he seemed more intense and desperate than ever. . . .

Inside the training room, the mentalist instructors called for the attention of the children. Osira’h walked over to join Rod’h and her other half siblings.

“Exercise your minds the way a dancer exercises muscles,” said the lens kithman, a thin man with pale skin. “Osira’h and Rod’h, you have the 288

strongest abilities, greater than mine and these others combined. But your siblings can develop their potential as well.” The lens kithman folded his pale hands. “Now concentrate, send out your thoughts and open your minds. You are a swimmer cast out into the gulf of space. Explore the uncharted seas between Ildiran worlds. Reach out to the gas planets and find . . . hydrogues. See if you can touch and explore their minds.”

Osira’h clenched her jaw, preparing to expend considerable mental effort. Her two youngest siblings—Tamo’l and Muree’n—quailed in nervous fear, which only gave Osira’h more determination. Beside her, Rod’h squeezed his wide, round eyes shut. His smooth brow wrinkled with intense concentration; she could feel a wave of his mental power ripple against her, a gentle current that tingled her skin. But he wasn’t searching for Osira’h’s mind. He had gone farther out than that.

She tried to accompany him on his mental journey. Rod’h was the closest to her in abilities, and she hoped he might also be a kindred spirit. But if Osira’h herself was too young to understand all the implications in a spreading web of schemes, Rod’h suspected nothing at all.

She flung her mind outward, breaking down mental walls and defying physical limitations. When she was finally called upon to do her duty, she would be physically close to the hydrogues, but for now she sought to contact from a distance the alien presences with whom she’d been bred to communicate. The girl knew theoretically that she would become a conduit for negotiations, a bridge between two vastly different species. These skills were all untested, though, since no hydrogue had ever allowed her mind to approach. Osira’h would have only one chance, and only when it was time.

And if she failed, then Rod’h would bear the responsibility—the young boy who never thought to question the instructions that Udru’h, his corrupt father, gave him.

Her mind wandered through the void, exploring mysteries. Suddenly, she felt an odd calling, a thrilling yet unfamiliar echo that she remembered from . . . her mother? But that was impossible! Nira was dead. Osira’h herself had felt the pain and empty blackness that separated her from her mother. Could there be someone else? It faded before she could investigate further. She stretched her thoughts, searching, adding more energy.

Oddly, Osira’h could sense a strange entanglement and unexpected O S I R A ’ H

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blankness in the thism around the Horizon Cluster . . . centered near Hyrillka.

Her own part in the tapestry of connected Ildiran thought was unique, given her unusual heritage, and although her mental powers were devoted to other skills, she could still see along the same paths of the Lightsource that the Mage-Imperator controlled. When she tried to investigate or touch the unexpected tangles around Hyrillka, her thoughts slipped away, as if she were a climber trying to gain purchase on melting oiled crystal. It was very strange.

Her thoughts spiraled onward, reaching out like a blind signal into the angry emptiness of space, but she heard only cold silence. Her abilities were not potent enough to discern whether the oppressive quiet was an intentional refusal or simply a weakness in her sending.

When Osira’h finally returned her consciousness to the training room, her body felt weak, as if she’d been sitting there intensely for hours, barely remembering to breathe.

Rod’h’s mind had followed her all the way back, occasionally touching hers to draw strength and reassurance. She felt sorry for him. After all this time, her other half brothers and half sisters were amusing themselves with instructive games. Clearly, they had lost interest in the exercise long ago, but Osira’h and Rod’h had not been distracted.

The lens kithmen and the mentalist soon noticed that she and Rod’h had returned from the mental journey. “Excellent! You both made great progress today.”

Osira’h looked at the teachers and her siblings, knowing they were all pawns. Most Ildirans had no idea precisely what was happening here on Dobro, but she knew. Her mother had sacrificed her life in order to tell her.

One of the lens kithmen smiled. “Rod’h, you are approaching the abilities of your sister. Designate Udru’h will be pleased to report this to the Mage-Imperator. Your strength gives us an important second chance.”

The mentalist hastened to add, “And Osira’h grows stronger than we had ever hoped. The Ildiran Empire now has a bright future against our enemies.”

“Yes,” she said. “Rod’h is very strong.”

In reality, he might even be a better candidate, she thought. Though she’d been raised to be a hero, Osira’h now had a weakness that Rod’h did not suffer: He was not troubled by questions or doubts.

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under sun-washed skies on her lonely island, Nira embarked on a risky, desperate plan. She had to make some attempt to escape her exile and—she dared to hope—Dobro itself.

High up on the beach, past the point where any waves might reach during one of the infrequent storms that lashed the island, Nira laid out the last of the fallen trunks. It had taken her a great deal of time to search through the thickets, but at last she had found enough material without needing to chop down living trees, which would have been anathema to a green priest. These trees had toppled over, from either age or harsh weather.

One by one, she dragged the lightweight, airy logs down to the beach, where she toiled with sharp rocks and shells to shave away the bark and knobby branches. Then, using techniques she recalled from shipwreck adventures she had read aloud to the worldtrees when she was an acolyte—

Robinson Crusoe, The Mysterious Island, The Swiss Family Robinson—she bound the logs together two at a time with vines, then reinforced them with gummy sap. Slowly her raft took shape, growing wider and more sea-worthy.

Each day as she made progress, an inner anxiety pushed her to hurry.

At any time, Designate Udru’h might return for an unexpected visit, and she had to be away before then. He could not be allowed to see what she was doing. As a green priest, she didn’t need to waste time gathering supplies. The vast lake provided fresh water to drink, and the bright sunlight on her emerald skin gave all the nourishment she needed.

For now, what Nira required most was determination. She had been passive for too long. Osira’h must think her dead, as did Jora’h and everyone on Theroc. But that didn’t mean she had to give up on herself and remain stranded on this island. Though her chances were slim, she intended to take action and make a difference. The plan kept her alive and sane.

When the raft was ready, she rigged up a makeshift sail of thick leaves, used a pole to push the raft into the lake, and guided herself away from N I R A

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shore. She didn’t know where she was going, had no idea what direction the winds or currents might carry her. But no matter where she landed, Nira would consider it a starting point. She could set off and find her way . . . somewhere. For now, she felt satisfied just to get away from where the Designate had exiled her.

Nira looked up into the open sky and leaned back on her raft as she began to drift. She would go where fate chose to take her, and from there she would make her next plans.

For a full day, the breezes remained warm, then whipped up with greater force, rattling the drying leaves of her sail. The swaying of her raft on the choppy lake made her uneasy. All around her endless water stretched to a blue infinity with no hint of the nearest shore. Though Nira had never seen maps of Dobro, she knew this was just a lake, albeit an enormous one. She was not accustomed to being so far from solid ground, from living plants and trees.