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Anen's mouth tightened, but he didn't answer his mother. He spun around and ordered the officers with him to collect the senior officers of the Kurharay army and of the Purples and bring them to the Charming Haunt. Anen himself went to the com center on level 2, Stanis right on his heels. Anen stopped outside the center's door. "Stanis, this is Puredorv business. It's against the law for you the listen. I'll see you upstairs."
Stanis looked down at Anen. HIs face set stubbornly. "If I can't go in, I'll stay right here. I'm not moving from this door, Anen. If the Kererrs Kurharay have never had personal guards, now's the time to start."
Anen reared back his hand, releasing on his friend the anger he'd been holding in for so long. "The Kererrs Kurharay have never had personal guards! Never! The 'woman' of my father's sons cannot change that. Not and hope to seem a strong and important man in the eyes of other Houses." He flung out an arm in the direction he wanted Stanis to go and started to turn away to enter the room.
Stanis clamped his hands on Anen's shoulders painfully hard, preventing movement, and stared down at him fiercely. "Turn off the Puredorv in your head, Anen, and turn on the pacification officer! You've just been threatened, most sincerely, by an enemy you already knew wouldn't act by tradition or law. You also know someone in this castle acted for Gaito in the matter of Garden 4. Think, Anen!" Stanis communicated his urgency without ever raising his voice.
The powerful grip and sharp, logical words penetrated Anen's anger. His eyes slid away, ashamed of his loss of control. He sighed. "You're right. I know in my head you're right, but the Puredorv part of me would rather die than take on the protection only women need."
"Die is just what you'll do if you don't protect yourself!" Stanis gave Anen a sharp shake, released his grip, and stepped back. "Do what you must inside. I'll guard the door. Nobody will go in, and no one will come out unless you personally tell me it's all right." Stanis eyes took on a glint of mischief. "You know you can't stop me once you're inside. You can pretend you know nothing about it. Just the crazy offworlder's idea of what's right. And so on." He sobered. "I'm going to stick to you like glue, Anen."
Anen nodded and went into the com center.
When he came out more than an hour later, he looked drained. "Just as I suspected. There's a secret com link to the outside, to somewhere in the foothills to the northwest. A coded message came over it just a little while ago. That's how we found it. The com chief's cut the connection and is tracing the link inside the manor. We should know by tonight where the traitor's working, at least." He turned away so Stanis could not see how deeply this additional bad news had disturbed hi. "I'm going to my quarters, to hide for a while. Will you be guarding me there?"
"I intend to stick to you like a shadow until you appoint some Lifesaver to your own protection."
Anen cleared his throat. "Thanks, brother. You're letting yourself in for rough duty, because I absolutely cannot have personal guards."
The two men walked to the Kererr's quarters in silence. The door was slightly ajar. Newly cautious, Anen stood to one side and, with his toe, shoved the door the rest of the way open. The room looked empty.
Stanis stopped and further movement with his hand. "Stay here, I'm going to check the next room." Stanis searched the sitting room, the sleeping room, and checked the iron stair. "Clear," he said curtly, and sat on the bed's edge.
Anen entered and sank into the old leather chair. He stared at the stone floor, his mind spinning with memories of what had happened in the last weeks---Gaito's threat, the vassals' rebellion, the contempt of Family and allies. He couldn't bring order to his thoughts. Eventually, as he stared at the floor, his eye caught sight of a patch of pink fluff lying just where the edge of the bed's cover touched the floor. Anen at first dismissed it as a bit of rag left by the cleaning serfs, but something made him look again. He slipped from the chair to the floor and reached towards the small pink mound, hesitantly, unwillingly. The fluff was damp and came out easily, leaving streaks of red behind it. Anen stared down in shock at the mutilated body of the yan-yan. "Aster!" he cried. He took the tiny animal into his lap and turned it over gently. It'd been hideously tortured. There was not a spot left on it not tainted with blood, not a bone unbroken, and it had been recently done, for the little body was still soft and warm.
Anen stroked the damp, matted fur. "Aster, old friend, why?" he whispered. Then Anen saw the tag of yellow paper beside the place where Aster had been tossed. He picked it up and unfolded it slowly. On it was scrawled, "This is the fate of all Kurharay." Anen stared at the thick, bold letters.
"Father of All! Has Gaito been here himself? It's Ghorr!" His voice was hushed and trembled a little. Anen looked down at the tiny, mutilated body. "I'm sorry, old friend. I'd planned for you to have a quiet, comfortable old age. Instead, you die in terror and agony, because of me." Anen cradled the small body in the crook of one arm.
"Anen?" Stanis sounded worried.
Anen looked up, grimacing. "It's my fault. I never thought anyone would...." Anen choked and turned away so Stanis would not see the tears that hovered in his eyes. He could not hide the roughness in his voice. "You were obviously right about the danger. But you'll have to guard me without appearing to. I've done enough to encourage talk of cowardice already." He looked down at Aster again. "I must take care of Aster. Tell Medok to tell Benix to begin the officers' meeting." Anen nearly choked on the frustration of such roundabout orders, yet Stanis, an offworlder, could not legally speak to Benix himself about military matters. "Have Benix start by checkout out our readiness for siege, then have him find out if the men Bubov and Panshin promised have arrived. If not, whether or not we can still expect them. I should be down by the time he gets to that point.
Stanis quickly located Useomkdok by com, forcibly blocking Anen from leaving his quarters until the message had been sent. "You'll not leave without me!" Stanis said fiercely when Anen tried to brush past him. "I meant what I said to the letter: I'm going with you everywhere, absolutely everywhere, even to sleeping in your room, unless you'll give your word, you'll lock all your doors."
"Then I might as well have called Medok myself," Anen snarled.
"Da, that you might," Stanis retorted, good-naturedly, "but it's done now. Shall we go wherever you were going?"
Anen bent his head over the limp ball of fluff and walked silently to the nearest lift. With Stanis beside him every step of the way, he carried the little body to the crematorium and didn't stay to see Aten disposed of.
Two hours later, Anen came out of the conference with his remaining officers, sure that House Kurharay was as ready as it could be for either attack or siege and that the House could likely defend itself without House Pymazhenko and House Khikak---Khikak had withdrawn its offer of support because Anen had negotiated with slaves. Khikak had withdrawn for Anen's "cowardice" in dealing with his rebellious vassals. "I cannot appear to condone such tactics as yours, young man," Letz Kihkak had said in a recorded message. "The young rascals already with you may stay, but there will be no more. Cowardice sticks to all who associate with it."
Anen paced slowly down a corridor, he was not even sure which one, maintaining an outward calm despite the grief and rage ripping him to shreds inside. He wanted to scream his grief, to shred the men who would let his House fall before accepting nontraditional solutions to the problems that had faced him, but he'd made mistakes enough already. He cast about for an acceptable way to cleanse himself of that violent energy before he lost control of it and committed some irredeemable folly in the eyes of the Puredorv. He needed violent, draining action, right away. He thought then of Bara. Anen looked to get his bearings and turned immediately towards the stable area on level 2 and the stall of his favorite "horse," a shaggy bay. Stanis and the two Lifesavers Stanis had publicly requested for his protection at the opening of the conference accompanied him closely.
The moment the men stepped off the lift, the harsh ammonia odor of the midden-room pinched Anen's nose and made his eyes water. The soft underscents of dried grasses and oiled leather took longer to come to awareness. There was a quietness in the stable area that immediately began to do him good. He entered Bara's stall and reached towards the "horse." The animal bent its long, shaggy neck and snuffled Anen's pockets Anen wanted to bury his face in the animal's thick fur and cry. The wanting tore at him but, with Stanis and Stanis's two guards watching, he could do no more than run his hand over the animal's soft nose and up its face to the hard ridge between its horns.
"I saw true horses on Raaros, you know. "You're a horse only because you have four legs, a long face, and a mane." Anen scratched behind the horn-ridge and the horse whuffled its pleasure. Anen pulled the stall door open, swung onto the horse's back with just a grip on its thick, curly fur for help, and sent the horse out of its stall and into the arena with a nudge of his heels. Stanis would set watch on the arena doors. Stanis and the men with him then slipped from Anen's awareness.
"You don't get an easy winter down here away from the wind just for breeding," he told the animal. He dug his heels hard into Bara's sides. The animal leaped into a run, straight down the center of the arena. Small puffs of the chemically bonded sand flew up beside Bara's feet. Anen directed the horse in sharp turns, sliding stops, and int he sideways leaps so necessary for avoiding beamers in battle. Anen rode through every tactic for avoiding attack again and again and again until horse and rider both dripped sweat. He then rode the horse many times around the arena slowly to cool him, dismounted, and held onto Bara's fur until his own wobbly legs steadied.
"Too little practice, boy. I'm out of shape," he panted in the animal's ear. He patted the horse's cheek, took a firm grip on its mane, and walked it around and around in the arena some more, stopping for a moment in front of the battered sword dummy to push a piece of stuffing back inside the dummy's cloth body. "Come on, Bara, it's time for cleaning up."
He refused a Lifesaver's offer to put the horse away and picked up the grooming brush himself. He worked fast and hard. While he watered and brushed the horse, Anen could forget Aster and Ilin and the hostages flying into Ghorr and the men Pymazhenko and Khikak had promised. He let the rhythm of the brushing absorb him. He brushed long after the horse was clean. When he stopped, Bara's coat was fluffy with static and as shiny as a winter coat could be. He checked the beast's food and water again, slapped it on the rump, and left the stall, bolting the door behind him. He felt better. The rage and feeling of betrayal were still there, but they had no power left to damage him.
Back in the lift, Anen looked down at himself. He bristled with bay fur, the edges of his sleeves were gray from the brushing, his palms were nearly black, and the front of his tunic was blotched with blood. Aster's blood.
The lift stopped. Anen looked out into the hall. Cim stood by the door to the Dlinnyy's quarters, staring at the floor, her cheeks shiny with tears. He had sent a message to her of Aster's death, but he knew he could not deal with her grief, too, just now. He pressed '6,' the lift door slid closed again, and the lift went on up to the conservatory, Anen's refuge of last resort. He left Stanis outside as guard and went in alone, shutting the door and backing against it. The soft smells of damp earth, green leaves, and wet air surrounded him. He looked up at the domed skylight. Somehow, the day had run away from him and now it was night, with snow drifting against the skylight's curving sides and rattling against its thermal glass. He noted the skylight's vulnerability, then shoved away the thoughts accompanying that one. There would be time enough for them later.
He walked into the middle of the greenery, pulled out a reed bench, and sat in the darkness, smelling the plants, feeling the warm dampness of their breathing, almost tasting the heavy fragrance of the imported koigu trees in tall pots directly under the skylight. The violent anger he had worked away, but the fierce, rending grief remained. The only sounds in the room were those of the snow against the glass and his own breathing. Slowly, the silence and the soft, green-smelling air quieted Anen's spirit and healed the rawest places in his heart.258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHFG8xAy4uF
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On the evening of 11 Ghorr, flitters from Korol and Nikitina delivered hostages and decadalers as promised. For the 3 girls, quarters near Anen's were ready, as well as serf-women trained to serve as ladies-in-waiting and noblewomen for chaperones. The young men were bunked with and were treated the same as the bachelor officers.
Ilin held out until 15 Ghorr, when he began losing slaves on his lower levels to suffocation. A page wakened Anen very late on the sixteenth to receive Ilin's surrender. Anen threw a fluito-fur robe around himself and stumbled into the 3D room one level down, stubbing his toes in corners at the stairs turned at the landing and bumping into walls in the castle's "night" lighting. He stopped outside the 3D room to rub his face vigorously, then walked into the brightly lit room. The portly Ilin was standing tensely beside an ancient wooden desk. He wore the lightest of clothes. Sharp lines creased his cheeks and forehead, but he held his head high. "I surrender, Lord Anen, Kererr of House Kurharay. You're far cleverer than I thought. What are your terms?" The man's eyes didn't waver.
Anen admired the courage that kind of pride required. The terms couldn't be lessened, however, no matter how brave the man. Anen straightened until he stood stiff and proud before the camera. "My terms are as follows: your oath of fealty given when we meet; yourself and all your children but the two males eldest born as hostages; the cost of the fuel I deliver; and a tax of ten thousand decadalers per N-rod as penalty. No fuel leaves the Gild depot until the hostages arrive."
"Those are harsh terms, milord," Ilin's voice was rough with strain.
"Oath-breaking is a harsh act, and usually its terms are death. You made oath to my sire to be faithful to him and to his successors. I am his successor and you refused me homage."
"The storms of Ghorr have begun."
"The storms of Ghorr are severe," Anen agreed calmly. "You knew that. You've known that since you were a child. It's true you run a great risk flying in Ghorr. However, the timing of your rebellion was your choice. Holding out for 19 days was your choice. Even now I can't guarantee successful fuel delivery because of the weather. The pipes may have frozen from nonuse, Eugene Ilin. You may have waited too long."
Ilin paled and swallowed hard. "How long do I have left at home?"
"Until first clearing. Early tomorrow, from what I've been told."
Ilin groaned, turned away, and cut the connection.
The next morning, Lady Shadi Kazhaf, her face swollen and red-splotched with crying, 3D'd confirmation of a small carrier's departure with the hostages. House Kurharay waited.
The carrier was one hour overdue at Buruq. When it was two, the com chief sent out all-band homing signals. Kosh Bubov took a flitter out to the top of the pad shaft and brought it back down. He walked very slowly across the pad to where Anen stood, looking out the com-center observation window. "There's no visibility at all out there," Kosh reported, "and the wind is high enough to blow a warriorcarrier into the mountains. Ilin wasn't bringing anything that heavy."
"Sentinels, protect them," whispered one of the com-techs, watching a remote wind-speed indicator.
"That's the only help they'll get until the storm blows past," Kosh snarled. He turned abruptly and stared out his flitter. "The fool!" he muttered. "Six children lost, all in the name of pride!"
Four hours later, near dawn, the worst of the storm passed and House Kurharay asked the Gild for a satellite fix on any downed flier on the Holding. The House received a positive infrared fix fifteen kilometers away, in the high pass over the mountains. When the com-tech shoved the plat direct from Gild computers into Anen's hands, Anen could only stare at it. The distance was almost impossible in the aftermath of the storm.
"They can't get here from that far away. If anyone survived the coming down." Anen looked at Kosh's stricken face. "I've killed them, Kosh. All those children. I've killed them."
Kosh set a hand on Anen's shoulder, awkward with emotion. "Anen, their deaths aren't your responsibility. Ilin knew the risks. He knew the penalties the others had paid. He gambled he could hold out until he found another source of fuel. He lost. Whatever happens from now on is on his head."
Anen ran one hand roughly through his hair and sighed. "Whoever is responsible, there are six children out there. Prefect!"
The soldier Anen looked at stepped forward. "Get Flight Instructor Frantz down to the flitter pad," Anen ordered. "And soldier," the young man who had started to leave, turned back, "are my sire's Elites still a unit?"
"Da, lord."
"Their commander?"
"Zikhi Shukru, lord."
"Good man! Get Frantz right away."
The prefect saluted and marched away. Anen paged Zikhi Shukru from the nearest com. In a few minutes a hoarse voice responded. "Shukru here, Lord Anen."
"I want your Elites on line in fifteen minutes, Zikhi. Ilin's transport crashed in the pass."
"Popov will line them up for you, milord." Shukru coughed, deep and racking. "I'm still abed in the clinic, lord."
"Popov is one of the Elites?"
"Usually, lord. Your sire detailed him to manor duty with the household Purples shortly before---it was only a little infraction of your sire's dress standards, milord." Shukru began coughing again.
"That's enough, whoever you are," a waspish voice snapped. "This is Dr. L'tdauo and I order you to leave this man alone! He's still in serious condition."
Anen gulped down a laugh; the doctor was dressing down his lord and didn't know it. "Yessir! I'll stop it right now, sir!"
"Don't sass your betters, soldier." The doctor switched off his speaker.
The laughter faded slowly from Anen's face. "Sentinels, I needed that! Nothing funny's happened to me for weeks."
Kosh's mouth twisted in rueful understanding.
Popov arrived and halted with his men outside the com center. Anen went out. Cim and the Dlinnyy stood at the back of the group of soldiers. Popov snapped a salute and his men, already dressed in survival gear and carrying medkits, lined up in five neat rows behind him. "Two centuries of the Second Millennium online, sir!"
"Ilin's flier came down in the high pass, Troopleader." Anen kept his tone crisp, without any shade of the emotions he was feeling. "If there are any survivors, I want them here, fast! The dead can stay with the flier until Thawtime."
Popov bent his head in acknowledgement. "As you command, Lord Anen. I took the liberty of having the horses from the stable sent to the surface, assuming you'd want them. Our fliers would have no better luck in the pass than Ilin's. Do you approve, lord?"
Anen nodded. "Sounds like good thinking to me. How long will it take?"
"Three days, lord, four if there are many survivors, or any badly hurt ones."
"Good luck." Anen saluted the Elites and watched them until the lift carried them out of sight, wondering if he had just sent two centuries out to die.
Cim, who had been sidling closer and closer as the men talked, slid one arm around Anen's waist and pressed the fingers of her other hand against the deep lines between Anen's brows. "This is the way Mirl'da is, Anen. You made your best decision. You can't keep feeling guilty about it. Think how many people would've died if you'd attacked those three castles." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his ear. "You're a better ruler already than our sire ever was. You care about people."
"Cimmaron!"
"He's my brother, Lady Mother. It's not as if he were Stanis Karzhov or somebody like that."
Cim freed her arm and walked away down the hall. Kosh excused himself a moment later and followed her.
The Dlinnyy came to Anen's side and stood looking after Cim. "She needs a man to quiet her down. I don't know from one moment to the next what scandalous thing she'll do."
Anen looked down at his mother, perplexed. "She seems well=behaved to me. No so well-behaved that she's dull, though, like some of our female cousins."
"You've been away too long, son, in places where females expose their limbs and middles and talk freely with men and walk about without chaperones." The Dlinnyy turned with a swirl of soft blue fabric and walked away. Her pace was ladylike, her motions grateful.
"No, I don't think Cim's ever going to be like that," Anen said softly. "Cim sheds sparks when she's angry." He reentered the com center, pulled up an empty chair to the side of a com unit, and settled down for a long wait.
The Elites kept in contact. They reported high winds and treacherous ice, but no injuries. The Gild satellite helped them find the wreckage the second day out. They reported only two survivors, Ilin himself and his two-winters daughter.
The Ilin the Elites brought to Castle Buruq was not the lord who had refused the fealty to the Kurharay "woman," but a broken man who muttered constantly to himself. "I killed my boys; my stubbornness killed my boys." No one could console him, not his wife, not his surviving elder sons, not his small daughter, Malka. After two weeks, during which Ilin wasted to a shadow of himself, Dr. L'tdauo ordered him taken to the staff clinic for force-feeding and sedation.
Shaking his head sadly, Anen watched two Lifesavers half lead, half carry the stumbling Ilin to the lift, then Anen joined the Dlinnyy and her women in the Dlinnyy's sitting room. The five women made a peaceful scene, sitting on low stools and bright cushions, their heads bent demurely over needlework of one variety or another. Anen thought of sitting quietly with them for a time; he needed a few quiet moments. Cim, peeking at him slyly through her dark, curly curtain of hair, winked. One of the hostages, a girl about Cim's age, watched him from the corner of her eye no matter where he moved in the room, and that made him nervous. Then he thought of the 3D call he'd just made to Lady Shadi to inform her of her husband's condition and saw how very unpeaceful his own feelings were.
By my Sire's Blood! Anen thought savagely, I wish there were some private way to talk to the Lady Shadi about Ilin! It'll soon be all over Mirl'da V that Kurharay tortured Ilin until he lost his mind.
Anen grimaced. Paul of Nontaev had already reported hearing just such a rumor and he lived half the world away. Spying and tricks had always been part of the Families' lives, but Anen had never been enough a part of his Family to know it. Now he was learning the unsurety of life among the Ten with a vengeance. Treachery, spying, betrayal---Anen knew he desperately needed time to get his bearings and his balance, but events were not allowing him that time and, if Gaito Moaekod had his way, he would never find it. Well, at least he had a group of friends now that he could rely on.
Anen went to his mother and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Lady Mother, I think I'll find Stanis." Anen spun and left the room.
He found Stanis, Kosh, Popov, Bajor and the two Churkin brothers sitting in the Charming Haunt with the remains of their nightmeal. Anen swung a leg over a bench and sat down with them. In the past weeks, the seven of them had talked and practiced weaponry, played games of an evening, exercised by the army's handbook, flirted with the ladies-in-waiting, and, when the Dlinnyy was not looking, had teased Cim and the two female hostages nearest Cim's age. These men had come close to Anen, despite his sire's relentless drumming to trust no one. He told them about the torture story Moeakod was spreading.
Den Churkin shrugged. "That kind of story can hurt you, milord. Many men will think better of you if they believe it's true."
Anen sighed. "You're likely right, Den." He slumped into glum silence, his chin in his hand.
After a long pause, Popov ruffled through a much-used deck. "Cards?"
Stanis stood and stretched. Yen Churkin gave him a friendly punch in the belt.
"Sit down, giant, you're throwing a shadow on my cake."
"I'm going to see if there's more of that hot bread," said Stanis, sniffing loudly and following his nose toward the door."
"Me, too," several of the others chorused. Benches scraped back. There was some jostling to be first out the door, then the group pelted down the stair to the kitchen.
"I'll look the place over," said Popov, and peeked around the side kitchen door. "Breads on a table on the other side and there's only one person in there, a man in the scullery."
The group crept around to the other side of the kitchen. "As if the Kererr could eat whatever he wanted," Kosh commented wryly.
The bread was just the right temperature. They tore a loaf into chunks and leaned against the counter to eat it.
"Good bread!" Yen said through a mouthful of tender crust.
The others added their comments. "Nice idea, Karzhov." "Why haven't we done this before?" "Let's do some zapper practice while we're down here."
Bajor checked his chrono. "Count me out. I go on duty in a few minutes. Let me know how the horse does, Karzhov." Bajor crossed the kitchen swiftly, then paused to look hard at the man in the scullery. "Say, aren't you one of the duty officers at the com center?"
The man did not answer but began stacking pots and pans into cabinets with amazing speed and noise.
Bajor beckoned to Bubov. "Kosh?"
Kosh strode close to the man. "You were a com officer. I remember your face."
The man turned to face the other two as if cornered. "I was. Until Lord-Be-Kind-to-His-Enemies broke me to subprefect." The man shot a look at Anen, then darted out the kitchen door.
Bajor shrugged and left. Kosh looked at Anen questioningly.
"He was unbearable, that man. I never even learned his name. Captain Solaz took care of the punishment. I would've broken him out of the army completely, only it was Ghorr and I didn't want to risk a good officer taking a bad one off the Holding. I probably should've raised it. Korol and Nikitina made it." He shrugged. "Nobody's right all the time."
The men wiped crumbs from their mouths and went on to the arena. Anen leading. He disappeared with Stanis into the stable area while the others went straight to the practice area. The horse, Bara, was restive and hard to handle. Anen talked to him and stroked his neck fur, but the horse refused to be soothed. By the time the two of them were in the arena, they were both sweating. Something had set the horse off, Anen was certain. He checked the bridle and under the riding pad. If someone had tampered with, he was cleverer than Anen. Anen mounted. Bara pranced and tossed his head. "Easy, boy!" Anen warned sharply. "You nearly gored me that time. What's the matter?" Anen looked across the arena to the other men, who were wearing zappers and zapper jackets. "Are you ready down there?"
The five men loaded their light-cartridges and took firing positions imitating an infantry attack. Kosh, of necessity, was shooting left-handed. Anen took a deep breath. This exercise always felt like he imagined a real battle would. His stomach knotted, his heart beat faster, his hands grew slippery on the reins. He took another deep breath. "Fire when ready. Only two at a time, please. Bara and I need some chance."
Bara's ears twitched.
"Go, boy!" Anen kicked the horse into a lope.
For the next 10 minutes the pair put on a brilliant show of sudden stops, abrupt sideways leaps, and fast changes of speed or direction. Anen glanced down at his jacket. 2 yellow patches glowed. One more and he was "dead." Bara jerked forward and spun around in the same moment. A light beam passed harmlessly. Kosh and Popov fired on intersecting courses. Bara dodged both. One second later Anen thought he heard three weapons fire. Then his back felt bathed in sunfire. He screamed in agony.
"Svarog! A real one!" Stanis cried.
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