Schism: Part One of Triad (10 page)

Soz made an incredulous noise. “That justifies kidnapping psions, selling them, torturing them for pleasure?” She crossed her arms, cold now. “And what about the rest of their people, the taskmakers? How can the Aristos justify enslaving billions, even trillions of people?”

“They would say their people have better lives than ours. That the average standard of living for a taskmaker is higher man for a free Skolian citizen.”

“I’d rather live in poverty than slavery.”

He leaned toward her. “Yes, it is a repressive regime, and yes, those taskmakers are slaves. But it isn’t a horror, except for psions, and we only constitute a tiny fraction of one percent of their people. Taskmakers live in relative freedom and prosperity.” He rubbed his neck through the exoskeleton, working at the muscles. “It’s why their civilization is so stable.”

“You think it’s all right?”

“Gods, no.” He lowered his arm. “But be realistic, Soz. The Eubian Concord, what we call the Trader Empire—it’s the largest civilization in human history. It has thrived for centuries. Why? Because however much we loathe their methods, they work. If you expect their taskmakers to revolt, forget it Yes, some would like freedom. Some strive for it But not that many. It isn’t only that the Aristos breed them for passivity. As long as they don’t make trouble, they have good lives, even better in material terms than they might have under our government.”

Soz turned away. “Brainwashing people into accepting a despotic government doesn’t make it right.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

Tahota spoke from behind them. “It just makes the despots that much harder to defeat.”

Startled, Soz turned around, causing panels to readjust around her body.

Tahota was awake, reclined in her seat. The colonel spoke to Althor. “I read your systems as green.”

Soz blinked. She saw no outward sign Tahota was communicating with the ship.

No, that wasn’t true. Lights on the colonel’s gauntlets were glittering more than usual. Tahota must have linked to the ship through both hard jacks and remote. She and Althor had become part of the Jag’s brain.

“No problems here,” Althor said.

Tahota nodded. “Good work, Cadet”

Cadet. Strange to hear her brother addressed that way. Her incoming class would be called novice cadets, followed by journeyman, junior, and finally senior, like Althor this year.

Soz regarded Tahota with curiosity. “You know how to pilot a Jag?” It seemed odd for a Fleet colonel.

“I used to be a flight instructor,” Tahota said. “I can fly just about anything.”

Soz grinned. “So will I, someday.”

Tahota’s face relaxed into a smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

Soz straightened in her seat, gratified by that expression of confidence. She wished her family could respond that way. They were the core of her life. They meant everything. Banished from her home, she felt no satisfaction in her minor accomplishments. It didn’t change her drive, that compelling need to know that pushed her with relentless force. But it left a hollow place widiin her mat no Jag starfighter could fill.

Eldrinson awoke slowly, into sunlight, and drowsed while his mind cleared. Althor had come home. His contentment vanished as the rest of it came back to him, the entire day, ended by his seizure. He opened his eyes. He was lying in bed on his back. The ceiling vaulted high above him, but its polished bluestone and gracefully scrolled carvings had no beauty today, mough for years he had loved mem. He wanted to believe it had been a terrible dream, that Soz and Akhor hadn’t left. But me day remained. He had awoken. It wasn’t a nightmare.

“Soshoni,” he said, remembering the little girl laughing, ,^ her arms outstretched to him, her curls bouncing. Or Akhor, fg| his stubby toddler’s legs working hard as he ran across the ‘
” courtyard chasing a shimmer-fly.

“Eldri?” Roca’s voice came from nearby. Rolling over, Eldrinson saw her buried under the blue quilt, just her forehead showing. He tugged down the blankets, uncovering her face. Her glittering lashes lifted to reveal gold irises. He had seen those eyes open almost every morning for the last four octets of years, but today he felt no joy in them.

“My greetings,” he said, his voice flat. Cold.

Roca pulled herself up, letting the blankets fall around her waist She wore an old sleep gown, rose silk worn with age. The suns cast early morning light through the alcove windows across the room. His drummel lay on the cushioned bench there, forgotten.

“Are you all right?” Roca asked.

“No.” He pulled himself up and rubbed his eyes, wishing he could rub away yesterday. “It really happened.”

“Yes.”

“Hai, Roca.” Is this how he would awake for the rest of his years, filled with grief?

“Talk to me,” she said.

“Why?” he asked dully. “You’re an empath. Don’t you know what I’m thinking?”

“No. You’re too guarded right now.”

“I’m flat.” His tongue felt thick. “Did I do that, Roca? Did I turn them out?”

She spoke with urgency. “Send them a message. Tell them they are welcome in their home.”

“I cannot.” He loosened the collar of his sleep shirt. It was strangling him.

“You can.”

“I meant what I said. They made their choices.”

Her hand clenched the blanket so hard her knuckles whitened. “They are my children, too. This is my home as well as yours. I do not want them banished.”

Eldrinson leaned over to her. “This has been the house of my family for centuries. It was my ancestors’ house, my grandfather’s house, my father’s house, and now it is my house. This is my world and my land and I shall do as I please with it.”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “If I remember correctly, Your Royal Possessiveness, inheritance of land goes through the female line here. To the wife, love. Me.”

Eldrinson scowled. It irked him when she was right. “Nevertheless.” He wasn’t sure what to add to that. The

mother usually left the land to the children, but it could be complicated.

“I am going to write Soz and Althor,” she said.

He crossed his arms and refused to look at her.

“They will ask me how you are,” she said.

He said nothing.

“They will tell me how much they miss you.”

“You talk too much this morning,” he said.

“They will tell me they love you.”

Hai. That pierced like a sword. “Stop.”

“Eldri, look at me.”

He slanted a glance at her. She was tousled and sensual, her hair spilling over her body, her breasts straining against the flimsy nightdress, her nipples poking the cloth. He sighed and pulled her into his arms. “You are impossible,” he grumbled against her neck.

She put her arms around him. “We will deal with this.”

He spoke against her hair, his cheek pressed to hers. “I don’t know how to deal with it. The ground is crumbling.”

“Don’t push them away.”

He knew what she wanted to hear, that he would rescind his decree. He couldn’t. It was hard enough with Althor, but at least his son had grown into a man strong and trained for war. Eldrinson knew, logically, that the skills a soldier needed for interstellar warfare were far different than what Althor had learned here. He even realized Soz could be well suited for them, that physical strength made little difference when they could augment their bodies, and machines did the fighting. But his heart couldn’t acknowledge that truth.

“I can’t bear to think of Soz out there,” he said. “It’s killing me.”

Roca leaned back to look at him. “She’s stronger than you know.”

“She’s my little girl.”

“Not anymore.”

He spoke softly. “The rest of the universe may see the formidable woman, but I can never forget how I held her in my arms when she was a baby.”

“Althor, too.”

“But he is a warrior! A man of power.” He hesitated, confused. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” he grumbled. “My children don’t seem to know whether they are men or women. Soz acts like a man. And Althor, well. Althor.”

He had a failure of imagination when it came to Althor’s personal life.

Roca took his hands and held them in front of her body. “I ask only this, Eldri, that you think on what I’ve said. When you are ready, talk more with me.”

He looked at their clasped hands. She hadn’t asked for promises or retractions. Just that he talk to her. “Very well.”

“Good.”

He gave her a rueful look. “We should probably get out of bed, too.”

She dimpled. “For now.”

Eldrinson laughed, soothed by her presence. “For now.”

Her smile faded. “You must talk to Shannon. He was upset last night, especially after you had the seizure.”

“I will.” The boy had grown more and more distant this last year, until Eldrinson no longer knew how to talk to him. But he would do his best.

After they dressed, they went down to the dining room where the cook put out breakfast every morning. Eldrinson didn’t know what to expect when he faced his other children. He needed to reassure them, tell them he loved them, but he didn’t want to upset them, either. He felt as if Soz and Althor had died, but they thought their brother and sister had only gone away.

The breakfast room wasn’t large. A long table filled most of it, made from amber glasswood, warm and luminous. Glasswood paneled the walls in gold, with red accents. The counter along the far wall was set with blue dishes, cups, and utensils. Tanna, a young woman on the housekeeping staff, was setting several platters of food on the counter. She moved with efficiency, and her bright dress, blue and white with rosy ties, swirled around her knees.

Del and Chaniece were sitting at one end of the table picking at their breakfast, yellow bubbles in syrup. Aniece sat near them, her dark hair tousled, her gold eyes sleepy. She wasn’t eating. Across the table, Denric slouched in a chair, staring at his plate of yellow bubbles. Next to him, Kelric devoured his meal with gusto, oblivious to the silence.

The children rose to their feet as Eldrinson and Roca entered through an archway in the long side of the room. Eldrinson nodded to them and they settled into their places again. Kelric went back to eating.

“Where is Shannon?” Eldrinson asked.

“I guess he overslept,” Denric said.

Tanna looked up from her work. “I aired out his room earlier, Bard Eldrinson. I don’t think he slept mere last night.”

Foreboding stirred in Eldrinson. He looked around at his children. “Have any of you seen him today?”

“No.” Aniece poked at the bubbles on her plate. “Maybe he’s with Moonglaze.”

Eldrinson spun around and strode out of the room. By the time he reached the courtyard outside, he was running. He would know if harm had come to Shannon, surely he would know, and he felt no problems, but that only made him more uneasy. He should have been more aware of Shannon in the house if the boy was upset But he felt nothing.

Eldrinson banged open the door of the stable. “Shannon?” He entered the dim interior, his boots crunching the crushed reeds scattered across the ground.

Lyrine stirred in their stalls, pushing their heads over the doors and whistling at him. A stable boy at the other end of the building was pouring water from a bucket into a trough. He looked up as the Bard entered.

Eldrinson strode to Moonglaze’s stall. “Shani, are you here?”

The stall was empty.

“We have no idea where to look.” Roca stood by the counter in the breakfast room while Eldrinson paced back and forth. “How will you find him?”

“I’ll find him.” Eldrinson couldn’t stay still. He had to repair this wound he had gouged in his family. He was aware of the other children, of Chaniece standing by the long table, resting one hand on its surface. Denric stood next to the her, tense and alert, and Aniece sat in her chair, her eyes large as she watched her father pace.

“I’ll know where he is,” Eldrinson said. “I’ll feel it”

“He’s gone north,” Denric said. ‘To search for the Archers.”

“Yes.” Aniece spoke earnestly. “He’ll go to the Blue Dale Mountains, Hoshpa.”

“We can take the port flyer up there,” Roca said. “Brad Tompkins is going to help. He’s in contact with the orbital defense system.”

“Yes. Take the flyer.” Eldrinson stopped in front of her. “You search by air.

I will search by ground.”

“We should be able to pinpoint his location from the global positioning system in orbit.”

“Will that really work?” Eldrinson found it hard to believe machines that floated above the sky could locate his son.

“It should. We’ll let you know where to find him.” She tilted her head toward Denric and Chaniece. “Don’t go alone.”

“Very well.” He resumed pacing, unable to contain his agitation. The world had gone wrong and he didn’t know how to make it right. Was he such a monster that he drove his children away? The thought made him wither inside.

“Let me come, too,” Aniece said, her voice young and scared. “I can help.” Her curls framed her worried face. Dark curls. She had inherited the color from Roca’s mother. No one on Lyshriol had such hair except his two girls. Aniece.

And Soz. Soz.

He sat in the chair next to Aniece, his heart aching at her innocent face. “I thank you for your offer, Nieci. But we must ride hard and go fast. Your lyrine couldn’t keep up.”

“You will find him, won’t you?” she asked.

He took her small hand. “Yes. Certainly.” For all that he had never been comfortable with the technology of his wife’s people, right now he was immensely grateful for it. Without their help, he could spend years searching Dalvador, the Rillian Vales, Ryder’s Lost Memory, and the Blue Dale Mountains.

A rustle came from the archway at the end of the long room. Turning, he saw his son Del striding toward them. Eldrinson rose to his feet.

Del stopped in front of him. “Brad is on his way.”

“Good.” Eldrinson had known Brad Tompkins for over three octets of years, from even before he had met Roca. Brad had taught him English. For years Eldrinson had thought “Brad” was a misspelling of the English word “Bard,” and mat the administrator represented a province called “Earth.” He eventually realized Brad was a citizen of the Allied Worlds of Earth and mat he had come here to administer the port back when Lyshriol didn’t matter to anyone. Earth had relinquished its claim, giving Lyshriol to me Skolians, but Brad had stayed on at Eldrinson’s request. In the years since, he had become a close friend of the family.