x
Alexandra awoke in the dark, feeling some sort of a premonition in the stillness around her. She couldn't understand why her mind and body felt so sluggish. Skin raspings of fear ran along her nerves. She thought about sitting up and turning on a light, but something strayed the decision. Her mouth felt---strange.
Lump-lump-lump-lump!
It was a dull sound, directionless in the dark. Somewhere.
The waiting moment was packed with time, with rustling needlestack movements.
She began to feel her body, grew aware of bindings on wrists and ankles, a gag in her mouth. She was on her side, hands tied behind her. She tested the bindings, realized they were vlivsill fiber, would only claw tighter as she pulled.
And now she remembered.
There had been movement in the darkness of her bedroom, something wet and pungent slapped against her face, filling her mouth, hands grasping for her. She'd gasped----one indrawn breath---sensing the narcotic in the wetness. Consciousness had receded, sinking her into a black bin of terror.
It's come, she thought. How easy it was to subdue the Bala Garrasaid. All it took was treachery. Botkin was correct.
She forced herself not to pull on her bindings.
This isn't my bedroom, she thought. They've taken me someplace else!
Slowly she marshalled the inner calmness.
She grew aware of the smell of her own stale sweat with its chemical infusion of fear.
Where's Alexei? she asked herself. What have they done with him?
Calmness.
She forced herself to it using the ancient routines.
But terror refused to flee.
Nicholas? Where are you, Nicholas?
She sensed a diminishing in the dark. It started with shadows. Dimensions parted, became new thorns of awareness. White. A line under a door.
I'm on the floor!
Alexandra squeezed back into the memory of terror. I must stay calm, alert, and ready. I may only get one chance.
Again, she forced the inner calmness.
The ungainly thumping of her heartbeats evened, shaping out time. She counted back. I was out cold for about an hour. She shut her eyes, focused her awareness onto the approaching footfalls.
Four. There are four of them.
She counted the differences in their footsteps.
I must pretend I'm still unconscious. She relaxed against the cold floor, testing her body's readiness, heard a door open, sensed increased light through her eyelids.
Feet approached: someone standing over her.
"You are awake," rumbled a basso voice. "Do not pretend."
She opened her eyes.
The Baron Nikusha Seppanen stood over her. Around them, she recognized the cellar room where Alexei had slept, saw his cot at one side---vacant. Suspensor lamps were brought in by guards, distributed near the open door. There was a glare of light in the hallway beyond that hurt her eyes.
She looked up at the Baron. He wore a yellow cape that bulged over his portable suspensors. The fat cheeks were two cherubic mounts beneath spider-black eyes.
"The drug was timed," he rumbled. "We knew to the minute when you'd be coming out of it."
How is that possible? she wondered. They'd have to know my exact weight, my metabolism, my----Rasputin!
"It's a shame you must stay gagged," the Baron said. "We could have such an interesting conversation."
Rasputin's the only one it could be, she thought. How?
The Baron glanced behind him at the door. "Enter, Yakov."
She'd never before seen the man who entered to stand beside the Baron, but she knew the face---and the owner of the face: Yakov Sverdlov, the Technopath-Assassin. She studied him, hawkish features, blue-ink eyes that suggested he was a native of Dyuna, but subtleties of movement and stance said otherwise. And his flesh was too well-firmed with water. He was tall, though slender, and something about him suggested effeminacy.
"It's a pity we cannot have our conversation, my dear Lady Alexandra," the Baron said. "But I'm aware of your abilities." He glanced at the Technopath. "Aren't I, Yakov?"
"As you say, Baron," the man said.
The voice was tenor. It touched her spine with a wash of coldness. She had never heard such an icy voice. To one with the Bala Garrasaid training, the voice screamed: Killer!
"I have a surprise for Yakov," the Baron said. "He thinks he has come to collect his reward--you, Lady Alexandra. But I wish to demonstrate something: that he doesn't really want you."
"You toy with me, Baron?" Yakov asked, and he smiled.
Seeing that smile, Alexandra was surprised that the Baron did not leap to defend himself from this Yakov. Then she corrected herself. The Baron could not read that smile. He lacked the Training.
"In many ways, Yakov is quite naive," the Baron said. "He refuses to admit to himself what a deadly creature you are, Lady Alexandra. I'd show him, but it would be a foolish risk." The Baron smiled at Yakov, whose face had become a waiting mask. "There's a word for what Yakov really wants. And that word is power."
"You promised her to me!" Yakov said. The tenor voice had lost some of its cold reserve.
Alexandra heard the clue-tones in the man's voice, allowed herself an inward shudder. How could the Baron have made such an animal out of a Technopath?
"I have decided to give you a choice," the Baron said.
"What choice?"
The Baron snapped fat fingers. "This woman and exile from the Imperium, or the Duchy of Romanov on Dyuna to rule as you see fit in my name."
Alexandra watched the Baron's spidery eyes study Yakov.
"You could be Duke here in all but name," the Baron said.
Is my Nicholas dead, then? Alexandra asked herself. She felt a silent wail begin somewhere in her mind.
The Baron kept his attention on the Mentat. "Understand thyself, Yakov. You want her because she was a Duke's woman, a symbol of his power---beautiful, useful, exquisitely trained for her role. But an entire duchy, Yakov? That's more than a symbol; that's the reality. With it you could have many women---and more."
"You do not joke with Yakov?"
The Baron turned with that dancing lightness the suspensors gave him. "I? Joke? Remember---I am giving up the boy. You heard what the traitor said about the lad's training. They are alike, this mother and son---deadly." The Baron smiled. "I must go now. I will send in the guard I've reserved for this moment. He's stone deaf. His orders will be to convey you on the first leg of your journey into exile. He'll subdue this woman if he sees her gain control of you. He'll not allow you to remove her gag until you're off Dyuna. If you choose not to leave---he has other orders."
"You don't have to go," Yakov said. "I've chosen."
"Ah-hah!" the Baron chortled. "Such a snap decision can mean only one thing."
"I'll take the duchy," Yakov said.
Doesn't Yakov know the Baron's lying to him? Alexandra thought. But--how could he know? He's an insane Technopath.
The Baron glanced down at Alexandra. "Is it not wonderful that I know Yakov so well? I wagered with my Man-at-Arms that this would be Yakov's choice. Hah! Well, I take my leave now. this is much better. Ah-h, much better. You understand, Lady Alexandra? I bear no grudge against you. It's a necessity. Much better like this. Yes. And I've not really ordered you destroyed. When it's asked of me what happened to you, I can shrug it off in all truth."
"It's up to me then?" Yakov asked.
"The guard I send you will take your orders," the Baron said. "Whatever's done I leave to you." He stared at Yakov. "Yes. There will be no blood upon my hands here. It's your decision. Yes, I know nothing about it. You'll wait until I've gone before doing whatever it is you're going to do. Yes. Well....ah, yes. Yes. Good."
He fears the questioning of a Truthsayer, Alexandra thought. Who? Ah-h-h, the Mother Baba Petronia Maria, naturally! If he knows he must face her questions, then the Sultan is in on this for sure. Ah-h-h, my poor Nicholas.
With one last glance at Alexandra, the Baron turned, went out the door. She followed him with her eyes, thinking: It's as Mother Baba warned---too potent an adversary.
Two Seppanen soldiers entered. Another, his face a scarred mask, followed and stood in the doorway with a drawn phasgun.
The deaf one, Alexandra thought, studying the scarred face. The Baron knows I would use the Voice on any other man.
Scarface looked at Yakov. "We've got the boy on a litter outside. What are your orders?"
Yakov spoke to Alexandra. "I'd thought of binding you by a threat held over your son, but I now see that would not have worked. I let emotion cloud reason and that's dangerous to a Technopath." He looked at the first pair of soldiers, turning so the deaf one could read his lips: "Take them into the desert as the traitor suggested for the boy. His plan's a good one. The wurms will destroy all evidence. Their bodies must never be found."
"Wouldn't you rather destroy them yourself?" Scarface asked.
He can read lips, Alexandra thought.
"I follow my Baron's example," Yakov said. "Take them where the traitor said."
Alexandra heard the harsh Technopath control in Yakov's voice, thought: He, too, fears the Truthsayer.
Yakov shrugged, turned, and went through the doorway. He hesitated there, and Alexandra thought he might turn back for a last look at her, but he went out without turning.
"I wouldn't like the thought of facing that Truthsayer after this night's work," Scarface said.
"You're not likely ever to run into that old witch," one of the soldiers said. He went around to Alexandra's head, bent over her. "We're not accomplishing anything standing around her chattering. Take her feet and..."
"I say we kill them here," Scarface blustered.
"No way. Too messy," the first one said. "Unless you want to garrote them. Me, I like a nice straightforward murder. Drop them on the desert like that turncoat said, cut them up once or twice and leave the evidence for the wurms. Nothing to clean up afterwards."
"Well....I guess you're right," Scarface said.
Alexandra listened to them, watching, registering. But the gag blocked her Voice, and there was the deaf one to consider.
Scarface holstered his phasgun, took her feet. They lifted her like a bag of grain, maneuvered her through the door and dumped her onto a suspensor-buoyed litter with another bound figure. As they turned her, fitting her to the litter, she saw her companion's face---Alexei! He was bound, but not gagged. His face was no more than ten centimeters from hers, eyes shut, breathing even.
Has he been drugged? she wondered.
The soldiers lifted the litter, and Alexei's eyes opened the smallest fraction---dark slits staring at her.
He mustn't try the Voice! she prayed. The deaf guard!
Alexei's eyes closed.
He'd been practicing the awareness breathing, calming his mind, listening to their captors. The deaf one posed a problem, but Alexei hid his despair. The mind-soothing Bala Garrasaid regimen his mother had taught him kept him poised, ready to expand any opportunity.
Alexei allowed himself another slit-eyed inspection of his mother's face. She seemed to be unharmed. Gagged, though.
He wondered who could have captured her. His own captivity was plain enough---to bed with a capsule prescribed by Rasputin, awakening to find himself bound to this litter. Maybe a similar thing had befallen her. Logic said the traitor was Rasputin, but he held a final decision in abeyance. There was no understanding it---a Suk doctor a traitor.
The litter tipped slightly as the Seppanen soldiers maneuvered it through a doorway into the starry night. A suspensor-buoy rasped against the doorway. Then they were on sand, their feet grating in it. A 'majigger wing loomed overhead, blotting out the stars. The litter settled to the ground.
Alexei's eyes adjusted to the faint light. He recognized the deaf soldier as the man who opened the 'jigger door, peered inside at the green gloom illuminated by the instrument panel.
"This is the 'majigger we're supposed to use?" he asked and turned to watch his companion's lips.
"It's the one that the turncoat said was fixed for desert duty," the other said.
Scarface nodded. "But it's one of those little liaison jobs. There's no room in there for more than them and us two."
"Two's enough," said the litter-bearer, moving up close and presenting his lips for reading. "We can take care of it from here on out, Lyov."
"The Baron, he told me to make sure what happened to those two," Scarface said.
"What are you so worried about?" asked another trooper from behind the litter bearer.
"She's a Bala Garrasaid witch," the deaf one said. "They've got superpowers."
"Ah-h-h-h-..." The litter-bearer made the sign of the fist at his ear. "One of them, eh? I know what you mean."
The soldier behind him grunted. "She'll be wurmfeed soon enough. I don't suppose even a Bala Garrasaid enchantress has powers over one of those big wurms. Eh, Vasily?" He nudged the litter-bearer.
"Da," the litter-bearer said. He returned the litter, took Alexandra's shoulders. "Come, Lyov. You can go along if you want to make sure what happens."
"How nice of you to invite me, Vasily," Scarface said.
Alexandra felt herself lifted, the wing shadow spinning---stars! She was pushed into the rear of the 'majigger, her vlivsill fiber bindings examined, and she was strapped down. Alexei was jammed in beside her, strapped securely, and she noted his bonds were one simple rope.
Scarface, the deaf one they called Lyov, took his place in front. The litter-bearer, the one they called Vasily, came around and took the other front seat.
Lyov shut his door, bent to the controls. The 'majigger took off in a wing-tucked surge, headed south over the Barrier Wall. Vasily tapped his friend's shoulder, said: "Why don't you turn around and monitor them?"
"Are you sure you know the route?" Lyov watched Vasily's lips.
"I listened to the turncoat same as you."
Vasily swiveled in his seat. Alexandra saw the glint of starlight on a phasgun in his hand. The 'majigger's light-walled interior seemed to gather illumination as her eyes adjusted, but the guard's scarred face stayed dim. Alexandra tested her seat belt, found it was loose. She felt roughness in the strap against her left arm, realized the strap had almost been cut; it would snap at a sudden jerk.
Has someone been in this 'majigger, readying it for us? she wondered. Who could it be? Slowly, she twisted her bound feet clear of Alexei's.
"It seems a shame to kill a good-looking woman like this," Scarface said. "You ever violated a highborn type before?" He turned to look at Vasily.
"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" the pilot asked.
"Who'd know?" the guard asked. "Afterwards..." He shrugged. "I just never violated any highborns. I might never get a chance like this one again."
"No!" Alexei shouted, glaring at Scarface. "I swear, if you lay one hand on my mother, you'll answer to me!"
"Hey!" the pilot laughed. "The cub's got a bark, but he has no bite."
And Alexandra thought: Alexei's pitching his voice too high. It might work, though.
They flew on in silence.
These poor fools, Alexandra thought, studying her guards and reviewing the Baron's words. They'll be killed as soon as they report their mission successful. The Baron wants no witnesses.
The 'majigger banked over the southern rim of the Barrier Wall, and Alexandra saw a moonshadowed expanse of sand beneath th em.
"This should be far enough," the pilot said. "The turncoat said to put them on the sand anywhere near the Barrier Wall." He dipped the craft towards the dunes in a long, falling swoop, brought it up stiffly over the desert surface.
Alexandra saw Alexei begin taking the rhythmic breaths of the calming exercise. He closed his eyes, opened them. Alexandra stared, helpless to assist him. He hasn't mastered the Voice yet, she thought, if he fails...
The 'majigger touched sand with a soft lurch, and Alexandra, looking north back across the Barrier Wall, saw a shadow of wings settled out of sight up there.
Somebody's following us! she thought. Who could it be? Then: The ones the Baron sent to watch this duo. And there'll be watchers, too.
Vasily shut off his wing rotors. Silence flooded in upon them.
Alexandra turned her head. She could see out the window beyond Scarface a dim glow of light from a rising moon, a frosted rim of rock rising from the desert. Sandblast ridges streaked its sides.
Alexei cleared his throat.
The pilot said: "Now, Lyov?"
"I don't know, Vasily."
Vasily turned and said, "Ah-h-hh, look." He reached out for Alexandra's skirt.
"Remove her gag," Alexei commanded.
Alexandra felt the words rolling in the air. The tone, the timbre, all excellent, imperative and very sharp. A slightly lower pitch would have been better, but it could still fall within this man's spectrum.
Vasily shifted his hand up to the band around Alexandra's mouth, slipped the knot on the gag.
"Stop that!" Lyov ordered.
"Shut up," Vasily said. "Her hands are tied." He freed the knot and the binding dropped. His eyes glittered as he studied Alexandra.
Lyov put a hand on the pilot's arm. "Look, Vasily, there's no need to..."
Alexandra twisted her neck, spat out the gag. She pitched her voice in low, intimate tones. "Gentlemen! There's no need to fight over me." At the same time, she writhed sinuously for Lyov's benefit.
She saw them grow tense, knowing that in this instant they were convinced of the need to fight over her. Their disagreement needed no other reason. In their minds, they were fighting over her.
She held her face high in the instrument glow to be sure Lyov would read her lips, said: "You mustn't disagree." They drew farther apart, glanced warily at one another. "Is any woman worth fighting over?" she asked.
By uttering the words, by being there, she made herself infinitely worth their fighting.
Alexei clamped his lips tightly closed, forced himself to be quiet. There'd been the one chance for him to succeed with the Voice. Now everything depended on his mother, whose experience went so far beyond his own.
"Yeah," Scarface said. "There's no need to fight over..."
His hand flashed toward the pilot's neck. The blow was met by a splash of metal that caught the arm and in the same motion slammed into Lyov's chest.
Scarface groaned, sagged backwards against the door.
"Aw, you thought I was some dullard that didn't know that trick," Vasily said. He brought back his hand, revealing the knife. It glittered in the reflected moonlight.
"Now for the cub," he said and leaned towards Alexei.
"There's no need for that," Alexandra murmured.
Vasily hesitated.
"Wouldn't you rather have me cooperate?" Alexandra asked. "Give the boy a chance." Her lip curled in a nasty sneer. "Little enough chance he'd have out there in that desert. Give him that and..." She smiled. "You could find yourself well rewarded."
Vasily glanced left, right, returned his attention to Alexandra. "I've heard stories of what can happen to a man in this desert," he said. "The boy will likely find the knife a kindness."
"Do I ask too much of you?" Alexandra pleaded.
"You're trying to trick me," Vasily muttered.
"I don't want to see my son die," Alexandra said. "Is that a trick?"
Vasily moved back, elbowed the door latch. He grabbed Alexei, dragged him across the seat, pushed him half out the door and held the knife posed. "What'll you do, cub, if I cut your bonds?"
"He'll leave right away and make a dash for those rocks," Alexandra said.
"Is that really what you'll do, cub?" Vasily asked.
Alexei's voice was properly surly. "Yes."
The knife moved down, cut the bindings of his legs. Alexei felt the hand on his back to hurl him down onto the sand, feigned a lurch against the doorframe for purchase, turned as if to catch himself, then lashed out with his right foot.
The toe was aimed with a precision that did credit to his long years of training, as if all of that training focused on this instant. Almost every muscle of his body cooperated in the placement of it. The tip struck the soft part of Vasily's abdomen just below the sternum, slammed upward with horrible force over the liver and through the diaphragm to crush the right ventricle of the man's heart.
With one gurgling scream, the guard jerked backward across the seats. Alexei, unable to use his hands, continued his tumble onto the sand, landing with a roll that absorbed the force and brought him back to his feet in one motion. He dove back into the cabin, found the knife and held it in his teeth while his mother sawed her bonds. She took the blade and freed his hands.
"You took a foolish risk!" she scolded. "I should've been the one to handle him. He'd have had to cut my bindings."
"I saw the opening and I used it," he retorted.
She heard the harsh control in his voice, said: "Rasputin's house sign is scrawled on the ceiling of this cabin."
He looked up, saw the curling symbol.
"Get out and let us study this craft," she said. "There's a bundle under the pilot's seat. I felt it when we got in."
"A bomb?"
"I don't believe so. There's something odd here."
Alexei leaped out to the sand and Alexandra followed. She turned, reached under the seat for the odd bundle, seeing Vasily's feet close to her face, feeling dampness on the bundle as she removed it, revealing the dampness was the pilot's blood.
A sinful waste of moisture that is, she thought, knowing that this was Dyuni thinking.
Alexei stared around them, saw the rock scarp lifting out of the desert the way a beach rises from a sea, wind-carved palisades beyond. He turned back as his mother lifted the bundle from the 'majigger, saw her stare across the dunes towards the Barrier Wall. He looked to see what drew her attention, saw another 'majigger swooping towards them, realized they'd not have time to clear the bodies out of this 'majigger and escape.
"Run, Alexei!" Alexandra shouted. "It's the Seppanens!"
190Please respect copyright.PENANA2t5HTXytAA
190Please respect copyright.PENANAZWpEfJYehB
190Please respect copyright.PENANATejAkzLeAL
190Please respect copyright.PENANAn7c3hWb9pr
190Please respect copyright.PENANAuwjSJtqQc2
190Please respect copyright.PENANA9bAz6uisQU
ns 172.70.131.108da2