Righteous Anger (Okal Rel Saga #2)

5.2: The Amel Affair

Horth waited in Black Hearth, bewildered by the whole affair. He prowled back and forth between the entrance hall and spiral stairs, feeling like a ward ship guarding two jumps at the same time. He was not aware of how tense he was until things broke up on the Octagon and Branstcame flying up the stairs, exclaiming, "Tessitatt's all right, she's just off minding Vretla on TouchGate Hospital!" Branst acted as if this had always been the crucial issue.

It was hours before Horth got the facts straight in connection with the bigger picture. What mattered was this: The dancer named Von was the lost Pureblood Amel, and that gave the images on the Reetion box a new significance.

"A Demish highborn," Branst kept saying, in a dozen variations. "Reetions can extract Demish memories, just like Lorels used to! And if they can do that — does it mean they have the science to control Vrellish pilots as well? Take captives and use our own pilots against us?"

Nersallian tradition was to die before being taken prisoner by dishonorable enemies. Branst's worries gave Horth a whole new appreciation for the reason.

"You've got to take the box to Dad at once!" was Branst's conclusion. "I'd come too, but Tessitatt might need my help with the Red Vrellish when she gets back. They won't like her taking their liege to TouchGate Hospital."

Guessing the cause of Horth's dismayed expression Branst set his hand on Horth's shoulder. "The box explains itself," he told his brother. "Just take it, and tell Dad the Reetions can do that to a Sevolite."

Horth got out of his envoy ship on the runway outside the estate where Liege Nersal was holding court on Tark, in Alliance Reach. He was met by one of Zer Sarn's fanatics: a Nesak named Falk with a narrow face and hard eyes that looked out from a soul that must have been so brutally embittered in a past life that it could find no joy in this one.

As he followed Falk off the landing strip, Horth wondered how the Nesaks were coping with the fact that the vast majority of Tarkians were not highborns, and that there were millions of them. Mother and Zer Sarn could not empty Tark of non-eternals the way they had tried to do at Black Hearth.

Hangst held court on Tark at a country estate on the outskirts of a city built to serve a major spaceport. Slow trucks, powered by the usual ecologically-friendly methods, dotted a distant road. Beyond that lay a field of solar collectors milking power from the cool autumn rays of Tark's sun. The terrain behind the estate was backed by forested foothills infested by the pesky native creatures known as grabrats.

The thought of grabrats reminded Horth of hunting with Kale on SanHome.

Falk led Horth into a courtyard where three children were at play, dressed up in ill-fitting costumes. Eler was seven now: a skinny, energetic child wearing an improvised admiralty headdress and waving a toy sword in mock combat. The girl he played with was about three. She struggled valiantly to hold her sword steady in front of her.

"I don't care what you think, you vile Vrellish creature!" Eler declared. "I will have a wife if I want!"

The third child was a physically precocious infant. She claimed everyone's attention by falling off the stone bench she was trying to scale, letting out a shriek of indignation as she landed.

Horth scooped her up before Eler got to her. Vrellish mothers said their infants knew a relative by scent. Whatever the reason, the agile baby settled down quickly in Horth's arms. Her reaction pleased him.

Eler was less comfortable with his intervention. He looked to Falk for assistance.

"I will take Sanal," Falk said to Horth, lifting the baby away from him. "Thank you." He gave the infant to Eler. "This way," he told Horth, and led on again.