 |
Alyx Jae Shaw |
           |
 |
Gryphons Rating: R Beta’d by Priestess Vesta. This chapter has been split into two parts because of its size. |
 |
Whiskey bottles and brand new cars; CHORUS- Yeah. CHORUS Now they call you prince charming. CHORUS Aw, you, fool, you. One little problem that confronts you, CHORUS 2x Oh, you, fool, you The school day wore on slowly, classes dragging by painfully. The fastest hour of the day was lunch. One class blurred into the next, and by the time the day was over, Dahli felt numb in the head. She dropped her homework into her woven bag and, bidding Diza and Czamkiar goodbye, headed for home. She lugged her books upstairs to her room and immediately set to her homework. Not that Dahli was any great fan of homework, but she loathed knowing it was sitting in her room, waiting to leap at her seconds before bedtime. Best to get it done and out of the way, and there was not much to wade through anyway. The only thing that was really going to be a pain was a project she was doing for history class. She was supposed to be researching events in a city, and had drawn Second City as her area. The problem was, Dahli realized as she opened her notebook to stare down at the blank pages, that she knew nothing about the city she called home. How was that possible? She had lived here fifteen years; surely she must know something…. Nothing came to mind. Dahli moaned and feigned weeping as she realized she would have to get books from the library. Or rather, from what was left of the library, it having fallen victim to their own pilots after some groutnoll mistakenly thought the Kyphisians were using it as secret base. She glanced up at the clock, and saw that she had little time to get to there. Pulling on the chipped glasses Draephus had given her, and a jacket to guard against the damp, cool spring air, she left the house and set out for the library. Most of the rubble had been cleared away, and Dahli giggled as she read the graffiti spray painted across the ruin; “Pilot to base – Whoops!” Next to that, someone else had written “The Imperial Sferkkaan Airforce – Defending You Against Subversive Literature.” The Airforce certainly knew who had blown the place up, but they weren’t telling. The books that had survived the bombing were in a small annex across the street. Dahli entered it, and groaned as she saw none other than Atania Nightwing behind the desk. The day just kept getting better and better. “Well, well,” said Atania. “If it isn’t Dahli Sandiniti. Sorry, we don’t have any books on used up ugly Ra musicians.” Dahli ground her teeth. “I’m looking for books on the history of the city.” “You’re telling me you can read?” “Just point me towards the books before I report your hair to the department of health for making me sick.” “No. Find them yourself.” She flipped her hair, which was golden and bound up with frilly bows, then adjusted the front of her pink ruffled blouse to make sure the low neck went even lower. What exactly she was trying to show off, Dahli wasn’t sure. She’d seen bigger mosquito bites. Dahli stared at her coldly, and then glanced discreetly left. There were four boys from her class gathered close by, obviously more interested in Atania’s low cut blouse and mosquito bites than any books. Dahli suddenly gasped loudly as if Atania had told her something shocking. “You have viruses A-9 AND A-11?! That’s HORRID! Poor you! What do you do about the violent uncontrollable gas and diarrhoea?? And the worms you picked up can’t make things any easier; I mean parasites are just soooooo disgusting. You know if you wanted to lose a few pounds you could have just stopped gorging yourself on that hoarded pile of sweets your family has hidden away in a back room. You must be very clever to acquire such a large pile, what with luxuries like that still so very hard to find and most people in Second City having to rely on the victory gardens and fishing to get by.” Atania was horrified and outraged, and stared at Dahli as though frozen to the spot with hate and violence. Dahli just smiled and walked away, leaving her to sputter and choke on her loathing. Dahli went through the few precious books available on the history of Second City, but, as she feared, there were none on recent history at all. However she did find a good one on the time when Second City was no more than a tiny but fertile island, ruled over by a series of Lords and Ladies, dwelling in a great castle. It seemed the castle still stood, restored to its ancient glory, on the far side of the island. It would be a long walk, but it could be worth it to see the ancient statuary and cemeteries, not to mention the castle itself. She was not permitted to check the book out; books being too rare currently to risk their disappearance, so she took notes on what she wished to look for, and then set out, heading east towards the island proper. She was in no hurry; she roamed along the streets, leaving behind the city and its endless reconstruction, noting as the houses became larger, more decorative. Lawns became larger and larger, corralled by tall fences and hedges. Great leafy trees over hung the streets; huge shadowless monsters that protected the street from the rain. This was an area where many Kyphisian officers had lived, and it had survived the war almost untouched. These houses were now used as orphanages for children bred in Kyphisian labs; parentless male babies who had the good fortune to escape genetic programming to make them a tool of the invaders. Sferkkaa would have a second generation. With luck, there would be another after that. She made her way out of the residential areas, and was now walking past woods and dense bushes along the side of the road. She left the city entirely behind, seeing no houses at all now, and only the occasional vehicle passed her. She walked on, glancing up at the threatening sky. Though the rain was constant on Sferkkaa, it varied in intensity, everything from the finest of mists to downpours that could strip trees of their leaves with their violence. Currently it was just a light rain, and she hoped it did not turn into a deluge. She was not thinking about anything in particular; her report, Atania, what Duone Bathers had said. Dahli wondered if writing to the principal would do any good, then considered writing to the Emperor about the Faylan situation. Clart, she'd write them both, why not? Maybe she'd get Diza and Czamkiar to write as well. The cultivated trees ended, and the road became rougher. She continued on, gazing at the fields she now saw. She'd come quite a distance, she realized, she would have to take the transit back if she wanted to be home at any reasonable hour. In the meantime, it was just nice to walk. Masonry began to appear in the fields, tall ghostly statues, centuries old, of proud men mounted on the strange, leggy destriders, or on some mythical creature. Small monsters crouched in the mist, dark and sinister. There were swamps in this area, and as the light began to fade from the sky, they emitted a strange glow, brought about by gasses and the weird, luminous plants that grew there. The endless Sferkkaan rain had cleared to the faintest mist, and the rising moon was a vague, white glow behind the Sferkkaan haze. She heard no sound other than that of her own breath, and the tread of her shoes on the road. Ahead of her a small animal paused, looking at her with enormous white eyes before galloping clumsily away. Dahli could still make out the occasional statue; silhouettes in the mist erected to remember by-gone battles, but now they were beginning to look frightening, as if she were being watched by the dead. She was relieved to finally find the castle. It was set quite far from the road, resting upon a gentle hill. Behind it was a wall of huge, pristine trees, a dark wall of living growth in the failing light. She was surprised to notice some faint lights in a few of the windows, so vague Dahli had to assume they were from either candles or a fire. “Does someone live here?” she asked herself softly, her breath misting in the cold. She paused before a towering iron and stone gate and stared up at the castle. Above her head, mounted on their posts, two giant birds of prey glared down at her. Their wings were partly raised and spread, beaks open to tear flesh. She glanced nervously at them, telling herself they were just stone and nothing to fear. She jumped when she heard the sudden thunder of distant drums, startled though the sound was not especially loud. She listened, eyes wide, watching the faint flicker of candle light, realizing she knew the song, recognizing the heavy, pounding rhythm. It was ‘Rain Forest’ by The Mortified Gryphons, and she grinned. “Hey, someone’s playing my favourite song,” she said to the stone birds, and waited for the quinticord and sepulchord to make their cue. And waited. And waited. And then she realized this was not a recording; this was someone playing the drums. The drumming stopped, then resumed, varying the beat, the pacing, alternating them, as if someone could not make up his mind if he liked the song the way it was or wanted to change it. Then the sound grew louder and stronger, and Dahli would have known that resonance anywhere. “Draephus?” she whispered, uncertain, but there was no mistaking it, no one who lived on the planet could mistake THAT sound. No one played the drums the way he did, and no one had variety of drums that he did. Then there was the sheer level of power he put into it, as if he was trying to kill them. She read somewhere that Draephus broke more drumsticks during a live performance that any other drummer alive, and if he ran out he just used his hands, cutting them to bleeding shreds. Funny, Dahli thought, she had always known that the Gryphons resided in Second City, but she'd never thought to go look at the places where they actually lived, and it certainly never occurred to her that the old castle out on Headquarters Road was HIS castle. She listened to the drumming; wondering what went on inside this structure. Was he alone? She wondered if he was sober, it seemed like he drank an awful lot, judging from the rumours she had heard. He seemed to smoke a lot, too. She thought about the man she'd spoken to briefly, the man whose face she had wiped blood from. He seemed miserable, angry, but then, what happy person would live way out here in this place? The drumming stopped suddenly. Dahli kept her eyes fixed on the castle. She watched as a light, seemingly by itself, moved from window to window. It then went upstairs, where it finally stopped. It was a vague light, difficult to see, and then, abruptly, it was gone. Dahli continued to gaze at the castle until the lights of the approaching transit vehicle woke her from her trance, and she stepped into the road to hail it. It was getting quite late when she arrived home. A rain had begun to fall, and her hair and jacket sparkled with tiny beads of water. As she entered the house and removed her jacket, she heard Teirra call her name. "Yeah?" she responded. "Where did you go out to?" Teirra asked. "Out," said Dahli casually. She removed her wet boots, then wandered into the kitchen. She found Teirra at the table with her books spread out before her, having to do with some course she was taking. Dahli couldn't understand this, why wait all those years to get out of school, and then go back? But, she mused, it must be different when you wanted to be there, instead of having to be there. "Out where?" Teirra asked. "Well," said Dahli, thumping down into a chair and grabbing an apple out of a basket on the table, "I have to write this paper for history class about some of the things that happened in Second City a million years ago that no one cares about any more, so I went out to take a look at the castle on Headquarters Road." "Oh?" said Teirra. "I wouldn't mind doing that myself one of these days. Those castles must have been miserable places to live." "Yeah," said Dahli, thinking about Draephus and his castle with the eerie figures surrounding it. "I suppose they must have been okay at one time." "One would assume." "Is Atterick at rehearsal?" "Yeah." "Let's go into his drawers and tie his underwear all in knots." "Let's not." Dahli grinned, eating her apple. The room was quiet, and she let her mind roam at will, unconcerned with any one subject. Her thoughts wandered from Draephus, to Atterick and his own band Titan, and from there off to various other things. She snapped out of her reverie when Teirra spoke. "Atterick fixed the kuvon, it's running again." "Oh, that's good." said Dahli. The kuvon had been in the garage for some time; a massive, two-wheeled machine beloved by Sferkkaan and Kyphisian soldiers alike for its ability to travel fast over poor terrain, and its virtually indestructible design. Atterick had dragged this one out of a pile of ruins that had once been a maintenance shed and brought it home, labouring over it every chance he got. The machine had been badly damaged, though not beyond hope. The biggest problem Atterick had was just finding parts; they had to be scrounged from other kuvons. The machines were no longer in production with the ending of the war, the factories in which they had once been assembled by the thousands now given over to manufacturing things necessary for agriculture. Sferkkaa did not need more kuvons; it needed crops. Dahli had thought the kuvon would never be fixed, and now it was finally running. She remained outwardly cool, but inside she was dancing. Grandma's conni would not be the only vehicle to go for a late night cruise without its owner, and she wouldn't have to deal with Boo to get it. Dahli was still thinking about this a couple hours later when she went to bed. She walked into her bedroom, and was promptly bitten on the leg by her homework, which was lying in ambush all over the floor. Dahli stared down at the offensive scattering of paper, and with a resigned sigh, sat down on the floor to finish it. ***---*** Draephus stopped practice early, his shoulders, elbows and wrists too sore to continue. He refused to think about what this meant, telling himself he had simply been pushing himself too hard. Unaware of the lone figure by the gate, watching the light of his candle, he walked to the upper level and into his bedroom, setting the candle on a small bedside table. Bacca and Czanda were both asleep on his bed, taking up as much of it as they could, which of course was the job of any good Faylan. Draephus seated himself on the edge of the bed, feeling his joints burn. He rummaged in the drawer of the small table, taking out a metal case and a length of tubing. Opening the case, he pulled out a needle and a bottle of clear fluid. With practiced skill, he filled the needle to a specific level, then tied the tubing tightly around his arm. Locating a vein, he pushed the needle into his arm, emptying the contents into his bloodstream before deftly snapping off the rubber tubing. He withdrew the needle, and set it aside, then drew his arm up to stop the small hole left behind by the needle from bleeding. Within seconds the pain was gone, and with his last coherent thought, he blew out the candle and lay down. The Faylans growled at the stink of the mushroom drug that wafted from his body, but though they shifted positions, they did not leave him. It was in the cold small hours of the morning that the telcom rang. Draephus made a small noise, leaden and disoriented from the drug in his system. He forced himself to roll to his back, still deep within the murky depths of the extremely powerful and illegal concoction’s grasp. He was still dreaming, his eyes closed, and he whispered to one of the Faylans. “Bacca. Telcom.” The delicate, slender creature leapt off the bed, moving gracefully, lightly. Bacca could walk upright; he simply didn’t care to. It was more fun to prowl, to move silently down the hall and slip with the grace of a jungle cat down the staircase. Then he leapt with the speed and elegance of his kind onto the telcom and grabbed up the receiver in his mouth. He had hands, and he could use them, but then again, this was more fun. He turned his green eyes to the upper landing rising almost twenty feet over his head, and, gathering himself like a spring, he leapt straight up, catching hold of the tapestry draped over the railing, and discovering belatedly that it wasn’t secured to anything. Bacca fell heavily, landing hard on the stone floor with the tapestry on top of him, and made a sound of pain and unhappiness. Taking the receiver out of his mouth, and rising to his feet, he walked with obvious chagrin up the staircase. He entered the bedchamber and handed Draephus the receiver, and climbed onto the bed next to Czanda. His companion said nothing, but Bacca sensed he was being laughed at. The two yipped quietly at each other, nipping, while Draephus slowly raised the telcom to his ear. “Hello?” “Heia handsome.” Draephus grinned. “Handsome? I’m sorry you have the wrong number.” Vesper laughed. “How are you?” “Mph. Stoned.” Seven thousand miles away, Vesper rolled his eyes. “I don’t like you taking that garbage.” “It stops the pain.” “No, it masks the pain, and the pain is trying to tell you something.” “It’s telling me to stop playing the drums and I’m not listening.” “Have you asked Dr. Arang about it?” “Yes, and he said stop playing the drums.” Vesper sighed. “Draephus I worry about you.” Draephus tried to sit up and couldn’t. “Aw don’t worry about me, Ves, please. It’s just standard joint and muscle pain that comes with beating on drums day and night. A little mushroom resin and I’m good.” “You’re sure.” “Would I lie to you?” “Yes, absolutely if you thought you had to.” ‘Little creep knows me too well,’ thought Draephus. “I’m fine. I really am. I did some mushroom and I just had a nap. I’m good, really.” Vesper sighed heavily. “You’re NOT good, there is something WRONG with you. You always seem to be in pain.” Draephus made himself sit up. Now was not the best time for this conversation; he was still fogged from the drugs, and emotional from the last few days. He could hear the quaver in his voice as he spoke, hating it, unable to stop it. “I’m FINE, Vesper, I’m FINE. It’s not me we have to worry about, it’s you. At worst it’s a… a touch of arthritis but if it makes you happy I’ll go see Dr. Arang.” He swallowed, telling himself it wasn’t a lie, not really. “You promise.” “I promise,” Draephus growled, teeth grinding. “I’m too high for this clart, can we fight about something else?” Vesper laughed. “Okay, where were you the other night? I called, and all I got was barking.” Draephus sagged, guilt weighing him down and threatening to crush him like a bug. “I… spent the night at Raski’s.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Vesper was used to Draephus spending the occasional night at his friend’s house, and having Raski over. But there was a hitch in Draephus’ voice, telling him this time they did more than argue music and drink too much. “You…?” “Yeah.” “And may I ask what you did at Raski’s?” Draephus wanted to hang up, to flee, to just escape this conversation. He did not have an excuse or a justification, and he could not lie, WOULD not lie to Vesper. He cleared his throat. “Um… well…” “How many times?” “Four.” “FOUR?! How in the name of the New Empire did you perform FOUR times? You never did ME four times in one night!” Draephus shot back a response he regretted the second it was out of his mouth. “Yeah well maybe if you didn’t make it a damn fight for superiority every time I WOULD do you four times in one night!” Vesper gasped. “You underhanded, back-stabbing, vicious…” Oh this was shaping up to be a big one, Draephus thought, rolling his eyes. He loved Vesper, and he knew Vesper loved him. The problem was that together they were like oil and flame; dangerous and sure to explode. “Yeah I am,” Draephus snarled. “But why can’t we ONCE just be together without it being a fight? Why is it always a battle? Why do I feel like I have to pound you half to death just to have a chance to hold you? WHY IS IT ALWAYS A DAMNED FIGHT, VESPER?” Vesper went silent briefly, surprised. “I… I didn’t think it was an issue.” “It is an issue, and I hate it! I just…” Draephus felt the tears come to his eyes. He drew in a steadying breath, then snatched up a pen out of the drawer, driving it into his leg, the blunt tip puncturing flesh with a grinding, popping sensation. He gasped and convulsed in pain, but it stopped the tears. That was all it needed to do. He drew a breath to steady himself, and resumed speaking. “I just want to be with you. I love you, you’re my whole world. I don’t know why you feel you need to fight me, I really don’t, but I’m tired of fighting and you’ve proved your point, I know you’re strong. I’ve always known you’re strong. Now I just want to be with you.” Vesper was quiet for a little while. “Is that why you slept with Raski?” “No, I slept with Raski because I’m a free-roaming disaster and I just really, really needed to hold a living body in my arms. I… I don’t want to try and justify it. I don’t have a justification. I know I shouldn’t have done it.” Vesper was quiet again, as if processing. “Was he good?” Draephus felt a headache begin to build up behind his eyes. “Vesper, why do you want to know that?” “Morbid curiosity.” “Yeah, I would say he was good.” “Better than me?” “Vesper nobody could ever be better than you.” Another pause. Vesper was definitely working something out in his mind. “Do… do you think maybe you and he could… have something?” Draephus did not like the direction this conversation was taking. “What do you mean?” “I mean do you think you and he could have a relationship? If I wasn’t here?” The full impact of the question hit Draephus like a fist in the gut. “I am NOT going to sit here and start planning my life around your death!” “Well you are going to have to because I’m dying.” “Don’t do this to me, Vesper.” “I just want to know you will have something to fall back on when I’m gone! This isn’t fun for me either, sitting here worrying myself sick about you alone, shooting mushroom resin into your veins. I don’t want you to die just because I did, I want you to live.” “Vesper, I can’t DO this right now!” “Promise me something.” “No.” “PROMISE ME!” Vesper screamed. Draephus winced at the tone, grinding the pen in a little deeper. “Promise you what?” “That you won’t make me worry away my last days picturing you alone in that castle, slowly rotting away. I want you to set up an ancestor’s shrine for me, so I can watch over you. And if you so much as THINK about doing anything stupid, I will claw my way out of the grave so I can come beat your skull in personally.” Draephus squeezed his eyes shut, his body shaking. He thought he was going to vomit. “Fine. I promise. I swear.” “Draephus?” Draephus ground his teeth together, grinding them so hard he felt one chip with the force. He was trembling, almost vibrating, but he would not let the emotions out. He refused. “Draephus,” whispered the soft voice. Vesper awaited a response, but when he did not receive one, he spoke again. “It’s okay… about you and Raski. I… always felt it was just a matter of time anyway. I’m not angry. I just… I just needed to know I’m important too.” Draephus forced himself to breathe, making himself calm down. “Vesper you are the most important thing in my life. I will love you forever. No one and nothing could ever replace you.” “Raski is important to you too.” “Yeah he is, I’m not going to say he’s not, but… he’s not you. No one on this whole planet is you. And whether you are alive or not, no one will ever be you. I can’t replace you and I won’t try.” Vesper seemed satisfied. “Well, you can sleep with him if you like.” Draephus rolled his eyes, a gesture Vesper seemed to hear. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, CZimcocious,” he chided quietly. “Make love to him if you want. Have babies with him. But you do it with somebody else and I will kill the both of you.” Draephus managed a small, dispirited smile, and again Vesper seemed to hear the gesture. He and Draephus knew each other very well. “Do you want me to come home?” asked Vesper softly. “Yes,” whispered Draephus. “Of course I do.” “I meant right now.” “Yes. But don’t. This trip means a lot to you, and I want you to enjoy it.” “Are you sure?” Draephus nodded. “Yes. I’m sure. Enjoy it. Are you in pain?” “On and off. It’s not bad.” “Well if you are near Trae Dae Mu, I have a couple friends there I want you to look up.” “Draephus…” “Don’t argue with me you little creep, just do it.” “I’m NOT taking mushroom resin!” “Fine. Be that way.” “Thank you, I will.” Vesper laughed. “I love you, you know that.” “Yeah, I do. Don’t be gone too long. The Faylans miss you.” “Just the Faylans?” “Me too. I love you.” “Love you too. Get some sleep.” Draephus nodded, and sighed as he heard Vesper hang up. He set the telcom down and dragged himself to a seated position. He was depressed and angry and sick and he didn’t care what Vesper said; he wasn’t making love to Raski again until Vesper had quietly passed away and a suitable period of mourning had passed. He yanked the pen out of his leg and stared at it, watching with fascination as the blood dripped off the point. He tossed it into the drawer and reached for his needle, preparing another shot. He didn’t want to think about anything, not Vesper, not Raski, not the way his bones were already warning him of their impending failure, not the ethics of staring a new relationship when the old husband still had a few good months left, possibly even a few good years. He wondered if cuddling and kissing was okay… He tightened the rubber tubing, holding one end in his teeth and shot the drug into his arm. Then he heard someone clearing his throat, loudly. He looked up guiltily, tubing in his teeth, needle in his arm. It was Raski, and Draephus just knew that Vesper must have called him first and told him to get over here and find out what was wrong. He suddenly thought he knew why Vesper was not entirely opposed to he and Raski being together; it meant they could gang up on him. Vesper was small, and Vesper was sick. But by no stretch of the imagination was Vesper stupid. Draephus grinned in a hopefully-placating manner around the tubing in his teeth. “I’m going to kill you when you come down, just so you know,” said Raski. Draephus dropped the needle in the drawer and snapped off the tubing. “Sleep beside me, Rask,” he said quietly, lying down on the bed and drifting far, far away. ***---*** The school week dragged on and on. Duone Bathers and Dahli had another confrontation about the Faylan in Science Class, so, newly motivated on the subject, she used her study period that day to rattle off two heated letters, one to the principal, the other to the Emperor, both smouldering with many creative descriptions and choice words. She dropped the letter to the principal off at his office at the start of her lunch hour. Then, as she was leaving school for the day, Dahli realised that she did not have the address for the Emperor. It never occurred to Dahli to do something as mundane as try to find the address. Within moments she was boarding the transit, heading for the half-collapsed but still magnificent building in the middle of the city, where the Emperor went about the business of trying to put his homeland back together. The building was a huge, grand affair, centuries old, spreading across its expansive lawn. Its turrets imperiously surveyed the area, flags blowing gently in the spring breeze. From their great height, stone animals glared down; huge mythical birds and mighty dragons. The vast windows were of stained glass, covered by iron bars wrought into the likeness of spears. At the peak of the arched entrance, carved into the stone frame high above the heads of the four uniformed guards that stood vigilant at the entrance, was a coat of arms. The figure cut into it was blurred and obscured by age and moss, difficult to make out. Then as she drew closer, she realized it was the symbol of the Emperor who reigned centuries ago, before Second City came under Kyphisian law. It was a Gryphon. Dahli strode up the wide, stone stairs, trying to look as if she had every right to be there, inwardly quaking. One of the blue-uniformed guards, a tall fellow with grey eyes and strange, bluish-grey hair, came down to meet her. His three comrades watched her with interest. "Heia," she said and smiled. One of the guards returned her greeting. He had dark hawk's eyes, set beneath heavy brows, and there was no denying the uniform gave him an air of intimidation. She blushed slightly, and shifted her position to put the other guard between them. “You scared her,” remarked a third man. “I did not, I’m adorable.” “Then it must be your breath.” The guard standing before Dahli grinned at the interactions of his friends, then asked; "Do you have business here?" "I wanted to give this to the Emperor," she said, beginning to feel rather foolish. She passed him the envelope, and he took it in his gloved hand, opening it, checking for anything that did not look quite right. His eyebrow raised as he caught a few words of the note. Dahli felt her face become flush. “So you wish to be a diplomat when you grow up?” Dahli snatched her note back. "Look I realise that there are probably larger issues in the world than the one I wrote about, but could I please give it to him?" The guard removed a small device from his belt and pressed two buttons on it, speaking to someone briefly. A few minutes later a tall man with dark red hair came out, moving at a quick walk. He made his way down to them, stopping as he reached the guard. "Tibor, this young girl has a note for the Emperor." "I'm fifteen," put in Dahli defensively. "This woman has a note for the Emperor," amended the guard. Tibor smiled at Dahli. "I'll see that he gets it." "Really?" said Dahli, unwilling to trust her letter to anyone. "You're not just patronizing me." "I leave the patronizing to the foreign officials," he said. Dahli shifted nervously. "It's just that this is on a topic I feel rather strongly about." "And you're afraid that it will get lost in the shuffle. Well, would you feel better if you gave it to him yourself?" Dahli stared at the man, her eyes becoming wide. She had a feeling that, had she not been female, the letter would have been taken and used to start a fire some place. But being a girl on Sferkkaa had definite advantages. She smiled. "Yes. I would." "All right, follow me." Tibor turned and walked back up the stairs, Dahli following along behind him, her stomach doing strange things, her eyes watching the sway of his long coats as he walked up the steps. The inside of the building was cool and dim, voices and footsteps echoing in the cavernous halls. The floor was of decorative stone tile, icy cold, cut and coloured to form great mosaics. Tapestries hung on polished stone walls alongside carefully preserved paintings of the men and women who had inhabited the halls before the coming of the Kyphisians. The embassy was six hundred years older than Draephus' castle, built in the glory days when Sferkkaa had no technology of any kind, space travel was the dream of lunatics, and life was mostly peaceful. To hear the soft sounds within the embassy was to hear life as it had been in ages past. Dahli was almost afraid to breathe, lest she inhale a ghost. Dahli was trembling slightly when they reached the mighty doors of solid timber, leafed in gold, carved with the gryphon insignia. She was about to decide if she should run or not, when Tibor flung open the doors. There, directly across from her, sat the Emperor Stratavarus. He was a small man, slim, with a heavy mane of red-gold hair. He was seated at an enormous desk of heavy, aged wood, and behind him the stained glass window let in multi-coloured rainbows of light. Tibor led Dahli into the room, and as she stood before the huge desk, she felt as though she had fallen into someone else's dream. Then he looked up, and she almost cried out as she saw his eyes were the same unreal shade of red-gold as his hair. Stratavarus blinked at the small, terrified teenager across his desk, his golden red eyes lined in black. He was dressed in the red and black uniform of royalty, and wore the Imperial patterns on his face; the lines of black descending from his eyes to spread across his cheeks and become gold feathers, matching the ones in his red hair. It gave him an intense, other-worldly expression, and she felt herself begin to back up. Behind her, Tibor stood with an amused expression on his face. Tibor had been working with Stratavarus since he had come to power, and knew exactly what to expect from the man, which was anything and everything. Dahli shivered under the pinning gaze of the man's red eyes, watching him as he lifted a cigarette from a crystal ashtray and placed it between his lips. He drew on it, and casually exhaled smoke. He set it once more in the ashtray, his movements slow and purposeful as he slowly rose and leaned across his desk to study her. He stared at her for what seemed to be forever, then suddenly yelled, "BOO!" Dahli screamed, her letter flying out of her hand and cart-wheeling off across the room. It struck one silk-papered wall and tumbled to the floor. Dahli clamped her hands to her face and giggled nervously, shaking her head. "We'll be fine now, Tibor," she heard him say. "If I need you for anything I'll throw the paperweight at your door. Sit down and tell me your name." `This is the man we have in charge of the planet?' thought Dahli, not entirely certain if she wanted to come out from behind her hands. At last she did, finding that he had crossed the room to retrieve her letter. "Well that's my name, so I'm assuming this is for me. Sit, sit. Tell me what's on your mind, that's what I'm here for, rather like an exalted psychiatrist. Have a Touskanian chocolate." "Thank you," said Dahli, a little weakly. She took a chocolate from the box on his desk, then sat down in a sprawling, leather-covered chair. She bit carefully into it, savouring the taste. She’d never had chocolate before, so she slowly enjoyed it while he opened the letter and began to read. This only took a few moments, and then he glanced at her from over the top of the page with those transfixing eyes. "I take it this is a subject you feel rather strongly about. Frankly I'm rather reluctant to name the entire staff of Second City Research Labs as a `bunch of Grey Boy sympathizers.' Would you care to expound on this theory, or are you just paranoid?" He waved the letter back and forth between two fingers. Dahli drew in a breath, slowly exhaling. "I was rather upset when I wrote that, so I guess I was a little hard." "No, not at all. Frankly, I believe very deeply that all science duones are `Kyphisian want-to-be's'." "All right, I was very hard," she said, growing a little annoyed. "But this is wrong, and it's sick and I want to know what the šukat you're going to do about it." Stratavarus sat back in his chair and blinked. "My dear donselle, precisely how large, or rather small, do you think this planet is? Sferkkaa is a very large place indeed, and no matter what the people think I am, I am still but one man, and I can't be everywhere at once. The very city I call home is still little more than ruins, and however willing the people are to help, there is ever so much to be done. Do you realise that some parts of this planet are still so isolated that they do not even know the occupation is over? I realise you may think this very cold of me, but I haven't had much of a chance to think about Faylans." "But surely you could find some time for them!" Dahli sat forward in her chair, green eyes meeting gold. Stratavarus gazed calmly at the girl before him. "What is your name?" "Dahli Sandiniti," she said, wondering if he was going to put her name on some secret file and list it under `dissident'. "Dahli," he said softly, the word becoming something wonderful when he said it, "I am not disagreeing with you. And I'm not dismissing your concerns. In fact, I like you, you're tough. Look, let's discuss this over lunch, shall we? Then at least if we come to blows we can throw food at one another, which is infinitely softer than furniture." Before Dahli could reply one way or another, the man before her snatched up a lump of metal she assumed was the paperweight and heaved it across the room at a badly dented door. "Tibor!" he yelled. Tibor opened the door and thrust his head into the room. "You banged?" "Have somebody bring lunch. If you're going to work me like a feralyke the least you can do is feed me. And hand me back my paperweight." "I am not the one who threw it," said Tibor as he bent to pick up the grey lump, shapeless from two years of hurling. He placed it on the desk. "Yes, yes, but I'm Emperor and you're my secretary, so that means you have to get my paperweight." Tibor left without comment to this, and Stratavarus sighed heavily. "We'll eat in the day room, shall we? So good to have someone drop in who doesn't want something." "But I do, remember?" Stratavarus thought for a moment, then said, "Oh yes, the Faylans. Lunch first, politics later." They left the office and strolled down the eerie, silent halls, Stratavarus keeping up a wandering line of talk as they walked. His thigh-high boots made virtually no sound on the stone floor, though his heavy velvet coats rustled softly. He was not significantly taller than she, which likely indicated he was from the area; the men of the coastal regions of the north continent having traditionally been small of frame. Unlike Dahli, he seemed to know everything about the city he called home. "This is a tapestry from the reign of Emperor Rivar. I have a guard named Rivar, I quite like the man. You would have seen him on your way in; dyes his hair blue. Dreadful. Says it’s natural, well if it is I’m a seagull. That would make that particular piece of wall trash around two thousand years old, which is slightly younger than I feel on any given morning. I should not even have this post, you know, I'm not descended from the Emperor's line at all, I'm descended from his General's. Didn't even want the post, to tell you the truth, but I’m the closest thing to the Imperial bloodline there is, so that makes me Emperor. They don’t like it when I mention I used to be just another whore in the lower levels of the Cylinder. There's a portrait of my ancestor, General Stratavarus and his favourite underling, Windsoar. He was always two steps behind the General, from what I hear. Great story about Windsoar; he was shot and left for dead in the South Continental jungles. The General had people out looking for him, but they couldn't find him, and after awhile they just assumed the Night Stalkers got him. Nasty things, Night Stalkers. It was very hard on the Old Man. They were, by all indications, lovers, but back then you just did not talk about such things. Then one night, five months after being used for target practice, who do you think crawls out of the swamps and bushes? Couldn't kill him, and many tried. The Kyphisians certainly hated him. Odd they never got him. They got the General, though. Apparently they had to put him in his coffin with a shovel." Dahli didn't know whether to be appalled or delighted. Granted, it was not the sort of thing one wanted to hear before lunch, but it would look good on her history paper. They reached the day room, a large, airy chamber with a window that spanned the entire width of the wall. It looked into a garden, alive with rare flowers, fruiting trees, and small, fuzzy animals. Dahli stepped forward to examine them, and realized they were… “Touskanian Cave Spiders,” said Stratavarus. “Aren’t they cute?” “Bleh!” said Dahli. “Oh come, don’t be that way, they’re cute.” “BLEH! And there are… dozens of them!” “Well they don’t like to be alone.” “What do they eat? Each other?” “No, don’t be absurd. Fruit, mostly, and the occasional rat or unwary spelunker.” “Grim. Totally grim.” “You can teach them to speak, too.” “DOUBLE GRIM!” Stratavarus laughed. “Well I quite like them. Hello, babies!” he said as a few of the black and gold horrors leapt onto the glass and hung there, wandering across the surface of the window. “Erk,” said Dahli. She watched as one wandered over to stare at her with multiple beady black eyes. “Don’t eat me,” it said, quite clearly in a tiny, high-pitched cartoon voice. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!” At either end of the great chamber was a huge fireplace, both currently lit, and in the dim light of what had become a very rainy day they sent out a warm orange glow across the room. Lunch was already being set up on a long table; bowls and platters of various things steamed in a most appealing manner. Stratavarus motioned for Dahli to sit, and she selected a chair from which she could look around the highly elaborate room. For a while, no one said a word. Dahli ate slowly, studying everything on her plate as though food had become a new and unusual thing. In fact everything looked a little odd, and she suddenly realised what it was she had eaten in Emperor's Stratavarus' office. Touskanian chocolates had been highly sought during the occupation; simple confections sweetened by the thorny South Continent mushroom. Dahli glanced up, noticing the wonderful way that the light from the fire smeared. Brightly coloured spots hung in the air. The pale curtains blew softly with no wind to help them. "Is the air supposed to be that colour?” she asked, watching the spots. Stratavarus glanced up at her. "Beg your pardon? Oh, yes, the chocolate. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Oh well, you only had one, you'll be coherent, if distracted. How is the food?" "It's very good," said Dahli, staring down at her plate. "But I really would like to talk about the Faylans..." "So would I. Interesting creatures, Faylans. Perfectly designed for leaping from tree to tree. They are the closest a wingless creature has ever come to flight. Unfortunately they can also clear a thirty foot room in one leap to bite your nose off. They always go for the face." “Well if someone had me in a small cage and was cutting me to bits, that would certainly be my choice.” Dahli looked up as she heard loud voices shouting in the hallway; arguing heatedly. The noise finally moved away, and Dahli looked back towards the Emperor. “Are you using me as an excuse to hide from someone?” she asked. “In a word? Yes. Absolutely. Continue.” She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t see how we, as an intelligent race, can justify it! They’re people!” Stratavarus fixed her with those disturbing reddish eyes. “They are not people, donselle. They can walk upright, yes, they have hands, yes, but they are not people, they are Faylans.” “Well what about the rumours I have heard that Sferkkaans and Kyphisians have bred with them?” “Utter nonsense. If it had happened, we would know about it.” “Well what if it was true?” “If it was true, then I would be obligated to look into the matter, yes. And frankly I intend to look into matters regarding Faylans, but frankly I cannot spare them any time or thought right now. Donselle, have you had a good look at this city? Have you noticed how many homeless people we have? How we have more mouths than food, how we have people living in shacks without basic necessities, and so many Kyphisian-made orphans we had to set aside a neighbourhood for them? Do you have any idea what it feels like to sit up at night, staring at little charts, trying to decide how to divide up rations, knowing that no matter what you do, someone is going to go hungry? And we are the fortunate ones! We’re an island, we have fish, we have desalinization plants for fresh drinking water, we have orchards. The death rate in Avalair due to starvation, toxic gasses released by the underground fires, not to mention the fires themselves, is staggering. And then there is the next city, and the city after that.” He gazed at her, his expression sympathetic. “Child I am not unfeeling. I am buried.” Dahli felt her eyes begin to grow wet, and she lowered her head, feeling defeated. “I didn’t think of things that way. I just felt so bad for that poor little guy.” She made herself look up. “Isn’t there something you can do?” The shouting that had passed by earlier returned. Stratavarus pointed towards it. “Do you hear that? That is a delegation from the east coast I was supposed to meet with four hours ago to discuss how we are going to clean up all the lovely oil and chemical spills the Kyphisians left for us to play with. If you feel truly strongly about this, then go forth and organize. Find like minded-people. Come up with a strategy. And when you have your committee in order and your goals set, I will be delighted to give you Imperial approval. But if you are waiting for me to do it, then you and the Faylans will have to wait a very long time.” Dahli sniffed, and wiped at one eye with the back of her hand, and smiled. “I think you’re a great Emperor,” she said softly. The door opened, and Tibor appeared. “I’m sorry I can’t stall them any longer.” Stratavarus stood up. He gave her a smile. “It was lovely meeting you, I’ll send in Rivar to walk you to the door.” Then he was gone, departing in a swirl of red and black velvet. Dahli resumed eating and awaited the guard. ***---***
|
Disclaimer: All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent. The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings. (C) 2008 Alyx Shaw |