Floating Worlds

VRIBULO

The air of the Empire’s heart-city smelled like grease. The darkness made Paula uneasy and she stayed close by Saba in the street. She kept having the feeling that someone was following them. Her ears hurt from listening behind them through the roar of the city. They went along the crowded street toward the mid-city gate, where they were to meet Tanuojin.

He was standing just outside the door, Marus and two others of his watch behind him. As usual he and Saba met with an embrace. Paula turned to look up and down the street. People in Vribulo walked faster than in other places. The free locks of the Vribulit clubbed hair swayed like tails behind them. All she saw in one direction was a mass of hurrying backs and in the other a mass of hurrying faces. Tanuojin sent his men to the Barn, and he and Saba and Paula started across the city to the Akopra.

“Isn’t your Akopra House finished yet?” Paula asked him.

“Yes.”

She was walking between them, breaking into a jog now and then to keep up. “Then why go to this Akopra, if they’re so bad?”

“They may have somebody I can use.”

She tucked her hands into the muff. It had been Illy’s but Illy had given it to her as a homecoming present. They turned into a lane between high buildings, and behind them a man shouted something. She glanced over her shoulder. A knot of men was coming after them. She grabbed Saba’s arm. He and Tanuojin stopped. Another pack of Styths was blocking the narrow way ahead of them. One of these walked forward. His shirt was spangled with bits of metal. His face looked as if it had been cut to pieces and sewn back together again.

Saba shoved her. “Get out of the way. Run.”

She backed away from them. The man with the scarred face stopped; she knew it was Ymma, and his ruined face was Tanuojin’s work.

Saba said, low, “Keep moving.” He lunged at Ymma.

The two packs of men rushed together, like two hands clapping. Paula ran to the fence along the alley, looking for a way through them. Their reek made her heart pound. She could not see Saba or Tanuojin in the fighting. Sliding along the wall, she headed for the street. An arm hooked around her neck. She was hoisted off her feet, the crooked arm strangling her. She wrenched around and slid out of the grasp but someone else caught her.

“Hold her—”

She squirmed uselessly in a pinion grip. A hand yanked her head up by the hair. Someone snarled in her ear. “Watch. This is what happens to people who defy us.” She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Ymma’s men clogged the alleyway. Five feet from her they had Saba down on his knees, with his belt around his chest pinning his arms down. He was rigid, coiled; if they had let him go he would have shot up like a spring. Tanuojin lay on the ground. Ymma and two of his men were kicking him. She whined, and the hand in her hair twisted so hard tears ran down her cheeks. She heard bone crackle; she saw Tanuojin’s eyes close. They went on trampling him long after he began to bleed. At last Ymma stood back, signaling to the other men to stop.

Saba said nothing. He raised his head and gave Ymma an instant’s glance and turned his gaze back to Tanuojin. Ymma gave a sharp order. His men surged off along the alleyway. They carried Paula with them, out to the street, tucked like barter under one arm. A hand pressed stifling over her face. She fought for breath. Abruptly they dropped her and ran off along the street.

She gained her feet again, gasping in the rancid air. All along the street, people wheeled to watch Ymma’s men run by. She went back into the alley. Saba knelt beside Tanuojin. On the ground behind him lay his broken belt. The ground was covered with blood. Tanuojin’s head lay in a great puddle of it. She squatted down and put out her hand toward him, and Saba caught her arm.

“No. Don’t touch him. Find out where Ymma goes.”

She got up and trotted back to the street. Ymma and his men were nowhere in sight. She loped up the street in the direction they had gone, looking down the side streets. The thick stream of passers-by slowed her. Ahead, near the curve, where the street turned up, she saw a dozen men all traveling together, and she quickened her step.

In the dark she could not tell from such a distance if that band was Ymma’s or not. They turned into a side street, and she ran through an alley and climbed a fence and jumped down into another trunk street, which brought her much closer to them. Now she could see the bits of metal on one man’s shirt, and she went after them at a flat run.

Above her head Upper Vribulo stretched like a roof in the darkness. On the black lake half a mile from her a boat floated upside down; its bow light gleamed on the water. Ymma and his men walked up the curve toward the lake shore and turned to follow it. She realized where they were going. She went along another street, keeping them in sight on the curved wall of the city, and followed them that way down to the rAkellaron House.

They circled around to go in through a side door, avoiding the Barn. She was tired, and she had never been inside the House. Warily she went up to the door. The building loomed over her, large even for Styths. She went in the door and saw Ymma and his men at the far end of a long dim hallway, going through another door. When they had all disappeared, she ran down the length of the hall, her feet pattering on the stone floor. That door opened on a stairway.

She was afraid to go farther. The stone walls around her chilled her to the bone. She went back outside and waited awhile, to see if anyone came out, but no one did. After about half an hour, she went around the House to the Barn.

Saba was in Tanuojin’s office, sitting on the desk drinking whiskey. He watched her come in and shut the door.

“How is he?” she said.

“He’s bad.” The big Styth set his bottle down. “He’s still bleeding. I didn’t think he could be hurt that bad any more.”

She went to the desk and took the bottle. “Ymma went to the House.” The liquor burned her throat.

“Damn him.” Saba slapped his knees. “I knew he wouldn’t dare do that without help.”

“Is Machou behind it?”

“Probably.”

She drank another gulp of the whiskey. “What’s going to happen?”

“I’ll call Ymma down, next watch, and get Machou on my back, and Tanuojin won’t be there to step in for me. I’ll end up six places down the rank, if I’m lucky. And kicked to pieces.”

He took the bottle back and drank, full-throated. She watched the level of the liquor fall. He was afraid, and his fear made her cold. She went through the office to the little room.

Tanuojin lay on his back in the bed, wrapped in the blankets. He was profoundly asleep. His face was swollen shapeless. Saba came in past her and bent over him.

“He’s stopped bleeding.” He took her by the shoulder and turned her around. “Come on.”

There were two time meters on the wall of the middle room of the office, one for Yekka and one for Vribulo, which read forty-two minutes into the low watch. She hadn’t even heard the bells ring. She walked up and down the room past the computers.

“There has to be something we can do.”

“Yes. I can tear Ymma apart, before they maul me.”

She wheeled around toward him, her temper rising. “Stop talking as if it were certain. There has to be some way we can come out of this on top.”

“You don’t have to fight.”

“If I did I wouldn’t give up before it even starts.”

He pushed a stack of tapes off the top of a cabinet and sat down on it, staring at her down his long aristocratic nose. She heard the pulses banging in her ears. Her fist was clenched. Finally she looked away. “All right. I’m sorry.”

“If you help me maybe we can do something.”

“What?”

“Go into the House and look around for me. See who’s in this.”

She gathered her breath. “I will.”

“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll go stir up the flocks.”

The steps up to the front of the House were like ledges. Her legs began to ache before she was halfway to the porch. The broad expanse of concrete was nearly empty of people. The double doors into the House stood open. She went into an entryway, blinking in the dark. The wall on her right glinted. Twelve feet high, it was covered with Styth letters set in gold into the stone. She realized that was the Gold Wall, decorated with the names of the rePriman.

She was wearing slave clothes, a white scarf tied over her hair, and the two men standing guard just inside the entryway never even looked at her. She started up the steep stairs. Saba had told her to go to the third floor, the Prima Suite, where Machou lived. Two men passed her, coming down, one of them Ymma’s man. They ignored her. The stairs ended at the third-floor landing. Even before she opened the door she could hear the roar of voices in the hall of the Prima Suite.

It was packed from wall to wall with men. Half of them wore the red chevron badge of the Uranian Patrol. Machou was captain of the patrol. She hung back, her breath stuck in her lungs, until she saw there were slaves among them. She went slowly in among the Styths, catching snatches of their talk. Several doors opened off either wall of the long, straight hallway, but the men all kept glancing at the first door on the right, so she knew that was where Machou was. They sounded impatient to leave. She wandered among them, watching the door they all watched. One of the other slaves suddenly leaned over to look her in the face. She turned away from him and he went off. Nervously she followed him away with her eyes.

The door behind her burst open, and she wheeled around. The patrolmen around her straightened to stand at respect, their arms at their sides. The man who came into the hall also wore the red chevron. Over his shirt a gold filigree collar hung, covering his shoulders and chest. He was flawlessly handsome, as beautiful as Illy. She looked him over, admiring him. From the room he had just left came Machou’s harsh voice. The door shutting cut it off.

She glanced around her at the white, moving slaves. The one who had remarked her was talking to another slave, and both of them turned and looked at her. She went hastily out of the Prima Suite, following the handsome man down.

She stayed one flight above him. He stopped on the second-floor landing to meet somebody. Higher on the stair, she went to the rail and leaned out, trying to see who it was. All she could see of him was the top of his head and his gold covered shoulders.

One of them said, “Matuko is out tearing the place up. I take it Ymma did his part?”

The other answered, “Yes—he says. You know about Tanuojin’s little kink, don’t you?”

“I saw him cut to the bone once, and he never bled a drop. Are you fighting Saba?”

Over her head, the door opened, and feet clanged on the landing. She went on down the stairs, through the several patrolmen waiting in the handsome man’s train. Absently, they shifted to let her pass through them. She went by the two men standing face to face on the platform where the stair turned corner. The second stranger was older than Saba; he stood with his head thrust forward.

The handsome man was saying, “I know what I can do, and I can’t whip Saba.”

“Even with Ymma to soften him up?” the other said.

“Ymma will only give him exercise. He’s new back from space, he’ll be in perfect condition. He’s strong as a motor anyway. This one is yours. I told Machou already.”

She was by them and no longer heard him. Higher, on the stairs above the landing, a voice called sharply, “Stop that slavewoman!” She broke into a run, going down the stairs two and three steps at a time. The sentries were dozing. She got through the door onto the open porch just ahead of them.

In the open they could not catch her. She reached the Barn out of breath. Saba was lying on his bed in the back room of his office, his arms behind his head. Paula shut the door.

“I’m glad you finally decided to come back,” he said.

“Who is in the patrol, very handsome, a fancy dresser—” She took off the slave’s clothes. “Much taller than you, but lighter-built?”

His head turned toward her. “Younger than me? Bokojin. The Illini Akellar. I can beat him.”

“That’s what he says.” Her satchel was under the bed, and she opened it and took out her robe. “Another one, stocky, older than you, who carries his head—” She thrust her head forward on her shoulders.

Saba watched her from the bed, his head pillowed on his arms. “That’s Leno. Illy’s brother, Merkhiz. I can’t beat him.”

Illy’s brother. He did not look like her at all. There was a blanket folded over the foot of the bed. Paula took it and sat down in the chair between the window and the chest of drawers. “Bokojin said you’d be in perfect shape.” She opened out the blanket.

“Maybe. The trouble with being strong is you never have to learn the tricks. Leno knows every trick there is. You can sleep with me. Don’t you trust me?”

“There isn’t enough room.”

“Maybe I could take Leno, if I didn’t have Ymma to scratch first. I can’t wait to get my hooks into him, that son of a bitch.”

“How is Tanuojin?”

“Not good.”

She pulled the edge of the blanket over her head. The chair was hard as a shelf, but she had no wish to sleep. She rested her head against the back of it. A siren wailed loud along the street below the window and slowly died away. Her legs hurt from climbing stairs. She missed David, whose routine ordered her life in Matuko. Ymma had broken Tanuojin’s body, maybe his mind, maybe all their ambitions: savaged in an alleyway.

“You were right,” Saba said. “We must be crowding close to Machou.”

“You can’t get out of fighting Ymma.”

“No.” He rolled onto his stomach. “Oh, I could, I guess. I could let him go by without revenging Tanuojin. Would you like me to do that?”

“Yes.”

The sound he made in his throat was like a muffled laugh. He turned the back of his head to her. “You’ll do anything.” His loose hair slid over his shoulders, wavy from being clubbed. His back flexed.

“I got in a fight with Leno, once,” he said. He was facing the wall. “In Colorado’s. Before I married Illy. He stretched me out in about fifteen seconds.”

“That was a while ago. He’s older than you are. What about Tanuojin? Can he help you?”

His head swiveled around again, directing his eyes toward her. “If I took him in there, in me?”

She nodded. Her hands and face were cold.

“I’ve thought of that. But he won’t be well. It’s too dangerous. It’s dangerous enough for him when he’s sound.”

“Could he help you?”

Saba propped himself up on one elbow and reached for the crystal lamp on the window sill. He switched it on. The light sprang into the room; she blinked, dazzled. He put the lamp on the floor midway between them.

“He knows half again as many tricks as Leno. But it could kill him. If he leaves his body it will start to bleed again.”

Paula held her legs out to put her feet into the warmth of the lamp. Leno was the Prima Cadet, second only to Machou. If Saba defeated him, Saba took his place. He had to win, whatever it cost him. She wiggled her toes in the glow of the lamp.

The broad porch of the House teemed with people. Paula went through the short entry, with its glittering wall of gold names, and down the hall on the first floor. The hall like a tunnel caught the voices of the men standing thick around the double doors at the far end. She followed a short white figure through the smaller slave door to the left.

She came into a large room full of slaves. Most of the floor was taken by a great open pit with a railing around it. She squeezed through the packed white shoulders to it. The pit was easily a hundred feet across, circular, its sloping walls ringed with three ledges. The rAkellaron sat there with their aides, scratching and drinking and talking, picking their noses, chewing laksi: the masters of the Empire. She leaned on the rail, her chin barely clearing it, stiff with excitement. She wondered if she were the first free Sun-worlder ever to see this.

Machou sat on the second ledge, a little to her right, deep in talk with the handsome man: Bokojin. Leno was across the pit from her on the first ledge. She could not find Ymma. While she looked around, the double doors banged wide, and Saba came into the Chamber.

The other men all craned their necks to see him, and many stood up. Ketac and Sril trailed him. He went straight down the steps of the pit, past her without noticing her, into the round sandy space at the bottom. Now he saw her; he gave her an intense look. Paula held on to the railing with both hands. The slaves around her were avoiding her. Somehow they always knew who she was. Now Ymma came into the Chamber.

Saba saw him. He went to the rail around the little arena. “Ymma, you know why I’m here!”

Machou waved his hand, and the sentries at the double doors swung them shut. The rAkellaron hushed. Ymma was chewing his tongue. He went along the uppermost ledge to a stretch of bare bench. Machou stood up, and all around the pit, every other man stood.

“This session is open. Matuko, you have some special business?”

“You know about it, Prima,” Saba called. “You know about it all.”

The Prima sat down. “Are you challenging me, Akellar?” Ht did not sound worried.

Saba went around the pit toward Ymma. His voice rose in a harsh whine. No one but Paula seemed to notice how much he sounded like Tanuojin. He called, “Come down here, Ymma—I want you, and you know why.”

Ymma was still on his feet, although everyone else had sat when Machou sat. In a low voice, the Lopka Akellar said, “I have my rights. He shamed me—”

“So you beat him up in the street?”

Here and there on the ledges someone murmured. Directly below her a man leaned toward another and whispered, “I take it Ymma paid his little debt to Tanuojin?” Ymma was sidling along the ledge to the nearest stairs. Paula sucked in a deep breath, her eyes on Saba.

He glanced over his shoulder at Leno and sideways at Bokojin. Backing across the sand, he gave Ymma the room to come into the arena, and turned so that when Ymma came in through the bottom rail Saba was facing all of them, Ymma, Leno, and Bokojin. Ymma stepped out onto the sand. Saba jumped on him.

The onlookers howled. The slaves around her rushed forward to see and nearly crushed her against the railing. All around the ledges the rAkellaron bounded to their feet. Saba hit Ymma so hard the other man landed on his back on the far side of the sand circle. Leno vaulted down across the bottom ledge to the sand. Ymma curled up, his arms around his head. Saba took two steps and fell to his knees on Ymma’s chest. He sprang around to meet Leno.

Leno feinted, and Saba shifted to meet him. They grappled. Paula could hardly breathe. The slaves were pushing her hard against the rail. The cheers and screams packed her ears. Leno tripped Saba down. They rolled over on the sand, their claws hooked in each other’s face. Ymma was trying to get up. On his knees, Leno straddled Saba’s chest, reared back, and slashed at him with his spread hand. Saba caught his wrist. They strained against each other a moment, motionless, their faces twisted with effort. Abruptly Saba gave way and Leno fell, off-balance. Saba pulled him forward and butted him.

The Merkhiz Akellar collapsed, dazed. Saba heaved himself off the sand and drove his elbow like a hammer into Leno’s side, all his weight behind it, and when Leno dropped to the sand struck him again in the same way between the shoulder blades. Merkhiz sagged down slack on his face. Saba sprang up to his feet and backed away, his head turning from Leno to Ymma. Blood streamed along his face. The cheering rolled out deafening from the men watching.

Paula elbowed and shoved a way through the slaves to the stair. Machou was on his feet. Everybody was watching him. The Prima turned on his heel and walked up the ledges, through the rail past Paula, and went out of the Chamber. Ketac and Sril went into the pit with Saba. His son gave him a towel.

Paula went down the ledges, stretching her legs from step to step. Saba had seen her. He came up to meet her, took her by the hands, and bent and kissed her.

The uproar died abruptly. Behind her a man swore. Her tongue tasted of copper.

“Take her back,” Saba said. Ketac stood one step below him. Paula’s head whirled in a sudden giddy rush, and she staggered. Ketac took her by the arm.

“Are you hurt?”

She leaned on him. She had lost her voice. Her throat was numb and her sight darkened. At the top of the steps Ketac lifted her up in his arms.

“Open this door.”

He carried her along the hall, through the glitter of the Gold Wall, and out onto the plain. Someone shouted. She rested her head on Ketac’s shoulder, exhausted.

“Saba just took Leno and Ymma both in thirty-two seconds!”

A raw-throated cheer grated in her ears. Ketac stopped in a circle of other men. He was talking but she was too tired to make out the words. She felt him walking down the stairs. A cold dark fell over her; he had brought her into the arcade.

She said, hoarse, “Tanuojin.” She opened her eyes.

“He’s asleep, Paula.”

“Let me in there.”

When he set her on her feet she nearly fell.

She went through Tanuojin’s empty office to the back room. Her strength was seeping away. A cold weakness crept like death along her backbone, freezing her mind numb. She sat down on the edge of the bed. Fresh blood was pooled on the floor under it.

In her mind, his voice murmured, “Make sure it’s still alive.”

She put one hand over the body’s mouth. His faint breath cooled her palm. She bent over him and kissed him. Her tongue and lower lip tingled. His mouth was cold. The life woke in her muscles. She ran her tongue over his lips and down his mouth and into his throat.

He pushed at her with one hand, feeble. She held him, her weight on him, kissing him deep against his will until he rolled weakly over onto his stomach. She straightened. He lay face down on the bed.

“You bitch, Paula.”

“You do talk. What if your body had been dead? You were set to take mine. You’d have killed me.”

He turned his face to the wall. She opened the door and left him alone.