Hell's Gate

Chapter Twenty-Five

The train finally cleared the congested city of Gulf Point, situated at the base of the Finger Sea, where the Gulf of Shurkhal connected that sea with the Harkalan Ocean. Even with the Crown Prince's prized locomotive, the journey had required almost ten hours, and the Voice conclave had been over for over an hour by the time they reached the city. Halidar Kinshe felt drained and exhausted, although he'd actually said very little during the conclave itself. Wilkon had kept him and the Crown Prince fully informed, and, if he was going to be honest, Kinshe had to admit that it had gone far better than he'd feared. But the generally ugly mood of the attending heads of state had not filled him with optimism. Worse, they'd resonated with his own grinding sense of responsibility and blazing need for retribution, and his mood was heavy as they approached their destination at last.

The Gulf's busy shipping lanes carried freighters laden with goods from around the globe, making Gulf Point one of the busiest ports in the world. It took time to thread their way through the jammed city, swinging around the southwestern-most point of land to head east toward the little town where Shaylar had gone to school. It lay only thirty miles farther down the coast, but the sun had settled well into the west as the special train pulled into the small local station at last and the prince's carriage was unloaded.

It took a little longer to get the cavalry escort's mounts off-loaded, as well, before they could set out to be Institute, and they drew curious stares from the townfolk, who recognized the royal crest on the carriage. Kinshe could see excited conversations springing up in their wake as people speculated about this unannounced royal visit, but they rode in absolute silence as they followed the road through town and out beyond it. The Cetacean Institute was visible now, another three miles ahead.

Kinshe hadn't visited this part of Shurkhal in years?decades, to be more exact. He'd stood on this shoreline as a very junior member of Shurkhal's Parliament, celebrating the opening of Shurkhal's own Cetacean Institute?the Kingdom's sole cetacean translation facility. Part embassy, but mostly research station, the Institute had been founded by Dr. Shalassar Kolmayr-Brintal. Although Shalassar was not a native-born daughter of Shurkhal, she had built a legacy in which the entire Kingdom could take pride.

Thanks to her work, the dolphins had led Shurkhali divers to rich pearl beds which might have lain undiscovered for centuries, otherwise. Shurkhali pearls fetched excellent prices on the world market, famous for their size and luster, and Shurkhali explorers had laid claim to those to those same pearl beds in other universes, as well, increasing the Kingdom's prestige while providing income to establish Shurkhali colonies.

All of Shurkhal knew who they truly had to thank for that, and Shurkhalis had long since come to recognize Shalassar Kolmayr-Brintal as one of their own, even though she had been born on one of the tiny island chains scattered across the Scurlis Ocean. The Scurlis was Sharona's largest body of water, more than nine thousand miles long, north to south, and nearly ten thousand miles wide along the equator. Most of its islands were governed by the Lissian Republic, whose main landmass was the continent-sized island that was home to some of the strangest creatures on Sharona.

Shalassar had grown up on one of those Lissian-governed islands. She was a tremendously Talented telepath, whose childhood friends had been dolphins and the great whales that roamed the Scurlis Ocean. She had come to Shurkhal to establish the Institute as one of a worldwide chain of embassies serving the sentient whales and dolphins.

They were close enough now to see the large dock and the enormous area which had been roped off around it to serve as the official embassy. A large bell hung from a pole on the dock, with a stout cable that trailed into the water. That bell was a necessary signaling device. Kinshe had heard that she'd had to replace it?and the dock?occasionally when an emissary from a new pod of whales approached to ask for assistance and gave the cable too hard a tug the first try. Shalassar Kolmayr-Brintal simply took it all in stride, as she had everything else in her life.

Until now, at least, he thought, biting his lip.

No one was at home in the house. A note on the door said: "We're at the Embassy. Come on down, the water's fine!"

Kinshe's heart twisted as he read the cheerful words, and he looked at his wife. She was biting her lip now, and he took her hand as they climbed back into the carriage and followed the road around to the cluster of buildings at the water's edge, half a mile from the house. Outside the carriage, the silence was glorious, broken only by the wind and the heartbeat-rushing of the sea against the shore. Inside the carriage, the silence was oppressive, as heavy as a storm brewing on the horizon, broken only by the knife-sharp rattle of horses' hooves on the graveled drive.

"Hal," Alimar murmured, squeezing his hand. She started to say something more, then simply closed her lips and fell silent again. She'd tried to convince him on the train that this wasn't his fault. She'd tried hard … and she would still be trying when he lay on his deathbed.

The carriage clattered to a halt in front of the Institute's main administration building. The footman scrambled to open the door, and this time the Crown Prince climbed down first and handed Alimar to the ground. Kinshe followed, and Wilkon climbed out last.

The Institute's front door opened and Shalassar Kolmayr-Brintal herself hurried out into the sunlight, eyes wide with surprise as her glance flicked across the royal crest on the carriage door.

"Your Highness!" she said, clearly astonished to see the Crown Prince. "And Representative Kinshe," she added, as she dropped into the deep curtsy she had learned in the years since arriving on the shores. Shaylar was very much a miniature of this woman, whose Lissian island heritage showed in her honey-toned skin and the sleek black hair falling straight as a waterfall down her back. It was tinted here and there with strands of pure silver, but those were the only signs of age Kinshe could detect. It was obvious that their arrival had taken her completely by surprise, but she was trying not to show it, and her immense natural dignity helped.

"Forgive me for not sending word ahead to expect our visit," Danith Fyysel said gently. The final decision had been his, although Kinshe had been in total agreement. They could have asked Wilkon to alert her and her husband, but they'd chosen to remain silent rather than alarm and worry them hours in advance. Now the Crown Prince took her hand, lifting her from the deep curtsy, and made introductions.

"You know Representative Kinshe, I know," he said. "Allow me to present his wife, Alimar Kinshe-Dulan, and Samari Wilkon, a senior Voice of the Portal Authority." He finished the formalities, then inhaled deeply. "My father asked me to accompany Representative Kinshe and Voice Wilkon today. I must ask, is your husband home, Doctor?"

Shalassar's eyebrows rose, and she looked back and forth between Kinshe and the Crown Prince.

"Yes, he?" she began, then broke off abruptly. She stared into Crown Prince Danith's eyes, and the color seemed to drain out of her face.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she said tautly. "Something's happened."

Danith squared his shoulders, but Halidar Kinshe took a small step forward before the Crown Prince could speak. He wished profoundly that someone else could have brought this news, but it was his job, and no one else's.

"We've brought a message, Doctor. A very urgent and important message. We need to deliver it to both you and your husband."

Shalassar had pressed her hands against her cheeks. The long, slender fingers were unsteady.

"It's Shayl, isn't it? Something's happened to my little Shayl… . "

Her lips trembled, and her huge, expressive eyes were dark with shadows. It was a mark of just how distressed she was that she'd used the pre-marriage form of her daughter's name. She stared at Kinshe for several more seconds, then turned away, started for the Institute, stopped, and turned back to them.

"Come in, please," she said in a faint voice. "Come in out of the sun. You must be frightfully hot and thirsty from your journey. I'll have my assistant bring some cool water, some fruit … "

Alimar bit her lip again and tightened her fingers around Kinshe's as Shalassar tried desperately to cling to the proper conventions. They followed her into the Institute's main lobby, such as it was. The administration building was mostly office space, with a small antechamber where infrequent guests could wait for the two or three minutes necessary to track down the Director.

Wide open windows caught the sea breeze, carrying the unmistakable scent of deep ocean water into the thick-walled room. It was pleasantly cool, despite the fierce heat outside. Just offshore lay the floating dock and the bell. The colorfully painted floats holding up the rope around the dock's reserved approaches hurt his eyes as the afternoon sunlight slanted fiercely across them. They hurt his heart, as well, as he contemplated his reason for being here. It was monstrous to bring such news to this beautiful place.

The promised assistant arrived with the refreshments while Shalassar went out to fetch her husband. She could have simply spoken to him with her mind, since both of them were strong telepaths who shared the even closer communication possible through their marriage bond, but she went to find him in person. No doubt, Kinshe thought, in hopes of regaining her shattered composure before she had to face them once again.

He sipped water gratefully, but he couldn't even nibble at the succulent orange slices or sweet palm dates on the platter. His stomach rebelled at the mere thought of food, and Wilkon didn't touch the fruit, either. The Voice's eyes showed his own inner agitation, which was far worse even than Kinshe's. Kinshe knew what message they were here to deliver, but he was no telepath. Wilkon was, and the Farnalian had actually experienced it himself already.

Then Shalassar returned with her husband in tow. Thaminar Kolmayr-Brintal, like most full-blooded Shurkhali, was a slender man, neither tall nor short, but lean and tough as old leather. Despite his strong telepathic Talent, he had chosen to remain on his family's land as a farmer and livestock breeder, rather than seek a position as a registered Voice. His skin was the weathered, furrowed brown of those who spent lifetimes laboring in the fierce desert sun, and he was possessed of all his people's personal dignity and presence. He greeted his Crown Prince with a deep, formal bow; then met Kinshe's gaze head-on. Muscles bunched in his jaw under his dark, close-trimmed beard.

"Come into the office," he said, his voice rough. "We'll talk there."

They stepped into a room which reflected its owner's life hands much as the work done here. Island artwork hung on the walls, reminders of Shalassar's girlhood home, but file cabinets took up most of the wall space, their wooden cases carefully oiled against the dry desert air. A desk in one corner looked almost like an afterthought, a concession to the need for orderly workspace to record the conversations with various cetaceans, the dissertations written by various transient students over the years, research data, published articles and books, even?and perhaps most important?treaties that governed Sharona's relationship with their sentient, aquatic neighbors.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, Kinshe saw several sleek, wet hides break the surface, visible through the office window, punctuated by the hiss of cetaceans surfacing to breathe. Given their size, he surmised that a pod of dolphins had come calling, although one or two might have been larger. It was hard for him to tell.

Then Shaylar's father closed the door, and Kinshe turned his attention to repeating the introductions. Thaminar Kolmayr-Brintal and his wife stood together, arms wrapped around one another, even their free hands gripping one another's. Two strong telepaths, fused for the moment into one terrified personality staring at him with parents' eyes.

"What is it?" Thaminar asked, his voice even rougher than before. "What's gone so wrong that the King sends his Heir and a Royal Representative to deliver the bad news?"

"There's been an incident?" Kinshe began, then paused, cursing his own cowardice, and amended his phrasing. "An act of war has been committed against Sharonian citizens. I'm desperately sorry to bring such news. The Portal Authority Director has asked Voice Wilkon to deliver the last message your daughter transmitted."

Shalassar's knees buckled at the dreadful word "last." She clutched at her husband, nostrils flared, eyes clenched shut, and he eased her into a chair. He crouched beside her, wrapping his arm around her while she shuddered, and lifted angry wounded eyes to meet Kinshe's.

"What you mean by that, Kinshe? An act of war?"

"Exactly that, sir," Kinshe made himself reply as levelly as possible. "We don't have very many details yet, but Shaylar's team ran into an unknown human civilization?a violently hostile one, apparently. Her first message reported that one of their crew had been shot by an unknown assailant. They ran for the nearest portal. They didn't make it."

Shalassar began to weep, her breath ragged, her wet face twisted with grief, and Kinshe steeled himself to tell them the rest.

"Her second and final message was sent less than two hours after the first. Because of a transmission delay, it overtook the first, and both of them arrived at the Authority simultaneously this morning."

He cleared his throat.

"There might be survivors. It's not much of a hope," he added quickly, hating to crush the sudden wild hope in her parents's eyes, "but the nearest fort has sent out a rescue party. On the chance that somebody survived the second attack. It's?"

He had to pause, had to swallow hard. He wasn't a telepath himself, but even the secondhand description had been brutal.

"It's very unlikely that anyone lived," he said softly, levelly. "But we're going to find the people who did this, and we're going to find out whether or not they took prisoners. And there will be payment for it," he added in a voice which sounded like a stranger's. "We?the Portal Authority Director, King Fyysel and Crown Prince Danith, Alimar and myself?we wanted you to receive your daughter's last message before we go public with this.

"Sharona's world leaders have already met in a Voice Conclave today, to decide how Sharona will respond to the crisis. That will be reported on, even if we tried to keep it quiet, and know that reporters know there's been a Conclave, they're going to start asking why. We wanted to be certain that you were told before that happened."

Shaylar's mother lifted her face, and her voice was brittle.

"And how will Sharona's leaders respond?"

Halidar Kinshe drew a deep breath and told her. When he mentioned the high probability that Sharona's military would be drastically expanded, Shaylar's parents went pale again. He wasn't surprised. He knew very well that Shaylar's military-age brothers would shortly discover a burning reason to volunteer for combat.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I could introduce legislation barring enlistment of every single son from one family. It might well pass … but even that might not deter them from enlisting under false names."

Shaylar's father held his gaze for long moments, then shook his head.

"No, it wouldn't," he said gruffly. "My sons are too much like me to expect anything different of them. But thank you for considering our fear, for offering to help. It was a great kindness. What it would cost us if they?"

He halted, unable to go on, and a ghastly silence hovered until Crown Prince Danith broke it.

"My father begged me to bring you a personal message from His Majesty. With your permission, I'll deliver it now, not … after the Voice has given you the message he carries."

Dr. Kolmayr-Brintal's throat worked. She tightened her fingers around her husband's already firm grip and seemed to settle even deeper into the straight backed chair.

"Go on," she said in a voice of gravel.

"His Majesty wants you to know that he will never stop the search for your daughter, will never rest until answers, at least, are found. Shurkhal is raising troops, as agreed upon in today's Conclave. Those troops will have one order, above and beyond all else: find Shaylar Nargra-Kolmayr … or the people who killed her."

Shaylar's mother flinched, and his face tightened.

"I'm sorry," he said in a voice raw with his own pain, "but we must face the likelihood that she's gone and act accordingly."

He drew a deep breath and continued.

"The people of our Kingdom will feel this loss deeply, as a wound not just to our national pride, but to our national heart. His Majesty begs you to remember that your daughter was loved by millions?and so you shall be, when this news is released. His Majesty knows how desperately private your grief will be, so he has made arrangements to send a small full-time staff to you, to handle the response when people are told. If there's some small office, perhaps here at the Institute, where they could work out of your way, they'll take charge of all that, giving you the privacy you need and dealing with the chaos for you. Is that acceptable to you?"

Shaylar's parents only stared at him, too shellshocked to respond. Perhaps, Kinshe thought, neither of them had fully understood until that moment how deeply proud of their daughter all of Shurkhal had felt?and how keenly the Kingdom would feel her loss. Even those who hadn't approved of her taking on a "man's job" in the first place … or perhaps, in their way, especially those who hadn't approved.

Her father unfroze first.

"That isn't?that is?Do you really think this is necessary?"

"Yes, sir," Crown Prince Danith said quietly, putting the concern he felt into every word. "I do believe it will be necessary. So does His Majesty."

"I agree," Kinshe added quietly. "Your family will become the focus of all Sharona's shock and outrage. We?the King, Parliament, the entire Kingdom?cannot leave you to face this alone, unprepared to deal with what will come when word of this is released. What we're offering to do, to handle the uproar for you, isn't much?not nearly enough, compared with the magnitude of your loss. But you will need someone who can deal with all of. Please let us help, even in so small a way."

Shalassar nodded, her head moving like a broken marionette's. Thaminar simply looked lost, a strong man whose grief and anger had been punctured by something he couldn't understand. Something he feared. His gaze?which had gone to a place very far from this small room with its wooden file cases, its thick walls and open window, the scent and sight and sound of the sea?gradually pulled itself back and focused on the King's heir.

"Very well," he said, his voice low and hollow. "If more trouble must fall across our shoulders, it will be restful to have someone help us carry the weight." Kinshe sensed a gathering of strength within him, or perhaps merely a gathering of the shreds of courage. Then he turned to the Voice.

"You have a message from our child?"

"I do." Wilkon's voice was thick with pain. "I beg your forgiveness, both of you, for what I am about to show you."

Shaylar's parents' hands gripped tighter even than before, tight enough for knuckles to whiten and tremble.

"Show us," Thaminar said hoarsely.

They closed their eyes, and for an instant?perhaps two heartbeats, certainly no longer?nothing happened.

Then, as one person, they flinched violently back. Kinshe couldn't even begin to describe the sound that broke from Shaylar's mother. It was like cloth ripping, or a whimper … or something soft dying under the wheels of the train. He couldn't bear to look at them, yet couldn't wrench his gaze away from the sweat, the muscle-knotting agony, the?

A sudden scream ripped into his awareness, and not from Shaylar's parents. It came from outside?from beyond the window. From the sea …

Kinshe whipped around to stare out the window. The sea inside the floating ropes that marked the cetacean's embassy had gone mad. The dolphins surged from the water, fifty or sixty of them rising on their tail flukes, and the sound that broke from them turned his blood to ice. Then a deeper bellow broke across the chittering snarls, and a whale broached. Larger than the Crown prince's train car, it roared out of the water, standing for just an instant on its own tail fluke, a mountain of glistening flesh spearing straight toward the desert sky. Sound exploded into the air, a shockwave of sound that struck Kinshe's bones through the open window like a fist. Water crashed outward from its massive weight as it came down again, and the dock and bell splintered under the impact.

A humpback, he realized through numb shock. One of the singing whales. Only that was no whalesong bursting from it. That was rage. Pure, distilled, and terrible rage.

Gods, Kinshe realized. Shaylar's mother was broadcasting what she saw. She probably didn't even realize it, but the cetaceans did, and he jerked his gaze back to her. She was shuddering, eyes clenched tightly shut, her sounds like those of some small, trapped animal. Then she stiffened, and her eyes flew wide.

"Shaylar!" she screamed, and her husband flinched so violently he nearly went to the floor. Then Shalassar collapsed. She sagged in her chair, her head falling forward in merciful unconsciousness.

Kinshe stared at her, his eyes burning, and took a single step forward.

"Stay away from her!" Thaminar snarled.

His eyes were burnt wounds in his face, and he bent over his wife, stroking hair back from her wet face and murmuring her name over and over. Fragile eyelids fluttered. Opened. For long moments, there was no sense in Shalassar's eyes at all. Then remembrance struck like a crack of thunder, and she began to weep. She sobbed, the sound deep and jagged, while her husband cradled her close looking utterly bereft.

Kinshe could only stand there, feeling a tear trickle down his own cheek, wondering what to do. What anyone could do. And then?

"You men, out," Alimar Kinshe said firmly to her husband, her Crown Prince, and Samari Wilkon, and it was an order, not a request. "Go. Find something to do?I don't care what. Just go."

She didn't even look at them. She simply marched across the tiny office, gathered Shaylar's mother into her arms, and turned to Shaylar's father.

"Go and get some brandy, if you have any," she commanded. "Wine, if you don't. She needs it."

To Kinshe's infinite surprise, Thaminar rose without a sound of protest and left the office, like a ghost walking through terrain it can no longer see or touch. Kinshe watched him go, and then he understood.

He needed to feel useful. Needed to do something for his wife. He just didn't know how.

Halidar Kinshe's respect for his wife, already high, soared to dizzying heights, and he tiptoed very softly from the room, beckoning the others to follow.

Alimar clearly understood what needed to be done far better than he did, so he left her to do it.