Dushau

Since they'd entered the cell, Jindigar had behaved toward her like his old self. Was she really doing him irreparable harm by responding? It had been his choice, after all. And she couldn't find it in her not to respond. Even though their situation now was far worse than before, she suddenly found her energy and optimism returning. But was it selfish to cling to him because it made her feel good? There was no way to resolve the dilemma, and so she fell asleep gnawing on it, the warm piol curled in her lap.

She dreamed she was prisoner on a transparent spaceship. All around her, messages flew on clouds of energy contained in pipes in the walls, and she could feel their pulse. She could hear the angry buzz of hostility, the languid ache of sickness, the coarse celebrations of troopers primed to blood lust and held in check by respect for a superior blood lust. But the situation was transparent in time, as well, and behind it lay many, many similar occasions. Dream turned to nightmare as setting after setting spun into the center of her consciousness and away, leaving her unsure which situation was current.

Smothering in the rising fear, she was jolted back to reality by the slap of marching feet and cries of protest. The cells were open and they were being paraded in the shaftway again. This time, they were taken to decent showers and given comfortable, well-fitting ship's issue clothing. Then, two abreast, they were marched through miles of corridors.

Krinata had thought Truth a large ship. Timespike held the cubic of several city blocks, and Krinata was soon totally lost. Yet, she realized where they were going scant seconds before they arrived. The Emperor's audience chamber.

The room was as huge as a hangar deck, but decorated in expensive fabrics, textured walls, and imperial crests. Four exotic bird sanctuaries filled the corners with color and a pleasant background sound. The floor appeared to be polished wood, though she knew that couldn't be. Not in space. The throne on which the Emperor sat was a replica of the one in the palace. The imperial leptolizer stood ensconced over a disguised holo-stage, giving him direct access to his Empire.

This time, though, the room was not filled with the court delegations. A regiment of troops lined the walls in smart dress satins, but carrying real weapons. With a thrill of goose bumps, Krinata thought she recognized some of the troopers' faces from her nightmare. But then she forgot that as she stifled a cry at the sight of Rashion trainers and their charges stationed about the throne.

Krinata and Jindigar were in the lead. She'd seen Desdinda join them, looking pale-toothed yet ambulatory, hanging back as far from Jindigar as she could.

Zinzik gestured negligently at Jindigar as they were brought up to the throne steps. "One more chance, my Prince."

Jindigar remained standing. So did Krinata. But she heard a rustle behind her—some of them were kneeling. She didn't want to know who.

Zinzik stood and walked down the steps to look Jindigar in the eye. "No?"

"No," stated Jindigar mildly.

"I see. Well, we shall find your weakness. And when we do, we shall stage a public confession. You see, you've become some kind of a symbol of the Oliat system, the last remaining Oliat officer at large in the Allegiancy. The rumors magnify you out of all proportion. But I can use that. At your news conference, held just before your execution, you will reveal all the vile details of the Dushau plot that has brought the Allegiancy to these dire straits. Your loyal testimony will reunify the Allegiancy behind the rightful Emperor."

So he is in trouble with the Kings!

"If I were going to die anyway, why would I lie?"

"Thousands of years old, yet i

Because of the memories he now carried, Jindigar felt an obligation to survive even upon the deaths of others—as much against his nature as that went. He also needed to return to

Dushaun to be trained to unlock those memories, despite all his reasons for not wanting to return home.

"A prince," answered Jindigar thoughtfully, "can not be bribed or blackmailed, especially not by an Emperor who has broken faith with him." Krinata heard the unspoken finish to that, though Zinzik appeared oblivious. No matter how much he wants the bribe or fears the threat.

Krinata's admiration leaped like a flame, while she recognized the pride motivating him. He was being asked to destroy the reputation of his species before civilizations yet to be born in the galaxy, as well as the integrity of the Oliat. There was probably some Aliom principle stiffening his spine, but his pride in his adherence to his ethical, moral, and legal codes shone forth.

On the other hand, she knew the tattered shambles of his nerves left by his experiences of the last few months. Zinzik had designed bribe and threat to tear Jindigar apart along the very axis already unendurably stressed: loyalty to his people versus loyalty to his friends. Not for the first time, she regretted her friendship with Jindigar which, as Rinperee had predicted, might do him more harm than good, though in a totally unexpected way.

How much could he take before he broke? Would he watch a Rashion tear her throat out, and still hold to his principles? Despite what Rinperee had said, she didn't think he cared more for her than for his principles. But if he broke, would he die of insanity, unable to cooperate with Zinzik's demands, thus losing any chance of saving the Archive? Or would he stage the confession and be sent home, thus saving the Archive so his feeling for her could be said to force him to do what Grisnilter and Rinperee wanted him to? It was a decision only Jindigar could make, and Krinata wasn't kidding herself. His values were not human.

All of this flashed through Krinata's mind as Zinzik circled Jindigar, as if able to see right through his calm facade. Then, gri

One of the Rashion trainers trotted over with his charge. A woman came with him: Lehiroh, tall, slender, dark, and hard-eyed with a cruel twist to her lips. Krinata told herself not to interpret other species by her human biases. But she didn't believe it this time.

She was right. As the Emperor stepped back to perch sideways on his throne, as if about to enjoy a good show, the woman pulled out a screenboard, propped it against her waist with one hand while she punched up data with the other.

"Ready, Richter?" asked the woman.

"The beast is ready. He's one of the prize—"

"Enough! All right, Jindigar. Which of these companions means the most to you?"

Jindigar's stared fixedly as if he didn't hear.

"We'll kill them all, one by one until we get a rise—"

The Rashion whimpered and tugged at his leash. The trainer went with him, first to one then another of the Truth's complement. The protosentient seemed confused and frustrated as he came to Krinata, whuffled at her feet, then started around again.

"This is getting nowhere," declared the trainer. "He seems to regard them all equally."

"Nonsense. Start with—" The Lehiroh woman spun about looking at the motley bunch, and chose Bell. "—that one. Strip her. Bring her around front here so everyone can see."

Bell's guards shoved her up front and removed her clothing. Jindigar watched in that unembarrassed way he had that made it seem she was still properly clothed even when she fought exposing her vestigial mammary glands. "Now," said the Lehiroh woman, who obviously held the same contempt for Ensyvians as the Emperor did, "is there a Lehiroh guard who'd like a little fun with an Ensyvian bride?"