Hostile Takeover: A Space Opera Adventure (Luminous Void Book 3), page 16
Skyler eased through the door, looked from side to side, then beckoned for Callum and James to follow. Callum found himself in a large room filled with rows of wooden benches, polished smooth by generations of brown-robed bottoms. The only light coming from a few candles burning atop the small wooden altar in front of the room. A long banner above the altar read, “The Suffering of God is The Glory of Man.” The air smelled pungent and cloying from the resin candles that dripped crystalline sap from the sconces on the walls.
“Nothing creepy about this,” Skyler said over his shoulder as he trotted down the center aisle toward the tiny altar.
“At least it doesn’t smell like rotting flesh.” James ran his hands over the left wall, peering down at the floor. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much here. Callum, you check the other wall.”
“Check it for what?”
“Hidden doors, secret passages, trap doors leading to damp cellars. Even I know that, and I don’t read the kind of sensational trash Skyler does.”
“Boney the Gorum is not sensational trash,” Skyler said from the front of the room where he was studying the altar. “These guys don’t have a lot of valuables, do they.”
“We’re not here to rob them,” James said.
“Speak for yourself.”
“There won’t be cellars,” Callum said. “The ground’s too soft and too wet.” He dropped onto a pew and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “What are we doing? There’s nothing here.”
Skyler scoffed. “I am offended by your lack of faith—no pun intended. Come on. We’re not going to find the good stuff right out front where the rubes can see it.”
He went to a door in the corner behind the altar and pushed it open, revealing a narrow passage. He peered in, then waved for Callum and James to follow. “I’ll bet this is where they keep all the valuables. Maybe even a missing prince and princess.”
The passage smelled of old wood and dust. They came to a door, and Skyler raised the latch. He nudged the door open just enough to put his eye to the crack, but there was no light on the other side and no sound of movement. He eased the door wider. “All clear.”
Callum and James followed him in. It seemed to be a narrow dormitory, judging by the thirty or so rolled pallets lined up against the walls. The room also contained a few crates of candles wrapped in parchment and smelling of sap, some broken benches, and insect-nibbled drapes and tapestries. The next room was another dormitory.
At the end of the corridor, Skyler opened the last door. “I hate to say it, kid, but if we don’t find anything here, I’ll have to say this trip was a bust.”
Callum followed Skyler and found himself in the church’s laundry room and kitchen. There was one big copper kettle that would hang over a fire in the brick hearth and serve for cooking and heating wash water. Canvas bags of cracked grain lay stacked against the wall for porridge, which was mostly what the Origineums ate with a little fruit and meat for special occasions. A basket beside the door contained heaps of soiled robes and lighter wool undergarments.
Skyler grimaced. “Sorry, kid.”
Callum kicked the basket hard enough to knock it over. “I know. It was a waste of time.”
“Sure,” Skyler said, “but wouldn’t you have felt stupid if you hadn’t come here and the kids had turned out to be here the whole time?”
Callum grimaced. “Well, what do we do next then?”
“What I’d do,” Skyler said, “is start from here and spread out, chatting with people, buying a few drinks and asking questions without looking like I’m asking questions. Starting with the alehouse or pub or whatever you call it we passed on our way here.”
“Okay.” Callum threw up his hands. “I guess I don’t know what else to do, so let’s try that.” He bent and picked up one of the robes that had spilled out of the basket when he kicked it. He righted the basket and dropped the robe inside, then picked up another. “Ugh.” He dropped the garment and scrubbed his palm on the front of his own robe.
“What?” James asked.
“Mud. Slimy too.” Callum grimaced at the smell.
“You’re surprised? We just slogged through centimeters of the stuff outside,” Skyler said.
“Yeah, but…” Callum sniffed his hand, then bent and gingerly picked up the robe he had just dropped. He took a tentative whiff. “But this is different. Out there, it’s animal muck. This is river mud, it can only be found in the southern district. Whenever we went down to the southern waterfront, my mother would shout at the servants because it was so hard to get the smell off her shoes.”
Skyler raised an eyebrow. “And this is important because…?”
“The southern waterfront is owned by MineCorp. All the warehouses along the waterfront belong to them. They wouldn’t let the Origineums anywhere near…”
“My brothers in Succelus, I didn’t think anyone was here yet.”
Callum, James, and Skyler turned in unison. A man in a brown robe stood in the doorway.
“I was just setting up…” the man said, then he caught sight of the three faces framed in their hooded robes and stopped short, staring drop-jawed at Skyler and James. “What in the…”
“Excuse us.” Skyler grinned at the befuddled man. “Lord Succelus spank our bottoms, but we’re late for the big shindig in front of the palace.” He squeezed past the man and sprinted down the hall, followed by James. By the time Callum was sidling past him, the Origineum had recovered his wits enough to grab Callum’s robe. Callum felt it start to slip and tried to pull free, but the man had a death grip on the hood, and Callum didn’t have time to wrestle for it. He twisted, pulled his arms out of the loose sleeves, and bent, allowing the robe to slide right off over his head. He straightened, facing the man who now stood with his mouth ajar.
“Prince… Prince Callum? But…” the man blinked stupidly, then looked down at the brown robe in his hand as if it might explain what was going on. He raised his eyes back to Callum’s with a scowl. “You’re dead,” he said accusingly.
“Not as much as you might think.” Callum snatched his robe from the man’s suddenly slack fingers and bolted for the front of the church.
Callum motioned for James and Skyler to follow. “The market,” Callum panted. They crossed the square and turned right, pelting between two buildings.
“Hey!” The Origineum shouted behind them. “Come back here!”
Callum was leading the way with Skyler right on his heels. They just needed to lose their pursuer, then they could slow down and blend in with the ordinary people on the street.
Unfortunately, it was hard to blend in when you had someone shouting at you from behind. The people they passed tended to stop and stare, giving the Origineum a clear trail to follow.
“This way.” Skyler peeled off toward a narrow alley on the left.
Callum tried to grab his sleeve. “Don’t…” the alley would lead across to Kingsway Road.
It was too late. They couldn’t stop now. Callum just had to pray Skyler wouldn’t follow his usual strategy and find them a midden heap to hide in.
But although the alley was none too clean, with a scattering of old rubbish and rags, there wasn’t anything big enough to have hidden Sweetums, much less a full-grown human or Yueltan.
They burst out of the alley onto the rough-cobbled surface of Kingsway where pedestrians turned to look and scatter.
“Hoy!” someone shouted. “Watch where you’re going.”
Callum dodged around an old woman, who called him something vile, and followed Skyler around behind a cart pulled by a dray beast, hoping the bulk of the cart would block them from the view of the origin—assuming he was still after them. Callum couldn’t see any reason why the man should follow them. He might assume they had been there to steal something, but they hadn’t actually taken anything. At least he didn’t think so. Skyler wouldn’t really have stolen from a church, would he?
Callum was running out of breath. He hooked his fingers into the side of the cart, letting it pull him along. He craned his head, trying to look over the top of the load. It sounded, and smelled, like crated mini-bustards all clucking and whistling at the same time.
The driver of the cart turned around. “Get off there. What are you doing?”
Callum waved his arm in what he hoped was a regal “be quiet in the name of the king” signal.
His arm-waving might not have done it, but the driver got a good look at his face and got that same puzzled look that Callum couldn’t seem to get away from. Unfortunately, the driver reacted to his surprise by pulling up on his beast’s reins. The hairy animal shuffled to a halt.
Skyler was still moving, but Callum felt a furry hand close on the back of his shirt. “Hold on,” James said. “Give it up, Skyler.”
Skyler took a few more steps, then staggered to a halt. “Come on, we’ve got to keep moving.”
Callum would have agreed with Skyler if he’d had the breath. As it was, all he could do was pant.
“The jig is up,” James said. He turned a slow circle surveying the crowd building around him.
“What’s going on, Elaric?” asked a short, stout man with the important air of one who is the undisputed master of the section of street on which he kept his shop.
The driver poked the end of his whip in Callum’s direction. “What do you say to that, Noyce?”
The stout man pursed his lips and studied first Callum’s face, then the tattoo on his temple. “I say if that’s not the royal mark, then it’s a good copy.”
Callum tried to think up a believable lie, but he’d never been good at deception.
Skyler shouldered himself between Callum and Noyce. “Hey, I know what you’re thinking, but we’re not from around here. You know offworld customs–costumes for Carnivalia and all that, right?”
The carter let out a bark of laughter. “Right, I’ve heard about some of those offworld costumes. Where’s your hat, Mr. Ghost?”
“You want costumes?” James had been leaning against the side of the cart. Now, he straightened to his full height. He pushed back his hood and shook his ears out, straightening them and swiveling them toward the carter. “How’s that for a costume? Dressing up as a prince is nothing to us offworlders.”
If James thought he was going to impress the locals, he did—just maybe not the way he expected.
The carter whooped with laughter, rocking back and forth on his seat. “What did I say?” He thumped the butt of his driving whip on his knee. “Didn’t I say it was the prince returned from the afterworld, and to prove it, he brought back a Puka and a ghost.”
Technically, the carter hadn’t said that, but he hadn’t had to. There was nothing else for it. Callum threw his shoulders back and raised his chin. “Yes, I am Prince Callum Navier Tyrese. I’ve returned to find my cousins and restore order to the monarchy.”
The Origineum had caught up to them and huffed to a stop. “Prince, my ass. Then why was he robbing our holy sanctuary?”
“Close your mouth hole,” the carter said. “There’s nothing to steal in that excuse for a church of yours.”
The Origineum started to protest, then dropped his eyes, unable to deny the fact. “Well, what was he doing then?”
The carter, the merchant, and a growing cluster of passersby turned to Callum and waited for his answer.
Put like that, it sounded silly. Callum tried to look stern and think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot.
Fortunately, Skyler never worried about things like that. “I thought everybody knew the Origineums had grabbed the kids. What’s the first place you’d look for them?”
The carter scratched his cheek and looked at the merchant. “If he’s been in the underworld, he wouldn’t know, would he?”
Noyce, the merchant, turned to Callum. “The Royal Guard went all through this district and searched every house and shop, including their church.” He tipped his head in the direction of the Origineum. “They found nothing there or anywhere else.”
“How hard were they really trying?” James asked.
A woman with a weaver’s symbol sewn on the shoulder of her blouse snorted. “Hard enough to do thousands of pizars worth of damage to loyal crafters and shopkeepers.” A matter of angry agreement passed through the crowd.
A thousand pizars was twice or three times what these people would earn in a year. Callum considered what his uncle Tik would have done. “Has the crown reimbursed you for your losses?”
The angry woman shrugged one shoulder. “When did the king ever listen to us?”
It would be bad form to criticize his royal parents in front of the citizenry. The crown ought to keep some level of decorum. He gave them a regal nod. “I will correct that oversight when I next speak to my father.”
“When do you think that might be?” the carter asked.
Callum found himself blushing. “I am on my way there now.” Which made it seem doubly silly that he had been running through the streets like a common thief.
The carter cleared his throat. “Might you be wanting a ride—that’s if you don’t mind riding in a cart full of bustards.”
It wouldn’t be the most dignified way to get back to the palace, but Skyler gave Callum a nudge toward the wagon seat. “His Royal Princeyness thanks you and accepts.”
It would be nice to sit down and catch his wind. Callum accepted the driver’s hand and pulled himself up to the bench seat across the front of the cart. The driver looked down at Skyler. “Room for one more, but your Puka friend will have to ride in the back—my apologies to your honor, Mr. Puka.”
“It’s James, and I can walk faster than your beast.”
James wasn’t even winded from their headlong run through the streets. He’d been loping easily along while Skyler and Callum wore themselves out.
When Callum was settled with the driver on one side and Skyler on the other, the Carter gave his reins a shake and shouted, “Hup.” The dray beast shuffled into motion. The driver made a snapping sound with his whip—well above the animal’s back. It waggled its cup-shaped ears and roused itself to a lumbering trot down the center of the winding road.
Callum could have wished for a faster pace. It seemed like the cluster of people who had closed around them on the street had grown into a crowd, running alongside the cart and looking up at Callum’s face. A hundred meters further on, they weren’t following anymore. The wagon was rolling between lines of people gathered and pressed up together on both sides of the road. A rhythmic mutter was rolling through the crowd, gathering volume and coalescing into shouts of, “Prince Callum, Prince Callum.”
Skyler gave him a nudge. “No point trying to sneak into the palace quietly. Might as well enjoy yourself. Give them a wave.” Skyler demonstrated, raising one arm and flourishing it at the crowd.
Callum felt like he was having one of those dreams when he was sitting at the com station on Luminous Void and suddenly realized he was stark naked and Ramadi was giving him one of those disappointed looks that made him want to crawl away. He got his arm up and waved, turning from side to side to make sure he included everyone on the street.
“I don’t suppose you have any largess on you,” the carter said.
“Uh…” Callum thought of the handful of steel coins in Skyler’s pocket. It wouldn’t go very far, and they might still need it.
“Oh well, I didn’t think so.” The driver waved his whip in the air and grinned around at the crowd.
James, loping along at the side of the wagon, had discarded his prayer robe and attracted his own entourage of children and young women, who all seemed fascinated by his blinding-white fur. They followed him so closely, reaching out to stroke him as he went by, that he was in danger of getting separated from the cart.
Callum heard the shrill tone of a wooden whistle piping out the first notes of the Qwell anthem. In moments, human voices picked up the melody and added the words: “Long live our faithful king, to us his blessings bring, his bounty round us spring, long live our king.” It went on with quite a bit more of that kind of thing, and it made him nervous. He wasn’t the king, and he didn’t want to be. He didn’t really want to be here at all. If it hadn’t been for Alanzo and Suwen, he’d still be back on Luminous Void.
A woman ran out in front of the cart and threw a handful of flowers on the cobbles. More instruments came out, playing the anthem. An honor guard of musicians coalesced on either side of the dray beast. A wiry young man sprang from the crowd carrying a bundle of blue and yellow cloth, which he draped over the side of the moving wagon. Someone threw an embroidered blanket over the back of the beast, which endured the decoration with stolid indifference.
“My prince,” someone shouted. Callum looked down in time to see another man jump to the wagon’s running board. He shoved a bundle of cloth into Callum’s hands and leaped down again. Callum now held a roll of blue cloth embroidered with gold flowers and leaves.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it, but Skyler took it, unfolded it, and draped it over Callum’s shoulders. The cries of the crowd rose higher, so Callum tied a hasty knot to keep it in place.
There were more flowers in the street now. Callum couldn’t imagine where they were coming from unless someone had snuck into the gardens of the nobility and taken everything that bloomed. People were waving colored scarves and branches covered in golden whisper-me blossoms.
The music morphed from the stately anthem to a common dance tune, and there were girls and boys in bright clothes dancing along ahead of the cart.
The dray beast looked increasingly gloomy, but the carter was grinning as broadly as Skyler. Skyler had somehow gotten hold of a yellow cloak, and Callum caught a glimpse of James decked in multicolored scarves. This had all gotten completely out of control, but Callum couldn’t see a single thing he could do about it.
Skyler leaned close to Callum’s ear. “I thought you said these people didn’t know how to do Carnivalia. They just needed inspiration.” He stood up, balanced himself against the motion of the cart, and waved to all sides. With his free hand, he tugged at Callum’s shoulder. “Come on. You started this.”
