After several hours, Rayne decided that she had been left alone for the day and tried to prise off the lock plate on the door, but it foiled her. She cursed it, boredom and frustration fraying her temper. She turned her attention to the rest of the complex, determined to find an egress of some sort: an air duct or maintenance hatch. After searching all the rooms, she came to the disquieting conclusion that the apartment had been designed as a prison.
Sitting on the sofa, she thought about that. It meant the Shrike kept prisoners here, which did not reflect well on his character. She found it strange that he had locked her in here; it did not strike her as the usual quarters for a slave. The rooms seemed to be designed to look like guests’ quarters, but to imprison anyone in them.
She jumped as the door opened to admit the Shrike, who paused and turned his head as if surveying the disarray her search had caused.
“I trust you’ve been having fun?”
She glared at him. “What sort of man keeps his guests in a carefully designed prison?”
“A real guest would never know, since they wouldn’t try to escape. But you’re not a guest, are you?”
“Then you should have put me in the slave pen, with the rest of your slaves,” she said. “As for your guests; I pity them. Just because you’re a crook, you think everybody else is, too.”
“Most of the people I know are, and they’re not the sort I want wandering around my base.”
“So you lock them up.”
He shrugged. “If they find themselves locked up, it’s only because they tried to escape.”
His logic confounded her. “How long are you going to keep me here? Don’t you have any use for me? And if not, why did you buy me? Was I an investment?” She longed to tear off the mask; the mystery ate at her. She went on, “Why don’t you sell me again? Make your dirty profit. Perhaps the next person will be more helpful than you and take me home.”
“If you believe that, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Or perhaps you’re just naive.”
“Does that reduce my value? I’m not stupid. Others would do it for the reward, ones who don’t have a price on their heads. You should sell me while you can; Tallyn will be looking for me.”
He folded his arms and leant against the wall. “He won’t find you.”
“You don’t know that. The Council will send a search party.”
“What makes you so important to the Atlanteans? Why did they save you and your brother?”
She rose and wandered away, buying time to formulate an answer. Stopping beside a shelf, she fiddled with an ornament. The few moments did not allow her to come up with anything intelligent, so she settled for hostility. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Figure it out for yourself, if you can.”
“Maybe I’ll have someone look into it.”
“They won’t find out. Only a few people know, and they won’t talk.”
“So, it’s a big secret, is it?” He pushed himself away from the wall. “I’ll bet Drevina knows. She seems to know everything. And she doesn’t usually sell her merchandise herself. I was surprised to see her on Gergonia, at least, at a slave market. She’s been to a few of the more unsavoury parties, but she’s not a great businesswoman.”
“She doesn’t know anything,” Rayne denied, but he crossed the room towards a blank wall. As he approached, a panel slid aside and a space line screen emerged.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she said, desperate to stop him. “We’re the last humans. They wanted to save our genetic data for future generations, a sort of legacy. They created us, after all.”
“You’re brother and sister.”
“Yes, but our genes can still be used with others, and we were the only ones not mutated or diseased.”
“Not very plausible, I’m afraid. Your genetic data would have been stored in a lab by now, and even if it wasn’t, it’s not that important. If the Atlanteans are so desperate to find you, they must have a better reason than that.” He faced the screen and activated it, waiting until a link was established and a grey Draycon face filled it.
“Get me Drevina,” he ordered.
Rayne searched her mind for another lie that would satisfy him, but sensed he would go ahead with his call anyway. She was amazed at how quickly the Draycon woman appeared, wearing a false smile.
“Shrike; how nice to hear from you.”
“Cut the crap, Drevina. Why did the Atlanteans rescue this girl I bought from you today?”
She looked smug. “You should have found that out before you bought her. Like so many others, you couldn’t resist a pretty face, could you?”
“I had my reasons for buying her, now tell me why.”
“Kill her, and you won’t have to worry about it.”
He shook his head. “I paid a lot for her. I’m not about to do that.”
“You will when I tell you what she is.”
“So tell me.”
Drevina said, “She’s the Golden Child of Atlantean prophecy, destined to save their empire from ruin. They’ll search every corner of this galaxy for her, and when they find her, they’ll kill you. Kill her or sell her, if you value your life. Why do you think I got rid of her so quickly?”
He broke the connection, banishing her smug visage, and the space line screen slid back into the wall as he turned to Rayne. “Wonderful. Why did you try to keep it a secret? It’s the one thing guaranteed to make me want to get rid of you.”
“Or kill me.”
“No, I’d be more likely to ransom you back to them.”
“Then why don’t you? They’ll pay it.”
“I’m sure they would, but I have other plans for you. The Atlanteans won’t find you that quickly. It’s a big galaxy.” He went over to a chair and sat down. “Who else knows about this, apart from the Atlanteans?”
“No one; as far as I know. Why?”
“It would be inconvenient.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t change my plans. Things are already in motion, so it’s a bit late now. We’ll see what happens.”
His evasiveness and mystery angered and frustrated Rayne. Although she could sense little from him in the way of moods, she did not think he was lying. He did not have to, he just told her nothing. An idea struck her, and she stretched forth her fledging telepathy in a clumsy attempt to read his mind. She sensed his thoughts under the surface of his consciousness, a seething cauldron of psychic activity normal for any mind. They were unintelligible to her inexperienced intellect, and she strived to unravel them.
A flash of red pain hit her behind her eyes, as if someone had thrust a hot poker into her brain. She yelped and staggered back, clutching her temples. Her knees buckled, but the Shrike caught her before she hit the floor, gripping her arms. The pain vanished, leaving her dazed.
“You fool! Don’t ever try that again.” He lifted her and pushed her onto the couch. “I didn’t know you were a damned telepath. I could have fried your brains, you idiot. Are you all right?”
Rayne nodded, her head pounding with an unbelievable migraine. He sat beside her, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on soothing the ache in her skull.
He said, “I though humans were incapable of telepathy. Whoever opened your mind to its powers did a very bad job of teaching you how to use them. They should have told you never to attempt such an obvious intrusion into a fellow telepath. I could have sworn you had no ability at all. You can’t even hide your thoughts, although they are pretty clear. I should have realised.”
The pain eased, and she opened her eyes, startled to find him so close, and even more surprised that his proximity did not disturb her. Instead, she found it exciting, and looked away as shyness heated her cheeks.
He seemed to study her. “Is there anything else I should know about? I don’t like surprises.”
“No. Not really. Only that I’m a psy-healer.”
“That’s a rare talent.”
“But I’m sure it doesn’t change
your plans,” she said, “which, if you don’t intend to make a huge profit by ransoming me back to the Atlanteans, can only mean you’ll sell me to someone who will make me disappear forever, even if they don’t kill me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because, like Drevina, you stand to gain if Atlan falls. They’ve condemned you to death, and they hunt you. With them gone, you’d be free to do as you please.”
“True,” he agreed, “but I’m not Drevina. In fact, I have no liking for her at all, and a galaxy ruled by the Draycons is not a place I’d like to live in. The Atlanteans are a fair bunch, and their efforts to capture me have never caused me a problem. If Atlan fell, I’d more likely find myself at war with the Draycons, which wouldn’t make me very happy.”
“At war?” She snorted. “You mean wiped out. You’re just a slaver. The Draycons have the second largest empire.”
“They’d have a job wiping me out. My empire rivals theirs in size and is perhaps a little stronger in firepower.”
She frowned. “That’s impossible. I’ve been studying at the Atlantean library for years, and there’s no mention of you in it at all.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure there is, if you looked for it, but it’s probably well hidden or classified. They don’t like to admit that I exist. That’s why they don’t come looking for me. They know it would end up in a very bloody battle, and it’s not worth it to capture one man. They’d rather wait for an opportunity to grab me when I’m away from my fleet and out of my territory, but that doesn’t happen much.”
“But you’re an outlaw. How can you rule an empire?”
He shook his head. “I don’t rule it, exactly. I’m not a king or an emperor. It’s an empire of wealth and ships and planets I’ve accumulated over the years. I have more ships than planets, and most of my people are fighters; outlaws, like me. Atlan and Draycon have massive civilian populations spread over many planets; a lot to protect with their fleets. The war between them was messy. Whole planets were wiped out before ships could reach them. I have a few more planets like this one; well hidden, where my crews are able to have families and holidays, but they spend most of their lives in space.”
Curious despite herself, Rayne said, “Go on.”
“That’s about it. What else do you want to know?”
“How did you become the leader of your empire?”
“I built it. People flocked to my banner, you could say. It’s taken fifty years to get this big, but it’s still growing, because I keep building ships. I’m far less vulnerable than Atlan or Draycon. My planets are all well-guarded, since I have only a few of them.”
“If you’ve had an empire for fifty years, you must be pretty old,” she remarked.
“Not really. I’m a hundred and twenty-eight, which isn’t old, considering I should live to see five hundred if Tallyn doesn’t find me.”
“Do you ever take that mask off?”
“Only in private,” he replied. “It has filters to purify the air, and can protect me from some noxious gasses.”
“Are you Atlantean?”
“No. My race is extinct, like yours.”
“What happened to them?”
He turned his head away. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
The Shrike rose to his feet, forestalling further questions, and wandered around the room with cat-like grace, rearranging the things she had disarranged in her search. He righted a couple of ornaments, then went over to a wall and straightened a picture before facing her again.
“I have things to do. Food will be brought to you at the appropriate time.”
After he left, she stared at the door for a while, pondering what she had learnt.