Korlon stepped out of Taan's chambers and grasped Galantyne's shoulder. "Are you sure he should be going?"

Galantyne's eyes traveled to the closed portal between them and his Father. "He is still the King. These are desperate times; we have no choice but to follow this course."

"I shouldn't have sprung the news about your mother in that manner." Korlon followed Galantyne to the shuttle entrances from the King's quarters.

Galantyne nodded as if the words had gone in one ear and out the other. He approached the shuttle. "Korlon. You must find Kara. Make her your priority. I don't care what it takes. Find her!"

Korlon nodded twice, and then boarded his shuttle.

Galantyne wasted not one second watching Korlon leave but headed down another hallway, dashing through doorways and pushing people out of his way. When he reached the emergency rooms he was shocked to see medical people running from room to room and the quarantine bells ringing non-stop. He grabbed a nearby medic and spun her around. "What is going on?"

The girl was inexperienced, her eyes were red. "Oh, my Lord Galantyne! No! You cannot come in here! Please leave!" 

"What the--?" Galantyne took three steps and then pulled back the curtain separating him from a room full of healers. What he saw made his stomach clench. He leaped to his son's side and would have fallen on his prone body, but he was caught by three medics grabbing him and forcing him away from the lifeless body before him. Someone forced a hazard helmet over his face.

"No!" he yelled. "NO! What has happened here?! Tell me now!"

"He's dead, sire!" One of the healers yelled, as he pushed against them without heed.

Galantyne cried his son's name over and over, his eyes streaming tears, and then gasping for air, he jerked away from the healers and turned his back on the awful sight. "How did this happen so fast?"

He slumped against the wall, his shoulders quaking with disbelief. He had just passed the boys running out of Taan's offices for their Etrusian escapades. A huge man dressed in full hazard suit grabbed his arm and pushed him roughly toward the farthest doors.

"Get out Galantyne! You can't do anything to help anyone here. Get out now!"

Galantyne slammed his fist into the wall behind him. A framed certificate of authenticity fell off, and the sliding glass of a window rattled but didn't break. All he wanted to do was make it break, shatter in a million pieces just like his heart was. He slammed his fist again and then whirled back around to face the man who was standing there witnessing his grief.

"Is it plague? Is it plague?" 

The man held Galantyne at bay nodding in horror at his own confirmation. Galantyne grabbed his head as if it were about to burst. A thousand regrets flashed through his mind before his warrior training came to his rescue, even then, the pain of losing a son, possibly two...

"Where is Lailoken?"

"They are trying to save his life." The assurance was like a brand of terror. "But Sire, you cannot see him. You cannot touch him. You must leave. Leave before you are a carrier, or worse. Leave!"

"Save his life, Healer! At all costs. He may be the future King, save his life!" Then he turned and ran out of the hallway and toward the closest shuttle bay.

*******

Evian sat against the wall, as the doctors and nurses hastily rushed about, pressing themselves into hazard suits, and lifting the bodies of the boys who had collapsed. They hadn't even made it back to the docks! First Faherdin had fallen, his face flushed and blood squeezing out of his eyes. His veins stuck out on his arms, and sweat poured off him in front of Evian's eyes. He'd grabbed for Lailoken as he too began to fall and had screamed for help.

Now he didn't dare move. He'd seen them take Faherdin to another room. He'd seen Galantyne's shocked and paralyzed fright as realization had dawned on him. He'd witnessed his stumbling gait, and watched as they pushed him away from the containment area.

No amount of ambition prepared him for this devastation.

In all their preparations and Nimiane's assurances about the virus, he'd never once thought it wouldn't work exactly as planned. Unleash it on the capital, adults from off dome would be affected, and he and the others in the group could take over. Now he was warrior trained, he was better equipped if there had been a resistance.

He couldn't believe he had simply been sitting there hoping there would be a resistance. He'd even pondered what might happen if the boys... his own brother!--- had been caught in the crossfire! He'd have had to avenge him! Adrenaline had pumped through him. He would be a hero!

No hero now!

He looked up as Faherdin's body was brought out, bagged and thrown unceremoniously into the sea. The young healer who did the honors was one of the first to have treated them. Even in this short time, Evian could see that his own eyes were bloodshot, his face drenched in sweat and his hands were trembling. He was infected too!

Another healer staggered out, a young woman in his arms, crying hysterically, blood spurting out of her mouth and nose. Her arms were purple with distended veins.

They weren't supposed to be effected! Only off dome people who had breathed toxic air! And only adults, people from nineteen years ago who had fought in the previous war. 

Evian saw another woman come screaming into the hallway, and she was intercepted by a nurse, who refused to let her enter the quarantined area. She was almost uncontainable as someone shoved her into a hazard suit. She broke free, screaming Conn's name, tearing at the helmet as she tried to get to her son.

He stood and made his way to the city, hurrying now, running to Nimiane's apartments. In the street people were running back and forth, already news of the illness that had killed Galantyne's sons was spreading. His hazard suit caused no small stir, and people ran to him, wanting to know what had happened.

"Excuse me! I have to get to Nimiane!" He pushed them away and ran up the steps to her residence throwing open the door.

He ran from room to room, but she wasn't there. He threw himself into a chair, realizing how terrible this nightmare really was. He allowed himself one more moment to digest the shock, and then he ran all the way to the docks and caught a shuttle for Galantyne.

******

It was dark by the time they reached the village, Rion led Kara through the cobbled dirt paths to a tavern. He held the door for her and Kara stood there, unable to actually walk inside on her own. The smells were enough to start the bile in her throat. It was dark, but still early. Not many people were inside. Rion nudged her knees and she took an involuntary step.

I can't.

Yes, you can. We'll have a warm meal.

It's too dirty.

Um hm. It is that, little one.

I would rather eat outside.

Rion took her elbow and propelled her inside, pissed hay met the soles of her sand clean mossasyms. Kara lifted a foot and peered at it in the firelit interior. Rion hailed a serving girl and led Kara to a small out of the way table. He ordered for them both before Kara had even set her backside on the chair. She was evenly in the shadows now. He sat close, a hand on her upper thigh.

She looked around, anxiously-- but eagerly-- he realized, taking in what to him were familiar surroundings. 

What is that?

He glanced to where her nod indicated.

A caged pheroon. Indigenous.

You cage indigenous species? To what purpose? Do you eat them?

We fight them. For sport.

You fight them? She was clearly horrified.

I don't fight them, we let them fight each other. If you put two males together they'll fight to the death. We bet on them.

He felt her understanding, and her disgust.

Food was brought and set on the wooden table before them with several loud thunks, and a saucy look from the girl who expected to be tipped. He slipped her several smaller coins and she flounced off to the bar where a few men were gathered. Eyeing those men, Rion sipped his drink.

Kara's eyes had lit on two Salimantor in the room. She pulled herself up close to him, fairly backing herself into his chest. 

Salimantors, harmless.

Are they--- she gulped air-- are they assimilated?

No.

How-- how do you know?

Their eyes. See how they glow almost silver? An assimilated one will have human colored eyes.

Have you assimilated Salimantors?

He nodded and downed his drink feeling disturbed that she was disgusted by his assimilations. 

He didn't have to make excuses, she knew it was his culture. She knew it was how his people-- his exiled people-- had been forced to survive. Several adapted men swaggered by giving him a nod. He was known here. There was now no space between them at all, so far had she pushed herself up next to him.

"Any closer and you'll be crawling under my skin."

Kara had never felt as uncomfortable as she did right now. This was his place! Not hers! She wasn't even dressed liked them.

Rion chuckled at her movements. I can remedy that, na'shilean.

She eyed a woman sitting across from them. The woman wore a long full dress made of some kind of loose knit material. She'd hiked it up on one side exposing her tanned thigh, presumably because she was too warm.

She's not hot, little one, she's for sale.

Two fingers under her chin turned her to another corner table where a couple was sipping drinks. The woman had on a flowing floor length shape fitting gown, not an evening gown like Kara had worn at the festival, but similar. Her hair was held high in loose curls and left to frame her face.

The heat in the room was stifling. Kara gathered her own hair off her neck and separated a piece out, just small enough to wrap it around itself forming a secure tail. Rion nodded approvingly, and settled his thumb to absently rubbing a spot on her neck that was covered in perspiration.

"You haven't tried your drink."

Kara lifted her heavier cup, surprised that it was made of wood, and sniffed the beverage. As she'd thought it was fermented. "I don't drink spirits, actually."

Rion's sputter was forced out of him. "You don't drink spirits? What would you drink then?"

"The same thing we've had for days, Foeman, water!" She snapped back. Rion wiped his mouth on his napkin and then signaled the serving girl and asked for water, he moved Kara's untouched cup closer to his own.

Kara's eyes roved over the female occupants once more; Rion sighed and motioned for a young boy standing near the door. "Find out where the lady has bought her dress." He slipped the child a coin. "And then procure me another just like it." The child bit the coins he'd been given never taking his eyes off Rion. Rion's own flicked to Kara, so the boy eyed her in understanding and then nodded as he trotted off to do his bidding.

"I will not dress like her."

"It will be easier for us both if you blend in."

"I want to stand out. Then everyone will know you've stolen a searcher girl from Quildor!"

"No one here will care where you are from, just that you could be another whore, dressed like a man. No one has ever escaped from Auditorium, it would never cross their minds." He turned his attention to her in consternation. "Stolen you from Quildor? You never made it to Quildor!"

Kara swallowed painfully at the thought that she would not be noticed except as a woman for sale, and that Rion had brought her here. I will not be considered any man's whore.

Rion smiled grimly, Nor will I allow you to be.

"Besides, I stole you from your brother, Galantyne. And I intend to give you back."

"We both know that's a lie." She snapped as she accepted the cup of water the serving girl brought her, and then sipped it gingerly. 

Rion's arm crept around her shoulders, and while his other hand loosened the neckline of his dark form fitting uniform shirt, he whispered in her ear, "We both know I can't lie to you."

She did know he couldn't lie to her. The heat and the alien atmosphere were making her insides jittery. She rested both hands deliberately on the wooden table noting the large square cut timber, and how heavy it was.

Kara remembered that night on the royal palace stairs when her nerves had got the best of her-- in grief and exhaustion-- and her thoughts had also become haphazard. She let her eyes snap up to Rion's, and recalled his gentle comfort, as she tried to shrug his arm off her. Instead, he cupped her shoulder and leaned in to whisper again.

"It would be unusual if you did feel comfortable here. This isn't a comfortable place-- even in the best of times. In my culture, this is the hub of the untamed. It's a bar, just like on earth, na-shilean, where men go to drink spirits. All walks of life come here-- except for me. Quarso would eat up the street at Royal Penny's."

"You brought me here in order to avoid your own men who might be eating someplace else-- someplace more suitable."

"I did." His arm left her shoulder and he picked up his utensil. Kara hadn't even noticed the strange carved wooden utensil that had been set on the table. Just one utensil, she was used to three. Rion drew his knife from his belt pack and began to remove the darkened meat from its bone.

"They know you shouldn't be here. They will report your presence to--. " She didn't know who a man of this caliber would report to.

"There is a constable." He informed her gently. "And he would report any vagrancy to me. I am the law here. And me eating here is not a crime. It isn't even worthy of gossip. I was raised in a neighboring village, I came here often." He deposited the tid-bits of meat on her rough plate and Kara turned hungry eyes on it. She'd learned to stomach real meat or starve the last few weeks.

"What kind of meat is it?"

"Domestic."

"And that means what exactly?" She asked exasperated, eyeing the large portion of white mash dripping with some kind of curdled--

"Raised in captivity, not hunted the way I have been feeding you. The mash is a tuber, and the gravy on top is very good, try it." To demonstrate, Rion shoveled a large amount into his mouth and grinned around it, to show his appreciation. Kara swallowed convulsively.

"I know you have manners when you choose to." She whispered in disgust and would have sampled a smaller bite-- but halfway to her mouth, the boy with the dress returned, and she set her utensil down. Rion reached for the gown laid gingerly over the lad's arm. The child bowed his head sharply and with a smart flash turned on his heel and returned to the doorway he'd originally been standing in. Kara watched all this in amazement. The child couldn't be more than ten.

In my culture---

Yes, I understand, in your culture children are pampered and spoiled, like you.

I wasn't going to say that!

You don't have to, I can read your mind, remember?

Kara grabbed the dress off his arm and lifted it high over the table and their food. She deftly examined the tailoring, satisfied that it would be modest, she pulled back her chair and looked for a place to change in private. Rion stood too quickly, as if afraid she'd bolt for the door, and then with a hand on the small of her back, he ushered her to the farthest corner of the now crowded room where a small alcove indicated a privy. Kara gave him her most warning eye as she passed him and shut the door, and Rion snorted that noncommittal grunt he did when acknowledging her. Her secret smile did not go unnoticed.

There was no window and no other door. Light was had from a glass shaded candle placed high on the wall, burning and dripping into a round metal pan. She undid her belt and after stripping, refastened it around her hips, then folded her tattered and mended uniform securely over the belt to hang down her legs beneath the dress. Then she lifted the dress.

It was a deep russet orange, like flame, and decorated around the sleeves and neckline with a golden filigree in the shape of leaves or flames, she wasn't sure which. It was remarkable workmanship. She thrust her arms into the sleeves and tightened the laces over her breasts, suddenly aware that Rion would have seen all she had to show when he tended her. There was no mirror in the privy, but she looked down at herself anyway to see what he'd seen. Dismayed at the sunken way her stomach clung to her hips, she winced. Her figure left much to be desired if she were trying to impress a man.

Into her mind, another image came. Kara froze-- seeing herself laying clothed in lotica flowers and leaves, her body cleansed from cuts, but their stains still starkly visible on her skin.

This is how I tended you, na'shilean.

Kara shuddered, the dress falling from her stiff fingers.

She had been so badly hurt. She looked down at the evidence of healing that had taken place on her body. Long gashes had been mended and were faintly yellowish now, sealed together by lotica sap and pollen. She'd broken at least six bones, her body had taken a terrible beating, and he---

He had chosen to heal her.

Tears gathered in her eyes. Why had he chosen to heal her?

She hung her head. How could she hate the man who had returned her life to her? The evidence was there, on her own flesh and bones.

The heavy door squeaked open and Rion slipped inside, his lips pursed thoughtfully again, his eyes darkly compassionate as the flickering candle glittered shadows against the walls and their faces. He wrapped her in his own cloak, and then as she stood immobile fighting back the tears, he wrapped her comfortingly in his arms.

Kara couldn't resist. All the liberties he'd taken with her so freely had been to save her life. He was her enemy-- he didn't have to save her life. Her heart thudded painfully, but his rock hard chest next to her cheek was somehow as comforting and familiar as he'd meant it to be. Like she had the day before, her arms rose to clutch him, only this time her fingers splayed along his shoulder blades and the heavily corded muscle ridges of his back. Her tears wet the front of his uniform.

They came unbidden, uncontrolled.

Tears that took her anger and her fear and her overwhelming duty--

And left just Kara, a woman-- torn and bloodied, beaten and scared.

Rion rubbed her warmly over the cloak, feeling the gush of tightly held confusion and pain washing away. His own eyes welled at the thought of her homesickness, her longings to do the right thing, her feelings of danger....

He knelt and held the dress out for her to step into. Kara obeyed, her hands balanced on his shoulders as he knelt before her.

Chagrin at their predicament coursed through her. She had no other choice. She felt drained and helpless for the first time in her life. Her sarcasm extended to her mind:

Isn't this a pretty sight?

He eyed her shapely legs and chose to misunderstand her meaning. Yes, ma'am, lovely.

She caught his twisted compliment and felt herself blush to the roots. Yet---

She gazed down at his dark hair in the lamplight. It was thick, the under hair curled and lighter, the over hair sleek and shining clean from their swim. Strands twisted over themselves.

Almost against her will Kara's fingers softly wrapped a curl and then let it spring back. The tips were burnished lighter, brown and even tawny. It was an absent-minded movement, yet so much thought went into it, they both closed their eyes in anticipation.

Rion had frozen as he held the dress around her thighs. He hadn't realized how much he craved her touch this way. A sign between them that old prejudice was dying. That there was hope. Her fingers continued to wrap and pull softly, a tickling sensation that sent shivers down his spine. 

Kara closed her eyes, letting the moment go on. She needn't be her own judge and jury. All that mattered was the warm feeling of being found.

Treasured.

The sensation of his hair along her fingertips was more heavenly than any she'd ever experienced. It insulated her against the tavern, the outdoors, and the randomness of her previous thoughts.She pulled one strand out and let it snap back, then reached for it again.

*******