Urden, God of Desire (4 page)

“Now for the Empire.”

Chapter Four

Refugees

In the Alga Dockport, Razi sat beside his wife, anxiously watching the arrival hall. Sister Lensi, his friend from the Habiri church, was expected at any moment. He missed her and did look forward to catching up, though he wished he were at home in bed with his new bride instead. Sima squeezed his hand and flashed a grin. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Strange way to spend our first night as a married couple,” he muttered.

“The night’s not over yet.” She cuddled close to him and giggled. Sima amazed him, even now. He’d never wanted to leave Hicklan, never wanted his so-called freedom. It took her to make him realize he needed it. This new life was all so strange and difficult at times.

“True. But she does like to talk.” He glanced at the clock above the check-in desk. It was late; he was tired from working that morning at the mill. Manual labor didn’t suit him. Too many years in the lap of ward luxury had made him soft. The gates to an adjacent arrival hall opened, and Razi nudged his wife. “Draw up your veil, love. Officers are on the prowl.”

Sima pulled a scarf up to cover her hair and the lower half of her face. It was not unusual to see officers in the Alga Dockport. The city was a popular place for refugees and people who wanted to escape the law. The last thing the couple needed was for someone to recognize her. Even though everyone thought she was dead, he didn’t want to risk discovery. If her father found her, Razi knew she would be lost forever.

Through the plasma window, he caught site of a Kyleena ship hovering near the landing pad. The white, saucer-shaped craft lingered in midair before cruising into a landing bay. It was the focus of the officers’ attention. They interrogated the check-in clerk, and she was soon dismissed.

“They’re Tarafian,” Sima whispered. A glimmer of fear showed in her hazel eyes. “Oh, Razi, maybe I should go now. I can take a shuttle home and you can bring Lensi by later.”

He chuckled.
“Nonsense.
They’re not looking for you. They want whoever it is aboard that Kyleena ship.
Strange.
Your father is brave to detain anyone from the Empire. He wants war too much.”

“He always gets what he desires.”

They both stared at the fiasco as the Tarafian police pried open the exit hall doors and flooded inside. An alarm sounded, startling everyone in the terminal and drawing their attention to the hall.

“I think your father’s desires are strange. What man desires an early death?”

She shook her head.

“That’s what he’s doing. He’s a fool if he thinks he can defeat the Empire. I’ve been watching the news…”

“You always watch the news.” She turned her attention to the other arrival hall. “I wish Lensi would get here.”

The doors slid across their runners, and the automated voice announced the de-boarding of Irnian Shuttle Flight 537. Weary-looking travelers spilled out of the passage and hurried on their way, casting wary glances at the police. Razi recognized the ample shape of Sister Lensi garbed in Habiri black, her face shrouded as she led a large group of people all dressed the same way. The guise enabled the refugees to move from place to place without question, not that the Alga authorities would ask many questions.

He stood, Sima clutching his hand, and went to greet Lensi. She hugged him tight, squeezing out his air.

“Okay, Raz, get us out of here,” Lensi whispered. “I don’t want my man taken away.”

“You haven’t tired of him yet?” He winked at her, amused by the color flushing to what little he could see of her freckled cheeks.

“Not yet.” The band of shrouded refugees filed out after Razi and his wife. They packed into a commute shuttle and remained unnaturally silent as the vehicle powered up, hovered, and then shot out over the Alga main road.

The rows of seats were wide, enabling Razi, Sima and Lensi to sit together. The shuttle smelled like peaches. Razi guessed it was used for produce shipments at times. The people of Alga were a resourceful lot. He scooted closer to Sima and leaned forward to speak to Lensi.

The Habiri Sister glanced out her window. “We were watching that Kyleena Crusier. I don’t think it was a manned flight. Five decoy shuttles landed by it.
Any idea why the police are after it?”

Sima clenched her hands in her lap and answered. “My father sent them. They were Tarafian officers.
Probably something to do with his crazy scheme to battle the Empire.”

“Oh.” Lensi sat back in her seat and pulled the veil from her face. Razi noticed she looked thinner than the last time he saw her. Her cheeks were
less round
, and her smile faded fast. She’d always been a happy person, round and vibrant, wiser than she let on. The occupation of Irnia was affecting her.

She shot a glance to one of the refugees and then averted her eyes. “So, I missed the big wedding?”

Razi chuckled. “It was a small ceremony. We wanted it that way.
Just the two of us.”

Sima nodded.

“What about you, Lensi?” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “When’s your big day?”

She snorted at him, answering with a taint of sarcasm, “Habiri Sisters can’t marry. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “You’re a troublemaker, Raz.”

“I am not.”

She rolled her eyes, her cheeks balling as she tried to submerge her smile.
“Ever since you met
her
.”
Nudging Sima with an elbow, Lensi belted out a laugh.

Sima joined in and for a moment, Razi thought everything would be fine now. The war was far away on the other side of the planet. There was no way Shiemir Alonwei could stand against the Empire. Though the Shiemir was now his father-in-law, Razi wouldn’t mourn the man’s death. Alonwei was pressing his luck. It was only a matter of time before he stepped too hard on Kyleena’s toes and received an unexpected visit from an assassin. The Empire didn’t play political games for long.

He eased back in his chair and planned what he would do to his bride once they were alone. A smirk spread across his lips. He turned away from his wife so she wouldn’t notice and watched the refugees across from them. One had pulled out a data sharer and was busy tapping at the screen.
The Unangi are advancing at least,
he thought, recalling the village where he and Sima had hidden away before they came to Alga. Most of the tribal people there wouldn’t have known what a data sharer was.

The refugee glanced up at him, and he noticed her odd, golden eyes and the fairness of her skin. She wasn’t Unangi at all. Razi smiled and nodded at her. He turned his face to the window to watch the dimly lit farmland pass by. It reminded him of his youth, of days and nights hunting for food in the jungle to fill a stomach that never could be sated. He remembered his hunger and the cries of his younger sisters. They were starving. He had given up his freedom to save them. He wondered where they were now.

The shuttle sped through the villages and outskirts of Alga to the little cottage rental set-up managed by Folar. Before they’d left, he’d checked with his landlord and found there were enough vacancies to accommodate Lensi’s newcomers. She always had money to pay their way, thanks to the Church of Habiri.

They parked near the office and everyone exited. Like soldiers, they awaited Lensi’s orders and obeyed, remaining outside until she returned from the office to pass out keys and give assignments. “We’ll meet there,” she pointed at a ramada by the guava orchard, “at suns’ rise for the daily worship.”

The refugee with the data sharer slipped the device into her robes, took the key Lensi offered, and hurried away, the first to find a room. Razi noticed there were other non-Unangi people present, a few Kelafians even. The kindness of the church’s outreach was apparently expanding. “Lensi,” he interrupted her. “You mind if we turn in early tonight?”

She winked.
“Not at all.
I’ll be in number three. In case you two get tired of each other and want to drop in for a visit, make sure to knock first. I’m not over the time zone change. Feels like morning to me.”

Razi chuckled. “I plan to be up all night, too.”

Sima slapped his arm playfully. He scooped her up and carried her away. Behind them, Lensi went on with her wards, droning out the same spiel of instructions, “Here’s your key, no talking to strangers, no going out without your veil…”

Razi set Sima down outside their cottage, pulled the scarf from her face and kissed her hard. She gasped at first, sucked in a deep breath, and caught up to his passion. Their tongues met and swirled, tasting and exploring in a now familiar dance. He ran his hands along her hips, urging her backward against the wooden door.

“Not…gonna…wait…’til we…get inside?”

“Mmm.”
He lifted her hips, pinning her body to the door with his grip. His hunger for her intensified as well as his need to hear her make that small moan in the back of her throat like she always did. “It’s a nice night. Dark enough that no one would notice us here.”

“She closed her eyes and hugged his neck. “I think I’d rather be pressed against the wall in a more private area, if you don’t mind,
husband.”

He glanced to the right and noticed one of the refugees standing outside her cottage, her veil pulled down. Black hair fluttered in the breeze and she stared straight at them. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured.
“Seems we’re already drawing an audience.”
He released his bride and unlocked the door, holding it open for her to hurry inside.

Com

Melia watched the silhouetted couple slip into their cottage. It was dark out; the double suns had set hours ago and her vantage wasn’t the best. She had no qualms about spying. If the couple wanted to fuck outside in the open then they should expect watchers. She sat in a woven lounger on the porch and stared at the stars. All around, insects sang night songs, clicking and creaking. In the distance, she heard the whisper of tree leaves blowing in the breeze. Her heart thrummed in her chest. She closed her eyes, thinking she was finally home.

The night wore on, and the sounds of life toned down. Melia withdrew her data sharer from her robes and began reviewing Shiemir Alonwei’s file. He was in his forties, had been married once—wife deceased. One daughter—deceased—murdered by the Unangi Rebellion in Irnia weeks before Enrue’s hostile coup. Newscasts alleged that his daughter’s death was the reason for Enrue’s occupation of Irnia. It was plausible, Melia decided, but she didn’t think it was his only reasoning. Hemec fuel in the Unangi
mountains
might very well be closer to the truth as a motive.

She clicked through older pictures of the man, visions of a handsome, but stoic figure standing in lines of politicians, or formal images of him signing treaties. There were only a few with his wife by his side, a frail-looking woman who seemed too young for him. Curious, Melia clicked on the wife’s file and read over her cause of death.

Released from Taraf Global Med on 9, Hossia 2093, Shiemir Alonwei’s wife, Ruria Alonwei, died of complications from a rare virus she contracted while providing food and supplies to the Unangi people. She is survived by her husband and their daughter—”

Footsteps crunched in the gravel. Melia glanced up at the man walking in front of her cottage. He stepped awkwardly, a cane in his right hand. She’d noticed him on the ship when she hurried to catch up to the line of Habiri followers. A hood shadowed his face, though he nodded and waved politely in her direction before carrying on.

By now, she was certain the authorities had discovered the dead woman in the cargo area of the Irnian shuttle whose place she’d taken. She wondered how long it would be before the Habiris realized she was not one of them. Hopefully, she’d be gone by then.

She snapped her data-sharer closed and stood, stretching her arms high. Her back cracked. “Mm. Need to lie down for awhile,” she muttered. Melia entered her cottage and flicked on the solar light. Its luminance was nowhere near as bright as standard lighting, but she didn’t mind. She glanced over the single room and smiled to herself. “This is my kind of place, small, simple, and private.”