Exile to Hell

“Why?”

“Consider it an order.”

Slipping them over his head and eyes, Kane was rendered almost completely blind. A thread of blurry light peeped through a seal at his cheek. He heard a rustle of cloth, and Salvo adjusted the elastic strap, securing it tightly around his head. The darkness was total and impenetrable.

“Can you see?”

Kane chuckled dryly. “Think I’d tell you?”

“You’d better.” Steel slipped into Salvo’s voice. “And for your own good.”

“No,” replied Kane. “I can’t see a thing. Satisfied?”

Salvo grunted, and then came a metal-on-metal clicking and clacking, followed by a faint squeal of hinges. He felt Salvo’s hand on his elbow, tugging him forward. Kane resisted.

“Relax.” Salvo’s voice purred with amusement. “If I wanted to chill you, I wouldn’t go to all this trouble.”

Kane thought the statement over for a moment and agreed with it. He allowed himself to be guided for a few steps, then positioned against a wall.

“Don’t move until I tell you.”

He heard the squeak of hinges again, the snap of a locking mechanism and then a faint electric hum. He felt a sudden rising sensation in the pit of his stomach. “We’re in an elevator.”

“Astute.”

“And we’re going up?”

“Yes.”

“To where?”

“To where we get off.”

The elevator rose, ascending far above B Level and even A Level. It hissed to a pneumatic stop, and Salvo urged him away from the wall. The floor was slick and smooth beneath his boots, their footsteps echoed hollowly and Kane guessed they were walking across a big, high-ceilinged room.

“From this point on,” Salvo whispered to him, “no talking.”

Kane only nodded, feeling tension climb up his spine. With a hand on his elbow, Salvo guided him forward. The echoes of footfalls suddenly became muffled, muted. They were now on a thickly carpeted floor. At the same time, he detected the acrid odor of spicy incense, of unfamiliar resins.

Salvo gently tugged him to a stop. The scent of incense was stronger, almost overpowering. Kane reached for the goggles, but Salvo ordered, “Not yet.”

The aromatic air shivered with the steady beat of a gong. Kane felt the vibrations against his face. The gong sounded thirteen times. After the final heavy chime, Salvo whispered, “Take them off now.”

Carefully Kane lifted the goggles away and off his head. His eyes were narrowed, prepared to be blinded by light. Instead, he saw only a gray gloom, and his eyes quickly adjusted. He stood upon a thick Persian carpet. Figures shifted around him, and although he could see only shadows, he knew they were men.

Then a blade of white light speared down from somewhere above and impaled him. The suddenness of its unmerciful brightness seared his optic nerves, and he blurted out a startled, muffled curse. His hands came up to protect his eyes.

The whirling spectrum of light dimmed, diffused like pale sunlight barely penetrating a great underwater depth. As he stood there, blinking, a voice spoke to him. The voice was silvery, musical, its pitch exactly matching the gong’s, which still echoed from the far corners of the room.

“You are Kane, a servant of order, a soldier of the ville, a warrior of the baron.”

Kane’s vision slowly cleared, and he saw a dim shape standing before him. The shape looked strange, hazy, and he realized he was seeing it through a semitranslucent curtain, like a veil of gauze dusted with iridescent gold particles.

“Answer me,” the figure said. “Are you Kane?”

“I am.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Heart hammering, throat thick, Kane replied, “You are the baron.”

“Do you know why I have had you brought here?”

Kane breathed unsteadily. He wondered insanely if Baron Cobalt was speaking or if he had merely imagined it. He couldn’t seem to focus on his figurehe moved, swaying gracefully, almost as though he were performing some bizarrely beautiful dance. There was only a fragment of an impression of pale golden skin, slim arms, a domed head and lean cheeks. Although he couldn’t see the eyes, he knew the Baron was looking at him, waiting for an answer. He bowed his head and whispered, “No.”

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