KINSMAN’S OATH By Susan Krinard

Lord Miklos’s people. She had been expecting a personal escort from the spaceport, though the Lord’s secretary had not provided details on transportation. The captain of the Pegasus was not required to wade through the numerous levels of complex Persephonean bureaucracy. The knowledge she carried was far too valuable… and dangerous.

But it was entirely possible that she and Ronan were under arrest. These two in their dark suits were hardly common messengers. She suspected they were of Miklos’s personal guard, or perhaps even from the Archon’s legendary Royal Intelligence.

And if they were under arrest, then Janek had already done his work. Adumbe had promised to send immediate word if the Pegasus was boarded by Persephonean authorities, and she had prepared for that as well. There was little more she could do.

“This is Ser Ronan?” Gajda asked.

“I also speak,” Ronan said, so dryly that Cynara almost suspected him of humor. “You are Va Miklos’s ve’laik’i.”

“Warriors,” Cynara translated. “Are we guests or prisoners, Ser Gajda?”

“Guests, Captain. Lord Miklos wishes your visit to be free of any inconvenience.”

Indeed. She tugged the hem of her formal tunic and nodded. “We’re ready.”

Gajda stared at Ronan with a cool, measuring gaze and gestured Cynara to precede him. Ronan hung back, but Mains was careful to keep behind him. Cynara knew they were armed and wouldn’t hesitate to stun Ronan if he made the slightest hostile move.

She kept half her attention on him and half on the agents as the four of them took the lift to the tower lobby and walked out to the skimmer parked in an area cleared of all other traffic. Mains got in front with the driver, and Gajda sat in the wide rear seat between Ronan and Cynara. Even without benefit of sharing Ronan’s thoughts, Cynara felt his tension.

Why should he trust them any more than he had the Dharmans? He might even suspect that Cynara had transported him from one predicament to another even worse.

There is no other way. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear. Yet she found no solace in the thought, or in the alien blankness of Ronan’s face.

The skimmer lifted above the pavement, leaving its common terrestrial brethren far below. Deftly its pilot settled into a course that carried his passengers past the outskirts of Eos and into the city’s brilliant center.

Cynara hardly noticed the stunning view. She was grateful when the skimmer landed on a pad on the palace grounds, letting her escape the oppressive confinement.

The first security check waited at the edge of the pad, and it was only one of many. Uniformed personnel very thoroughly scanned Cynara and Ronan, always accompanied by Gajda and Mains. Ronan was cooperative, almost passive, allowing the guards to touch him in a way he must hate. Cynara had no opportunity to offer a word or touch of encouragement, and wasn’t sure he would accept either.

The palace interior was spare of decoration and yet handsome, walls subtly textured and punctuated with murals rendered in a deceptively simple style. Men and women, palace staff and clerks and bureaucrats in efficient garments, went about their business without a glance at the visitors. Endless corridors, more security checks, and finally admission to the outer chambers of that portion of the palace assigned to the younger brother of the Archon of Persephone.

Guards stood at every doorway, each one doubtless armed with some compact and highly efficient Persephonean weapon. Pompous though the burgher-lords of Elsinore might be, their security measures were pitiful by comparison. This was true power.

But Cynara was still captain of the Pegasus. When it appeared that their escorts would attempt to separate her and Ronan, she stood firm and refused. Ronan did the same.

Gajda and Mains chose not to force the issue, but showed them to a private sitting room painted in muted sea colors that could only have been chosen by someone who believed the ocean was peaceful.

They waited. No word came from Adumbe, though the guards had actually permitted her to keep her comlink. They could jam the signal easily enough if they chose. Ronan was a statue, hardly blinking. Cynara struggled with a dangerous desire to charge Gajda and demand to speak to someone in authority.

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