In the next instant, he felt his head spikes ruffle, and his mood sank. “You know something no one else does?” she had asked. Well, he knew that Regis was intoxicated by the biggest lie in history, and along with him, the whole Antyran population. Baila had nothing, nothing at all! The bracelet on Tadeo’s arm exploded, not something else. The whole bunker caved in, and no one would get inside for many months. And no artifact had escaped destruction, except the one on his arm.
Maybe the prophet would “forge” some evidence—after all, it wouldn’t be too hard for his initiates to print a couple of plastoceramic fakes and bring them to the surface as proof of “Arghail’s tools,” but they wouldn’t pass a simple tomographic scan.
“I have to return to Alixxor and find the acronte!” he told Alala.
“What?” she exclaimed, stunned. “That’s… you’re going to get yourself killed! Why do you have to do it?”
“You see, I’m the only one who knows the truth. I have to warn Regis!”
“But what if Baila is right? What if they found what he says? Maybe the artifacts were in a different place than you think, maybe—”
“He’s lying! But he’s lying for the last time!” He slammed his fist into his palm, as if crushing an invisible licant.
“Don’t go! I’m afraid for your life,” she said, kneading her hands, helpless, while brown droplets gushed out of her temples. “I have no one left.”
“Alala, look, I’ll be back in no time.”
“Please wait for a few more hours. What if the tarjis bring out the artifacts? I’m sure everything will get sorted out,” she said softly and took his left arm, tenderly nesting her body next to his. “You really don’t care about me?”
Could it be that she likes me? the exciting thought burst into his kyi, ruining his last traces of inner peace. And it wasn’t like he didn’t care about her… on the contrary! He felt more and more he could trust her. For the first time, he saw her as vulnerable, completely changed from her usual coldness. He felt lost in her deep eyes, deeper than the blue Orizabia Ocean, and became convinced that together they would overcome any problem.
Everything was happening so fast…
“Alala, I lied to you,” he finally admitted. “The blast caught me underground, and nothing survived but me. Nothing! Do you think the tarjis found the six bracelets? Well, there is only one left, and it’s right here!” he said, rolling up his right sleeve and showing her the Sigian artifact.
Alala left his arm and jerked back, frightened, as if his touch suddenly electrocuted her.
“What’s… that?” she babbled.
He turned to the door and ran out of the room.
“Nothing will happen to me, I promise,” he said, trying to comfort her while jumping to the stairs, hurrying to get his magneto-jet keycard and a warm tunic from the scented shelf where he left them.
As he stormed the stairs to leave the building, he heard Alala’s voice: “Gill, come here for a moment.”
He stepped into the room and found her near the holotheater, typing something on its transparent console.
“Let’s talk when I’m back, all right?” he replied in a hurry.
“I have to tell you something,” she said, her face beaming with happiness.
His eyes widened, surprised that she didn’t get the enormity of the stakes. Time was of the essence if he really hoped to change something!
“Don’t go—someone wants to talk to you!” Alala insisted.
“Alala, I really—”
In that moment, Baila’s hologram appeared in the holotheater. It couldn’t be a live transmission; the prophet was hovering in an air-jet above the Shindam’s base. Why would Alala show him a recording just now? He was about to ask for an explanation when he saw the little green light flashing. In that moment, a silent scream roared in his kyi: it wasn’t a holoflux but a direct call—from none other than the prophet!
“Alala, what have you done? You… are… you betrayed us!” he managed to splutter before the sky fell on him, crushing his helpless shell. His knees melted, and he had to prop up against the wall to keep standing on his feet.
He finally saw the deadly trap he fell into, but it was far too late to do anything. During the madness of their escape from Alixxor, the rush to save the bracelet blinded his Guk-smell. Ikkla33 didn’t help him a bit, if only because it never crossed his tail to invoke it on Alala. The Antyran female was a spy of the temples. She brought him here to “mate” with him and steal his secrets! But she didn’t even have to bother. Like a fool, like a beginner seduced from the first touch, he made her task easy by showing her the artifact. Now he knew how the hologram of Tadeo had landed in Baila’s claws, along with all the details of the discovery. That’s why she was late this morning! She was busy relaying a copy of Tadeo’s report to the domes. The end of the Shindam’s Council, along with all the madness outside, was her masterpiece!
I’m so dead! he thought. I’m going to end up in one of their catacombs… my poor, rotting bones scattered in the dust. Of course, after they pluck out all the details!
How naïve he was to believe he could fight Baila and escape alive!
“My dear son, how happy I am to finally meet you! Alala told me about you,” the prophet exclaimed jovially, opening his arms as if he wanted to hug him.
He was speaking with the tone of a father greeting his son who had returned from an expedition to the icy end of the world. Gill didn’t say anything, too shocked by what was happening, but he found enough strength to raise his head and briefly look into Baila’s eyes.
He addressed me with “My dear son.” Is he mocking me, or does he indeed have no intention of ending my life? Maybe he needs my collaboration, Gill thought, hanging desperately on the last possibility—his only chance of survival, at least for a few more miserable days.
“Our daughter brought us the wonderful news; we were waiting for an eternity!” continued Baila. “And for me, eternity really means a lot,” he smiled, waving his recessive gills. “I know, I know,” he said, raising his hand to stop the words on Gill’s lips. “You’re a bit upset; I can smell it on your face. Our methods haven’t been the most sincere.”
The prophet made a sign to invite him to sit in the double nest in front of the holotheater, but Gill wasn’t sure he could walk to the middle of the room without falling. He decided to cling to the wall and try to hide the uncontrollable shaking of his body.
Only then did he notice that the prophet was talking from inside a massive underground granite hall. Shouldn’t he be in the air-jet near the training base? There’s probably a hologram in that jet, he realized. That would fit well with Baila’s paranoia. After all, he wasn’t going to expose himself in a flying tin at the mercy of the Shindam’s orbital lasers—not that they would find someone brave enough to press a button…
“We need your help against the Shindam. If Arghail wins, he won’t conquer only Antyra, but he’ll invade the holy nest of the gods up in the sky!”
“Mighty Baila, I see that… you do very well without me. The council ran away; you took control. Why do you need my help?” He barely mumbled the words. It was a stupid question that most likely jeopardized his already minuscule chance of survival, but he had to ask it.
“Gill, don’t be modest. Alala told me about the bracelet, so you don’t have to hide it anymore. I know everything. I speak to you because I need it. I must have it.”
Even though he wasn’t sure if Baila really intended to spare his life or if he was just biding time until his agents reached the dome—if they were not already there, since the “recreation dome” must have been one of their hideouts—Gill knew he had no choice but to obey. Appeasing Baila could keep him alive, although he would blame himself for the rest of his life for betraying the Sigians. At least he’d be alive to be able to feel bad about it. After all, he should consider himself incredibly lucky that Baila bothered to address him in person, which was an honor that few Antyrans dreamed of, especially the archivists.