David Weber - Hell's Gate

The carriage clattered to a halt in front of the Institute's main administration building. The footman scrambled to open the door, and this time the Crown Prince climbed down first and handed Alimar to the ground. Kinshe followed, and Wilkon climbed out last.

The Institute's front door opened and Shalassar Kolmayr-Brintal herself hurried out into the sunlight, eyes wide with surprise as her glance flicked across the royal crest on the carriage door.

"Your Highness!" she said, clearly astonished to see the Crown Prince. "And Representative Kinshe," she added, as she dropped into the deep curtsy she had learned in the years since arriving on the shores. Shaylar was very much a miniature of this woman, whose Lissian island heritage showed in her honey-toned skin and the sleek black hair falling straight as a waterfall down her back. It was tinted here and there with strands of pure silver, but those were the only signs of age Kinshe could detect. It was obvious that their arrival had taken her completely by surprise, but she was trying not to show it, and her immense natural dignity helped.

"Forgive me for not sending word ahead to expect our visit," Danith Fyysel said gently. The final decision had been his, although Kinshe had been in total agreement. They could have asked Wilkon to alert her and her husband, but they'd chosen to remain silent rather than alarm and worry them hours in advance. Now the Crown Prince took her hand, lifting her from the deep curtsy, and made introductions.

"You know Representative Kinshe, I know," he said. "Allow me to present his wife, Alimar Kinshe-Dulan, and Samari Wilkon, a senior Voice of the Portal Authority." He finished the formalities, then inhaled deeply. "My father asked me to accompany Representative Kinshe and Voice Wilkon today. I must ask, is your husband home, Doctor?"

Shalassar's eyebrows rose, and she looked back and forth between Kinshe and the Crown Prince.

"Yes, he?" she began, then broke off abruptly. She stared into Crown Prince Danith's eyes, and the color seemed to drain out of her face.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she said tautly. "Something's happened."

Danith squared his shoulders, but Halidar Kinshe took a small step forward before the Crown Prince could speak. He wished profoundly that someone else could have brought this news, but it was his job, and no one else's.

"We've brought a message, Doctor. A very urgent and important message. We need to deliver it to both you and your husband."

Shalassar had pressed her hands against her cheeks. The long, slender fingers were unsteady.

"It's Shayl, isn't it? Something's happened to my little Shayl… . "

Her lips trembled, and her huge, expressive eyes were dark with shadows. It was a mark of just how distressed she was that she'd used the pre-marriage form of her daughter's name. She stared at Kinshe for several more seconds, then turned away, started for the Institute, stopped, and turned back to them.

"Come in, please," she said in a faint voice. "Come in out of the sun. You must be frightfully hot and thirsty from your journey. I'll have my assistant bring some cool water, some fruit … "

Alimar bit her lip again and tightened her fingers around Kinshe's as Shalassar tried desperately to cling to the proper conventions. They followed her into the Institute's main lobby, such as it was. The administration building was mostly office space, with a small antechamber where infrequent guests could wait for the two or three minutes necessary to track down the Director.

Wide open windows caught the sea breeze, carrying the unmistakable scent of deep ocean water into the thick-walled room. It was pleasantly cool, despite the fierce heat outside. Just offshore lay the floating dock and the bell. The colorfully painted floats holding up the rope around the dock's reserved approaches hurt his eyes as the afternoon sunlight slanted fiercely across them. They hurt his heart, as well, as he contemplated his reason for being here. It was monstrous to bring such news to this beautiful place.

The promised assistant arrived with the refreshments while Shalassar went out to fetch her husband. She could have simply spoken to him with her mind, since both of them were strong telepaths who shared the even closer communication possible through their marriage bond, but she went to find him in person. No doubt, Kinshe thought, in hopes of regaining her shattered composure before she had to face them once again.

He sipped water gratefully, but he couldn't even nibble at the succulent orange slices or sweet palm dates on the platter. His stomach rebelled at the mere thought of food, and Wilkon didn't touch the fruit, either. The Voice's eyes showed his own inner agitation, which was far worse even than Kinshe's. Kinshe knew what message they were here to deliver, but he was no telepath. Wilkon was, and the Farnalian had actually experienced it himself already.

Then Shalassar returned with her husband in tow. Thaminar Kolmayr-Brintal, like most full-blooded Shurkhali, was a slender man, neither tall nor short, but lean and tough as old leather. Despite his strong telepathic Talent, he had chosen to remain on his family's land as a farmer and livestock breeder, rather than seek a position as a registered Voice. His skin was the weathered, furrowed brown of those who spent lifetimes laboring in the fierce desert sun, and he was possessed of all his people's personal dignity and presence. He greeted his Crown Prince with a deep, formal bow; then met Kinshe's gaze head-on. Muscles bunched in his jaw under his dark, close-trimmed beard.

"Come into the office," he said, his voice rough. "We'll talk there."

They stepped into a room which reflected its owner's life hands much as the work done here. Island artwork hung on the walls, reminders of Shalassar's girlhood home, but file cabinets took up most of the wall space, their wooden cases carefully oiled against the dry desert air. A desk in one corner looked almost like an afterthought, a concession to the need for orderly workspace to record the conversations with various cetaceans, the dissertations written by various transient students over the years, research data, published articles and books, even?and perhaps most important?treaties that governed Sharona's relationship with their sentient, aquatic neighbors.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, Kinshe saw several sleek, wet hides break the surface, visible through the office window, punctuated by the hiss of cetaceans surfacing to breathe. Given their size, he surmised that a pod of dolphins had come calling, although one or two might have been larger. It was hard for him to tell.

Then Shaylar's father closed the door, and Kinshe turned his attention to repeating the introductions. Thaminar Kolmayr-Brintal and his wife stood together, arms wrapped around one another, even their free hands gripping one another's. Two strong telepaths, fused for the moment into one terrified personality staring at him with parents' eyes.

"What is it?" Thaminar asked, his voice even rougher than before. "What's gone so wrong that the King sends his Heir and a Royal Representative to deliver the bad news?"

"There's been an incident?" Kinshe began, then paused, cursing his own cowardice, and amended his phrasing. "An act of war has been committed against Sharonian citizens. I'm desperately sorry to bring such news. The Portal Authority Director has asked Voice Wilkon to deliver the last message your daughter transmitted."

Shalassar's knees buckled at the dreadful word "last." She clutched at her husband, nostrils flared, eyes clenched shut, and he eased her into a chair. He crouched beside her, wrapping his arm around her while she shuddered, and lifted angry wounded eyes to meet Kinshe's.

"What you mean by that, Kinshe? An act of war?"