Demon Lost Page 3

  "It means," Lendill sighed patiently, "that the pod found its way to a non-Alliance world. We have a treaty with that world. We can't invade their space, they can't invade ours. I'm afraid your daughter is lost."

  "Do they even know to look for her?"

  "We sent a communication. They know a pod misfired. That's what they think, anyway. Since she's military and not a common Alliance citizen, they also know they can do whatever they please with her when they find her, if she's still alive. The pod was on the last of its life support—if it had any left that is—when it entered Mandil's airspace."

  "So we may never know if Reah lives or dies." Addah grumbled, his eyes darting over Lendill's face.

  "True. My condolences to you and your family, Master Desh. I'm sure the Governor will send his apologies and condolences soon. You are also welcome to come to the trials of the three who betrayed her."

  "Why did they do that to her?" Addah asked.

  "Rumor is the master cook was jealous."

  "Then I expect to be compensated for my daughter's death. That was a master cook in the making," Addah stood, his voice a near-shout. "Do you know how much she would have brought to my business? Do you? Tell the Governor I will entertain an offer."

  "Master Desh," Lendill gripped Addah's collar and drew him forward, his nose almost meeting the cook's, "When a conscript signs with the Regular Alliance Army, they sign all their rights to the Alliance. If a conscript dies, you get condolences and funeral expenses. That's it. Your daughter's body won't be returned to us, so you won't qualify for funeral expenses, either. I know you placed a bribe with an official to have her taken instead of one of your sons. Now, shall I bring charges against you for that, or shall we call it even?"

  * * *

  "They won't know if we bury the evidence."

  Chlind stared at Seval for a moment or two. "You mean bury the pod?"

  "Yes. We need another girl to make up for Dela running back to her mother. This one will know to keep quiet. She'll stay alive that way." Seval grinned.

  "She really isn't tall enough," Chlind stroked his short beard in contemplation.

  "Who cares? She'll be put to cleaning or washing dishes." Both men stared at the unconscious girl still strapped inside the escape pod. They'd gotten word, just as the other travelers did, of the military pod that had misfired on Tulgalan. Mandil's Royal Family would most likely put her to death anyway if they found her.

  "Get the shovels," Chlind muttered. Seval ran back to the transport to retrieve the required tools.

  * * *

  Dizziness swept over me the moment I woke and I felt ill.

  "Get to the hole if you're going to be sick," were the words that greeted me. A face blurred over mine and didn't come into focus for a while.

  "Who are you?" I mumbled, trying to keep my stomach from heaving. I couldn't remember if there was anything in it to heave up.

  "Chlind. On our way to the main desert outpost to deliver girls," Chlind grinned. I should have asked where I was. Perhaps that question would have made more sense.

  "You're on Mandil," Chlind kept smiling. The moan that came from me didn't sound familiar. Mandil. A non-Alliance world. Word had it that they sold women as slaves. Was that what I was?

  "We know what you are," Chlind went on. "So it's in your best interest to be silent. The Royal Family will likely want you dead if they find you. Public executions are still done here, you know."

  I stared in horror at Chlind. He was gleefully informing me of my fate, should I be discovered. When I failed to respond, he continued. "We needed another girl to fill our contract for the outpost. You're that girl. Do as you're told and you'll keep your life. The hole is over there." Chlind pointed to his right. Heaving my body off the hard seat I'd been dumped on, I stared out the window. All I could see was clicks and clicks of windswept sand.

  "It'll turn greener in a few clicks," Chlind was reading my mind. "Bear in mind that escape is out of the question unless you do want to die. They'll leave your bones in the desert for the scavengers if you do that."

  Staggering into the aisle, I refused to look at Chlind as I made my way to the hole. I heaved up almost nothing before I stopped, and then relieved myself as best I could. The amount of water the sink might dispense at one time was limited, so I washed as much as I could before returning to my seat. I had no clothing, no money, no bearings and nowhere to go except where Chlind was sending me. Yes, I often thought about asking him to leave me in the desert to die, but I didn't. Who knows whether that was a good or bad thing?

  * * *

  The papers handed to the ranking officer were forged—in my case anyway. He looked me over carefully, evaluating what Chlind had brought him with a critical eye. "What's this one good for?" The officer handed Chlind a skeptical frown.

  "Cleaning or kitchen work, your choice," Seval, Chlind's partner offered the soldier a grin. "It says in the contract that two out of the twenty can be designated drudges."

  "It doesn't say that they can be minuscule," the soldier laughed.

  "But she's not difficult to look at," Chlind chimed in.

  "No, but she's delicate business. This is the high desert. Don't you have any sense at all?"

  "Must have left it in my other clothes," Seval agreed amiably.

  I wanted to tell them I was right there, but then I was a slave. Granted, none of the other girls on the transport were chained or restrained in any way, but they'd probably gotten the desert speech, just as I had.

  "Know your way around a kitchen?" The soldier turned to me then.

  "Yes," I nodded. I could find my way around most any kitchen. I found myself more than grateful that everyone spoke Alliance common, even if it was accented and Mandil wasn't an Alliance world.

  "Then we'll put you in the kitchen unless somebody gets interested. Doesn't matter how pretty you are, they'll want their women a little tougher and with more meat on their bones."

  That sounded fine with me. I wondered what kind of men these were. The soldier was wide across the shoulders with a tanned, weathered face and hair that might have been a light brown, once. The intense light and heat of the desert had bleached it like muslin until it was nearly the same color as mine.

  He and the other soldiers I saw moving about were all dressed in sand-colored uniforms. They matched the desert they stood upon and all had close-cropped hair. Seval had given me a leather string so I could braid my long hair and tie it to keep it off my neck. "The desert is hot and unforgiving," he'd told me while I tied the end of my braid.

  "Clothing may be a problem, too," the soldier mused as I stood before him. "Never mind, we'll find something and somebody who can take it up. Next." I was led to the side with the other girls who'd been checked in, while the one behind me took my place.

  * * *

  "This is the kitchen," I was led inside an expansive space later by one of the oldest soldiers I'd seen at the post. The kitchen was equipped with a huge, solar-powered stove, a bank of cold-keepers, a pantry that could provide housing for a rather large family and three soldiers, all of whom were peeling root vegetables.

  "How many here at the post?" I asked.

  "Around three hundred, including the twenty of you that just arrived. But you won't cook for everybody—just the girls who came in with you," the old soldier replied. "Troops have their own cooks and kitchens, on the other side of the post. They have the big job. Now these here," he nodded toward the three men, "they're doing punishment time. So if you want anything edible, you'd best cook it yourself." The old soldier left me there, laughing as he walked away from me.

  "When are the mealtimes?" I asked the youngest of the three men. Yes, I was intimidated, but I wanted the girls at the post to have the best meals I could make for them since they'd been sold just as I had.

  "Late meal is served in two clicks," the youngest one replied. "We were told to peel roots so we're peeling roots."

  "Then you may have done your job well enough already," I mut
tered. A mound of peeled, unwashed roots were piled on the steel table before them.

  "Good. We'll take a break," the oldest one said. He and the other two walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone. I don't know why I expected them to come back; they never did. I prepared the meal myself. Some sort of fowl was in the keeper, with other types of frozen meats in the freezers. I made meat pies quickly, giving myself plenty of time for them to bake. Frozen vegetables were mixed and cooked in water and broth with butter and sauce—at least the supplies seemed sufficient if plain. I didn't have time to do a dessert—perhaps that could come one or two days per eight-day—maybe on off-days. If Mandil had off-days. I was too afraid to ask.

  * * *

  "Commander, more have been sighted." Aris' Rangers had returned from scouting the desert west of the outpost.

  "You didn't approach any of them, did you?" Aris looked up from his paperwork—Ranger Bel had caught him at his desk.

  "No, Commander. We found one deserted village—about forty lived there if our estimates are correct. All missing, now."

  "How many were children, do you think?" Aris knew the children wouldn't be a threat—the demons didn't turn children; they were eaten for sustenance. Only the adults would be turned, unless there weren't enough younglings to satisfy the demons. Then the smaller adults, preferably the females, would also serve as a food source.

  "Perhaps ten or so—we didn't find evidence of more than that."

  "Then thirty more, maybe, out there to do damage." Aris sighed.

  "Any word from the palace?" Bel wanted to sigh as well.

  "They'll send more before the next moon-turn, but we only have so many Rangers and ranos rifles. Those are the only weapons effective against these things."

  "I know. Perhaps if we negotiate with the Alliance—tell them what we're dealing with?" Bel suggested quietly.

  "Bel, you and I know that the Prince Royal will not even consider it. I'm not sure he fully understands the gravity of the situation."

  "Yet he sees fit to send twenty women, worrying about our other needs."

  "Yes. And those women will be the first targets if the demons come this way. Are any vehicles in need of repairs? We need everything we have in good repair in case a quick move is necessary."

  "They're working on them now, Commander Aris."

  "Why don't you and the others join me for dinner later? We'll discuss what we know. How did the villagers take the evacuation orders?"

  "Like we thought they might—they aren't considering the threat—they think they are not in danger."

  "Fools," Aris grumbled. "If those creatures get hungry, the village will fall, just as the others did."

  * * *

  My three helpers never came back, which meant I cleaned everything by myself before finding a bath and bed. At least there was warm water—when night fell, it got much colder than I thought it might. I also had a small room with a tiny bed right off the kitchen that I didn't have to share.

  I woke to the sound of someone blowing a raucous tune on a bugle. On Tulgalan, three loud, recorded tones woke the troops. Thinking about tossing rocks at the bugler from behind walls or bushes, I climbed awkwardly out of bed. Since I wasn't fully recovered from my ordeal inside the pod, I hauled myself (with a bit of difficulty) toward the kitchen to prepare breakfast. My three helpers were still missing. I wondered if it were my duty to report them to anyone.

  Several women from the day before came to haul the wheeled carts with the trays away. Their quarters were down a long, narrow hallway, in a wing separated from the kitchen. I was grateful for that separation. It kept me from dwelling on what was happening, there. Two of the five who came to pick up the food were already talking about this soldier or that. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear any of it, no matter how much they liked the men. One of the women winked at me before she left. Unsure what to do about that either, I set about putting yeast bread together for the evening meal.

  "Did you miss us?" The three missing men arrived in time for their midday meal, looking as if they'd awakened minutes earlier. Their uniforms were rumpled and they smelled of beer and sweat. I didn't ask them where they'd been. Sitting down at one of the tables in the kitchen, they arrogantly waited for their meal to be placed in front of them. They ate while I put the other plates together and handed those meals to a different set of five women.

  "We just wanted to tell you that dinner last night was excellent," one of the women told me. "I don't think I've ever eaten this well, before."

  "It was the best I could do with the supplies I had," I replied. "We'll have shaved ox-roast for dinner tonight. I hope you like it."

  "Shaved ox-roast? That sounds naughty," one of my three helpers snickered.

  "It could be, if you're speaking in the traditional sense," I muttered, kneading dough. The three men stuffed their faces without another word, left their plates sitting on the counter and took off again.

  * * *

  "Do you have enough for six extra plates? We're entertaining," the third set of five women showed up to get the dinner trays.

  "Yes," I nodded. I had enough for eight additional plates but no more than that. Hastily I prepared an extra six meals and my visitors went away with plates of shaved ox-roast in brown sauce with tiny vegetables, fruit and fresh rolls. There was wine in the pantry and I sent something that would go well with the meat dish. That was the night I met two of the Rangers who worked at the outpost. They came with the five women to return the trays.

  "May I ask your name?" The first Ranger stood across the counter from me as I wiped down surfaces. He stood at six blocks tall with short, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

  "I am Reah," I said, not meeting his eyes. I felt safer that way.

  "Reah, that was the best meal I've gotten at this gods-forsaken hole," he said. "I am Bel, and this is my fellow Ranger, Delvin." The other Ranger was grinning as I looked up at him briefly. He also had dark hair but his eyes were brown, whereas Bel's were a green-gold. Delvin was slightly shorter than Bel, too.

  "Most pleased to meet you," I nodded in a noncommittal fashion. I had no desire for them to find that I wasn't on Mandil legally, or to be hauled off to the Prince Royal for sentencing as a result.

  "You can come and have dinner with us again," one of the women traced a finger down Delvin's cheek in a suggestive manner. I turned away so I wouldn't have to watch.

  Yes, I knew about sex—my dayschool classes had included instruction on reproduction while I was learning. I'd also seen men bring their wives, lovers and companions—male and female—the whole time I'd worked in the kitchens at Desh's. Edan had made me afraid of almost every male. Anyone who'd attempted to approach me saw me shying away from them. Even a few recruits during my basic military training had approached. I had backed away quickly, too frightened to allow them a chance. Perhaps love and sex were meant for others. I truly had no desire to be treated as Edan had treated his female companions.

  Busying myself with putting away pots and pans, my visitors were gone when next I looked up. Breathing a relieved sigh, I made my way to the small bathing room just outside my bedroom, cleaned up and fell into bed, exhausted.

  That became my life for the next two eight-days. Rising early to prepare meals—not finishing until late at night. Guards patrolled the entire post while I slept; I knew that. I couldn't say whether it made me feel safer or not, I just knew that it was. The women had started asking regularly for extra plates of food for the evening meals until it reached twelve in number. I automatically prepared an extra twelve meals, now. My three helpers only showed up for meals, disappearing immediately after and never bothering to take their plates and glasses to the sink for washing. I came to think of them as pigs and figured I knew why they were being punished.

  My third eight-day began and I had yet to receive time off. It made me wonder if slaves weren't entitled. Breakfast was over for the morning and I was starting on the midday meal when the back door into the kitchen opened with
a thump and Bel walked in, followed by three others. Not my three—I saw that right away. What excited me was what they carried—wooden boxes loaded with redfruits and other vegetables.

  "Think you can do something with this?" Bel's eyes twinkled and he was grinning as I stared at the fresh bounty with astonishment.

  "Yes—yes, of course," I did my best to keep the bubbling excitement from my voice as I wiped my hands on a towel. "I can certainly do something with this." The boxes were set on the stone tile floors of my kitchen. The three who had hauled in the fresh produce were all dressed similarly in white tunics and trousers. They also wore close-fitting white caps on their heads. I'd never seen such dress before, but it made sense for the desert, I think.

  "Are there enough redfruits to make something for the entire outpost?" Bel looked hopeful as the three men hauled in another load. Nearly three hundred troops manned the outpost. I eyed the fruit with a critical eye.

  "Perhaps," I said. "If I stretch it as much as possible. When did you want this?"

  "Is dinner tonight too early?" Bel kept his hopeful expression.

  "If I begin working now," I said. One of the three men hauling in the produce covered his mouth with a sleeve as he coughed. One of the others said something to him in a language I didn't understand very well. It was a dialect of the common speech, but heavily accented.

  "Where are those three louts who work with you?" Bel asked, waving at the three men who took off out the door.

  "They only show up for meals," I said, pulling crates of redfruit toward the sink for washing.

  "You've been doing all this yourself?" Bel cursed creatively when I nodded. I was used to hearing words of that nature—Edan could curse with the best soldiers I'd ever met.

  "Yes, Ranger Bel. I didn't know whether to report them or to whom," I answered truthfully, piling fruit into a wire basket and turning on the water taps. I would have to peel and slice the fruit quickly, then roll out pastry dough and add spices and sugar if I were to have a dessert ready with the evening meal.