Chapter 5: “Holybody Hospitality”
Valkarr was wondering if he’d beaten the odds. The reaction of the onlookers to his words, in audience, had been interesting. There were phrases he heard that he felt fit a taboo formula, but GALAK X-TRAX contained many variables in their “crossing tracks” of reference codes, and he was unpracticed in this dialect.
The guards at the palace were consistently larger than the two he’d met in the forest. One of the large ones humbly blocked his path momentarily as the High Priestess made her recession bow and left the hall. Still viewing the Journeyman with superstitious awe, the interceding guide assembled an honor detail and an orderly procession was begun.
Intentionally casual, it wasn’t exactly a tour. It was a long grand walk through the magnificent building. He guessed they were going from administrative “Holy Buildings” to the “Holy Residence.” Occasionally, he would stop to gawk.
“Please, Journeyman, sir,” his escort acted afraid of committing accidental insult.
Valkarr had stopped by a table displaying a relief of the city and the surrounding terrain. He was getting an idea of where he’d emerged from the slime.
“Sir, I beg. I am responsible,” the man insisted. “The chamber is not far.”
“OK, OK!” Valkarr had no desire to cause further alarm among any of the already terrified locals.
At the last there was a red door guarded by two more tall soldiers, each dressed in stately purple.
“Your Worship, you man,” bowing, the man stepped aside, motioning Valkarr through.
The Journeyman went quietly inside. At casual glance, the room would have passed for an exclusive Bellranian wench parlor. Elaborate soft furniture set low to the floor; in the middle of the room was a round table covered with food and drink. His eyes settled there and, as they did, he thought he heard the giggle of more than one. Before he moved, a soft, familiar voice from behind him cooed:
“Tell me, Journeyman, how is it that you favor me so? The Bringers truly spoke for you? They say you come to be of help. This the Bringers have said.”
He turned. The High Priestess, in a barely covering negligee, dropped to her knees, then sprawled lazily against a large pillow. She reminded him of his Helper, Cara; but this woman was righteously proud, and wicked. There was her sex appeal, and there was her political appeal.
“You know the difficulty we face with Dacooma and you can speak of helping? Is this to be great magic, lord?” She was coming on hard now. Almost a psychic sexual assault. Her offerings of guaranteed pleasure were genuine. She was getting off, and glorying in, her imagined victory. “For all, all is for this, and you, with your magic!” The woman beckoned and Valkarr sat beside her, “You are space knowing!”
“Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I would like to talk to you about that, and all you wish,” he was moved by her touch.
“Your ark is here, on Karaool?”
“Yes, oh most…Holybody. Our science is far beyond what I’ve seen here. You will be amazed when I show you how to improve management of your territory, or more, should you expand.” Nothing wrong so far, but he was surprised at the inclusion of the word “expand.” He was wondering if he liked her when she began to draw him to her.
“Tell me, Journeyman…” she said deviously, “tell me about your magic…Tell me about your ark. Tell how from you I shall learn space rule.”
“Thou art truly a Holybody…” Valkarr whispered, “but isn’t there some other name I can call you?”
“Yours is not even to ask, you are permitted,” she lay back and eyed him dreamily. “I am Yeokalani. Yeokalani Akaalin. I was select before twelfth cropping. I have been good to watch? Is better to touch,” pressing her lips to his, she pulled him down to her.
* * *
Valkarr woke up hours after the sun. There was no sign of Yeokalani. He felt rested and at peace as he walked out onto the bedroom balcony. Never had this planet looked so good.
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open and in rushed more than half a dozen armed troops led by the High Priestess, who was trembling with rage. Furious and flushed, she marched straight up to Valkarr and struck him hard across the face.
Four of the men put their weapons to Valkarr’s head. Two others grabbed his hands and feet and he was quickly chained; bound like a pig on a pole.
The High Priestess screamed, “Bring him!”
Below, as he was held suspended in the palace doorway, Valkarr couldn’t believe his eyes. In the courtyard before him stood the Beggar’s Grasp, covered in, and dripping, slime.
“You underestimated me, cargo pilot. I’ll bet you didn’t even know there was a war. Hammers, saws and whiskey—Bah!” The High Priestess stormed on, “You didn’t think we could raise your ship! You think me a fool? Take him!” She boiled.
Carried from the threshold by the small max-security detail, he was once more lambasted in the continuing, deeply felt tirade of the woman ruler.
“For you, I’ve something special. You are space knowing, yes? You know of Yora? It is not far, but for you it will be too far for this life, yes. Oh, but you will be comfortable. I am seeing to it that you have plenty, for I want you to live a long time, in solitude, remembering this day.
“The Yorans will receive a dead ambassador, but they will see it an unfortunate accident. Besides, we are close to reaching the warps, and shall, soon—without your ‘magic.’”
With devilish satisfaction she commanded, “Away with him,” turning in a huff to re-enter her quarters.
Valkarr was taken, loaded aboard, and sealed inside a de-commissioned consular ship, then unceremoniously blasted into space.
<- Chapter 4
