Lady Lure Read online

  Lady Lure

  by

  Flora Speer

  Copyright © 2013, 1993, by Flora Speer

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  Peri

  1: A supernatural being in Persian folklore descended from fallen angels and excluded from Paradise until penance is accomplished.

  2: A beautiful and graceful girl or woman. Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary

  Prologue

  “Perri, daughter of the Amalini Kin, will you freely accept this commission?” the Chief Hierarch asked in formal tones.

  Determined not to show him how troubled she was by what he had just revealed to her, Perri straightened her slender shoulders and met the pale green eyes of the most important member of the Regulan Hierarchy.

  Until that day she had never met any of the seven Hierarchs face-to-face. On special occasions she, like other Regulans, watched on her telscan while the splendidly robed Hierarchs conducted the appropriate ceremonies in their sumptuous official chambers.

  Yet even in the Chief Hierarch’s private office, where few would ever see it, there was ample evidence of the far-ranging influence of the Regulan government.

  On one wall hung a long Cetan sword. The sunlight coming through the window set the curved, highly polished blade aglow. Perri could remember the ceremony during which the sword had been presented to the Chief Hierarch on the occasion of the signing of the commercial treaty between Regula and Ceta.

  On the wide desk sat a golden lizard, the heraldic symbol of the ancient Styxians, one of the first Races of the Jurisdiction – and a very peculiar Race, from all Perri had heard of that people. Since Styxia lay on the far side of the Jurisdiction and had only the most tenuous relations with Regula, Perri wondered how the Chief Hierarch had come by the artifact.

  And, of course, inlaid into the desktop and into the wall immediately behind the Chief Hierarch’s chair were representations of the Sign of Regula, a silver spiral that curved inward and in again upon itself until it doubled back to its own beginning, a never-ending, sinuous line as complicated and mysterious, it was said, as the minds of Regulan men.

  Those multiple symbols of the dignity and authority of high office left Perri all but speechless with awe. She could scarcely believe that the Chief Hierarch himself had deigned to see her. She had expected to deal with his underlings.

  “Well, Perri? You did say you would do anything to help Elyr. Do you intend to balk at this one request?”

  Unusually tall, ascetically thin, with snow-white hair and beard, the Chief Hierarch always stood out from the six Lesser Hierarchs. Even while wearing a plain white robe in his simply decorated private apartments, the man inspired fearful reverence in Perri’s youthful heart. It was all she could do to prevent herself from going to her knees before him.

  Reverence or no, Perri did have a few questions. It seemed she always had a few questions, no matter what the subject under discussion. Silently she prayed for the Chief Hierarch to show greater patience with her than Elyr and his mother, Cynri, usually did.

  “Sir, I do not doubt what you have told me,” Perri said. “But I have known Elyr for thirteen years, since I went into his parents’ household at the age of nine. I cannot believe Elyr could be guilty of a serious crime.”

  “You do not doubt, yet you cannot believe?” The Chief Hierarch raised thick white eyebrows in astonishment. “Are your thoughts truly in such disarray?”

  “It is only that Elyr has never given any indication to me of having an unkind opinion of the Hierarchy.” Elyr had never given Perri an indication of what his opinion was on any important subject, but that was not the point.

  “Did I say he has done so?” the Chief Hierarch asked.

  “You did not need to say it, sir. You implied it.”

  “You have allowed your irrational female thought processes to lead you to an unwarranted conclusion.”

  “Sir, please tell me what the crime is of which Elyr stands accused. When his servant, Vedyr, came to me with the terrible news, he said he could not discover what the charges are.”

  “There are certain matters too serious to put into words.” The Chief Hierarch was frowning, and Perri trembled in response to this sign of displeasure. “I can tell you no more than I already have. Unless you carry out the task I have described to you, your betrothed will die in a manner best left unmentioned. Perhaps of more personal interest to you, since by virtue of your betrothal to him you are a member of Elyr’s kindred, the entire Amalini Kin will be exiled from Regula.”

  That was a terrible sentence, one far worse than death. Most Regulans dreaded the thought of leaving their homeworld for more than a brief period. Perri could feel the blood leaving her face. Her head swam with terror and confusion and her trembling increased so much that she was afraid she would sink to the floor. But still, she asked questions.

  “Sir, I am only a poor, ignorant woman with, as you have so kindly pointed out to me, irrational thought processes. How, then, can I be expected to succeed in the difficult and dangerous task you have set for me?”

  “It is in your interest to succeed,” the Chief Hierarch said.

  “But I do not know how to pilot a spaceship! I have never been away from Regula.” Nor ever wished to leave, Perri added in a silent protest she dared not speak aloud.

  “No matter.” The Chief Hierarch was unmoved by Perri’s emotional outburst. “Your personal robot is being programmed with the necessary information to enable it to act as your pilot. The technicians should be finished soon.”

  “What have you done to Rolli?” Perri cried, forgetting awe and respect for the Chief Hierarch in her fear for the one entity on Regula that understood her.

  “You display more concern over a robot than you did for your betrothed.” The Chief Hierarch did not appear to be either shocked or angered. He merely nodded his head as if to indicate that a deeply held belief had just been confirmed. “It is often so with women, foolish creatures that you are. Rest assured, your precious Rolli’s basic memory bank is unchanged. Rolli will still be able to teach you the finer intricacies of needlework or recall the recipes for Elyr’s favorite menus.”

  The Chief Hierarch spoke with the contempt men reserved for the daily work of women. His manner annoyed Perri. Considering what he was asking of her, she expected him to show a bit more sympathy for both her and her robot. That thought produced another question.

  “Sir, how can you imagine that I have even a minute chance of luring my prey onto the ship you will lend to me and Rolli?”

  “Because you and your prey, as you so aptly call him, have one trait in common; curiosity. Both of you ask far too many questions.” The Chief Hierarch paused, eyeing Perri with a tinge of malice in his pale green glance. “However, if it becomes necessary to lure him in other ways than by his curiosity, then do so.”

  “Even -” Perri could hardly breathe, but she kept asking questions. “Sir, you cannot want me to – Do you? I am sure Elyr would not agree.”

  “If it were to save his life,” the Chief Hierarch murmured, “Elyr might well forgive your misconduct.”

  “I cannot think he would,” Perri stated firmly. “Elyr’s morals are of the very finest quality.”

  “Well, then, you must do what you think is best.” Breaking off his talk with Perri, the Chief Hierarch looked beyond her, toward the
entrance to his chambers. There a manservant appeared and paused just inside the door. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Sir, the robot is ready.” At a motion of the Chief Hierarch’s hand, the man quickly bowed himself out of the room.

  “Rolli!” Perri took a step toward the door.

  “Perri of the Amalini, you forget your manners!”

  “I am sorry, Chief Hierarch. It was not my intention to leave your presence in a rude way.” Perri was relieved to see him incline his head in acceptance of the apology.

  “I do assure you once again,” the Chief Hierarch said, “that nothing about your robot has been changed save for the introduction of piloting and navigational knowledge. It would be highly inefficient to add skills or information not required for your upcoming tasks.”

  “Of course it would. I should not have doubted you, sir.” Setting aside the moral issues involved in the assignment she had just been given, along with her own personal qualms and her lingering questions about what she was being asked to do, Perri reminded herself that she had no other way to save Elyr. Taking a long breath to steady herself, straightening her shoulders with a sense of firm resolution and commitment, she looked directly into the Chief Hierarch’s eyes and said in the formal tones required by the occasion, “Very well, sir. Of my free will and volition, I hereby accept the commission you have given me. I will do everything in my power to carry it out as you wish.”

  “I was sure that all the Hierarchs – and Elyr – could depend upon you, Perri. I am pleased to hear that I was not mistaken in my assessment of your character.” Pleased or not, there was no softening in the Chief Hierarch’s expression, not even the trace of a smile. Nor did his cool eyes warm.

  “When shall I leave?” Perri asked, envisioning days or weeks of preliminary training. In the meantime, perhaps she would be allowed to visit Elyr. Thanks to the Chief Hierarch’s willingness to help, she could offer her betrothed some hope that the death sentence laid upon him would be revoked. But, she reminded herself, only if she succeeded.

  “From these chambers,” the Chief Hierarch answered her, “you are to proceed directly to the ship that is being prepared for you.”

  “Right now? Without going home to pack or to tell Elyr’s mother? She must be so worried. This news would relieve her mind.”

  “Cynri does not know of Elyr’s plight, and you are not to send her any messages.”

  “But, I thought – Why not?”

  “Time is of the greatest importance in this matter, Perri, second only to secrecy.”

  “Secrecy?” Perri’s dark green eyes grew wide. “Sir, what do you mean?”

  “Understand,” the Chief Hierarch said, “that I speak for the entire Hierarchy in this. Having confidence that you would accept the commission, we have agreed for the moment to withhold full disclosure of the charges against Elyr. Those charges will not be made public unless you fail in the task set for you or unless you take too long to complete it. Remember, Perri, not only do Elyr’s life and the future of all his relatives rest in your hands, but something far more important than life. The honor of the Amalini Kin – and their continued residence upon Regula – depends on you.”

  * * * * *

  “She will never be able to do it.” With Perri dismissed from the Chief Hierarch’s chambers, the man who had been listening behind the heavy folds of a window curtain stepped forward. Of medium height and slim build, he had fair hair and the usual green Regulan eyes set in a long face, which at the moment bore a solemn expression.

  “It does not matter whether Perri achieves her mission or fails in it. Either way, she will not live long,” the Chief Hierarch said. With a chuckle of genuine amusement the ordinarily humorless Hierarch added, “And with any luck at all, whether she succeeds or fails, the man she calls her prey will not outlive her. Then, my friend, you and I – and our futures and fortunes – will be safe.”

  Chapter One

  “Stand and deliver!” The voice coming over the interspace comm system spoke with the emotionless rasp of an ALF – an Artificial Life Form. Hearing it, Capt. Jyrit and his communications officer looked at each other in astonishment for one split second before Jyrit spoke.

  “You know the response to that order, lieutenant. Tell whatever metallic creature is hailing us to go oil itself – after it gets out of our way.”

  “Aye, captain.” The lieutenant repressed a smile.

  “Heave to and prepare to accept a boarding party!” the unemotional words continued.

  “Perhaps we should offer to supply the oil,”’ the lieutenant said.

  “Heave to?” a quiet, human, and distinctly masculine voice from the direction of the hatchway said.

  Capt. Jyrit and his lieutenant turned as one at the sound. They and the armaments officer all stiffened into formal attention as their only passenger came onto the bridge of the spaceship Krontar.

  “Admiral. Sir.” Behind his impassive exterior Jyrit found himself wondering if this tall, big-boned man had insisted on wearing his dark blue uniform jacket and trousers even when he lay near death on the finest hospital planet in the Jurisdiction. It seemed entirely possible. Jyrit had known the man for years and had never seen him out of uniform.

  “At ease, gentlefolk.” Admiral of the Fleet Halvo Gibal squinted at the viewscreen, being careful not to tilt his head while he sized up the situation. It only took an instant. At least his eyes were still functioning properly, even if the rest of his body resisted the demands he made of it each day. There on the viewscreen before him a ship hung motionless against the backdrop of inky black space and a few thousand scattered stars. Their opponent was boldly painted with the green-and-purple design of a space dragon belching orange flames and the appropriate name, Space Dragon, was blazoned on the side, but in comparison to the Krontar the tiny ship looked more like a gnat than a dragon.

  “The captain must be mad,” Halvo said. “No sane person could possibly believe a warship of the Jurisdiction Fleet would ever submit to a puny vessel like that one. It’s no bigger than an ordinary shuttlecraft that’s used to carry passengers and material from a planet’s surface to a larger spaceship. And what coward would allow a machine to do his talking for him?”

  “One who doesn’t want his voice remembered later,” Armaments Officer Dysia murmured. Raising her own voice and addressing Jyrit, she added, “Captain, the configuration of that ship is vaguely familiar to me. It may have been altered in an attempt to disguise its origin. I can check the viewscreen image against our old computer records and try to find a ship that roughly compares with this one.”

  “Do it.” Jyrit snapped out the order. He was a Jugarian; thus his antennae were flaring bright red in indignation at what was happening. It was humiliating to be stopped by a shot fired across the bow of the Krontar. Jyrit’s personal inclination was to destroy the Space Dragon without discussion. He was under strict orders to conduct Admiral Halvo Gibal safely to Capital, and he could not afford to take chances with Halvo’s life. Still, it was Halvo’s right as the ranking officer of the fleet to issue any orders he wished. Knowing that Halvo had never run from a battle, Jyrit allowed a note of hope to creep into his inflections.

  “We are nearing the outskirts of the Regulan Sector, Admiral. Pirates have recently become a serious problem in this area and all reports say they are growing ever bolder. In my opinion, they need to be taught a lesson similar to the one we taught their brothers last year, near Styxia. I will be happy to destroy that ship if you but concur in the decision, sir.” Anticipating agreement, Jyrit nodded to Armaments Officer Dysia and half raised one hand, prepared to give the signal to fire upon the pirate at Halvo’s assent.

  “No.” So easily did Halvo make the decision that was to change his life forever. Later, he would reflect on that one little word and wonder if he, rather than the commander of the pirate vessel, was the one who was mad. “They are too small to do us any serious harm. We could annihilate them with a single blast, and they must know it. There
fore, the question to ask ourselves is, why would so small a ship, traveling alone, accost us in this outlandish way?”

  “Perhaps they have some new weapon we don’t know about that could blast us out of the sky,” Armaments Officer Dysia suggested.

  “Perhaps. If so, why haven’t they used it or threatened us with it?” Halvo stared at the image of the ship on the viewscreen for a moment longer before, without moving his head, he shifted his glance to Capt. Jyrit. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Curiosity is not a Jugarian trait, admiral,” Jyrit responded, barely controlling his anger and his desire to destroy the ship confronting him.

  “No,” Halvo said, “but courage and ferocity in battle are.”

  Capt. Jyrit inclined his head in mute acceptance of the compliment and waited to learn what Halvo wanted to do.

  “During the past year,” Halvo went on, “there has been precious little to arouse my curiosity. It is aroused now. Capt. Jyrit, I have a suggestion for dealing with this interruption in our journey. Since I am curious and you are not, I shall meet with the leader of the boarding party and attempt to discover what he wants. Meanwhile, you may keep your weapons trained on the Space Dragon. Do not hesitate to fire if they take any action that threatens the safety of the Krontar. Comm Officer, order a security team to Entrance Hatch Six. With your permission, Captain,” Halvo added, to appease Jyrit’s sensitive ego, though he knew the captain would not override his suggestions, however much he might disapprove of them.

  “Sir.” Jyrit was the picture of affronted Jugarian pride, but as Halvo had guessed, he would not openly disagree with someone of Halvo’s rank. “You can interrogate them in the brig. I shall order Security to have the entire boarding party imprisoned at once.”

  “Not at once, Jyrit.” Deliberately, Halvo used the personal name only, speaking as though the captain were his friend. That, too, would ease Jyrit’s pride, which must surely be outraged at having his expressed desires countermanded on his own bridge. “Let us discover first exactly what it is they want. I leave the bridge, and the weapons control, in your capable hands, Jyrit, while I personally greet our unwelcome guests.”