Jasper's brow was knotted, as if chunks had fallen in a rock slide. "In war there are casualties. Let's prevent any more. Warn all our carriers immediately."
"But we can't lose Daeren," exclaimed Pyrite.
"Not without a fight." Selenite punched her hand with her fist. "Get our prisoners back. Search the Underworld."
Andra shook her head. "He's no longer there." If Daeren wasn't there, Chrys realized with growing horror where he must be headed. Except now, again, no one knew where.
"Even if alive," Andra added, "he may no longer be .. . himself. The Elf strain works fast."
Daeren, food for maggots in Endless Light. Chrys's knees faltered, and she could barely stand.
Pyrite spread his hands. "Every minute counts. What are we waiting for?"
Andra nodded, tapping her finger decisively. "I will search the substations. If the Committee accepts the risk." To lose Andra as well as Daeren; the thought gave them pause.
"The worker slaves are armed," warned Selenite. "How will you get him back? With octopods?"
"Andra," pleaded Opal, her face creased with anguish. "Give the masters what they need most, to get him back. Give them arsenic."
Andra's eyes widened and her fist tightened. "Never."
"How else can we show them what we value most? What are we, if we lose Daeren and the blue angels?"
In Andra's eyes the judges flashed deep purple. "Can we offer arsenic for every slave they've taken? What will the non-carriers think of us? How shall we defend our right to exist?"
Opal shook her head. "We are human beings. Let others defend their right to a society that breeds vampires. Get Daeren back."
Chrys blinked. All the sprites vanished. In their place was silence. "My people, do you see? The Lord of Light is dying, and his people with him."
Forget-me-not asked, "Is there nothing to be done?"
"Nothing without risking the entire people of Eleutheria."
"We need a twin world," observed the blue one. "Just as Vale-don has Elysium, if our world had a twin, we could at least send our children there for safety."
Chrys smiled sadly, thinking of Opal and Selenite. "There is no such world for me."
"One True God," flashed Fireweed, "we remember how the blue angels risked the wrath of heaven and the death of their entire people, to save our ancestors from the dying Old World. They had no twin world either."
"And history records the Watchers, and the Passing-over," said Forget-me-not.
"Then ask your Council for a resolution," Chrys told them. "It must be unanimous."
A minute passed. "It is done," reported Forget-me-not.
"We learned a lot, the last time," added Fireweed. "This time, we'll bargain with the masters. We'll treat them at our nightclubs."
Chrys had ideas of her own. Hurriedly, she packed her portable stage, the one she used on her last field trip to Mount Dolomoth. What had worked for Rose, she figured, just might work for that Leader.
On her back the twenty-kilo pack felt like nothing, with her Plan Ten-conditioned muscles. She called for a lightcraft. The lightcraft took her up before the setting sun, its last rays pouring blood across the harbor. It set her down at the old tube stop.
In her eyes blinked the message light—Andra, alone, within a full bodysuit, face and all. "Chrys, let us go after him. Don't you do anything rash," she urged. "Go home; it's a bad night in the Underworld."
What else is new. "What will you give them?"
The ship lights flickered off Andra's face screen. "We'll move every damn planet to find him, that's all I can say."
"Will you give them arsenic?"
"Of course not—and you can't either. Chrys, you're already in deep trouble; Arion knows what you did."
How did Arion find out, Chrys wondered. For that matter, if Daeren did not warn the masters, who did—if not Eris?
"I'm risking myself, Chrys. The Committee can't afford to lose you too." Andra's voice quickened. "Chrys—there's more to this than what I told the Committee. More that would split us apart. Leave this to me. Don't lose yourself, and your people, for nothing."
Chrys blinked to cancel. The sprite vanished. If she were really in trouble with the Elves, she thought, after she got Daeren back she could withdraw all her credits and flee to Solaris.
The tube plummeted to the Underworld. The Gold of Asragh was packed, the crowd more unruly than usual. A whiff of something burnt. Octopods crawled up, the usual pod of eight. Was there a raid? Lights circled crazily over the crowd, once momentarily blinding her. A fool's errand, she told herself, plunging through this world of night, desperately seeking Day.
At the slave bar, two customers pounded the counter demanding ace. Chrys made herself wait until they'd left. Then she leaned across the counter to stare at the slave who'd replaced Jay, who'd replaced Saf. "Where is he?" Chrys demanded. "Where's Day?"
The woman behind the bar looked and smelled as if she had not washed since the last time. She said nothing, but her eyes gleamed as wild as snakes.
"Arsenic," said Fireweed. "They're starving. We could help—"
"No." Chrys held up a viewcoin, one of Jonquil's most scandalous. She faced the slave. "Tell me."
At first the woman seemed not to notice. Then her eyes widened. Her hand snatched involuntarily at the coin.
Chrys pulled the coin out of reach. "Where is Day? Where are the blue angels?"
The eyes watched the coin while the mouth spoke like a puppet. "Day chose Endless Light."
"Chose," indeed. "Take me there," Chrys demanded. "Take me to the Leader."
The eyes rolled, then came to rest looking just aside. "Len?" she called.
A worker slave came out, followed by another. Their maggot-ringed eyes flickered, and the woman's flickered back.
Chrys held out another viewcoin to Len. This time she let him take it. "Pictures in the stars." She brought her face closer, nearly choking on his foul breath. "Pictures for your Leader."
Their eyes flickered at the viewcoin, then back to her. "You're not ready." Len handed her a transfer patch.
She stared at the patch as she would at a poisonous snake.
"We're prepared," said Fireweed. "The children and younger elders are sealed away. We're ready for visitors."
Viruses and parasites—Chrys recoiled. "Be prepared to clean up." She put the patch of plague at her neck.
"Fireweed?"
"All is well," the infrared assured her.
From outside came screams and more smell of burning. A bad night, Andra had said. Which was worse: the humans outside, or these foul invaders within?
"We've agreed on some joint ventures. Send them home."
"Joint ventures"—Chrys did not like the sound of that, but she returned the patch to Len. Turning their heads, the two slaves seemed to reach a decision. Len nodded at Chrys to follow him down the back stairway, where she and Daeren had first brought the viewcoin when she was in training. Two more slaves joined them, on out through a maze of tunnels. What paid for all this— Lord Zoisite's fortune, no doubt.
They came at last to the ship, a small lunar shuttle. Chrys was surprised; this vessel couldn't go far. The shuttle traveled less than an hour, with no fold jumps. It must have stayed within the solar system; in fact, it could not have gone far off Valedon. It docked to something, and the apparent gravitational force lurched sickeningly.