“It wasn’t any trouble,” Cat assured him. They’d rehearsed their interaction, assuming prying eyes were lurking in the shadows. Preston was confident his moves were being studied. The First Ruler watched all.
But he’d been on his best behavior since Oleth Con’s death. Preston wouldn’t end up like the First Regal of Biks. He would see the First Ruler die before his own expiration.
They strode through the corridor together, chatting about inane things. “How was the trip to the mountains?”
“Lovely. I visited an ancient village. Tens of thousands of years old. Can you imagine?” Cat’s voice conveyed her real excitement at the tour. “They’ve adapted over that duration. Since they’ve been around for a million years, the Velibar have twelve versions that could be considered their own species. Five of them are unable to procreate with the rest. It’s truly remarkable.”
One Velibar segment was no longer able to breathe above the surface. They lived in the oceans of Poan and had shunned space travel. These Velibar were content to remain underwater, leaving their cousins to their politics and violence.
“Did you learn anything from them?” Preston asked.
“Much. Their beliefs mirror those of the old customs. They revere the First Ruler,” she told him.
“As they should,” he said for the benefit of their audience.
Two guards stepped into the courtyard as Preston went outside. The evening was bright, the weather hot this time of year.
“You.” One of the guards clanked the butt of his spear on the cobblestones. “The First Ruler wishes to see you.”
Preston had been summoned on many occasions over the past two years. This attention brought on a lot of envy from the Velibar, but more specifically from Garret Breaker. His old commander was rarely out of sight of the First Regal of Tarre. They’d barely spoken since Oleth Con had been murdered in front of them.
Preston’s own relationship with the First Ruler was tense. The man was constantly testing his loyalty. It was a tireless game, one that Preston assumed was meant to wear down his boundaries. It was working.
Then, as if he was no longer of interest, the First Ruler had stopped asking for him. It had been a month, and Preston realized he missed the impromptu meetings. Now, being asked to speak with the Ruler, he was nervous. Uncertain he wanted to.
He glanced at the stack of towels in his arms, recalling the sharp knife tucked into the lower one. He tried to pass the pile to Catarina, but she stepped back, fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to be caught with the weapon.
“Okay. I’m coming.” Preston quickly set the towels on a stone bench and slipped the knife from underneath. Before the guards arrived, he slid it into his boot. The blade sliced his sock, and he felt the sharp edge prick his skin.
“Hurry. The First Ruler waits for no one.” The guard shoved him toward the entrance.
“We’ll speak later,” Preston told Cat, not wishing these guards to see him frazzled. The woman didn’t respond as she scurried down the stairs from them.
He grew more on edge with each step to the First Ruler’s throne pool. The last meeting had been faster than the others, with the Velibar leader asking him a few questions, mundane queries not pertaining to Earth or his mental state. He’d answered them as wisely as he could, and the Ruler had seemed pleased with him. Preston had been wearing his mask for years now, and hoped the cracks weren’t beginning to show.
As he limped to his audience with the Ruler, Preston decided this was the moment to strike. If he didn’t do it now, he might never have another chance. Preston was in his mid-sixties. He still felt strong, but he’d only grow weaker with each passing year.
The huge double doors swung open, and the guards closed them as Preston entered the chambers.
He descended the steps and stared at the black pool of water centering the room. The First Ruler rarely left this pool. During their meetings, he’d often linger in the liquid, his head the only visible part of him.
“I, Preston Lewis, of the Velibar, am here to serve, First Ruler.” Preston uttered the words and waited for acknowledgement. The knife in his boot was pressing against his ankle, making it awfully uncomfortable to stand.
Finally, the ground rumbled, and the throne platform rose from the water. The First Ruler looked older and paler than even a month earlier. His eyes were so glazed over, Preston doubted he could see a thing. He had the spear beside his seat, and Preston guessed the Ruler could pierce a flea on a dog’s back if he deemed it worthy of his attention.
“Preston Lewis.” The name sounded alien rolling off the wet, bloated tongue.
“First Ruler. I am here to serve.” Preston bowed his head. He almost reached for the knife but kept it concealed.
“Are you prepared?” It was a simple question, yet laced with countless layers of meaning.
“I am prepared for the trek to Earth,” Preston admitted. In truth, he was. “Why must it take so long? Do we not have other means to fly to Earth?”
The First Ruler chuckled. “I was once as impatient as you. No. We must not travel outside a star’s light. The Velibar soul is a precious commodity, one I am not willing to part with. Are you willing to part with your soul, Preston Lewis?”
“No, First Ruler. I am not.” Preston gritted his teeth.
“You will leave tomorrow. Return to Biks. The Stin gateway will grant the Biks outpost access to Earth. Do not fail. Go to Earth. Speak of our desire to work with them. I have been in touch with their leader. They will see that everything proceeds as intended.” The First Ruler had far more clarity this
