Dark Journey. Susan Krinard
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any human or Nightsider, and he wanted none of hers.
“Do you think I am a spy?” he asked. “Who would I spy for? The Enclave that cast me out as a criminal and sent me into slavery? Vikos, where I was treated no better than an animal?”
“It seems unlikely,” she said soothingly.
“Very unlikely.” He laughed with half-feigned bitterness. “What do I have to do to prove myself?”
“We will keep you in a quiet room for a time, and others will speak to you. Once we are certain you are no threat, you will have the opportunity to—”
Daniel jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking it over. “You’ll lock me up?”
“You will be comfortable. Nobody will—”
“No manacles,” he said, working his fists. It was barely an act.
She rose slowly. “We have no intention of binding you. That is not done here, except when it is absolutely necessary.” She moved toward him, her white-and-gold robes swirling around her feet. Before he could back away, she touched his hand, her fingers—warm and soft and gentle—stroking his arm. Her influence washed over and through him.
“You must understand that not all Opiri are like the ones you knew in Vikos,” she said. “I will prove it to you.” She released his hand. “Can you trust me?”
Daniel knew how easily she could make most humans accept anything she said, do anything she bid without the need for compulsion.
He let her believe she was succeeding.
“I trust you,” he said slowly.
“I am Opir,” she said.
He put the length of the room between them, keeping his gaze unfocused and his voice on the edge of panic. “You have...dark hair,” he stammered. “Your eyes...”
“Nevertheless,” she said, “I am what you humans call a Nightsider, and I would never do you harm.”
Don’t overplay it, Daniel told himself. “You tricked me,” he said, pressing himself against the wall.
“It is easier for new humans if one of their own kind introduces him or her to our world, but it is the work I have chosen, and my appearance makes it possible.” She removed the caps from her teeth. “You did not guess, Daniel?”
He dropped his eyes. “No, my lady.”
“I am only Isis here.” She searched his face. “You never suspected? You were not playing a game to deceive me?”
“How could I?” he whispered.
“Because I think you know that most Opiri never consider the possibility of being deceived by a human.” She paused, as if carefully choosing her words. “Even if you had attacked me when I found you, there would be no punishment. We understand a former serf’s justifiable fear and anger.”
“We? Did you feel the same when you owned serfs?”
“I never kept any human in bondage, nor did I take part in the War.”
“But you hunted humans for blood.”
“I never killed,” she said. “But I saw much suffering. Six years ago I was among those who discovered this Citadel after it had fallen into chaos and savagery. I began to realize what life on our world could be.”
“And you changed it?”
“I can take little responsibility for what Tanis has become. All our citizens have shared in the work. We established new laws, expelled the worst of the Bloodlords and freed the serfs, giving them the choice of whether to remain under a new regime based on equality, or go their own way in freedom.”
“How many stayed?”
“Most chose to take a chance with us.”
“And the Opiri? Did they agree to abide by your new laws and give up their Households?”
“Those who did not were quickly removed from the city.”
“But you’ve still got former serfs living with their former masters.”
“We have many immigrants from other Citadels and Enclaves, people who have no experience of Tanis as it was.” Her eyes were bright and earnest. “There is safety here. Safety we must maintain.” She stroked his arm. “I see more than one man in you, Daniel. You are an enigma. I think you pretend to be a fearful and defiant serf now, but that is not what you were when we first met. Whatever the purpose of this act, it is unnecessary...unless, of course, you mean us ill. And I do not believe you do.”
If she had been any other woman, human or Opiri, Daniel would have interpreted her lingering touches as an invitation. But he already knew better, even if his body continued to react as if she might invite him to her bed as a willing partner.
Manipulation. Deception. She was as controlling as any Bloodmistress with dozens of serfs at her command.
Once again he shut down his body’s response. “You will still hold me here,” he said, “whether you believe it or not.”
“I would understand your true nature, Daniel, and your reason for coming to Tanis.”
“I’ve given my reason.”
“Yet now you doubt that what you sought is real, simply because you were brought in for questioning.” She lifted his chin with her soft hand. “I do not expect you to understand this all at once. But if your hope brought you here, it will help you to see with new eyes, and leave behind your old habits of servitude. If you choose to stay.”
“When you haven’t even decided whether or not to make me leave?”
Isis sighed and shook her head. “You are in need of fresh clothing, a good meal and rest. We shall discuss these matters in greater detail at another time.” She let her hand drift down his arm. “Let me show you to your quarters here at the Center. When you have been cleared, you will be given a tour of the city and time enough to see what we have to offer. Then you shall be granted a chance to apply for citizenship...if that is what you desire.”
He dropped the mask completely and straightened, glad to shed the false weight of fear and submission. “And what is the price?” he asked.
“As you must know,” she said, “every citizen is expected to do his or her part, human or Opiri.”
“Humans have to give blood,” he said.
“Willingly,” she said. “But you must have known that.” She tapped on the door, and the guards opened it.
“I will take Daniel myself,” she said.
The guards’ faces tightened with worry, but they made no protest. Isis, Daniel thought, had them in the palm of her hand.
He followed her along the corridor to a door at the rear of the building. A second, smaller building stood on the other side of a narrow garden. Summer flowers nodded gently in the breeze left by Isis’s passing as if they, too, offered obeisance.
“These are the visitor’s quarters,” she said. “They are used only until the prospective citizen has been properly introduced to the city and is assigned a permanent residence. I hope you will find your room comfortable.”
The room she indicated was near the back of the building. She opened the locked door with a key hidden somewhere among her robes and invited him inside.
It was more or less what Daniel had expected: a bed, a small table, two chairs, a small chest with a lamp. An inner door led to a bathroom. There were no windows.
A thread of real panic worked its way through Daniel’s gut. He hated small, windowless rooms. He hated being a prisoner. But he’d known it might come to this, and so he stepped inside.
“I will see that food and drink are brought immediately,”