Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [92]
Luckily none of the retainers was directly in their path. Unluckily, those closest to them wore a variation of the patch they’d found in the maze.
“Move,” urged Lyneea.
They moved, down the aisle and over the rail at the foot of it. Fortunately, Riker was able to vault with one hand. When Data’s turn came, he dropped the Ferengi into Worf’s waiting arms.
By then the officials at the table had spotted them and halted their ritual procedures. Also, a number of retainers had dropped into the central area on the opposite side of the amphitheater.
There were three familiar faces up on the platform. One was Larrak’s. Another belonged to Daran, first official of Criathis. The third was that of Norayan, Daran’s daughter and second official.
Larrak stood up. Neither his face nor his voice revealed the emotions that must have been churning inside him.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, loud enough to cut through the growing clamor in the seats.
Riker turned to Lyneea as they approached. “This time,” he told her, “I’ll do the talking.”
She didn’t object.
“Stop,” called a voice from behind. Riker glanced over his shoulder and saw the retainers dropping over the rail.
Worf started to draw his weapon, but Lyneea grabbed him by the wrist. “Don’t,” she advised him. “We’re here. They can’t stop us now.”
The first official of Criathis was on his feet now next to Larrak. His lack of comprehension was evident in his face—and it was hard to surprise someone of his station. Probably the last thing he’d expected to see today was a group from the Enterprise interrupting the merger ceremony, aided and abetted by one of his own retainers and carrying an unconscious Ferengi.
“Yes,” said Daran. “What is going on here?”
At about the same time, Riker and the others were surrounded. The retainers had their projectile weapons in their hands, but they wouldn’t shoot unless someone gave the order. And even then, they might not obey the command of anyone other than their own employer.
Riker had a moment of indecision. After all, Criathis’s call for help from the Federation was to have been a secret—like the loss of the seal.
But he couldn’t expose the criminals at this gathering without revealing his mission. Lyneea must have figured that out, too, though, and she’d made no move to stop him. He took that as silent approval.
Here goes nothing.
“You know me,” he told Daran. His voice rang out, echoing. “My name is Will Riker. I’m the first officer of the Federation starship Enterprise.”
That sent a ripple of reaction through the crowd. Riker wet his lips, aware of Norayan’s scrutiny, and Larrak’s as well. He plunged on.
“Some days ago, First Official, you asked for my assistance. You said that someone had stolen your madraga’s seal and you needed it back in time for this ceremony.”
Norayan’s father looked on, tight-lipped. Inside, he must have been fuming. But then, he didn’t know the whole story—not yet.
“I found the seal, and I found out who arranged to have it stolen.” Riker turned, aware of the opportunity for drama in the moment, and found the clot of black robes in the stands. He pointed to them. “Madraga Rhurig was behind the theft of Fortune’s Light. They paid to have it disappear—so this ceremony might never take place.”
The black robes became a sea of confusion. Some of them stood, crying out bitter denials. And a couple separated themselves from the rest, climbing over the rail to land on the arena floor.
Despite the robes, Riker recognized one of them as Kobar. But he did his best to ignore the fact, turning back to the semicircular table and those who sat around it.
“This is a serious accusation,” said the first official of Criathis.
“Indeed,” remarked Larrak. He was eyeing Riker, still unsure of the Starfleet officer’s intentions—though he probably remembered who he was now. “Especially in view of the fact that Fortune’s Light sits right