Skolian Empire: The Radiant Seas Part 18

Cirrus flushed. "I swear I would never make up-"

"I know." He set his fingers against her lips. "You've done well."

"There's more."

"Yes?"

"It's Trade Minister Quaelen." She hesitated, knowing useful information would be rewarded but afraid to stir his anger. Even if his ire was against someone else, she was the one here. "What he thinks and the way he acts have great differences in them."

Dryly he said, "If you find this a revelation about people, you have lived an even more sheltered life than I thought."

"It's his thoughts about you, Your Highness."

"Indeed?"

"He-well, he only pretends to honor you."

"And inside he loathes me. I've known this for years." Qox tugged down her wrap, pus.h.i.+ng it to her waist. "Quaelen does a good job as Trade Minister. He remains loyal because I have always ignored the stain on his name." Bending his head, he kissed her, his hand on her breast. "But he hates us all, knowing we are pure Highton and he is not."

"He considers himself pure Highton."

"I suppose." Qox bit at her ear. "Anything else?"

"Minister Quaelen still thinks about your heir."

The emperor froze. "Jaibriol?"

"Yes." She could mean no one else. The empress had yet to produce another heir. Whispers in the palace claimed she was barren, that the deceased Jaibriol II would be her only child.

"What exactly does Minister Quaelen think?" Qox asked.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "It was fuzzy. Old memories. I reminded him of Lord Jaibriol for some reason."

"Ah, Cirrus." Qox sat back from her. "I am sorry to hear you say that. Truly sorry. I have been fond of you."

As soon as she saw his face and felt his emotions, her world stopped. She had just signed her death warrant. But why? What had she done?

One mistake showed itself immediately. She had told the emperor that one of his ministers had compared the Highton Heir to a slave. It was a deep insult to the Heir's esteemed memory. But to kill her for that?

It hit her like ice water. If Minister Quaelen compared Jaibriol Qox to a provider, it implied the Highton Heir had the blood of a slave. That such a suggestion was false made no difference. If it became known that one of Qox's powerful ministers believed it, it could start rumors no sane emperor dared risk.

And if it were true?

Qox walked to the nightstand by the bed and took a syringe gun out of its top drawer. Desperation swept Cirrus. Minister Quaelen was Highton, one having proven use to the emperor, an Aristo with his own political machine, the most powerful after the palace. She was nothing, only a provider, easy to dispense with.

As Qox came back to her, Cirrus grew frantic. "Please. I'll never tell anyone."

"I'm sorry." Qox looked genuinely troubled. But he sat next to her and set the syringe against her neck.

She talked fast. "What about the next provider you use to spy on your advisers? What if she isn't as loyal as I am, if she doesn't tell you what she learns, but repeats it to others? How can you ever again risk using a provider to learn Quaelen's secrets? At least you and I know this now. You know you can trust me." She willed him to believe her. "You can trust me."

"I doubt it," Qox said. But he lowered the syringe. "Very well. You will continue to watch Quaelen for me. But you will stay here with your son, in a room off my suite, and see no one."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Her voice shook. "You have my loyalty and my grat.i.tude forever." She knew he still might eventually kill her. But she had given herself time, enough to think of new ways to extend her life.

11.

First Councilor Barcala Tikal threw the holographic printout on the table. "It is utterly, undeniably, without question, unacceptable."

Four of the eleven Inner a.s.sembly councilors were sitting at the conference table in the Strategy Room on the Orbiter: Stars, a vibrant woman with silver-dusted hair, the councilor concerned with transportation; Nature, a former physics professor who now served as a science and technology councilor; Industry, a man of dark hair and immense energy; and Judiciary, an iron-haired woman in dark trousers and s.h.i.+rt, a former judge known for her rigid adherence to Imperial law. The blocky oval table where they sat was made from transparent plastigla.s.s and packed with web components made from precious metals and jewels.

The other councilors preferred to stand. Slender and graceful in her middle years, Protocol leaned against a gleaming goldwood wall of the room with her arms crossed. Life stood by another wall, a hale man with a strapping physique who oversaw health, human services, and education. Planetary Development was next to him, her dark eyes scanning the others. Finance paced up and down the room. Tall and thin, he had a mind as sharp as the profile of his face and a mechanical left arm packed with implants he used to monitor the economic state of an empire. Domestic Affairs was sitting on the edge of the table. Youngest of the Inner a.s.sembly, she oversaw the office that dealt with relations among Imperialate worlds.

Standing by a web console near one wall was the councilor for Foreign Affairs-also known as Roca Skolia.

So they made up the powerful Inner Circle of the Imperial a.s.sembly, the civilian body that governed Skolia.

"Unacceptable it may be," Judiciary said. "But it's legal."

"The h.e.l.l it's legal," Tikal said. "Annul it."

"On what grounds?" Judiciary asked. "We have no law that says we can dissolve the Imperator's marriage against his will."

Tikal scowled. "Then make one."

"And after we set this precedent of creating arbitrary retroactive laws designed solely to suit our purpose?" Judiciary said. "Then what?"

Stars made an incredulous noise. "Our decision was anything but arbitrary."

"I've spoken to the woman, Ami," Protocol said. "She is perfectly willing to help us."

"I don't see that we've grounds to annul it," Life said. "They've apparently, ah, completed the requirements."

Domestic Affairs snorted. "If you mean consummation, they completed that requirement years ago."

"She's too common and too inarticulate," Finance said.

"We can augment her education," Planetary Development said. "Terraform her intellect, so to speak."

"Talk to her sometime," Domestic Affairs said. "She's so sweet you could make candy with her. That's what we're looking for, isn't it?"

"She's too short," Tikal said. "She'll look ridiculous next to Imperator Skolia. He's two feet taller, for G.o.ds' sake."

"So we'll put her in high heels," Protocol said.

"You'll need stilts," Judiciary muttered.

"This all could have been avoided if he had cooperated with us." Tikal walked over to Roca. "Does the phrase 'the greater good' have no meaning to him?"

Roca met his gaze. "Don't tell me that my son hasn't acted in 'the greater good.'" She looked around at the others. "When even one of you can say you've done half as much as Kurj for 'the greater good' of Skolia, then you can come to me with your complaints."

Nature spoke quietly. "No one wishes to disparage your son, Councilor Roca. But he has left us in a quandary."

"So I see," Roca said.

"Why did he marry her?" Tikal demanded. "To make a point?"

"Maybe he loves her," Roca said.

Silence greeted her words. The councilors, however, had the prudence to keep private their thoughts concerning the Imperator's ability to love, or lack thereof.

Industry spoke. "If we take this as an accomplished deed, our next step is to work with this woman, prepare her for her future role."

"She's willing to go through with whatever wedding ceremonies we want," Protocol said. "I rather had the impression she was looking forward to it."

Tikal considered Roca. "Can you bring her to us?"

"She's staying with my sister Dehya and my son Eldrin," Roca said. "Until Kurj returns. After that, you can talk to them both."

"Returns?" Stars frowned. "From where?"

"He's gone on retreat," Tikal said. "On SunsReach."

Domestic Affairs stared at him. "The day after his marriage?"

"Who is running ISC?" Stars said.

"Starjack Tahota," Tikal said. "And the Imperial Heir is on his way to Onyx Platform. But the Imperator isn't in seclusion. Both Admiral Tahota and Prince Althor are in contact with him on SunsReach."

"Even so," Industry said. "This strikes me as an ill-chosen time for a retreat."

Roca made an incredulous noise. "All he asks is a few days. This is one of the only breaks he's taken in decades. Just when is a well-chosen time?"

No one had an answer.

Ur Qox sat at his desk frowning over the request from Intelligence Minister Vitrex for an audience. It wasn't the request that surprised Ur Qox, but rather its form: Weep softly for the lord Who weaves his love like vines; Where tendrils all curled, With the Heart intertwine.

What was Vitrex up to? With subtle innuendo, Qox had been hinting to Vitrex that he knew the truth: the Vitrex "heir" was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d fathered by a provider who belonged to Vitrex's wife, Sharla Azer, a doctor and geneticist. Qox suspected Vitrex had given in to Sharla more for her well-placed Azer connections than for any pa.s.sions in his heart.

Establis.h.i.+ng the boy's parentage had proved difficult. Cirrus had been wrong about how Azer falsified it; rather than fabricating test results, Azer had tampered with his DNA. She couldn't change it enough to make him into Vitrex's genetic son; such would require more alterations than the child could survive. She would have more luck cloning Vitrex, as other Aristos had cloned themselves to secure what they considered the best heir. But clones or near-clones lacked the diversity needed among a people already plagued by inbreeding. Which Sharla Azer probably well knew.

So instead she altered only those DNA sequences needed for the tests that would verify him as a Highton Aristo. Those were no few in number, however. If Qox hadn't known where to look, he doubted he would have uncovered the truth. But he knew-for he had done the same for his own son, as his father had done for him.

The emperor paged his security lieutenant. "Bring Minister Vitrex to my office." Qox had summoned Vitrex to the palace earlier, and the minister had since been waiting on the emperor's call.

Vitrex soon arrived, escorted by Razers. His narrow face was composed, but his excitement coiled in the room, ready to snap.

Qox dismissed the guards and motioned Vitrex to a ruby chair. Usually brocade cus.h.i.+ons softened its hard surfaces, but today Qox had removed them. After Vitrex was settled and the office secured, Qox raised the parchment with its calligraphic rendering of Vitrex's message. "Poetry, Izar?"

"I've always appreciated the discretion of verse," Vitrex said.

The emperor considered him. "As I appreciate the discretion of my office." Vitrex must know no one could eavesdrop on them here.

Softly Vitrex said, "They call his father the Heart of Skolia."

Qox tensed. The Heart of Skolia could mean only one person. Eldrinson Valdoria. The Web Key. "Go on."

"The tendrils of love," Vitrex said. "What father wouldn't weep at the loss of his son?"

As far as Qox knew, Valdoria had lost none in his herd of oversize sons lately. The only dead one was Prince Kelric, who had disappeared sixteen years ago. "Do you refer to any son in particular?"

Vitrex leaned forward. "Althor Valdoria."

"Yes?"

"Mozart, sir."

The room suddenly seemed quiet to Qox. Waiting. Poised. "I know of a code by that name. It unscrambles messages."

"Indeed it does." A slow smile spread across Vitrex's face. "Including the itineraries of Imperial Heirs."

Qox took his time absorbing that. The Intelligence Minister had just given him reason to let Vitrex keep the secret of his false son.

The emperor spoke quietly. "Bring me Althor Valdoria, Izar, and your line will forever remain esteemed among Hightons."

Kurj sat with his back against a tower and gazed across the plaza at the remains of another tower. Not all the lost Ruby colonies had survived their isolation. Only ruins remained on SunsReach, including these at Skyhammer, which had finished its decline by about Ie 1400 on the Ruby Calendar, 2200 B.C. on Earth, six centuries after the collapse of the Ruby Empire.

Skyhammer's architecture went up rather than out, in crooked towers, narrow and asymmetrical, or stems topped by great bulbous heads, or towers with rooms on the outside rather than in. Plazas separated them, paved with stones that had cracked and crumbled over the centuries, giving way to yellow gra.s.s.

The orange sun shone in a dark blue sky and warmth suffused the day. With an almost circular orbit and no tilt to its axis, SunsReach would have enjoyed an eternal spring had it belonged only to the star Topaz. But Topaz was part of a binary system, two stars that took centuries to go around their center of ma.s.s. At the closest approach of Topaz and its companion Amber, SunsReach became inhabitable to human life. Skyhammer had fallen into ruin because it had lost access to the fragile Ruby technology that protected it from the ravages of its parent stars.

Although on human time scales the world had a stable orbit, eventually it would decay, perturbed into destruction by its parent stars. SunsReach had probably been put into its...o...b..t by Ruby planetary engineers, for an arcane purpose long since forgotten. Ruby technology had enriched the oxygen-thin atmosphere, but over the millennia the oxygen concentration had gradually been decreasing again. Days were short, only fourteen hours total.

Alone in the ruins, Kurj waited for introspection to occur. When it didn't, he went back to work. He spent most of his first two days inside the tower where he had laid out his bedroll, reading reports and web mail on his palmtop.

On the afternoon of his third day, he decided to try introspecting again. Perhaps it would work this time. So now he sat and stared at the towers across the plaza. His parents had brought him here when he was five, and they had all climbed the bent tower together, running up its stairs, laughing the whole time.