“I’m sorry.” And he was sorry, not that the marriage wasn’t valid, but that he was hurting her.
Roca stood up, her motions controlled, her barriers raised, but nothing could hide the blaze of her anger. “Why should you care if Eldri and I have a valid contract? I gave you my word I wouldn’t go back to him.”
“Then why make him a Ruby consort? To what point?”
She spoke bitterly. “To protect him from an Assembly that would wring the joy out of his life so they could control him. You know he’s a Ruby psion. I won’t let them destroy his life by treating him like a scientific and political resource instead of a human being. They’ve tried to do it to us, constraining and controlling our lives, but we have too much power for them to own us. As long as Eldri is my consort, that power protects him.”
Kurj stood behind his desk, rising to his full height. “You are right, Mother. Eldrinson Valdoria is a resource.” His rage was getting the better of him. “A valuable resource. Nothing more. He will never be my father.”
“No, he won’t. But he is my husband. Nothing you do or say, no test you give, will change that.” Her voice quieted, though it never lost its steel. “I wish the pain of our past didn’t have the power to devastate our lives. I wish I could take away the anguish you’ve suffered, as a child, an adult, a Jagernaut. I will always love you, Kurj, and I have immense admiration for what you have accomplished. But if you force this, I will fight you. Is that what you want? To tear apart the Ruby Dynasty?”
He pushed down his rage. “No. But I must act in our best interests—not only the Ruby Dynasty, but all of Skolia. I will not relent on this, Mother, no matter what you tell me.” He tried to hide the pain under his words, wanting neither her sympathy nor her pity, but he knew she would always see, always know, how it hurt him. “I regret that it causes discord between us.”
Sorrow showed in her gaze. “So do I.”
Then she left.
Vaj Majda, General of the Pharaoh’s Army, stood at her full height, well over six feet. She slapped the communiqué on the Strategy Table. “It is a trick.”
Seated on the long side of the oval table, Kurj studied the others around him, trying to sense where they came down in this “offer” from the Traders to negotiate. Jarac stood at the far end of the table, facing off with Majda across its length, his fists braced on its transparent surface, his knuckles reflected in the bright mechanisms within it. His tension beat against Kurj’s mind.
The First Councilor was present as a simulacrum, which left Kurj no way to pick up his mood. Kurj’s grandmother, the Ruby Pharaoh, was sitting near him, but she guarded her mind with an expertise gained over more than three centuries. Although he couldn’t tell if she still supported the invasion, he doubted she had changed her mind.
All four ISC chiefs were also attending in person: Banner Highchief, Fleet Commander; Marla Bay, Commandant of the Advance Services Corps; General Vaj Majda; and Kurj. Highchief and Bay had shielded their minds, but he picked up enough to have concerns. Bay had voted against the invasion. Although Highchief supported Kurj, she preferred an alternative to invasion. Prior to this, she hadn’t believed a viable one existed. But now? He didn’t like the signs.
“What is it you want?” Jarac demanded of Vaj Majda. “The territory the Traders took from us—or a war? You claim it is the first, but when offered a chance to regain a good part of that territory without fighting, you urge us to battle.” He hit the table with his fist. “It is madness. I refuse.”
Majda braced her own palms against the table, leaning forward. “The Assembly voted for the invasion, Imperator Skolia. You have no choice.” Her voice hardened. “The Ruby Dynasty may feel it has no duty to honor its promises, but you cannot gainsay our entire governing body.”
Kurj inwardly groaned. Majda seethed at the insult to her nephew Dayj. Eldrinson Valdoria had a great deal to answer for if his marriage to Roca had done irreparable damage to the alliance between the House of Majda and the Ruby Dynasty.
Commandant Bay spoke. “If we can achieve our purpose without invasion, the vote becomes moot.”
Highchief frowned. “This assumes their offer is genuine.”
The Ruby Pharaoh tapped the table, bringing up a copy of the communiqué. “This offer is for only one-fourth of the territory.”
Jarac turned to his wife, his stance easing. “We only claim one-third of it.”
“They have no interest in negotiating,” Kurj said. “This so-called offer is meant to mislead and divide us.”
“I disagree,” the First Councilor said. “They knew when they claimed that territory that we had been mining asteroids there for centuries. They never expected to keep it. They’ve been bluffing, seeing how far they could push.”
Highchief crossed her long arms, lights gleaming along her cybernetic limbs. “They aren’t the only ones who know that game.” Her dark smile made her look dangerous rather than amused. “Surely by now they know we have voted to reclaim our territories.”
Kurj understood: the unstated specter of invasion could be an invaluable tool in a negotiation. But he had no intention of bargaining.
“It wasn’t a vote to ‘reclaim’ anything,” Jarac said. “It was a poorly disguised threat to invade them.” He motioned at the communiqué. “They’ve responded with an offer to bargain.”
Majda crossed her arms. “I object to bargaining for what already belongs to us.”
“They might have some claim to part of it,” the First Councilor pointed out. “They’ve mined a part of the Platinum Sectors for a long time.”
Majda waved her hand. “They are claiming far more than that small region.”
Lahaylia spoke quietly. “The day will come when the Traders seek to conquer us all. They offer to negotiate now only because they aren’t ready to attack.”
Marla Bay pushed back from the table and stood. She began to pace, her dark head bowed, her gaunt limbs all angles and sharp edges. Kurj waited. So did everyone else.
Eventually she stopped behind her chair. “We aren’t ready to conquer the Traders. Invade them now, in a year, even five years, and we will deplete ourselves.” When Majda frowned, Bay held up her hand. “We may succeed with the invasion. But then? The effort will weaken us. Too much.”
“It will weaken them as well,” Majda said.
“Commandant Bay is right,” the First Councilor said. “The Traders have more resources than we do. They can recover faster. We are even less ready for war than they.”
Kurj crossed his arms. “What shall we say, ‘Let’s make peace today so I can kill you tomorrow’? While we dither, they will attack.”
Jarac shook his head. “It is foolish for us to attack when they have offered to negotiate.”
“It is foolish to let false offers weaken us,” Majda said.
“I say we negotiate,” Jarac answered.
The First Councilor spoke. “Shall we vote?” When the others indicated agreement, Jarac, Majda, and Marla Bay sat down. The First Councilor set his palmtop out to record the vote. “We are deciding whether or not to accept the Eubian offer to negotiate for a portion of the disputed territory as an alternative to asserting our claim to all the territories by force. An aye vote supports the negotiations, a nay vote opposes them.” He turned to Marla Bay. “Commandant, how do you vote?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Aye.”
He spoke to Banner. “Commander Highchief?”
She answered quietly. “Aye.”
Kurj silently swore. Banner’s reversal spelled disaster. He was going to lose by one vote.
The First Councilor turned to Kurj. “Primary Skolia?”
Kurj gave him an implacable stare. “Nay.”
“General Majda?”
She scowled. “Nay.”
“Imperator Skolia?”
“Aye,” Jarac said.
“Pharaoh Lahaylia?”
She didn’t look at her husband. “Nay.”
Kurj glanced at Jarac, wonder
ing how his grandparents kept their marriage viable when they found themselves on opposing sides of issues that affected billions of people. His grandfather didn’t project anger, though, only relief that the vote had gone his way.
The First Councilor looked around the table. It was a long time before he spoke. Then he said, “I vote nay.”
For an instant Kurj was certain he had misheard. Jarac stared at the Councilor with incredulity. Lahaylia was also studying him, though she looked less startled. Kurj couldn’t believe it. In Assembly, the Councilor had strongly opposed the vote.
Kurj leaned forward. “You support the invasion now?”
“No.” The First Councilor spoke tiredly. “But we voted to reclaim that territory. As much as I may oppose that decision, it was the will of the Assembly. I won’t have the Traders manipulating us into a position that undermines our governing body.”
“So.” Majda spoke with satisfaction. “No bargains.”
“No.” The Councilor didn’t look happy. “No bargains.”
Never. Kurj thought. Incredibly, he had won after all.
The invasion would go forward.
In the dim light of his bedroom, Jarac lowered himself into a large chair, feeling heavy despite the lower gravity here in Valley. The only light came from the gold silhouette of a desert horizon on the stone walls.
Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he put his forehead on his palm. He was tired. Old. He had lived too long, over two centuries.
“Jarac?”
He lifted his head to see Lahaylia in the doorway. She had taken down her hair and was brushing the hip-length tresses. He had always loved to watch her care for her hair, but tonight the joy was gone even from that sight.
He spoke bitterly. “Are you pleased?”
Lahaylia came to sit on the bed by his chair. She answered in that soft voice she used only with him. “I grieve every time I think of war. But it is our only choice. They will never truly negotiate.” She shuddered, showing him the vulnerability she hid from the rest of humanity. “Even now, I remember what they were like. Ice. Pain. Cruelty. They have no compassion. They watch us like predators, waiting for weakness.”
Jarac took her hand, knowing the horrors she had lived in her youth. “I would find another way than war.”
“I know. I am truly sorry.”
He pulled her onto his lap as he had often done long ago, in their youth. She laid her head on his shoulder and they sat in the dark, he with his arms around her slender waist.
After a while he said, “I visited Roca today. Our grandson grows strong.”
“He is exquisite.” Lahaylia sounded wistful.
“You should tell Roca.”
“Then she will want me to accept her marriage.”
“Kurj claims it is invalid.”
“She will fight him,” Lahaylia said wearily.
Jarac stroked her hair. “I would like to think, love, that when we are gone, our children and their children will grow strong and wise, with harmony.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Well, yes, and I would like the problems with the Traders to go away, too.”
He smiled. “Perhaps that has a greater probability, eh?”
She sighed. “I sometimes wonder.”
“Still, I think our children will do well.”
“Yes, I do think so.”
He didn’t add what they both knew—the time was coming when their heirs would have to take the reins of power. He had lived too long. Modern science kept his body young, but he was old inside.
He had few regrets. It had been a life he treasured. For all the pain and grief he and Lahaylia had seen, much joy had blessed their lives. Watching Skolia grow and thrive, building the web, serving as Imperator, and most of all, loving Lahaylia and their family—yes, he had enjoyed a full life.
The time had come to rest.
22
Assembly
People filled the amphitheater, in tier upon tier of seats, balcony upon balcony. Kurj stood behind his console high above the dais, gazing over the assembled representatives of a thousand human settlements. Neither Lahaylia nor Jarac were attending this session, but Kurj had many officers present, either in person or as simulacra. He nodded, satisfied. Life was proceeding in an orderly fashion.
His wrist comm crackled. “Primary Skolia, this is Teller. Foreign Affairs Councilor Skolia has entered the Assembly session.”
“What the hell?” Kurj scanned the glyphs scrolling across his console. “I thought Security was blocking her.”
“Her simulacrum just formed on balcony thirty-two.”
He looked across the amphitheater. Thirty-two was too far away to see clearly. “Give me an image here.”
The holo that formed above his console showed Roca standing behind a console at the end of a robot arm, listening to another Councilor speak.
Kurj scowled. “Cut her off.”
“We’re trying, sir. We can’t seem to crack her security.”
Suddenly the holo of Roca blurred and vanished. But Kurj’s relief was short-lived when he realized she had only moved out of view of the holocam recording her position. The robot arm swung to the center of the amphitheater, taking her into full view of the Assembly.
“Foreign Affairs Councilor Roca Skolia,” a voice announced. Consoles lit up as people tuned in to hear what she had to say.
“For flaming sakes,” Kurj muttered into his comm. “Teller, cut her transmission.”
“Yes, sir. We’ve almost got it.” Given the edge of panic in his voice, Kurj suspected they weren’t even close to getting it.
Roca stood tall, her head lifted, her gold hair piled on her head, threaded with a string of rubies. She wore a simple white dress, sleeveless, covering her from shoulder to ankle, form fitting, draped in classical lines. She was magnificent. Damn. That would make her speech even more effective.
“My friends and colleagues.” Her voice rang out with melodic resonance. “I come before you with news of a Ruby psion.”
Kurj spoke into his comm, his voice low and harsh. “Teller, I want the audio in this amphitheater disrupted.”
“Sir! Sir, that is illeg—”
“I don’t give a flaming damn. Do it.”
“Yes, sir! Right away. As soon as we crack their security.”
Kurj extended his mind into the web, sending spy tendrils into every system he could find that linked into this session. Far below, the First Councilor was listening intently, standing on the central dais. He and the Inner Circle knew about Roca’s marriage, of course, but no announcement had been made to the Assembly or public. In the last two months, since Roca’s return from Skyfall, rumors had spread about her husband and son, but they were vague tales, unsubstantiated. Kurj intended for them to remain that way; the less that people knew, the better.
Roca continued to speak.
She orated beautifully, describing her meeting with Valdoria and why she believed him a Ruby psion. By the time she announced her marriage, Kurj’s monitors reported that every console in the amphitheater had tuned into her speech. He was gritting his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. Neither he nor any of his operatives had yet found a way to stop her.
Mercifully, she didn’t reveal her ugly bargain with him, that he would spare Valdoria’s life only if she agreed never again to see her husband. But she described Eldrinson’s medical tests and her reasons for disputing them. On private channels throughout the hall, debates were springing up. Some people felt Valdoria was a resource that had to be confiscated, confined, and controlled. Others were horrified at such suggestions for a Ruby consort. Outrage arose over Valdoria’s lack of suitability and the insult this marriage gave to Prince Dayj. By coming here today and revealing her story, Roca had taken a great risk; the Assembly might end up voting to take Eldrinson away from her.
But Kurj could read the undercurrents in the debates. People hesitated to challenge a Ruby heir over her consort. Even worse, Roca was creating a fantasy that captivated them?
??the incomparable Ruby queen, even though she wasn’t actually a queen, with the romantically dangerous king cloaked in the mystique of castles and legends, even though he wasn’t really a king. Somehow she had caught the imagination of a governing body famed for its profound cynicism. Pah. How could they find charm in this story?
“I demand justice for my consort.” Roca’s voice carried like the peal of an exquisite bell. “I demand Eldrinson Valdoria be retested. Will we allow such shameful treatment of a noble man whose ancestors surely descended from pharaohs of the Ruby Empire? A man who carries the blood of the ancient dynasty in his veins? I say no!” Her glorious eyes blazed. “Join with me, my friends and colleagues, and rejoice in the discovery of a Ruby psion, a treasure that will bring new life to Skolia.”
“Gods,” Kurj muttered. If she kept this up, they would canonize his blasted stepfather. Lights sparkled on consoles throughout the amphitheater as people entered requests to ask questions. At a large console on the dais, the Protocol Councilor was fielding the requests, setting up queues so the discussion could proceed in an orderly fashion.
Orderly. What a travesty. Roca had just destroyed the order he had so carefully rebuilt since she came home. Even now, his security couldn’t break hers. Dehya must have helped. He didn’t know whether to be furious at his aunt or in awe that she could so thoroughly circumvent his systems.
The tide was flowing in favor of Roca. She had won this round—but he had other ways to fight. If he couldn’t stop her from having new doctors sent to Skyfall, then he would make sure those who went reported the correct results. A second opinion verifying the first would strengthen his position.
Nothing would stop him from ending this godsforsaken marriage.
The days were sluggish. Eldri moved in a daze.
Today he slouched in a chair at one end of the dining table, his booted foot on its top, his elbow on one arm of the chair, his head propped on his palm as he stared down the length of the table to the double doors, which the work crews had flung open. The gales of Windward were in full force today, whistling through cracks in the walls. Outside, people were working on the castle. Allied people. The resort planners had sent them to do repairs.