Everyone went silent.
Until now, Dehya had been listening only, as she often did, no doubt evaluating their comments with her ever-evolving brain. Now she spoke to Kelric. “You didn’t talk to the empress for long.”
For flaming sakes. Dehya also knew? In truth, though, Kelric wasn’t all that surprised she had discovered his talk with Tarquine; Dehya was probably too interconnected with the webs to miss a link from the Orbiter to Glory. But he had secured the transmission himself and had expected it to hold against anyone else. Ragnar had better intelligence operations than Kelric had realized.
Naaj frowned. “Just how many people know about this ‘clandestine’ meeting?”
“Not enough, apparently,” Tikal said dryly. “I’ve only just heard of it.”
Tarquine was the last person Kelric wanted to talk about with anyone, let alone his top advisers. But this wasn’t something he could pull back from, no matter how he felt. “We spoke last night, through the web.”
Roca regarded him uneasily. “About what?”
“The Eubians doubt our motives in the talks.”
“Our motives?” Naaj snorted. “Is that a joke?”
“Apparently not,” Kelric said.
“Do you trust the empress?” Eldrin asked.
Kelric gave a wry smile. “No.”
“You shouldn’t have spoken with her.” Tikal scowled at him. “It violates every protocol.”
Malice glinted in Ragnar’s eyes. “Maybe speaking wasn’t what they had in mind.”
Eldrin stiffened. “You’re out of line, Ragnar.”
The admiral slanted a dark glance at him. “Are you speaking for your brother?” His emphasis left no doubt what he thought about Eldrin’s objectivity, or lack thereof.
In his youth, Kelric had never understood why Eldrin resented Ragnar. Their animosity had grown during the past two decades, but now Kelric had the maturity to recognize its origins. Ragnar coveted Dehya, the Ruby Pharaoh, Eldrin’s wife. Kelric wished his brother could distance himself from the admiral; Eldrin had to know Dehya would never betray him. He played into Ragnar’s hands when he let his rival bait him.
Kelric spoke quickly, before his brother could blow up at Ragnar. “The empress and I discussed only the talks.” That wasn’t completely true; a great deal had gone unspoken between them. But any record of their conversation would support his claim.
Roca’s voice hardened. “Tarquine Iquar overstepped herself. She has no rights to you.”
Kelric could feel his mother’s formidable ire stirring. Even now, when her children were interstellar potentates, Roca viewed them as her brood. Poets and historians lauded her beauty, but Kelric had always thought she was at her most striking like this, intense and daunting, without the polish of the media techs, a queen ardent in protecting her own, whether it was her children or her empire.
“Tarquine doesn’t claim any rights,” he said. “She just wanted my assurance about our intentions.”
“That’s absurd,” Naaj said. “What, shall I go to Intelligence Minister Azile Xir and demand to know what Corbal Xir intends with his pirate fleets?”
Tikal crossed his arms. “A reason exists for our rules of order, Imperator Skolia. Breaking those protocols undermines the entire process.”
“Does Emperor Jaibriol know you met with his wife?” Dehya asked.
“I didn’t ask,” Kelric said. “But no, I don’t think so.”
Tikal shook his head. “One wonders what is going on with the Hightons, that the emperor’s military leaders refuse his commands and his empress is off having private audiences with the Skolian Imperator.”
Naaj rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Qox seems to have relatively little authority. I suppose it isn’t surprising, given his youth and protected childhood. But I don’t see much point in continuing these talks.”
“I disagree,” Kelric said.
“You aren’t an objective judge,” Tikal said.
Kelric stiffened. Then he finally said aloud what they were all avoiding. “I was her provider. That is hardly likely to predispose me to trust her.”
Naaj met his gaze. “You were her lover.”
“Not of my own free will.”
An awkward silence fell over the group.
Dehya spoke softly. “Enough.” She was watching Eldrin, who was staring at the table. Although Eldrin had barricaded his mind, Kelric knew his brother was remembering his time as a Trader prisoner.
Tikal spoke quietly. “I vote we end the talks.”
“I agree,” Naaj said.
Roca nodded. “I also.”
Eldrin gave Kelric a look of apology. “I also agree.”
Ragnar spoke wryly. “It appears Prince Eldrin and I are actually in agreement on something.”
Tikal exhaled. “That is five in favor of withdrawing from the talks. We have a majority.”
Dehya spoke coolly. “This isn’t a democracy, Councilor Tikal. I say we continue.”
“Well, well,” Ragnar murmured. “The Ruby Pharaoh and the Imperator say yes, and the First Councilor says no.” He looked inordinately entertained. “How awkward.”
Kelric held back his retort. His dislike of what Ragnar had to say didn’t change its truth. The blended government, with the Pharaoh and First Councilor sharing power, was just barely established. They had no precedent for this situation, where the two of them were opposed in a major decision.
Tikal and Dehya appraised each other. Then Tikal said, “It isn’t in our best interests to continue the talks.”
Dehya raised an eyebrow. “Peace isn’t in our best interest?”
“If the Traders wanted peace,” Tikal countered, “Admiral Kaliga would be at the talks.”
“That a power struggle may exist between the Qox palace and ESComm doesn’t mean they don’t want peace.”
“Damn it, Dehya, they’re using us.”
She leaned forward. “If we withdraw, we weaken whatever support the emperor has for his position.”
“And if the emperor falls in a coup?” A muscle twitched under Tikal’s eye. Only a few months had passed since Dehya had overthrown his own government, backed by the military. The Ruby Dynasty suddenly ruled again, after centuries of having their lives constrained, manipulated, torn apart, even lost due to Assembly decrees. Kelric understood the desperation that had driven the Assembly to use the Ruby Dynasty no matter what the cost—the Kyle web protected Skolia against Eube, and without Ruby psions the web couldn’t exist—but that didn’t change what his family had suffered.
Kelric doubted the First Councilor would easily forget or forgive how close the coup had brought him to death. Had Dehya kept absolute sovereignty, the ancient laws of the Ruby Empire would have required she execute Tikal. She had split the government instead because losing him and the Assembly would have weakened Skolia. The Eubians had a less benign view. If Jaibriol III fell in a coup, he would be very dead, very fast.
“If he falls, we deal with it,” Dehya said. “We can’t stop talking peace just because he might be overthrown.”
Tikal leaned forward. “Every moment our links stay open to Glory, we give ESComm an opportunity to crack the web.”
“We need real-time discussions.”
“It isn’t worth the risk.”
“Without risks, we’ll never attain peace.”
Tikal snorted. “They don’t want peace.”
“And if their emperor is sincere?”
“Why would he be?”
Dehya let out a breath. “I can’t say why I think so. It’s intuition.”
“Your ‘intuition’ is legendary,” Tikal said. “With all those extra neural structures of yours, gods know you see more than most people. But you’re not always right.”
“I can’t make promises. But I believe this.”
Tikal glanced at Kelric. “You agree with the Pharaoh?”
“Yes.”
“On the basis of your talk with the empress.”
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“That’s right.”
Tikal looked frustrated. “It’s too little to go on.”
“Barcala,” Dehya said. “Don’t give up on this now.”
Tikal narrowed his gaze at her. It was a long moment before he spoke.
Then he said, “Bloody hell. All right. Let’s continue.”
37
River of Ciphers
Jai found these restricted sessions of the peace talks the most grueling. Today he and Tarquine met with Pharaoh Dyhianna and Kelric, only the four of them. The Ruby Pharaoh regarded him across the table, her voice startling in its rich timbre. “Eubian pirates continue to attack Skolian ships. It is unacceptable.”
In his side vision, Jai saw Tarquine stiffen. Given how accomplished the Pharaoh had turned out to be at interpreting Highton speech, he had no doubt her direct language now was deliberate; she was testing them, probing their reactions. Her authority probably offended Tarquine more than her speech; providers weren’t supposed to understand the complexities of Highton speech but they were expected to defer to Aristos. Dyhianna violated both expectations with a vengeance.
He also understood what Dyhianna left unsaid; his own cousin, Corbal, rated among the worst offenders when it came to raids in Skolian territory. He couldn’t reveal that Corbal had been set up; it would only make his power base look weak.
“Any raiders that prey on your people are breaking our laws,” Jai said. “They will be punished.”
It was Kelric who answered, his voice a rumble. “An assurance easily made.” He left the rest of the sentence hanging: and easily broken.
Tarquine focused on Kelric with an intensity Jai knew would have made his own face flame. Yet Kelric remained unruffled even when she spoke in that devastating voice of hers. “An assurance,” she said, “backed by strength.” Jai recognized the nuanced Highton message in her posture; she referred to military strength. ESComm.
The Pharaoh shrugged. “That requires a willingness to back the assurance.”
“A requirement easily met,” Jai said. He wanted to throttle Kaliga for weakening his position this way.
Tarquine’s voice came over his private channel. “Don’t let her push you. Setting ‘requirements’ gives them advantage.”
Damn. Every time he thought he was making progress, he stumbled. Everyone at this table was many decades older than him, and they all had experience commensurate with their years. He knew he wasn’t the first sovereign to assume his throne at too young an age, but he didn’t see how other such rulers had managed. Then again, maybe they hadn’t; very few hereditary governments existed now. Even the Ruby Pharaoh had foregone sole power.
Dyhianna bemused Jai. For all that she resembled his mother, she had a finesse his mother had lacked. Hale and hearty, Soz Valdoria had been the epitome of a cybernetic warrior, but no one would have ever called her subtle. Dyhianna had so much subtlety that on the rare occasions when she chose bluntness, it came as a shock, one she used to deliberate effect. Nor could he imagine anyone calling his mother “delicate,” whereas Dyhianna seemed breakable. But the differences were superficial; he recognized the same strength of will and intellect in his aunt that he had known in his mother.
He wasn’t certain what Tarquine thought of the Pharaoh. Dyhianna defied everything Tarquine considered right and proper, on top of which, Dyhianna had the audacity to be short, when Hightons valued height. But Tarquine was no fool. She had to recognize the Pharaoh’s strength, the authority that Dyhianna wielded with confidence. Dyhianna and Tarquine were like two lionesses circling each other, each evaluating her foe and protecting her pride.
Now Tarquine spoke. “It is important to punish lawbreakers for their crimes.”
Jai stiffened. After telling him not to let the Skolians control the discussion, Tarquine had just played into their hands, implying they had reason to censure Eube. Personally Jai agreed, but he and Tarquine had to represent the Aristos or he would lose what remained of his support.
The Pharaoh didn’t seem to agree with his assessment. Her voice turned icy. “Unless the ‘law’ is itself a crime.”
Jai suddenly understood Tarquine’s intent. Slavery was anathema among Skolians; when Eubians escaped to Skolia, they became free and were granted asylum. According to Eubian law, the Skolians were committing a major crime by harboring escaped taskmakers or providers. He hadn’t thought Tarquine was serious when she said Kelric owed her fourteen million, but now he wondered. What if she demanded reparations? Surely even she wouldn’t be that outrageous.
“It should be possible,” Jai said, “to find compromises for differences in legal systems.”
“Some laws are too opposed,” Dyhianna said coldly.
“Opposition can be resolved,” Jai offered.
“Opposition, yes.” Kelric showed no sign of relenting. “Morality, no.”
Tarquine narrowed her gaze at him. “Whose morality?”
Dyhianna answered. “Some principles should be universal.” Her voice could have chilled ice.
Tarquine raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
Jai knew they were debating the slave trade. Skolians would never accept it and Eube would never relinquish it. Quietly, he said, “Must billions die for this opposition?”
Kelric met his gaze. “If it is important enough.”
“And if those deaths aren’t necessary?” Tarquine asked.
Anger edged Dyhianna’s voice. “How can you stop them, when laws we consider an abomination are forced on unwilling populations?”
Jai took a deep breath—and plunged ahead. “Suppose such force became illegal?”
Kelric went very still. “It already is illegal.”
“Illegal on both sides,” Jai said.
Silence descended on the table. Jai was glad none of them could see him sweating. He had just offered to outlaw the pirate fleets. Although neither ESComm nor any Aristos admitted owning such fleets, no Eubian law forbade the raids. Only the Halstaad Code of War even addressed the issue; it prohibited selling Skolian POWs. Given that most Aristos had no wish to own hostile Skolian soldiers, it wasn’t hard to enforce the Code. But that was for taskmakers, who weren’t psions. If Kelric’s experience was any indication of what happened with a psion, it could be a nightmare trying to forbid all raids. But Jai was willing to try, if the Skolians would offer a compromise he could take to the Hightons.
Tarquine spoke on his private channel. “ESComm will never allow you to outlaw the raids.”
“I have to try.” He answered Tarquine privately, but then he spoke to the Pharaoh on the channel everyone could hear. “Skolian citizens should have the right to remain Skolian—just as Eubian citizens should remain Eubian.” In other words, if he stopped Eubians from taking Skolians, then her people should send escaped slaves back to Eube.
She regarded him for a moment. “I see.”
No one else spoke. Jai knew the compromise was abhorrent to both sides. The Aristos would revile any law forbidding the raids; the Skolians would revile any law requiring them to return escaped taskmakers and providers to Eube. But gods, it was better than world-slagging wars that would never end until they destroyed human life.
Kelric leaned forward. “No Skolian would force people he cares for to return to a life of slavery.”
Jai wondered if the rumors were true, that the Imperator had married a former taskmaker. If so, Kelric would never agree to such a compromise. In this VR simulation Kelric could edit his responses however he wished, but even given that, Jai thought he detected an unusual degree of tension in the stoic Imperator.
Jai spoke slowly, thinking it through. “Perhaps a statute of limitations could apply to the return. After a certain amount of time, if the Eubian is still in Skolian territory, she may remain.” He used “she” deliberately, thinking of Kelric’s wife.
“How long?” Dyhianna asked.
“Ten years,” Tarquine said.
Kelric didn’t bother to edit out his look of disgust. “No.”
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“Ten days,” Dyhianna said.
Tarquine raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know absurdity was an imperial trait, Pharaoh Dyhianna.”
From what Jai had heard, Kelric had married a woman who had helped him reach Earth. That would have been over three months ago.
“Three months,” Jai said. “If the Eubian is in Skolian territory after that time, she can apply for asylum.”
Tarquine’s voice came over his private channel. “That is no way to bargain, Jaibriol. Hold out for longer.”
“They won’t agree to longer,” he said.
“You have to push it harder.”
They all sat, considering one another. As the silence stretched to the breaking point, Jai feared they had reached a deadlock.
Then Dyhianna spoke, her voice heavy. “A flawed treaty is better than none at all, when the alternative could very well be mutual annihilation.”
“Good gods!” Tarquine’s voice came on Jai’s private channel. “Is that what it sounds like, that she might negotiate? If we can find a way to talk about this, we might actually make progress.” She sounded so stunned, Jai wondered if she had ever believed the talks could accomplish anything.
“I hope so,” Jai told her. He kept his simulacrum silent, aware of Kelric studying him. He didn’t know what to think of the Imperator: enemy, uncle, rival? In another life, he might have sought out Kelric as a father figure after his own father died, but this was the only life he had, and Corbal was the closest he would ever come to a mentor.
Just as Jai started to answer the Pharaoh, the voice of an EI came over his private channel. “Your Highness, you have a priority transmission from Glory.”
Jai paused. Everyone was waiting for him to respond to Dyhianna. “Who is it from?” he asked the EI privately.
“Robert Muzeson. He says it is an emergency.”
“Tell him we’re in the middle of an important session.”
“Muzeson didn’t think it could wait, Your Highness.”
Jai knew Robert wouldn’t interrupt him without good reason, but the timing couldn’t have been worse.
Tarquine spoke over the private channel. “Jaibriol, you must answer the Pharaoh. She just offered the opening we’ve hoped for.”