“Such beauty,” Jai murmured.
“Beauty worth securing.” Muze paused. “I hope you found the security in the Lock to your approval last night.”
Jai inwardly swore. So. They knew about his visit. “It appeared adequate.”
“Adequate offers the opportunity for improvement.”
Jai couldn’t tell whether the colonel suspected him of treason or feared Jai had found his command lacking. In Muze’s presence, he had to fortify his barriers so much, his thoughts felt muffled. Rather than risk implicating himself, he said nothing. Stars wheeled past on the holoscreens.
A young lieutenant approached them and went down on one knee to Jai.
Embarrassed, Jai said, “Please rise.”
The lieutenant stood, his gaze averted. “You give me great honor by your presence, Esteemed Highness.”
Jai reddened. He couldn’t believe it when they said such things. Fortunately Muze saved him from having to think of a response. “You have a report?” the colonel asked.
The lieutenant saluted. “Yes, sir. A frigate is approaching the Lock.”
Muze frowned. “Does it have clearance?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is it?” Jai asked.
The lieutenant averted his gaze again. Jai wished they wouldn’t do that. Taskmakers weren’t required to look down, but they often did anyway. Many believed the nonsense promulgated by Highton propaganda, that the emperor was, if not an actual deity, then close to one.
From his parents, Jai had learned about the pantheon of gods and saints worshipped by the ancient peoples of the Ruby Empire, and by some Skolians and Eubians even in this modern age. His mother had also told him about the mythology of her father’s people. On Earth, Seth had introduced him to Christianity. After all that, it embarrassed him to have the Eubians treat him this way. He didn’t know how to respond, so he “solved” the problem by not reacting. Not only did it make no difference, his remote behavior seemed expected.
“We have a visitor, Your Highness,” the lieutenant said. “Corbal Xir, High Lord of the Xir Line.”
Ah, hell. His escape from his cousin had just ended.
10
Silver
Too many Aristos came to dinner.
Admiral Xirad Kaliga, Joint Commander of ESComm, hosted the affair in his home to welcome Jai and Corbal to Sphinx Sector Rim Base. He invited the local Aristo aristocracy. His child-bride, Xirene, presided over the festivities, unceasing in her chatter.
Reclining at the high table, Jai felt so far out of his depth, he wondered that he didn’t drown. Xirene was the only person even close to his age, and she had years of experience in Eubian society. Even with his barriers at top strength, his mind reeled under the onslaught of so many Aristos. Their minds weighed on him until he thought his head would burst from the pressure.
The excruciating day never seemed to end. At least no one else mentioned his visit to the Lock. Jai prayed they hadn’t captured Kelric. If they had, they should have told him, but he didn’t know if they would. Maybe they were toying with the emperor they would soon accuse of treason. Or maybe they had no idea Kelric had been there. With his barriers up, Jai couldn’t discern if the Aristos even knew the Lock had died. It seemed impossible they could be oblivious to such a dramatic change, yet either no one had noticed or else they were more adept at pretense than he realized. For all he knew, they had been grilling him all day, in their convoluted discourse, and he just hadn’t known.
Twelve people sat at the high table: Corbal Xir; Xirad Kaliga and his wife Xirene; Jaibriol Raziquon, high lord of the Raziquon Line; and other Aristos Jai couldn’t remember. It overwhelmed him. He didn’t see how he could survive as the emperor if he couldn’t even make it through one dinner.
Providers served the food and poured wine. A pleasure girl leaned over to fill his goblet. Jai tried not to stare, but he couldn’t stop. Silver hair floated around her face in glossy curls. She had silver eyes too. Her skin was flawless, almost translucent, with a rosy blush. She wore nothing but a silver G-string, silver collar, silver wrist and ankle cuffs, a silver chain low on her hips, and silver rings circling her nipples. He couldn’t figure out how her incredible breasts stayed up that way with no support.
The girl straightened gracefully, holding the carafe. As she turned to a table behind her, Jai had an agreeable view of her backside. When she bent over the table, he had to struggle to keep his hands to himself.
“You,” a harsh voice said. “Silver hair.”
The provider froze. Then she turned to the table. Irked, Jai looked to see who had disturbed his appreciation of the girl. It was the man with his own name, Jaibriol Raziquon, who, as far as Jai could tell, did nothing but live as hedonistic a life as possible, soaking in his own riches and that of his similarly wealthy companions.
Raziquon was watching the silver girl with malice. “What, do you plot against His Magnificent Highness?”
Spots of red flushed her cheeks. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Neither do I, Jai thought. What was Raziquon about?
Unexpectedly, Corbal answered. Reclining in a lounger on Jai’s left, he spoke coldly to the girl. “Perhaps you put an extra draught in his Highness’s drink, eh?”
Her face paled. “Never, most esteemed sir. Never, I swear it. I swear.” She dropped to her knees next to Jai and bowed her head. “Please,” she whispered.
What the hell? It mortified Jai to have her kneel that way. She was a strong enough psion that he caught hints of her mind even through his defenses. She had no intention of causing harm; she had been distracted by how pleasing she found his appearance and had forgotten to give his drink to his food testers. He was one of the few Hightons who had no internal systems to protect him against poison; he had resisted them, disquieted by the idea of more implants in his body, but now he had second thoughts.
As the girl trembled, Jai started to offer his hand to help her stand. He would have enjoyed knowing she thought him handsome if Raziquon hadn’t ruined it by bullying her over the wine. He knew Corbal was staring at him, trying to attract his attention, and Jai was sure his cousin wanted him to ignore the provider, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave her shaking on the floor.
“We will give you a chance at redemption, provider.” Raziquon’s eagerness drew everyone’s attention before they noticed Jai’s unusual behavior. Cruelty edged the lord’s voice. “You may drink the wine yourself.”
Jai frowned. He hadn’t liked Raziquon from the start and he had no intention of letting any Highton give orders for him, let alone this one. He raised an eyebrow. “You would speak for me, Lord Raziquon?” He leaned back in his lounger. “Perhaps you should drink it.”
The other Aristos, who had been watching with amusement, suddenly stopped smiling. A woman at the end of the table abruptly set down her goblet, and the man next to Raziquon, an elder lord of the Blue-Point Diamond Line, moved discreetly, putting more space between Raziquon and himself.
Concentrating, Jai tried to probe Raziquon’s mind. His head throbbed, and he couldn’t lower his barriers among so many Hightons, so his impressions were muffled. But he did pick up a bit, enough to sense that the other man genuinely feared the wine did carry a poison, one that even the protections in his body might not neutralize. Stunned, Jai realized he might have just condemned Raziquon to death. He couldn’t back down; it could be a potentially deadly admission of weakness.
Raziquon reached slowly across the table and picked up Jai’s goblet. Then he took a swallow. Watching him, Jai felt ill, remembering the bird in Corbal’s office.
After a moment, Raziquon set the goblet on the table. His expression had a hard edge now, one directed toward Eube’s emperor.
Jai wished he could end this dinner. But he had no choice. He spoke lazily to Raziquon. “You look well.” It relieved him more than he would ever admit. The longer Raziquon continued to look that way, the less likely it was that the wine had been poisoned.
Raziquon answered with cold formality. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
The other Aristos at the table remained silent, their faces guarded. Jai sensed they were waiting to see what he would do about the provider. He had no idea. As much as he resented his dependence on Corbal, he needed his cousin’s crafty experience. Jai turned to him. “Perhaps you have a suggestion for this lovely silver girl, Cousin.”
Corbal was impassive. “I would never presume to speak for Your Highness.”
Jai waved his hand. “I give you leave. Entertain me.”
Corbal spoke quietly. “Perhaps she needs to provide for the emperor she would betray.”
Damn. He should have seen that coming. They expected him to appease their merciless conception of right and wrong, to make her suffer for their entertainment. Even through his barriers, he felt the girl’s terror. She wondered if she would survive the night. It horrified him.
Jai felt drained, unable to keep this up. Good and evil were backward here. He had been a fool to think he could bring peace to Eube and Skolia; he would be lucky to stay alive. Someday he could end up kneeling as the provider did now, his life made into hell.
Corbal spoke to a server. “Clear the table.”
At first Jai didn’t understand. Then he realized Corbal wanted the table cleared for whatever they intended to do to the provider. As servers removed the remnants of the meal, Jai clenched his jaw. He had requested an opinion, nothing more. He didn’t know how to avoid alienating his so-called peers, but he had no intention of letting them torture the silver girl.
In a lounger on Jai’s other side, Xirene Kaliga sighed. Distracted, he turned to her, and she gave him a sympathetic look. “These providers,” she said. “They are so inept. I mean, really, not testing your wine, I never heard of such foolishness. Have you? I never have. Not even when my friend Zarla—well, you don’t know Zarla, she wasn’t invited tonight—but I tell you, never have I seen such a silly mistake.” She flipped her hand at toward the silver girl. “I mean, really. I never.”
Jai stared at her, awed by her ability to produce so many words and say so little. He had no idea how to answer, but it didn’t matter. Xirene continued on, oblivious to the aghast stare of her husband, the admiral.
“When I have problems with my providers,” she confided to Jai, “I send them to bed without their dinner.” She laughed as if she had made a hilarious joke.
Admiral Kaliga rubbed his eyes. “Xirene.”
Jai had had enough. He motioned to one of his Razers, who stood by the wall, looming and silent. The man came to the table and bowed. Technically, Razers were supposed to kneel like everyone else who wasn’t an Aristo, but Jai had one trait in common with his Qox predecessors; he preferred his bodyguards at their most alert, not on their knees.
Jai indicated the silver girl. “Take her to my rooms.”
The Razer nodded. When he touched the girl, she rose, her gaze averted, and went with the guard, walking so softly, she made no sound. Jai turned back to the table to see Kaliga watching his wife with a sour look.
“What?” Xirene pouted at her husband. “It’s not my fault she’s gone. You spend too much time with her anyway.” She didn’t seem the least embarrassed to have revealed an intimate detail of her husband’s life to half the Aristo population of the SSRB.
Jai suppressed his smile. Who would have thought it, that the notorious Xirad Kaliga, Joint Commander of the greatest military ever known, couldn’t handle his teenage bride? So this was one of the Highton marriages arranged to maintain the “everlasting glory” of Eube. No wonder the Aristos had so many problems.
He became aware of Raziquon watching him, his gaze like ice. Even through his mental defenses, Jai caught the lord’s vivid thought: his internal systems had determined that the wine wasn’t poisoned. Jai lifted his controversial goblet and took a long swallow of the wine. For all its superb quality, it might as well have been engine fuel for all that he enjoyed the taste.
The other Aristos followed his lead and drank, their decided lack of enthusiasm evident only in their minds, but intense enough from so many of them that it came through his fortified shields. When Kaliga said, “To the continued health of His Esteemed Magnificence,” Jai felt his sarcasm.
I’m in trouble, Jai thought.
“I can’t decide whether you are phenomenally clever,” Corbal said, “or phenomenally stupid.”
Jai lay back in a pile of pillows on the floor of the study, an unfurnished room with sliding screens for walls, an ivory carpet, and an antique lamp in the corner. He and Corbal had retired here after dinner, though to Jai it felt more like an escape. Corbal’s people declared the room clean of monitors. Although Jai had reasonable faith in their ability to clean them out, he could never be sure.
Sprawled among the pillows, he stretched his legs across the carpet. “That dinner was interminable.”
Corbal slid open a screen and stood gazing out at the garden outside, where a bridge arched over a burbling creek. Even the murmur of water didn’t soothe Jai.
“You antagonized Kaliga’s guests,” Corbal said.
“Those people have problems.”
Corbal glanced at him. “By their standards, you are the one with problems.”
Jai closed his eyes. “I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I’m too tired to care.”
“You made an enemy of Raziquon.”
“That statement implies people exist who aren’t his enemy.” Jai opened his eyes. “That viper actually has friends?”
Corbal frowned. “It would behoove an emperor to act with less sarcasm.”
Jai thought of what Kaliga’s guests had wanted to do to the silver girl. “It would behoove your peers to act more like human beings.”
“Jaibriol.” Corbal exhaled. “You must adapt better than this.”
“Well, you’re certainly direct tonight.” It was a relief; the circuitous discourse that Hightons favored gave him a headache.
“If it takes rudeness on my part to make you conform,” Corbal said, “so be it.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t conform.”
Corbal scowled at him. “You sulk like a teenage boy.”
“What a coincidence. I am a teenage boy.”
“You don’t have that luxury.”
Jai crossed his arms. “Then let me make my own decisions.”
“Such as sneaking off to the Lock?”
So. They finally came down to the real reason for Corbal’s visit. Maybe he shouldn’t wish for directness after all. As long as Corbal kept his inquiries oblique, Jai could obliquely evade them. Dryly he said, “It would behoove the emperor’s relatives not to spy on the emperor.”
“Don’t be crass, Jaibriol.”
“What, now I’m just Jaibriol? No ‘Your Everlastingly Marvelosio Magnificence’?”
Corbal walked over to him. Although he knelt on one knee, his pose had no trace of humility. “You are going to get yourself killed.”
Jai met his gaze. “By whom? Raziquon? Or you?”
“Without me, you wouldn’t survive two days.”
“And with you?” Jai tried to maintain his veneer of unconcern, but his facade was cracking. “If I’m lucky, I’ll make it three days.” He despised himself for the fear and loneliness he heard in his voice.
Corbal sat down, one leg bent, his elbow resting on his knee. “Did you really think coming to the Lock would help?”
Jai sat up, uneasy with Corbal’s greater height. He hated not knowing how much the older man had guessed about him. He caught only vague impressions from Corbal’s guarded mind, and he couldn’t delve any deeper without collapsing his own mental defenses. Nor did it work when he tried to draw Corbal into a conversation that might make the Xir lord let slip information. His cousin was too crafty and too adept at deciphering nuances of gesture, word, and expression. Jai could end up revealing himself to Corbal instead of the reverse.
“The Lock didn’t l
ook like much,” Jai said.
“According to Colonel Muze, you didn’t look at much.”
“There wasn’t much to see.”
Corbal studied his face. “One might find it hard to observe anything if one sits in a chair the whole time.”
That gave Jai pause. It sounded like the monitors had registered nothing except him sitting. He wondered why the Lock would hide his conversation with Kelric. Easy answer: it wanted to protect its Keys. But its sentience was too alien to fathom; it might find no significance in human motivations. Even more eerie, the Lock had died while he was in the chamber, but its protection had apparently extended beyond its demise.
The people here seemed oblivious to the change in the space station. Perhaps only an empath or telepath could detect that sense of ending. The stronger psions among their providers might have sensed the Lock’s sentience, and its end, but they seemed too traumatized to respond beyond the limited sphere of their existence.
Corbal’s lover, Sunrise, was unique as far as Jai had seen; much less withdrawn than other providers, she could operate beyond the strictures of her constrained life. No wonder Corbal used her as a spy. Other Hightons could learn a lesson from him, though Jai doubted they would acknowledge it, and not only because they were too arrogant to admit they might be wrong about the inability of providers to think. For them, letting a provider develop self-worth was dangerous.
Corbal was waiting for Jai to answer his implicit question—why Jai had just sat in the chair. Jai said nothing; he had discovered silence could prod Aristos to speak, as if they couldn’t bear a hole in the webs of discourse they wove around themselves.
“I’ve heard it said that sons are their fathers reborn,” Corbal finally said. “I’m not so sure that is true.”
Jai knew Corbal meant the previous emperor, Jai’s father. He evaded the implication by turning it around. “You doubt your rebirth in your sons?”