Tarquine was studying his face. “So much goes on behind that enigmatic mask of yours.”
He allowed himself the hint of a smile. “I suppose that makes me Highton.”
“So it does.” She paused. “On the outside, you have changed much since I met you.”
That was a minefield he didn’t want to walk through, that he had learned how to act Highton, even to think like one. So instead, he indicated the dice on the table. “Are you playing Quis?”
“A bit.” Although she sounded tired, her gaze was intent. “An interesting game.”
“I find it so.” He had played solitaire for hours last night. It did more than calm the Triad power coursing through his mind. The more he explored Quis, the more it seemed to build stories. Last night, it had been a dark tale, one of emptiness, of new hopes turned to ashes.
“Join me for a session,” Tarquine said.
“Very well.” If they couldn’t share their grief with words, perhaps this game could offer them a way to find solace together.
He studied the structures she had built. Dark pieces dominated: an ebony ball sat within an onyx ring, a sapphire cube balanced on a jet cylinder. Other patterns bent across the table, fractured and painful. She was solving a puzzle, though he couldn’t yet see what riddle she had posed herself.
He picked up a small opal sphere that she had surrounded with dark pieces and set it by a large carnelian sphere. He moved a second carnelian sphere to its other side. That was actually two moves, which was undoubtedly illegal. No matter. Neither of them knew most of the rules anyway.
Tarquine stared with a hollowed look at the small sphere and the two large ones. She moved the smaller sphere away, setting it among dark cubes, surrounding it in a shroud of burial. The room blurred as Jaibriol looked up, his eyes sheened with moisture. He saw the unshed tears in her eyes, in her fierce refusal to cry. Her gaze also blazed with another emotion—hatred for whoever had attacked their lives.
“It’s your move,” she said, her voice low and deep.
Jaibriol placed a dark octahedron into the midst of dice she was using to symbolize their enemies. Tarquine countered with the onyx ring, setting it within an s-curve of carnelian and gold gems. He recognized her intent; she was describing the Iquar Line, her own dynasty. The onyx ring was her nephew, General Barthol Iquar. It was strangling the Iquar Line.
Jaibriol set a diamond pyramid he used for Corbal into her structure. He wasn’t sure why he made the move, since it interfered with her completion of the Iquar story.
“So.” Tarquine picked up an obsidian block she used for her bodyguards and set it between his Corbal pyramid and her Iquar structure.
As they played, a story emerged. At first it told him nothing new, just that Barthol was now the Iquar heir. Gradually another pattern emerged: if Tarquine bore Jaibriol a son and then she and Jaibriol both died, the title of regent for the child-emperor would go to the child’s closest relative. Barthol. It would consolidate the two most powerful Aristo Lines, Qox and Iquar, under the general. Barthol would effectively rule Eube. But that could only happen if Jaibriol had an heir; if he died childless, his title would revert to Corbal. It would make no sense for Barthol to seek Tarquine’s death if she were pregnant.
Assuming he knew.
Tarquine was watching him with her face half in shadow, her cheekbones gaunt. “I learned I was to bear a child only moments before I told you. I hadn’t seen a doctor. No one knew but us.”
A deep rage simmered within Jaibriol. “Not Barthol?”
“He had no idea.” In a voice edged like a knife, she added, “Patience has never been one of my nephew’s virtues.”
Jaibriol looked at the dice on the table. The Quis structures didn’t point to Azile as the traitor; they suggested Barthol had framed him in a brilliantly convoluted plot that made it look as if Azile had set up the Red Point Diamonds so they appeared to set up the Security officers. Even with the endless Aristo capacity to double-cross, Jaibriol wouldn’t have believed Barthol would seek Tarquine’s death. He doubted the general was capable of truly loving anyone but himself, but whatever skewed ability he had to feel affection, he had that for Tarquine.
Maybe Barthol had discovered Jaibriol’s secret lineage. Yet if Barthol had proof, all he had to do was denounce the emperor. It would destroy both Jaibriol and the treaty. Attempting the much more difficult assassination would be foolish, and for all that Barthol was one of the more vicious people Jaibriol knew, the general was also one of the most intelligent.
Jaibriol met his wife’s red gaze. “The Highton loyalty to kin is legendary. I’ve never known an Aristo Line that didn’t value it.”
Her voice was ice. “Such loyalty is the bedrock of our lives.”
“Even bedrock can crack.” If Barthol had tried to kill her, he had stepped over an invisible line even Tarquine would never cross.
Unless she was provoked.
“So.” Tarquine settled back into her chair. “The doctors believe it is in my best interest to recuperate in a place of retreat.”
Although Jaibriol had no doubt they had told her exactly that, he didn’t believe for an instant she would listen. Tarquine would never “retreat” after something like this. “I can’t imagine any retreat being sufficient for the Empress of Eube.”
“I should go home.” She flexed her hand, the long fingers curling in the air as if she were testing their strength. “Back to the estate of my birth, my Line, the family that nurtured my life.”
Nurtured, hell. “Your nephew Barthol is running your family estate.” Jaibriol didn’t want Tarquine anywhere near him.
“Is he?” she said idly. “I had forgotten.”
A chill went up Jaibriol’s back. “Tarquine.”
She glanced at him. “Yes, I do believe I shall go home to recuperate.”
“You cannot. It isn’t well enough secured.”
She waved her hand. “I’m sure you can arrange the necessary protections.”
He wanted her here. Safe. But nothing would ever be safe, not for Tarquine, not for him, and not for any child they brought into this godforsaken universe.
Darkness moved within Jaibriol. He knew exactly what drove Tarquine, for it burned within him as well—the need to avenge their child. For their son had died within his mother’s womb, the only casualty of the attempt against their lives.
He spoke in a shadowed voice. “Give my greetings to Barthol.”
XI
A Search for Sanctuary
Tide didn’t land at the embassy; he set his flyer down on a public hover-pad in a secluded area of a park where grass rippled and velvet-trees shaded the ground. He claimed he had no permit to park in the city, but Aliana suspected he didn’t want to be seen anywhere near the Skolians.
“Nice,” Red said, looking around at the sheltered glade as they disembarked.
“The embassy is about half a kilometer from here.” Tide motioned toward the north. “Walk that way. Go east at the edge of the park. The embassy is up the boulevard, on a plaza.”
“You not come?” Red asked.
Tide shifted his weight. “I can’t.”
“We’ll be fine,” Aliana said, even though she was terrified. “We’ll just—” They’d what? “Uh—do we walk in the front door?”
“You have to go through their security,” Tide said.
“They let provider through?” Red pulled at the frayed cuffs on his sleeves, which covered his diamond wrist guards.
“They’ll let you through,” Tide said. “Tell them you’re seeking asylum.”
“Yeah, that’ll make them like us,” Aliana drawled. “Greetings, can we go insane with you?”
“Aliana, listen,” Tide said. “You have to be careful with what you say. You can’t just throw around words.”
She squinted at him. “What does that mean, throw around words?”
“I say I am property of Admiral Muze?” Red asked.
“No! Don’t say that!” Tide pushed
his hand through his hair. “You need to be more subtle.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Aliana asked.
“What subtle mean?” Red asked.
“Gods,” Tide muttered.
Aliana scowled at Tide. “You said we could do this!”
“You can.” He lifted his hands, then dropped them. “You have to deal with the situation.”
She pulled herself up to her full height. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Months. I can figure this out.”
“Legally you’re still a child,” Tide said. “They’ll want the name of your guardian and your owner. If you aren’t careful how you answer, they might contact your stepfather.”
Well, that was lovely. “I’ll kill him if he tries to bring me back to his fucking shit-shack.”
“Aliana, watch your language!” Tide said. “You want to convince these people to protect you, not alienate them.” He turned to Red. “How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Don’t know,” Red said.
Tide swore under his breath. “Fine. Great. Let’s go.”
Relief flooded Aliana. “You’ll come with us?”
He looked like he wanted to blow holes in the sky. But he said, “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”
The crowd almost ruined everything.
Aliana’s walk with Tide and Red to the Skolian embassy started out fine. The plaza was beautiful, paved in pale blue and white stones, all interlocking octagons, stars, and pentagons. Stone columns bordered the area and flowering vines wound around them. A crowd had gathered at a holo-kiosk by one column to watch a news broadcast. They were listening to that song by the furious man with red hair. It wouldn’t normally have been a problem; anyone could walk around the crowd. But Tide didn’t want to be seen.
The embassy stood on the far side of the plaza, beyond the crowd. Its white stone glowed in the sunlight, and wide stairs led up to the entrance through marble columns. Velvet-trees grew around the building and arched over its roof, their long fronds rustling. It was utterly lovely, which was utterly bizarre. The building should have been ugly because it was, well, Skolian.
Aliana hoped Tide was wrong about her being half Skolian. How noxious. That could explain why she was so ugly, though. Of course Red said she was beautiful; he was bred to say that. He’d tell her she was beautiful if she had two heads. It didn’t make her like him any less, but she didn’t feel good about herself. It mattered to her whether or not he truly liked how she looked, and feeling that way scared her.
Tide stood at the edge of the plaza and scowled at the crowd. They seemed fascinated by the singer. Many were angry, though Aliana couldn’t tell if they were mad at the singer or with him. Maybe some of both.
“Listen to that garbage,” Tide said. “That’s what ‘peace’ means to the Skolians. It’s not enough that one of their princes has to denigrate our emperor. He also has to tell every flaming person in the universe.”
“Maybe he not put song out there,” Red said.
“He did it,” Tide said. “It’s been proved. Came straight from him.”
“So is the treaty off?” Aliana wasn’t sure how that worked. Could you just say, Never mind, we made a mistake, go away, we’ll blow you up another day?
“Probably,” Tide said. “It never had much hope. You can’t trust Skolians to follow through with something like that.”
Aliana glowered at him. “So these are the people you want me to live with, these Skolians who on purpose screw up a peace treaty. Great, Tide. Just great. Hey, if we go back to war with them, maybe I’ll get conscripted into their army and they’ll make me come here to shoot Eubians.”
“Aliana, no!” Red said.
“It was a joke,” Tide told him. He glared at Aliana. “A bad one.”
“Yeah, right.” It hadn’t been a joke. She crossed her arms and fought back the tears burning in her eyes. Damned if she’d cry.
Tide put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe. I just don’t see any other options, at least not that I can help you with. I don’t have many resources.”
“That embassy isn’t what I expected,” Aliana said.
“Big,” Red said.
Tide looked around, studying the area. “You know, maybe this crowd could work in our favor. With all these people, we might be less conspicuous. Blend in.”
“I hope so,” Aliana said.
“All right.” He took a breath. “Let’s do it.”
The three of them set off together across the plaza, acting as if they were coming to hear the music. The man was singing in Highton:
You dehumanize us; your critics, they all died.
You answer defiance with massive genocide.
“Bad song,” Red said.
Tide had a strange look, and Aliana felt his discomfort. It wasn’t anger, exactly—
“Gods almighty,” she said. “Is it true? The Aristos committed genocide?”
Tide lowered his voice. “Aliana, shut up. Don’t ever ask that again.”
“Why not?” She knew he was right, but she was tired of people telling her not to think.
“Aristos kill you,” Red said.
She frowned at them both, but she said nothing more.
At the embassy, Tide headed for a smaller door to the left of the huge main entrance. They climbed the stairs while breezes pulled their clothes and blew their hair around their faces. Aliana’s pulse jumped. This was it. Almost there. She tried to neaten her wrinkled shirt, which wasn’t smart enough to smooth out its own cloth.
They came around a marble column and into view of a guard at the smaller door. Red froze, hanging back by the column. Aliana understood. She had seen officers in the police force of Muzeopolis, hard-edged men and women in blue uniforms with scuffed sidearms. They were nothing compared to this man. He was bigger, both in height and muscles, and he wore a black uniform with silver studs. A massive black gun rested in a holster on his hip, glittering like an Aristo’s hair.
“Bad,” Red said in a low voice.
Tide had kept going, but now he paused, looking around, and came back to them. “He’s just the honor guard. A Jagernaut Quaternary.”
“Jager-what?” Aliana asked.
“No!” Red backed away. “Not go!”
Tide caught his arm. “He won’t hurt you.”
“Jagernauts devil,” Red said.
“If Tide says he won’t hurt us, he won’t.” Aliana felt ready to burst. “And it’s ‘Jagernauts are devils.’ ” She had promised to help him with his speech, but she didn’t feel any more qualified to do that than to deal with this embassy.
“Can’t talk,” he said. “Too dumb.”
“You aren’t dumb. Quit saying that. You’re smart.”
Red glared at her. “Fine. Jagernauts are devils. I not go in there.”
“If you don’t go in there,” Tide told him, “I can’t help you.”
“Listen, Red,” Aliana said. “That guy can’t do anything to you.” She sincerely hoped that was true. “We can breeze right past him and he has to stay put. Wouldn’t you like that?”
He regarded her uncertainly. “I not go.”
“Well, suit yourself. You can stay here while we go inside.” She hoped the prospect of being left behind would change his mind, because the last thing she wanted to do was to go without him.
“Not leave me here,” Red told her.
“I don’t know what else to do if you won’t come with us,” she said.
“Not come.” After a moment, he added, “I won’t come.”
“If you’re here when Tide comes out, he can take you back to Muzeopolis.” She touched his cheek. “Take care of yourself, Red. I’ll miss you.”
“Aliana.” He took her hand. “Stay.”
“You’ll be all right.” As much a she wanted to keep holding him, she forced herself to let go of his hand. With a deep breath, she turned and set off for the archway. Footsteps came from behind her, and for one excellent moment she thought Red
had changed his mind. But it was Tide who caught up with her.
The Jagernaut at the entrance was watching their entire exchange. Aliana tried not to notice his huge gun. She felt Red’s fear, both for himself and for her. It was tearing her apart. She couldn’t leave him defenseless; gods only knew what would happen.
“Wait!” Hurried footsteps sounded behind them.
Relief poured over Aliana as she turned around.
Red joined them, his glare all for her. “Not leave me.” He made it an accusation.
She took his hand and twined her fingers with his. “We’ll go together.”
Tide was watching them with a strange expression. It felt like . . . what? Loss? Jealousy? She couldn’t figure him out, and he was harder to read than most people. His thoughts felt oddly metallic.
Together, they went to the Jagernaut, who was watching them with what seemed more like curiosity than hostility. When they reached him, he spoke in accented Eubic. “Do you want to go inside?”
“They’ve come to see the Foreign Affairs officer for cross-cultural exceptions,” Tide said.
Aliana blinked. That certainly sounded odd. Foreign Affairs for what? Cross-dressers? Probably not, but she had no idea what it meant. The guard seemed to know. Although he had no outward reaction, surprise leaked out of his mind. She expected him to turn them away or at least ask for documents, but instead he simply ushered them inside. A quiet alarm beeped when they walked under the entrance arch, but the Jagernaut flicked several panels on the gauntlet he wore and the alarm stopped. They entered a wide hall with holo-pictures on the walls showing pastoral scenes far nicer than anything in Muzeopolis.
Red’s grip tightened on her hand. When Aliana glanced at him, he stared at her with fury.
“What?” she asked in a low voice.
You say he stay outside!
The words burst into Aliana’s mind. With a gasp, she froze. In the same instant, their guard stopped and swung around to them.
Tide continued for another step, then paused and turned back, his puzzled gaze going from Red to Aliana to the guard. “What’s wrong?” he asked.