Viquara left her guards outside the emperor’s suite. Inside, she found Kryx Quaelen in the office connected to the rooms where they kept Jaibriol. Her new husband was reading a copy of the Hawkracer reports. It disturbed her to see him sitting behind the desk where once Ur Qox had sat.
She paused in the doorway. “What do you think?”
He looked up. “Six of the eight telops went into shock.”
“That wasn’t in the report for the War Cabinet.”
“I deleted it.” Quaelen set down the holograph. “The two Skolian telops were all right, but the six providers we trained almost went catatonic. Apparently they can’t handle experiencing death in combat.”
Viquara frowned. “Putting telops on warships does no good if they can’t function after even the simplest engagement.”
“The stability of the Skolian telops gives us something to work with,” Quaelen pointed out. “It suggests their minds can be protected.”
Like my son, Viquara thought. “Have you spoken to Jaibriol yet?”
“Not yet.” He stood up. “Shall we?”
She walked into the room, still stiff in Quaelen’s presence. He came around the desk and stopped in front of her, studying her face. Then he touched her nose. “It goes up too much.”
Viquara pulled her head away, watching him with a cool gaze. She had spent a great deal of thought on the specifications she gave the bodysculptors for fine-tuning her face. One reason Ur had never appointed Admiral Kaliga to a Ministry position, despite the old warrior’s venerable bloodline, was because Kaliga refused to have his ugly face molded into heroic proportions. Appropriate decorum included a favorable appearance.
“I find myself pleased with the work,” she said.
“Perhaps you should find your husband pleased.” Quaelen turned away and left the office. With a frown, Viquara followed.
They found Jaibriol reading in the library. When they came in, he looked up and tensed, like a beautiful trapped animal.
Quaelen and Viquara took up chairs opposite the emperor, facing him like a bulwark. With his chair almost flush against the bookshelf behind him, he had nowhere to go.
Viquara read the title of his book. “The Ascendance of Eube. A good choice.”
He spoke in a cool voice. “That depends on how you define ‘good.’ I’ll grant this much: as a treatise on how to subjugate populations using indoctrination, drugs, genetic manipulation, the granting or denial of affection, sexual abuse, and erratic positive reinforcement, it has no equal.”
Quaelen considered him. “According to the palace records, you received a prodigious education, Your Highness.”
Jaibriol closed the book. “Kryx, make your point. I’ve no interest in verbal dances.”
The minister regarded him with shadowed eyes. “One wonders, though, if perhaps certain aspects of your admirable education were neglected. Such as the means of civilized discourse.”
Jaibriol got up and went to the bookcase. As he slid his book into its slot, Quaelen asked, “Have you ever thought, Jaibriol, that it is to your advantage to be more cooperative?”
The emperor just stared at his books, ancient texts, written in calligraphy. “What do you want?”
Viquara spoke softly. “Sauscony Valdoria.”
He turned to them. “Why come to me?”
“It occurs to me,” Quaelen said, “that you have a remarkable talent for evasion.”
“It occurs to me,” Jaibriol said, “that you have a remarkable talent for sounding articulate without saying a single flaming thing.”
Quaelen stiffened and Viquara saw his arm tense, as it did when he meant to strike a slave. “Fifteen years’ worth of evasion,” he said.
Jaibriol looked from him to Viquara. “A world is a large place. She and I weren’t even on the same continents at first.”
“At first.” Quaelen watched him. “I imagine you were at the end, though, hmmm? She must have been close, to have found your communications equipment so soon.”
“Apparently,” Jaibriol said.
Viquara was certain he knew more than he admitted. After decades among Hightons, she had become an expert at reading the nuances of body language, and Jaibriol had never learned to disguise his. She touched the pager on her bracelet.
Jaibriol tensed. “What are you doing?”
“It would be unfortunate to miss your medication,” she said.
“I’m not sick.”
A rustle came from the doorway. Two medics stood there, humanoid robots, one platinum and the other gold, their polished surfaces agleam in the light.
Her son swallowed. “I don’t need anything.”
“Have you ever heard Kri’s work?” Viquara asked.
He was still watching the robots. “Who?”
“Carzalan Kri,” she said. “I find his epic Beneath the Lowering Night haunting.”
Jaibriol turned to stare at her. “It made me ill.”
“It is beautifully written,” Quaelen said.
“A poem about the torment and death of a people who resisted enslavement?” Jaibriol said. “The beauty of the language doesn’t make the subject matter any less horrific.”
“More so, if anything,” Viquara said. “It is a chilling work.” She paused. “A lesson, one might say.”
Jaibriol glanced at the medics, then back at her. “I don’t have anything to tell you.”
She touched her bracelet and the robots entered the library, moving with smooth mechanical steps. They had human shape but only horizontal slits for eyes and no mouth or nose.
Jaibriol backed up as the robots walked forward. They trapped him in a corner where two shelves met. Flattening himself against the books, he gave Viquara a look she recognized. Cayson watched her that way sometimes, as if making a mute appeal for her to change her nature, to become weak and empathic like a provider.
When the gold medic reached for Jaibriol, he tried to lunge between the robots. They caught him easily and pinned him against the shelves. A gleaming metal needle snicked out from the fingertip of the platinum medic. Viquara supposed she could have had an air syringe installed instead. Metal seemed more aesthetic to their design, though.
Jaibriol stared at the needle, then at Viquara. “Mother,” he said.
She spoke gently. “Don’t be afraid. The medicine will make it easier for you to cooperate with us.”
“No!” He jerked as the robot inserted the needle. Viquara clamped down her mental defenses, blocking out his psion’s mind to ensure she had no inappropriate responses to his pain.
So they waited, Jaibriol staring at them while the medics held him against the wall. Gradually he sagged in their grip, as the drug took effect. The robots helped him to his arm-chair and took up posts on either side after he was seated.
“How do you feel?” Viquara asked him.
“Tired,” he said.
“What is your name?” Quaelen asked.
“Jaibriol Qox the Second.”
“Where are you?”
“In the emperor’s palace on Glory.”
“How old are you?” Viquara asked.
“Thirty-eight.”
“How many children do you have?” Quaelen asked.
No answer.
“What was the name of your mistress on Prism?” Viquara asked, using his name for the planet.
“I had no mistress,” Jaibriol said.
“You didn’t live with anyone?” Quaelen asked.
He just looked at them.
“What are the names of your children?” Viquara asked.
His mouth worked as if he were trying to form words. But nothing came out.
Viquara motioned at the medics. A needle snicked out from a gold finger and the robot injected Jaibriol. Again Viquara strove to shut out the transcendent flare of his pain.
Quaelen leaned forward, his lips parted. “How many children do you have?”
“None.” Jaibriol’s voice sounded strained.
“How long was Sausc
ony Valdoria your mistress?” Viquara asked.
His shoulders relaxed. “She was never my mistress. What an absurd idea.”
The confident response gave Viquara pause. Were they worried over nothing? She glanced at Quaelen and he gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Then he turned to Jaibriol. “Who is the mother of your child?”
Jaibriol’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
Quaelen glanced at the platinum medic. “If we give the emperor more serum will it damage him?”
The robot extruded a thin rod from its finger, clicked it into Jaibriol’s wrist cuff, then extracted it. “It could cause a loss of consciousness or convulsions.”
“It’s too risky,” Viquara said.
Quaelen frowned. “And what of the risk in his silence?”
Viquara considered her son. Was he actually resisting the truth serum or did he really have nothing to tell them? “Sauscony Valdoria was an Imperial Messenger once, wasn’t she?”
“I’ve no idea,” Jaibriol said.
Quaelen spoke. “How much training did she give you in techniques to resist interrogation?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaibriol said.
Viquara tried another tack. “Tell me about your father.”
“What do you want to know?” Jaibriol asked.
“What was his name?”
“Ur Qox.”
“How did you feel about him?”
His voice became strained again. “I loved him.”
Viquara wondered at his reaction. Could a slave truly be capable of familial affection? “Why?”
Bitterness edged his voice. “I don’t know.” After a moment he added, “I suppose he loved me, in his own way.”
“Could you pick that up from his mind?”
“Yes.”
Viquara shifted in her chair, aware of Quaelen. Although they both knew the Jaibriol was a psion, it disconcerted her to hear the emperor verify it. Still, it provided a means to test how well the serum was working.
“What was your father’s Kyle rating?” she asked.
Jaibriol’s forehead furrowed. “What?”
“The emperor’s Kyle rating. What was it?”
“Zero,” Jaibriol said.
“Are you sure?”
“How could he be a psion?” Jaibriol asked. “You have to get the genes from both parents. Hightons don’t have them.”
Quaelen considered him. “And both Ur Qox’s parents were Hightons?”
A bead of sweat rolled down Jaibriol’s temple. “No.”
Gods of all heaven, Viquara thought. She looked at Quaelen and he stared back at her, his face mirroring her reaction. With one word, Jaibriol had just shattered a century of deception. That she and Quaelen already shared the unspoken secret did nothing to lessen the shock of hearing it.
Quaelen turned back to Jaibriol. “Which of his parents wasn’t Highton?”
“His mother.”
“I see.” Quaelen waited, then suddenly said, “How many children do you have?”
“None,” he whispered.
Viquara spoke gently. “Jaibriol, dear, you can tell us the truth. We won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“How long were you an ISC prisoner?” Quaelen asked.
“Eleven days,” Jaibriol said.
“Where did they keep you?”
“An installation in the desert. I don’t know its name.”
“How much did you see of it?”
“My cell. The interrogation rooms. Several corridors.”
“Kryx, wait,” Viquara said. When he glanced at her, she said, “Jaibriol’s mind is conditioned and he has a cyberlock in his brain. It’s similar to the conditioning Althor Valdoria has to prevent him from breaking under interrogation.”
Quaelen nodded. “A logical precaution.”
“It’s more than that,” Viquara said. “He shouldn’t have been able to reveal Ur to us.”
Quaelen raised his eyebrows. Focusing on Jaibriol again, he asked, “How did you alter your conditioning so you could reveal your father?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did?” Viquara asked.
“No one.”
“It was Sauscony Valdoria, wasn’t it?” Quaelen asked.
“I told you she wasn’t my mistress.”
“Where did that boy on Prism come from?”
“He was the son of a hostage I took during my escape.”
“What was her name?”
“Lyra Merzon.”
“Maximilian,” Quaelen said.
The emperor’s computer answered. “Attending.”
“Identify ‘Lyra Merzon.’ Search Skolian databases.”
After a pause, Maximilian said, “I have fifty-two matches.”
“Do any correspond to a woman who disappeared at the same time as Jaibriol Qox escaped from ISC?”
“Yes,” Maximilian said. “Lyra Merzon was an ISC medic. On the night Jaibriol Qox escaped, she was at the palace. She is listed as killed with Qox and Valdoria.”
“Neither of whom seem to be dead,” Viquara murmured.
“Perhaps we’re asking our questions the wrong way.” Quaelen leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his chin, regarding Jaibriol. “Why can you tell me devastating information about your father when it should be locked in your brain?”
“Because you already know it,” Jaibriol said.
Viquara tensed. “Why do you think he knows it?”
“He told me,” Jaibriol said. “Seventeen years ago.”
Quaelen spoke smoothly. “Apparently you misunderstood, Your Highness. At no time did I ever make such a comment, nor would I ever have insulted your esteemed father’s name in such a manner.”
Viquara looked from Quaelen to Jaibriol. “Why did you think he told you?” she asked her son.
“As a threat.” A muscle twitched in Jaibriol’s cheek. “To keep me from telling anyone about his methods of tutelage.”
Viquara’s anger simmered like coals. Glancing at Quaelen, she said, “And what would these methods be?”
He regarded her steadily. “Whatever I felt necessary.”
She turned back to Jaibriol. “Did Minister Quaelen ever use force against you?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of force?”
“Enough, Wife.” Quaelen motioned to the medics. “Knock him out.”
“No,” Viquara said.
She discovered then just how well Quaelen had infiltrated her security. The gold medic ignored her command and jabbed its needle into Jaibriol’s arm. As the emperor gasped, Quaelen leaned forward, intent on his prisoner.
Viquara’s anger surged. She stood up and spoke in an icy voice. “I think we should leave His Highness to rest.”
Quaelen glanced at her, his face inscrutable. “If you wish.”
As they left the library, she looked back. Jaibriol had sagged in his chair, unconscious now, guarded by the medics, his lowered lashes dark on his skin, like bruises.
She didn’t speak until they were in Quaelen’s office. Then she turned on him. “How dare you misuse the Highton Heir.”
“Misuse?” He spoke in a mild voice. “I am surprised you let the histrionics of a provider cloud your judgment. It is unlike you.”
Viquara took a breath to steady herself. Her husband might have the ultimate blackmail with what he knew about her son, but Quaelen also had a great deal to lose now. He was so close to the Carnelian Throne, he was almost emperor himself.
“I am surprised,” she said, “that you would risk the position you worked with such diligence to attain.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Risk is relative, my lovely wife.”
“Have you ever noticed,” she commented, “that the loss of power to one person often results in losses to their associates?”
He watched her with shadowed eyes. “Perhaps.”
“On the other hand, I’
ve heard it said support inspires reciprocal support.”
“So have I heard.”
Viquara waited, hoping she hadn’t pushed him too far.
Finally Quaelen said, “It pleases me that we have such compatible ideas.”
Although relief trickled over her, she didn’t let herself relax. Not yet. “Particularly in regards to the well-being of my son.”
“Your son?”
“The emperor.”
“I would of course always wish for our esteemed emperor’s well-being.”
Viquara’s tension eased. “It pleases me to hear that.”
Quaelen nodded. “Then we are in accord.”
After an appropriate pause, she said, “What did you think of our conversation with him?”
“Half-truths?” Quaelen shook his head. “Lies?”
“I doubt he could lie under that strong a dosage. Certainly not with the ease he denied Sauscony Valdoria was his mistress.”
“Perhaps. But she was a Jagernaut and ISC has its ways.” He came over to her. “Vitrex tells me Prince Althor’s mind is erasing itself.”
“At least they’re finally getting information out of him.”
“He won’t be much use to us with no mind.”
Viquara shrugged. “Izar just plans to breed him with Cirrus when they’re done interrogating him.” She intended to take Althor as her provider then, also, but she was willing to work out an arrangement with Vitrex. “Althor and Cirrus are top-quality. They will produce top-of-the-line providers.”
“You and Izar think too small,” Quaelen said.
She raised her eyebrows. “And what would you do with him?”
“We need more Keys for the psiberweb.”
“If you mean breeding Althor and Cirrus to make Rhon psions, it won’t work.” Viquara thought of the girl’s son Kai. Never would the empress send Kai to Cirrus now, after the girl had dared to try hiding her knowledge about Jaibriol. Cirrus would suffer the price of that betrayal for the rest of her life. Viquara granted Kai his life in honor of Ur’s memory, but the boy would never leave the isolated area where he lived now with the old slave woman Azzi. “Cirrus isn’t Rhon. She can’t make web Keys, not even with Althor.”
Quaelen moved his hand in dismissal. “I have no interest in Cirrus. Althor is our path to the Ruby Dynasty.” He tilted his head. “Did you know Eldrin Valdoria writes folk ballads? Or that the Ruby Pharaoh is the smallest member of the Imperial family? A pretty little waif.”