A man stood across the room with his back to us. He was staring through thç floor-to-ceiling window at the gardens outside his room.
He didn’t have gold hair. He didn’t have gold skin.
He wasn’t Kelric.
I whispered his name, the word forming like a miracle on my lips.
“Eldrin.”
15
Gabriel’s Legacy
He turned from the window and stared at me, his beloved face so welcome that dizziness swept over me, followed by euphoria, then disbelief, then joy, all coming so fast that the emotions tumbled over one another and left me paralyzed, unable to move or speak.
Husband. Consort. Lover. Best friend. Father of my child.
Gods forgive me, but at that moment I was grateful to the son of Jaibriol EL The new Trader emperor might soon conquer Skolia. His decision to claim his throne could have ramifications that shook three civilizations. It could bring about the fall of empires. But in this impossible, incredible moment, I could only be grateful that his trade had brought Eldrin back to me.
My husband looked achingly familiar, with glossy wine-red hair brushing his shoulders and a sprinkle of freckles across his nose. He wore a high-collared shirt of white giltervelvet. His trousers were dark blue, a color he had always favored. Darker blue boots with soft soles came up to his knees.
Then I comprehended the rest, the darkness under his eyes, the shock in his gaze, the numbed ache in his mind that masked a deeper pain he tried to suppress. He stared at me with no welcome, no joy, no warmth, only suspicion and something close to hatred.
I spoke softly. “Eldrin? Don’t you recognize me?”
He simply regarded me, his face cold. Then he turned back to the window and looked out at the landscaped garden beneath the purple-blue sky of Delos. The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt too thin.
I walked over to him, uncertain how to interpret his response. He had closed his mind to me, something he had almost never done, even during a fight. We had argued plenty, but we always worked it out. Now he was a barricaded fortress, battened and dark.
I stood with him and gazed at the garden. I felt more than heard the others behind us: Jagernauts, soldiers, diplomats. Cloth rustled as someone shifted position. Someone else coughed. Vazar’s stunned joy at seeing Eldrin swelled against my mind.
After we had remained that way for a while, Eldrin spoke in Iotic. “The depth of your tricks never ceases to amaze me.” His voice rasped with laryngitis. I didn’t want to think what could have made his throat so raw.
“My tricks?” I asked.
“Cruelty taken to new heights.” His face was impassive, but his eyelid twitched.
Moisture filled my eyes. “It’s me, Dryni.”
No response.
He didn’t believe the Traders had released him. They finally had their Lock and Key. They would never give that up. For what? An unknown youth? It was impossible.
His scent drifted to me, familiar, masculine, overlaid with a faint fragrance of soap. On a submerged level, my body reacted to the pheromones that psions naturally produced to attract each other. I wanted to touch him, hold him, welcome him home. But instead we stood in formal, cool silence. I didn’t know how to convince him this wasn’t a cruel game played by the Aristos, tormenting him with promises of family only to take it all away again.
If my suspicions about Jay Rockworth were true, the trade almost made sense. The Traders had given up Eldrin for a healthy young emperor. Jay could revitalize their empire. With that renewal, they might conquer us without a psiber-net. My stomach clenched at the thought. Then they would have all the Rhon psions they wanted, the entire Ruby Dynasty.
The Aristos probably also thought they could control such a young emperor. Hah. If Jay really was Soz’s son, they might find him far harder to manipulate than they expected. Soz had possessed an indomitable will and piercing mind. Although I had never seen her as a mother or wife, I suspected she held a deep love for her family. Jaibriol II’s personality was anyone’s guess, but I had no doubt about one thing: any children of that union would be exceptional. I just wished I knew how.
Even if I was right about their parentage, I doubted anyone knew their true identities, except perhaps Eldrinson and Seth. I understood Eldrinson’s silence now. Such knowledge could cause political upheavals that would make the Radiance War look mild.
If it became known the Allieds had harbored the Trader emperor—and let him go—the outcry would explode. Jay may have saved their asses by trading himself for Eldrin. Earth could claim they arranged the exchange to stop the Traders from building a psibernet. But whatever they might later say, we knew Jay had set it up himself. I wanted to believe he had done it to free Eldrin, his mother’s brother, but that felt more like my own desperate hopes than any reality. I longed for the impossible, an Aristo emperor of compassion. I wanted it so much, it hurt.
Pain stabbed my temples, and I winced. All this accelerated thought might mean nothing. I had been wrong about Kelric. I could be wrong now. I had absolutely no proof. But if I was right and the Aristos learned about Jay’s true parentage, his life would be hell. He had nowhere to turn. Until I knew more, I couldn’t reveal what I suspected. Not now. Maybe never.
Eldrin continued to watch the garden. I didn’t know how to reach him. I could bring up a memory only the two of us shared, but he knew he might have revealed it during interrogation and then repressed the experience. I gritted my teeth, wishing the Aristos would suffer the same agony they inflicted on us.
Someone shifted behind us, boots scraping the floor. From Vazar I felt an almost physical pain at seeing Eldrin this way. She had known him for years, first as a family friend, then as her husband’s older brother. Not all the Jagernauts knew Eldrin on sight, but they had recognized his name.
The puzzlement from Yamada and his people pressed against my mind. I heard the click of a finger tapping a palmtop. They had Eldrin’s name now, so it probably wouldn’t take them long to narrow down his identity. No one seemed to know mine yet, but they would soon. Probably the only reason it had taken this long was because they didn’t have fall access to the interstellar databases, many of which had existed primarily in psiberspace.
Outside, late afternoon sunlight with a bluish tinge slanted across the gardens, blue and lavender flowers laid out in circular beds surrounded by blue gravel paths. In the center of the main bed, bushes sculpted like ships sailed in a sea of blue-green foliage, their bases foamed with white flowers. I let the serenity of the scene calm my mind.
Then I released my mental barriers.
As soon as I let go, I felt Vazar snap to attention, both her mind and body, as if she wanted to protect me mentally as well as physically. Several other Jagernauts responded, coming to a sharper mental alert. I wasn’t sure about the Alliéds, but I thought Monquou stirred; perhaps she also had empathie ability.
I continued to lower my barriers, layer after layer. My mind spread out, making me truly vulnerable. I reached out with my thoughts, softly, to Eldrin. Our minds began to join, instinctively, the blending only two Rhon psions could know. It was the flip side of our painful empathie sensitivity; we could share an incredible depth of emotion. We rarely lowered our barriers enough to blend this way; the experience was too intense to maintain for long. But when we did, it was glorious.
Eldrin froze. Still staring at the garden, he started to lift his hand, as if to defend himself. Like all natives of his home world, he had only four fingers, all strong and about the same length, with no thumb. His hand could fold in two like in a hinge, letting the two sets of two fingers oppose each other like muscular thumbs. He stood now with his palm facing outward, almost touching the glass, his fingers splayed.
Then he slowly turned to me, lowering his arm. His gaze seemed to drink in every feature of my face. He spoke in a throaty whisper. “Dehya?”
I managed to find my voice. “Welcome home, Dryni.”
Horror spread across his face. “It was
all for nothing.”
“For nothing?” I wanted to draw him to me, to feel the embrace of his muscular arms, but I held back, afraid to push. “What do you mean?”
His voice cracked. “I thought you and Taquinil had escaped.”
“We did.” I couldn’t bear to tell him about Taquinil, not yet. “I came out on Opalite, one of the emergency stations I had set up.”
His fist clenched at his side. “When did they catch you?”
I softened my voice. “We aren’t with the Traders. We’re on Delos.”
“It’s not possible.”
“The Aristos traded you for one of their own.”
“That boy?” He raised his hand and almost touched me. Then he stopped himself and lowered his hand, as if he feared to discover I wasn’t real. “No. They would not have done this.”
“It’s true.” I took his hand in mine. “You’re safe now.”
“I’ll never be safe,” he whispered. “None of us will.” Then he pulled me into his arms, drawing me against his body, his motion strained.
I closed my eyes, holding him close. His mind suffused mine, so filled with grief and pain that tears gathered in my eyes.
“Dryni,” I murmured.
He ran his hand down my hair. “At least they let us see each other.”
“We aren’t with the Traders.”
“Is that what they told you?” He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Don’t believe them. It will only hurt more when you learn the truth.”
I knew nothing I said now would convince him. But we had time. For now it was enough to have him in my arms.
So we stood, holding each other. Gradually we relaxed. After a while, Eldrin sighed. He rested his head on top of mine and whispered my name in his ragged voice. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Sometime later we drew apart. He smiled, not his usual teasing grin, but still a slight curve of his lips. I laughed, unsteady but glad. I felt the stirring of his hope.
A uniform crackled behind us. We turned, holding hands, to find everyone watching us. Eldrin’s gaze moved from Yamada to Monquou to the Jagernauts. It stopped at Vazar, and his hand tightened on mine.
Yes, I thought. It’s really her.
With subdued motions, Secondary Opsister went down on one knee, her carbine in her hand, her head bowed. The other Jagernauts followed suit, including Vazar. Colonel Yamada watched, his hand partially lifted, as if he had started to speak and make a gesture, then stopped when all the Jagernauts moved.
“Please rise,” Eldrin said hoarsely, with the burr of laryngitis.
My retinue stood slowly. Vazar spoke to him in a voice husky with emotion. “Welcome home, Your Highness.”
Yamada’s aide, Jennifer Mason, looked from me to Eldrin. Then she took a deep breath. “You honor us with your presence, Pharaoh Dyhianna and Prince Eldrin.”
So they knew now. It didn’t matter so much; they couldn’t send us to custody on Earth. They had to let us go, given how thoroughly our forces outnumbered theirs.
Yamada glanced at her. Then he turned to Eldrin and me, his expression a mixture of puzzlement, curiosity, and wary astonishment. “Excuse me if this question offends—but are those titles appropriate?”
I spoke quietly. “Yes.”
“Good lord.” He stared at us. “Should we, ah—kneel?”
“It is not necessary.” Eldrin spoke with even more formality than usual. I wasn’t sure if his stiffness came from the situation or his shock at seeing me. To the Jagernauts he said, “But we appreciate the honor you give.”
We all looked at one another, obviously with the same question. Why the blazes had the Traders given up Eldrin for an unknown teenage boy?
I spoke to Yamada. “Do you have any holos of Jay Rock-worth?”
“Several.” He gestured to Jennifer Mason. “Lieutenant?”
Mason unrolled her pencil-thin palmtop, laying its screen on her hand. She flicked one of the holicons floating above her palm, a tiny black puma, the symbol of the Trader empire. Then she traced her finger over the screen.
The room darkened. Then one wall lightened with the life-sized image of a youth. I recognized him as the oldest of Seth’s foster children. According to the date in its lower corner, this holo had been taken a year later than the other I had seen. The boy’s frame had filled out, his shoulders broad, his legs long, his build lean with youth and health. He was laughing and waving at someone. His white sweater had a blue stripe across the chest and he wore those odd “denim” trousers that Earth people had favored for centuries. They called them jeans, like their English word genes, though as far as I could tell, the trousers had no special connection to DNA.
The youth was, for all appearances, a good-looking high-school boy. But I recognized the classic bone structure of his face. Highton. Unless you were searching for the resemblance, it wasn’t obvious, especially with the way he laughed so heartily. Aristos were always reserved.
This image showed his hair better. It wasn’t just black; it had gold streaks, as if bleached by the sun. Young people these days were always turning their hair odd colors. I didn’t think he had dyed his, though. I had known someone with similar hair.
Soz.
At first glance, his hair bore only a slight resemblance to hers. Soz’s had been black, shading into wine-red, then gold at the tips. The gold color wasn’t truly blond, though, neither for her nor for this boy. It had a metallic cast, like Kelric’s hair. That came from my father, whose skin, hair, and eyes had all been gold. His ancestors had engineered themselves that way to adapt to life on a hot, bright planet.
Eldrin was shaking his head. “That boy isn’t the one. The man they traded me for was older, and a Highton Aristo.”
“Did you get a good look at him?” I asked.
Eldrin spoke in a low voice. “No.” He sent me a private thought. I think I was in shock I had almost no time to took at the other man. And Corbal had told me nothing.
Corbal? To hear Eldrin call an Aristo by his personal name chilled. Was he…? I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t ask who had owned him.
Eldrin took my hand, his four stocky fingers closing around mine. Then he lifted my hand to the high collar of his shirt. Pulling down the cloth, he brushed my palm against his neck. Except I didn’t feel skin. I touched a collar with cold gems.
Corbal Xir put it there, he thought flatly.
I almost flinched. He had been wearing that collar in the Trader news broadcast. He probably had guards on his wrists and ankles as well. Slave restraints.
Dismayed, I lowered my hand. Can’t Yamada’s people remove it?
His face tightened. The cottar extended Biothreads through the sockets in my neck. They have intertwined with the biomech in my body. The threads are part of my neural system now. It won’t he easy to untangle.
Damn the Traders and their ever-more ingenious methods Of controlling people. We’ll find a way to get it off.
I hope so.
If any of the Jagernauts overheard our conversation, their minds gave no hint Eldrin and I had learned to guard our privacy well. But everyone had probably guessed what we were doing, given the way he had moved my hand.
I glanced at Yamada. “Do you have a record of the exchange where the Traders released Prince Eldrin?”
“Yes, certainly.” Yamada motioned to his lieutenant.
It didn’t surprise me they had a record. All of the embassies probably monitored that plaza as a matter of course.
The first holo moved to the right along the wall and a second appeared. It showed a wide plaza with elegant buildings facing in on a quadrangle. Large white and gray diamonds tiled the plaza in tessellated mosaics. Curved benches sat under vine-draped arches along the edges of the spacious area, and fountains on the perimeter sent up spumes of water.
Two figures were walking from the Allied embassy toward the center of the area. A larger group came out of the Eubian embassy across the plaza. As the two groups approached each other, the holo zoomed in on t
hem. The Eubian group consisted of Corbal Xir, four Razers, and Eldrin, who walked with his wrists locked behind his back. The other pair resolved into two men, an Allied teenager and a Highton Aristo.
“Can you zoom on the young Aristo man?” I asked.
“Will do, ma’am,” the lieutenant said.
The Aristo grew to life size, filling the image. His face was the epitome of Highton reserve and arrogance, his classic features so perfect they looked sculpted from snow-marble. He wore black trousers and a black shirt, conservative, with an elegant cut. His hair glittered like black diamond, with no trace of any other color. His eyes were as red as blood rubies. Just seeing him made me queasy.
“Gods almighty.” Eldrin looked from the icy Aristo to the halo of a laughing Jay Rockworth. “It’s the scone person.”
A shudder ran through me. Even knowing both holos showed Jay, I had trouble absorbing it. But more shattering than the difference between the two was a likeness—the youth in those images had an unmistakable resemblance to Jaibriol H, the late Trader emperor.
I picked up nothing from the others in the room to indicate they had made the connection. “Can’t you all see who he is?” I asked, incredulous.
“An Aristo.” Yamada grimaced. “That kid was here for days. We had no idea. He sure as hell didn’t look like an Aristo then.”
Eldrin was scrutinizing me now. “You see more?”
I rubbed my arms, though nothing would ever warm this cold. “He’s the living image of Jaibriol the Second.”
A long silence followed my words.
Finally Yamada said, “Jaibriol Two had no heir.”
“Neither did his father,” I said. “Supposedly. It didn’t stop one from showing up.”
“Oh hell,” Vazar said. “Now we’re dead.”
16
Dyad
Morale is a chameleon, shifting its purchase on our hearts according to our inconstant moods rather than any absolute truth. Wear down the human soul and the will to live falters. Reality makes no difference; when hearts lose hope, they crumble. But give back that hope, even if reality denies it, and our souls rejoice even when logic gives no cause for optimism.