Anger flashed on Jimorla's face. "Why would you want to meet me now, after ignoring me for twenty-seven years?"
"I had no choice on Coba. I wasn't allowed to see you."
"You didn't have to leave my mother."
That felt like a blow to the chin. "She said I left her?"
"No. She didn't say anything."
"She turned away from me."
His son looked incredulous. "Why would she do that?"
"She didn't want me."
"Yes, she did." Now Jimorla seemed bewildered. "Why else would she refuse to fight in the war?"
That was unexpected. In military terms, Jimorla's mother had been the strongest ally of Ixpar's greatest foe. "I didn't know she refused."
"She was in love with you." Defiance sparked in his voice. "But she loves my father more."
My father. The words cut like blades. With difficulty, Kelric said, "Raaj is a good man."
Jimorla hesitated. Then he spoke in a quieter voice. "Why did she turn away from you?"
Kelric wondered if the young man had any idea of the knives he was turning. But he owed his son the answers. "She didn't like my past."
"That you had been in prison for murder?"
"No. She could live with that."
"What else could it have been?"
"Tell me something. Have you ever kissed a woman?"
Deep red flushed Jimorla's face. "Of course not."
"Have you ever smiled at one? Besides your kin."
"No. You know I'm not married." His voice tightened. "Why do you ask these insulting questions?"
Kelric couldn't imagine living the constrained, controlled life of a Haka nobleman since birth. It had been hard enough for just one year. "I don't consider them insults."
"And that offended my mother?"
"In a sense. I had lovers before I married her."
Jimorla stared at him for a long moment. When he found his voice, he said, "Oh."
Kelric had no regrets for the women he had loved. But in the rigid culture of the desert Estates, it was illegal for a man even to smile at a woman. Even now it angered and bewildered him that Jimorla's mother had been able to look past the fact that he had killed someone, but not that he had lovers outside of marriage.
Jimorla could have reacted many ways, most of them negative. Rather than offended, though, he looked puzzled, perhaps because he had lived away from the desert long enough to adapt to less restrictive customs. But he seemed unable to fathom his own father having such freedoms.
After a moment, Jimorla said, "When I was thirteen, my mother said you wanted to meet me."
Kelric nodded. "I always did. But it wasn't until then that the Managers agreed to let you visit me."
"What changed?"
It was almost more than Kelric could bear to talk about those days. But he forced out the words. "I was dying. By the time the doctors figured it out, I had only a few months to live."
The tense set of Jimorla's face softened. "I didn't know."
"The war started before you and I had the chance to meet."
"Everyone thought you died in the fires."
"It was better that way."
"Why?!" Jimorla's anger surged. "Why was it better for us to grieve for your death?"
Kelric spoke grimly. "I caused the first war your people had seen in a thousand years. It tore Coba apart, and as long as I was part of your culture, that would continue. I wouldn't—I couldn't be responsible for more death and misery." Quietly he added, "Especially not of my own children."
Jimorla breathed out, his face strained, but he didn't dispute Kelric's words. As a Calani, he had to know the truth; it saturated the Quis of Coba.
"You waited ten years to come back," Jimorla said. It was an accusation more than a statement.
"It took that long to make certain I could protect you." Kelric wished he were better with words. "I haven't always been Imperator, Jimorla. And having a title is no guarantee of power. Had I revealed Coba when I had no power base, it could have done great harm to your world. I can stop that from happening now. I couldn't when I first escaped."
"You could have found a way."
"I did," Kelric said quietly. "That is why you're here." He lifted his hands, then dropped them. "I'm no good with explanations. I'm sorry."
He feared his son would find that answer a poor excuse. Instead, Jimorla said, "I've never been good with words, either." He glanced at Kelric's dice. "But with Quis . . ."
Kelric exhaled. Technically, they were in the same Calanya. So they could sit at dice. In reality, Kelric was as far Outside as a man could go, and Jimorla's Oath to Ixpar forbid him to play Quis with Outsiders. Yet here he stood, waiting, and Kelric could no more turn down his son than he could cut off his arm.
Forgive me, Ixpar, he thought. He gathered up his dice and indicated a table. He and Jimorla sat across from each other.
Then they rolled out their dice.
XXV
The Fountain
The Qox retreat for the Emperor of Eube had no name. No map listed its location. No mesh address existed for it. The retreat nestled within a valley hidden among the highest peaks of the Jaizire Mountains, and no one could visit that range without permission from the emperor. Forests surrounded the boar-wood lodge. The trees grew unusually tall, their trunks huge and gnarled, clustered close together as if they had joined ranks to repel invaders. Vines dripped from their spiked branches like tatted lace in dark shades of green. Tangle-wolves and blue-spindled pumas stalked the peaks.
Jaibriol loved the retreat. It didn't remind him of home; the land here was too stark and brooding. The wild beauty, untamed and untainted by Aristos, called to something within him. Usually he enjoyed the time he spent here with Tarquine, a respite from the grueling days of his reign. But today they walked into the lodge in cold silence.
The walls had no tech to distract him, only smooth wood with whorled knots. A boar-wood exterior surfaced the console against one wall. The floor had the best available controls to remove insects and dirt, and keep the temperature comfortable, but it looked like simple wood softened with rustic throw rugs.
Jaibriol went to a bar by one wall and poured a drink of the strongest liqueur he could find. The label on the fluted crystal bottle said, simply, "Anise I." The Anise burned a path down his throat and flared heat throughout his body. Ten years ago he would have gagged at its strength; now he hardly blinked.
Tarquine poured a tumbler of Taimarsian brandy. Unable to look away, Jaibriol watched her raise it to her red lips. The muscles of her alabaster throat barely moved as she swallowed. She was physical perfection by Aristo standards, and it suddenly made him ill.
"Did you join them?" he asked.
She glanced at him, the tumbler at her lips. She took another sip, then slowly lowered the glass. "Join who?"
"At your 'dinner' for the Blue-Point Diamonds." His voice was low and dark, like the anger within him. "Did you join their orgy and hurt my providers?"
"Your language seems to have lost its elevation." Her oh-so-perfect voice had a chill that symbolized everything he hated about Aristos, but today it also had an edge, as if she were struggling to keep her icy veneer.
"Don't play Highton games with me." Something was building in him, something hard and full of misery. "Answer me."
"Why should I?" Her voice was heating up. Tarquine—the ultimate ice queen—was losing her cool. "You violate all standards of Highton decency and then accuse us of immorality."
"You did, didn't you?" He felt as if acid were burning inside of him. "Oh, I'm sure it was sublimely tasteful by Highton standards, right, Tarquine? You were all discreet when you tortured and raped the providers I expected no one ever to even goddamned touch." His fists clenched at his sides. "Did you enjoy it? I know it's still in you. I feel it at night, when you 'make love' to me. Or whatever you call it."
Her voice struck like a weapon. "At least other providers didn't talk while I enjoyed them."
&nb
sp; He stared at her. Other providers. Had she forgotten their guards were here, that they could hear her imply the emperor was a slave? It was insane to argue; he and Tarquine were losing the hard-fought composure they needed to survive. But too much had happened, and his life was out of control. The thought of her spending time with some pleasure boy while he agonized in the crucible of the Lock was more than he could bear.
"Did you enjoy committing adultery?" he said, his voice edged like a knife. It was an insult even more grave than the accusation that she betrayed their vows, for an Aristo could only commit that crime with another Aristo. To suggest that for her, lying with a provider was adultery, put her on the same level as the slaves lowest in the hierarchy of the Eubian empire. "I don't even know how many male providers I have. Or maybe you didn't care—male, female, they're all good."
Jaibriol didn't know she was going to strike until her palm hit his face, and his head snapped to the side. Her voice was deadly. "Never speak to me that way. Never." She set her drink on the counter. Then she turned and walked away from him, her back stiff under her jumpsuit.
He stared at her, his fist clenched on the bar. Her betrayal affected him at a deeper, more primal level than he ever wanted to admit. It killed him, and he hated knowing he had come to need her so much. That her actions might motivate the Diamond Aristos to support his foolish dream of peace made it even worse. The contradictions of his life had become more than he knew how to endure, but he had no choice, he had to live with them no matter how they ravaged his soul.
Jaibriol downed his drink in one swallow. Then he swung around and hurled the glass with biomech-enhanced strength. It flew across the lodge and shattered inside the antique hearth. Hidaka had been bending over the console, but now he straightened up with a jerk, glancing from Jaibriol to the pulverized glass strewn across the stone. The guards posted around the walls came even more alert, if such was possible. They were all being discreet. None gave any hint they had just heard the emperor and empress have an argument that could tear apart Jaibriol's his claim to the title. They probably assumed he and Tarquine had been so angry, they hurled unforgivable insults. Even that violated the icy code of Aristo behavior. Since his experience in the Lock, he was losing the restraint so vital to his life.
Jaibriol walked over to Hidaka, his adrenaline racing even as he tried to appear calm. Although the captain regarded him with a neutral look, Hidaka was expending so much effort to hold the expression, Jaibriol could practically see his strain.
"Do you need the console, Your Highness?" Hidaka asked.
Jaibriol nodded, not trusting himself to words. As Hidaka moved aside, Jaibriol settled into the cushioned seat and entered his mesh- globe, the "world" tailored to his needs, where he kept records, personal data, and correspondence, what people had called their "account" in the antique world of early mesh systems. He knew he should leave this business with Tarquine alone, but he couldn't stop himself. He accessed the list of his providers, the "inventory" he hated, for he lived in fear that someday he would become an entry in that seductive, brutal catalog.
He had inherited fourteen of them, not from his father, who according to the records had never even visited them, but from his grandfather. Despite their gorgeous and sensual appearance of youth, most were in their thirties or older. One was even fifty-two, though in her holo she looked fifteen.
The last two providers, both women, were gifts given to Jaibriol by other Aristos. Although six of his grandfather's were male, it said nothing about his grandfather's preferences; an Aristo could transcend with a psion of either sex. Pain was pain regardless of who experienced it. He didn't see how Aristos lived with themselves, let alone considered it their exalted right to hurt other human beings, especially those who were so helpless. He hated knowing the providers had suffered during his absence, and he loathed even more knowing that heritage was within his own DNA, that he was one- eighth Aristo.
Unexpectedly, the records for Corbal's providers came up as well, apparently because Tarquine had nosed into his private affairs. Sunrise was the only one Corbal lived with. She had a physical age of sixteen, but Jaibriol was startled to discover Corbal had first bought her decades ago, during his marriage. His Highton wife had sent her away, which suggested his interest in Sunrise had been considered more than acceptable even then. After his wife passed away, Corbal brought Sunrise back to his home. The sweet "girl" Jaibriol knew was actually a woman over twice his age.
He locked Corbal's files. It wouldn't keep Tarquine out if she put her mind to breaking in, but he didn't see why she cared. Even if she hadn't already copied the record, it wasn't anything that offered her economic or political advantage.
The holos of his providers remained. They stood on a screen in front of him, each about one hand span high, the beautiful pleasure slaves he owned. He couldn't stop wondering who Tarquine had slept with. Probably the men; his wife was definitely heterosexual. The thought made him want to smash the console. Gritting his teeth, he took a long look at the women. In the reflection of the console, he saw Hidaka behind him, gazing at one of the images with a strange look Jaibriol couldn't interpret. The girl's large bronze eyes glimmered in the holo, and her hair shone like polished bronze, falling to her waist in huge curls. She wore nothing but a glittery G-string and a chain halter with a few topazes hiding the parts of her he most wanted to see.
Jaibriol stared at the image. "Hidaka, contact Robert and let him know I am returning to the palace." He indicated the bronze girl. "Tell him to have her ready for me."
Robert was waiting when Jaibriol stepped out of the flyer on the roof of the palace. He hadn't told Tarquine he was leaving. He hated himself for expecting her to act as anything but an Aristo, and he couldn't bear to look at her. His loneliness crashed in, the pain that he kept at bay only by the intricate delusion he had built for his life, that no matter what miseries he endured as emperor of this sadistic empire, he had the respite of an empress who, beneath her chilly exterior, actually loved him.
He was a fool a thousand times over, for believing in his dream, for believing in her, for believing anyone could ever change this hell known as the Eubian empire. They had the strongest, wealthiest, largest civilization humanity had ever known and someday they would probably take over the entire human race. Nothing he did, nothing he endured, no desperate hope he carried within him would ever change that.
Robert stood in the circle of the flyer's lamps. They didn't need the light; it was never truly dark on Glory with so many moons. Tonight, Jaibriol counted nine, some crescents, some fuller, some tiny, others dominating the sky. The tormented ocean crashed so loudly against the glittering black shore beyond the city, he could hear the waves even here, atop his palace.
"Welcome back, Your Highness," Robert said.
"Thank you, Robert." Jaibriol strode past him, toward the bulb tower with the lift that would take them into the palace.
Robert caught up with him. "Should I tell the staff to prepare for the empress's arrival?"
"No." Jaibriol kept going. "Did you have the girl brought to my rooms?"
"Yes, Your Highness." He sounded upset.
"Good." Jaibriol stopped at the onion dome. A molecular air lock shimmered in its side and vanished, leaving a horseshoe arch. He stalked through it, headed for the collapse of his personal life.
The bedroom suite was dark; only a red crystal lamp burned on the nightstand, and its dim light barely reached the voluminous bed. Even from so far away, Jaibriol saw the mound under the covers. He crossed the room silently, past the sitting area and breakfast niche. At the bed, he stared down at the girl sleeping under the velvet spread. Her hair veiled her face, leaving it only partly visible. Bronze lashes sparkled against her cheeks.
He pulled down the bedspread, uncovering her. She was wearing even less than in the holo, just the G-string. Her body was full and curved, and her face so pretty that his breath caught. She had a tiny waist and breasts surely too large to be natural, with huge nip
ples that looked permanently erect. From her file, he knew she had enhanced pheromones as well, designed to attract and intensify a man's sexual response.
Jaibriol didn't even take off his shoes. He slid onto the bed and sat against the headrest, still wearing his leather jacket, and under it, his black-diamond clothes with carnelian at his cuffs and belt. When he pulled the girl into his arms and slid his hand over her breast, she murmured in her sleep.
"Wake up." He rolled her nipple between his fingers, trying to recall her name from the file. "Wake up, Claret."
She sighed and opened her eyes, her lashes taking forever to lift. "My honor at your glorious presence, Most Esteemed Highness," she murmured drowsily.