"He answers to us both." Dehya said sharply. "I say yes."
"I won't give on this one," Tikal told her.
"My loyalty is always and firmly to ISC," Chad told Kelric. "But in this, I must agree with the First Councilor."
"I concur with Admiral Barzun," Ragnar said.
Damn. Kelric knew he could never sway them without the support of ISC. Technically, only Dehya and Tikal could make the decision. But with Tikal so adamant against the idea and no support anywhere else, he had little recourse.
Dehya met Tikal's gaze. "I won't give on this one, either."
"Then we're deadlocked," Tikal said. "We'll have to turn it over to the Assembly for a vote."
Kelric made an incredulous noise. "What the hell kind of secrecy is that? The whole point is that Qox and I would meet in private, unaffected by outside influences."
Tikal sat back and crossed his arms. "It's the only way to resolve a deadlock between Pharaoh Dyhianna and myself."
Even if Kelric had been willing to send it to the Assembly, he knew it would never pass. If Roca, the voice of the Moderate Party, refused to support him, he would never convince the more bellicose factions of that voting body.
Kelric spoke with difficulty. "Very well. I withdraw the proposal."
Tikal didn't look triumphant, only weary. No one else spoke. Kelric felt defeated on a much larger scale than with this one question.
Then he looked at Dehya.
Her face showed only disappointment. Nor did her mood hint at any other response. But she was the most nuanced empath alive; if anyone could hide from even the psions at this table, it was Dehya. Kelric understood her as no one else, because he had worked with her in a Dyad for ten years—and the moment he looked at her, he knew. She wanted to go through with this without Tikal's consent.
She wanted him to commit treason.
The Emperor of Eube sought refuge in the night, out on the sparkling dark beach. The waves roared and crashed, rising to the size of houses and hurling their fury against twisted black outcroppings along the shore. Their spray leapt into the sky, coruscating against a night washed with moonlight in gold, white, and red. Driven by the satellites of Glory, the violent tides battered the coast.
Jaibriol knelt in the sand with no company except Hidaka and three other Razers. They were like a wall separating him from the rest of the universe, one monolith with four parts. Hidaka had discussed names with them and they all had them now, but they hadn't responded to his oblique inquiries about what to call them. They lived in their own universe, intersecting humanity yet never truly like humans. But they never wavered in their protection.
Jaibriol was fragmenting.
He couldn't control the Triad power coursing through his mind. He didn't understand it. He had no context, no preparation, no training, no advisors. Nothing. He had only the incontrovertible knowledge that he had to hide what had happened, push it into a recess so deep, no one could ever detect it, neither the Aristos who would prey on his pain nor the providers who would recognize him. He didn't know how to suppress the forces raging within him like the tides driven against this tortured shore. Nor could he escape. Colonel Muze had destroyed the Lock, and no one knew how to rebuild it. To survive, he had to stop being a member of the Triad. And he couldn't.
Jaibriol pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep the secret. His life and mind were unraveling. If he continued as emperor, he would fall apart in front of everyone, the Hightons, his advisors, his aides, and his enemies.
"Sire." The deep voice rumbled.
Jaibriol lifted his head and stared through the veil of his pain at Hidaka. "I cannot," he whispered. He wasn't even certain what he was telling his Razer.
The captain spoke with atypical softness. "Shouldn't we return to the palace? Your absence will soon be remarked."
Jaibriol struggled to his feet. "You can protect my person," he said dully. "But what about my thoughts?"
Hidaka regarded him uncertainly. "You will recover."
Not this time. Wearily Jaibriol pulled himself upright. "Let us return."
He headed to the path that wound up the cliffs to the palace. The Razers fell in around him, and lights flashed on their biomech arms. Hidaka acted as a conduit, interpreting Jaibriol's actions for them. Jaibriol had no idea how deep a network among them could go, for to his knowledge no other Aristos had let their bodyguards develop such extensive links. When given the freedom to act as their own beings, they became neither machine nor human, but something else. Yet still they served him with deadly versatility. The best defenses on the planet guarded his person and his palace.
But nothing could protect him against his own mind.
XXVII
The Hall Of Providence
"I trusted you." Ixpar's low voice pulled Kelric awake. Startled, he sat bolt upright, his pulse surging as his mind caught up with his reflexes.
Ixpar was kneeling next to him, wearing the silky shift he loved to take off her. But no invitation showed in her posture tonight. Starlight flooded the Orbiter, reflected through panels that had opened after the Sun Lamp set, and it poured through windows of the bedroom, silvering her body. She knelt by him with one clenched fist resting on her thigh.
"You should trust me," Kelric said groggily, trying to wake up the rest of the way.
"You knew you would contaminate his Quis if you sat at dice with him," Ixpar said. "It was bad enough you agreed. But to pour so much Skolian and Eubian politics into your first game? It is unconscionable."
"I'm not sure how it happened," he admitted. Caught by the luminous genius of Jimorla's Quis, he had instinctively sought his son's input.
"It's obvious how," Ixpar said. "He asked you to play Quis. You said yes. You should have said no."
"He is my son." He met her gaze. "I will not refuse him."
"So you make all Coba pay the price?"
"It was one session."
"One devastating session." The calm of her voice belied the anger in her gaze, which reflected the starlight. "Everything he took from you, he will bring to Coba. And his influence has no small effect on our Quis. He is a Calani like no other. You must know that after your session. His patterns of Skolia and Eube will flood Coba."
He knew it was true. "I'm sorry."
"And you would take my successor as well."
"Rohka talked to you?"
"She wishes to study at the school here."
"Will you say no?" he asked. Her anger was a fog around him.
"I cannot. By Coban law, she is an adult." She sounded worn out. "I hate the idea. It will contaminate her Quis past repair. But you spoke truly. She should know your people. To rule Coba well, in this era when we become part of your empire, she must understand Skolia."
"So must Jimorla," Kelric said. "Otherwise, he'll create distorted pictures, as he did with myself and Emperor Qox."
"It isn't the same." The heat faded from her voice. "I'm sorry, Kelric. But Jimorla wants to return home."
He had to nod, though it hurt. He couldn't fight this. He even agreed. Rohka would serve as the conduit from the Calanya to the Imperialate, filtering the input they gave the Calani. It would protect the Quis of Coba. But knowing that made it no easier to hear how his son felt.
"And you?" Kelric asked. "Will you also go back?"
"I cannot stay."
What could he say? She couldn't stop ruling Coba because he missed her. He thought of Jaibriol Qox, who symbolized everything he could never have. Qox ruled Eube. Period. No Assembly, no First Councilor, no one to interfere. Tarquine stood by his side, brilliant and unmatched, she who had never seen Kelric as anything more than a slave. She would give Jaibriol heirs, and they would honor their father as everyone esteemed the emperor. Kelric's son barely even acknowledged him.
You are a fool to envy Qox, he thought. The man probably lived in hell, if what Kelric suspected were true.
"I'm sorry," Ix
par said, watching his face. "Would that I could tell you otherwise." She spoke softly. "I wish you could return with me, Kelric, live in my Calanya, be my husband." With pain, she added, "We both long for the impossible."
"We can visit each other." It was poor compensation, but it was better than nothing. He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Jimorla is truly a genius."
Her face gentled into a smile. "He is his father's son."
"Perhaps someday he will accept that."
"Ah, Kelric." She lifted his hand and pressed her lips against his knuckles. "I can only tell you what I tell myself; never grieve for what could have been. We do what we can."
Never grieve. He wondered if she realized she asked the impossible.
"If I defy a veto from the First Councilor," Kelric said, "I'm breaking the law." He and Dehya were walking on the hill behind his house, high above the gorge with the river.
"We could tell the Inner Council we think Jaibriol Qox is a psion," Dehya said. She even sounded serious.
Kelric slanted a look at her. "Either they would think we were crazy, or even worse, they would believe us. The more people we tell, the more likely it will hurt Qox."
"He's already in danger." She stared down at the foaming river that rushed against the rocks. "We need to talk to him."
"It's not that easy." Kelric had no way to contact Jaibriol outside of formal channels, which required extensive procedures through both governments. He didn't see what he would achieve by trying, except to get arrested. He might secure his part of the communication, but not the Eubian side. It wouldn't be private.
"I'll support any decision you make," Dehya said.
Kelric crossed his arms. "I don't want your support."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because the penalty for treason is execution."
She pulled him to a stop. "What, they're going to execute both the Ruby Pharaoh and Imperator?"
"When you overthrew the Assembly, you made enemies," Kelric said. "Blending the government may have been genius or madness, but either way, it's divisive." He rubbed the aching muscles in his neck. "You saw the ballot on Roca's votes. It was almost even. Take a vote on whether or not the Ruby Dynasty should share the rule of Skolia with the Assembly, and it would be even less in our favor. They can't take that vote; we have the power to enforce your decree that neither side can disband the combined government. But that power comes from ISC. If I were to lose my title—say by committing treason—our power base among the military would crumble." He thought of the day she had announced the blended government. "If you had disbanded the Assembly and returned to the days of pure hereditary rule, you would have had to execute Tikal. I doubt he's ever forgotten how close he came to death. At your hands."
"I didn't execute him," Dehya said.
"That just makes him more dangerous."
"He's an inspired leader," she said. "If my taking the Ruby Throne meant his death, it was wrong. We need the Assembly. The time for an empire ruled solely by a dynasty is gone."
"Yes, well, too many people agree with you, Dehya. In fact, a lot of them think the time for any dynastic rule is gone."
"The Traders don't," she said dryly.
"Unfortunately." He stared down at the river as it frothed and churned over the rocks. "We don't have a Prime line to Qox the way we do to the Allied President on Earth. We've had nothing but hostilities and war with the Traders for half a millennium. I can't imagine that changing."
"Yet here is Jaibriol Qox," she murmured, "acting oddly."
"Which is the greater treason," he asked. "To defy First Councilor Tikal and meet a tyrant in secret, or to obey and go to war when Qox may wish otherwise?"
Dehya met his gaze. "I wish I knew."
Jaibriol strode with Tarquine down a wide hall of the palace, under soaring horseshoe arches that shone with gold and emeralds. They were headed to the Amphitheater of Providence. The boots of his Razers rang on the jade-tiled floor, four mammoth human-biomech hybrids. But today they couldn't help him. It would be agony when he entered the amphitheater, for over two thousand Aristos had arrived to attend the economic summit. Tarquine would preside as Finance Minister, but Jaibriol couldn't avoid the sessions or attend via the mesh, not if he wanted to maintain the political edge that kept him sharp, even kept him alive. To give the appearance of neglecting such a confluence of powers could be ruinous.
As they neared the enormous doors of the amphitheater, a retinue of Hightons approached them from a hall that came in at an oblique angle to theirs. Jaibriol knew it had to be one of his top people, because no one else could get this close to him. With a sinking sensation, he recognized the tall man in the center of the retinue; General Barthol Iquar, Tarquine's nephew and one of ESComm's ruthless joint commanders.
He had no wish to see Barthol; the general's abhorrence of the peace process was matched only by his personal dislike of Jaibriol. But Tarquine was slowing down. As their two groups reached each other, everyone stopped. All of the aides and even Barthol's Razers went down on one knee to Jaibriol.
The general bowed to him with military precision. "You honor the Line of Iquar with your presence, Esteemed Highness." His harsh voice grated, and his Highton presence ground against Jaibriol's mind until he wanted to groan.
Jaibriol barely managed a nod. It was a marginal courtesy, one that suggested displeasure, but at this point it was all he could do without revealing his agony. He was about to resume his walk when he heard his wife speak through the haze of his pain.
"It pleases me to see you, Barthol," Tarquine said.
Barthol bowed to her. "It is my great honor to be in your presence." This time, he even sounded as if he meant the words.
"Indeed it is," Tarquine murmured.
Jaibriol thought of going on by himself, but he couldn't insult Tarquine by leaving her behind, and he had no intention of inviting his own incineration by ordering her to come with him.
"You look well today," Barthol told her.
"As do you," Tarquine said.
Barthol tilted his head slightly, a gesture that hinted at appreciation. "It esteems the Line of Iquar that its leaders are in good health."
"It does indeed," Tarquine said with a cool smile. "They plan to continue that way."
Jaibriol couldn't figure out what Tarquine was about. The contrast between his curt greeting and her welcome to Barthol hadn't been intentional on his part, but if it bothered her, she gave no sign. More to the point, he picked up nothing in her mood. He had a good idea what she meant by "continue," though. She headed the Iquar Line. No one knew yet she carried the heir to the Iquar title, and she hadn't chosen a successor to follow her if she died without an heir. Barthol was a logical choice, given his seniority within their Line and his power in ESComm.
"The throne wishes honor for your Line," Tarquine added to her brother.
Jaibriol blinked at her. Your Line? She and Barthol shared the same bloodline. Of course she wished them honors, but it was an odd way to say it, especially bringing in the throne. He had no desire to offer Barthol anything. The general had blocked him at every damn junction in the talks, adamant that Skolia pass a law requiring the return of any slaves who escaped into Skolian territory. Jaibriol had thought the Ruby Pharaoh had been willing to search for a compromise, but after Barthol took a hard line, her military became intransigent as well. It was a major reason the negotiations had stalled. As far as Jaibriol was concerned, Barthol could rot in perdition. He said nothing to the general, just met his gaze, an omission that glared all the more harshly given Tarquine's friendlier greeting.
"Your generosity benefits the Line of Iquar," Barthol told Tarquine, which meant zero given that she was the Line of Iquar.
"Indeed it does." Her words flowed over them, smooth and potent. "As it does for those who stand behind the head of any Line."
Jaibriol stiffened. If she was referring to heirs as those "who stand behind," she better not be planning to reveal she was pregnant
. He couldn't let her do it with no warning or preparation, and without his agreement. Of course if he cut her off, she would turn him into metaphorical ashes, but he would have to live with it. He was already so beleaguered from his Triad entry, he doubted even Tarquine could make it worse.
Jaibriol couldn't read her intent; her face was inscrutable, and she had raised mental barriers, which no other Aristo would use, because they had no reason to learn. Barthol had his focus completely on her. His posture indicated caution, but he had turned his hand by his side so his palm faced away from his body, a subtle gesture that indicated curiosity. He wanted to know what she meant, too.
Barthol spoke smoothly. "It is the honor of those who stand behind them."