“You know,” Taquinil said. “The underworld.”
“No, I don’t know,” the colonel said.
“The world under the meshes. Shadow places. Wavefunctions that haven’t collapsed.”
Eldrinson scowled at him. “Taqui, are you making this up?”
The boy flushed. “No, really I’m not.”
Tahota pushed her hand through her hair. “I think he is talking about the underlying structure of the web, the quantum processes that make it work.”
“Is that wrong?” Taquinil. asked.
The colonel spoke with a kindness that surprised Eldrinson, given her imposing presence and the boy’s mischief. “You shouldn’t play with ISC security. But I think our intelligence people will want to talk with you. You could probably tell them a lot.”
Taquinil looked a bit wary. “All right.”
“Why can’t my wife stay here for protection?” Eldrinson asked.
“General Majda doesn’t want too many members of your family in one place.” Tahota leaned against the couch, her elbow resting on its back. She crossed her booted legs with one ankle on her other knee, the way a man would. Eldrinson was growing more accustomed to her, though. She wasn’t as cold as he had expected. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t have automatically attributed those qualities to a male colonel.
“My children are alone on Lyshriol,” Eldrinson said.
“Our understanding is that most are adults according to your culture,” Tahota said.
Eldrinson scowled. “They’re teenagers.” He used the Skolian decimal number, since the Lyshrioli octal count of years tended to confuse his wife’s people. Del and Chaniece were a little older and Vyrl was married, but “teenager” would do. “Kelric is nine and Aniece is twelve,” he added. “The older ones can take care of the younger, but it isn’t the same as having their mother or me there.”
“Please be assured,” Tahota said. “We will make sure no one in your family goes without protection or supervision.”
He felt far from assured. He had been under ISC protection when Raziquon captured him. “How long will this last?”
“We aren’t certain. As long as we have reason to believe your family is in danger.”
Taquinil paled. “It’s my father, isn’t it? He’s sick.”
The Bard tensed and turned to Tahota. “Something happened to my son?”
She answered quickly. “Prince Eldrin ingested some of the assassination meds. But they had almost no effect on him.”
Panic edged his thoughts. Another of his sons? “‘Almost?’ Is he sick, too?”
Taquinil was listening with an expression Eldrinson recognized, as if every word was a spinning ball he had to catch. “Will he be all right?” the boy asked.
Tahota gentled her voice. “He’s fine.”
“How did the bad meds get inside of him?” Taquinil asked.
“From a drink. Kava.” Tahota glanced at Eldrinson. “You and Councilor Roca were there, also. We’re fortunate that neither of you drank the kava.”
Well, that explained why ISC doctors had practically dissected him these past few days, supposedly “verifying his health” before they began his epilepsy treatments. He hadn’t believed them; the doctors treating his epilepsy hadn’t even been present.
“How did the meds get into the kava?” Eldrinson asked.
“From the auto-kitchen. As to how they ended up in the machinery—” Tahota shook her head. “We don’t know yet.”
“Will Uncle Kurj get better?” Taquinil asked.
The colonel hesitated. “We hope so.” She controlled her expressions well, but Eldrinson sensed her disquiet, that the ISC commander lay dying on the brink of a war.
If Roca lost Kurj, too, Eldrinson knew it would tear her apart. And what would happen to the Kyle web? Together, Dehya and Kurj barely kept it alive. If one of them had to do it alone, the work could kill them or the meshes might unravel, negating Skolia’s advantage over the Traders.
“What if Kurj never recovers?” he asked Tahota.
She met his gaze, her own stark. “Hope that he does.”
He understood now why they were hiding Roca. They might soon need her in the Dyad. Given the threat of war, that could make her the single most valuable human being in the Skolian Imperialate at this moment in history.
“Could you put Roca in the Dyad link now?” Eldrinson asked.
Tahota shook her head. “If a third person tries to join while Imperator Skolia lives, it will probably kill the Imperator.”
Eldrinson saw then the enormity of the decision they faced. When Kurj had joined the Dyad decades ago, it had killed his grandfather. Kurj’s mind had been too much like his. The link couldn’t support them both. His grandfather had relinquished his hold on life so that his grandson could live.
Now the Assembly and ISC had to choose. They needed the Dyad. If they put in Roca, making it a Triad, Kurj could die. Her mind wasn’t as close to Kurj’s as his had been to his grandfather’s, but they were similar. The Traders had gambled with their assassin meds and hit a jackpot. No matter how the Ruby Dynasty responded, they would suffer. If Roca didn’t join the Dyad, the weight of supporting the entire Kyle web alone could destroy Dehya. If the pharaoh survived, the web would probably still collapse, leaving Skolia vulnerable.
Taquinil’s thoughts hovered at the edges of Eldrinson’s mind. The adults around him tried to shield their minds, but Eldrinson had already realized his grandson picked up far more than anyone told him. He knew his parents were in danger.
The Bard put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I will be here for you. Remember that. No matter what happens, I am here.”
Taquinil spoke shakily. “And me for you, Grandfather.”
Tahota watched them with compassion in her expression—and great sadness.
The energy spike registered in six different power stations that orbited the planet Parthonia. Techs at four of the stations recorded it in their logs. Two of them alerted ISC security on the planet. One even sent notification to Diesha. After the Dieshan report cycled through many layers of security, it was forwarded to a team investigating the attack on the Imperator. The officer in charge had assigned a battery of EIs to look for patterns in the behavior of every system that served the palace. It was an exhaustive search which had so far yielded nothing useful, but they were nothing if not thorough.
A match came up: energy spikes similar to the one at Parthonia had been observed three times on Diesha in power grids, all late at night when energy usage was low enough that it didn’t swamp out the spikes.
The major in charge of the investigation widened the search. Two hours later, another match came up: such spikes had also been observed roughly two years ago at the starport on the planet Lyshriol, home to the Valdoria branch of the Ruby Dynasty.
The major sent a priority message to Jazida Majda, the acting Imperator, who was currently on the Orbiter. It arrived in the middle of the night. The EI secretary at her residence in City noted that the message was tagged with a Priority One flag and routed it to the private console in her bedroom, where she was sleeping. The console hummed, buzzed more loudly when Majda didn’t awake, and then sounded a siren. Majda sat up fast, still half asleep, and smacked the receive panel on the console by her bed. She came awake immediately when she heard the major’s report. Its concluding recommendation consisted of one sentence:
We must get the Ruby Pharaoh and Assembly off Parthonia NOW.
10
Starliner Drop
On a cool, windy morning, the yacht carrying Eldrin landed in the Admiral Starport, a military facility in Selei City. Dehya met him on the tarmac, guarded by eight Jagernauts, all members of the Abaj Takalique, the elite bodyguards who had served the Ruby Dynasty since before the Ruby Empire. Seven feet tall with black hair and eyes, hooked noses, and black uniforms, they had the timeless quality of a race that had called Raylicon home for six thousand years.
An attendant rolled a morph-stai
r up to the yacht. Eldrin could have requested it change into a lift that would ferry him to the ground, but he preferred to walk down the stairs and stretch his legs, which felt shaky after his sickness. He had disliked the way his bodyguards hovered over him on the ship and how the doctors insisted he stay in bed after he felt better. From their minds, even through their shields and his own, he had picked up their worry about him being a Ruby heir. Eldrin knew they had to protect him, but they were going overboard about this whole business. It was only a minor illness.
His need to drink bothered him far more. The medicine that the ship’s doctor had given him eased his craving, but it didn’t fill the hollow spaces he had to face when he was sober. Only phorine helped. He hadn’t taken it on the yacht, but he would need another dose soon. Without it he felt as if he were dying. Several times the doctor had asked about the treatment for the seizures Eldrin had suffered as a youth, and he was almost certain she was mistaking evidence of the phorine for a medicine he hadn’t taken in several years. Perhaps the chemicals were related. But surely phorine wasn’t so rare that they couldn’t recognize its properties. Although he had never heard of it before, he wasn’t a doctor. Regardless, he kept his use a secret.
Eldrin descended the stairs with four Jagernauts. Dehya waited at the bottom, a welcome sight, smiling, fragile in the midst of her Abaj warriors. Machine men. Had his own brother not been a Jagernaut, Eldrin would have wondered if they were human. But all that augmentation hadn’t saved Althor.
He recognized the lights flickering on the gauntlets of his bodyguards; they were communicating with Dehya’s guards. If a Jagernaut focused his thoughts in a certain manner, bioelectrodes fired his neurons and let him “think” to his node. It sent his messages along threads in his body to his wrist sockets, which linked to his gauntlets. They transmitted the data to the gauntlets of the Abaj Jagernauts, which relayed it to the Abaj’s brain by the reverse process. For people close together, it essentially gave them technology-produced telepathy.
Eldrin and Dehya also had internal systems that monitored their surroundings. If either of them needed help, transmitters within their bodies notified their bodyguards and the nearest ISC receiver. Systems within the port were undoubtedly watching them as well, and within the yacht. Eldrin chafed at the surveillance, but it was actually easier to deal with the machines than with the Jagernauts. He could ignore machines. The Jagernauts made it impossible to forget he and Dehya were guarded everywhere, even in their own home, and would be for the rest of their lives.
Eldrin relaxed his mental barriers and concentrated on Dehya. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he knew two things: she was upset and he was about to be angry. Empaths didn’t always pick up exact moods or interpret what they sensed correctly, but it was obvious something bothered his wife.
Her silky tunic and trousers were rippling in the breezes. After so many days apart, he wanted to embrace her. But he held back, aware of their audience. In public they rarely showed affection. It wasn’t necessary. They didn’t even need a formal greeting. They had been in a mental link since he disembarked from the yacht.
“I’m all right,” he said.
The wind blew hair across her face. “Kurj isn’t.”
Kurj? “What happened?”
She spoke bluntly. “Someone tried to assassinate him. And you. They almost succeeded.”
“Good gods. Is Kurj all right?”
She spoke in a subdued voice. “He might not make it.”
His stomach clenched. Not Kurj, too. Although nothing changed in the bluish sunlight, the day seemed to dim, as if clouds had covered the sun. The behavior of the people on the yacht suddenly made sense. “My doctor knew. That’s why she hovered over me so much.” Eldrin scowled at the Jagernaut captain by his side. “You knew, too.”
The captain spoke awkwardly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Gods forbid anyone should tell me,” Eldrin said.
“Why didn’t they?” Dehya asked the captain.
“Orders from Imperator Majda,” he said. “It was on a need-to-know basis only.”
“Well, of course,” Eldrin said. “Why would I need to know? It’s only my life.” He led a fractured existence, guarded as if he were more valuable than the rarest transition metals, yet treated as if he couldn’t be trusted to know about threats to his own life. And he was perceived as more “civilized” than his father. If it was this bad for him, it was no wonder his father hated spending time among the Skolians.
Dehya laid her hand on his arm. “It’s not their fault.”
He pushed off her hand. “ISC thinks I’m your goddamned pet.”
“Dryni,” she murmured.
He shook his head. “Let’s go home.”
“All right.”
They walked across the tarmac, and he strove to ignore the guards surrounding them. The faintest shimmer in the air was the only indication that a sensor shroud protected them out here.
After several moments, when Eldrin’s anger had calmed, he asked, “Why was Kurj affected more than me?”
“He drank several mugs of the kava.” A shudder went through her slender body. “He was almost dead when the medics found him.”
The words felt like a punch. “Help should have arrived immediately.”
“Yes.” Her face was drawn. “The assassin meds replicated like mad. They were all over. They sabotaged machinery. In Kurj’s body, they destroyed his biomech. The kava dispenser was hit early, probably because it was next to the first conduits they reached in the auto-kitchen. By the time our people got there, they were in every system.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “How could they attack the palace that way? It can’t be that vulnerable.”
“That’s what we thought,” Dehya said. “All we know so far is that the more isolated systems weren’t affected. The simple ones were the hardest to sabotage. Like the repair bots. Kurj figured that out in time.”
They had reached the dichromesh-glass gate into the terminal. Lights flickered on the gauntlets of one Abaj, and the polarized door slid open. They entered a spacious room where a woman sat behind an artistically rounded Luminex table. White carpet covered the floor, and holoart on the walls showed graceful streets shaded by droop-willows.
One of the Abaj spoke with the woman at the console. Although technically security had to clear Eldrin’s arrival with the port authority, it was only a formality. They were hardly going to deny the pharaoh’s consort entrance into the capital of her empire.
Within moments, he and Dehya were walking down a concourse lined with food stations, cafes, and shops—all empty. The Jagernauts surrounded them, but the only other people in the area were security officers from the port. It flustered him that ISC emptied out an entire terminal just for his arrival. That paled, though, next to his dismay over the news about Kurj.
“Thank the saints, the repair bots could help him,” Eldrin said. “Saints” referred to some of the lesser gods in Lyshriol mythology; when he was upset, he tended to revert to idioms from his own language.
Dehya nodded, her face drawn. “The bot was supposed to fix damaged furniture, but it couldn’t repair the footboard Kurj had cracked. That flummoxed the signals from its picochip. The palace is saturated with links to the Kyle meshes, enough so that even without a direct connection, the bot’s signals caused a slight perturbation in a local mesh. It wasn’t much; to pick up something that faint, you needed a telop in a Dyad Chair. Kurj was counting on me. We would have—” She took a shaky breath, then tried again, her voice low and strained. “We would have figured it out in time if I had been in the web. But I wasn’t.”
Eldrin drew her to a halt. “It’s not your fault.” She was shielding her mind, but it didn’t work as well with him. He felt the guilt that was eating her hollow. “You can’t be in the web all day, every day of your life! It’s impossible. You would die.”
“I should have been there.” Her face was as pale as alabaster. “If not for Roca,
we would never have found him in time.”
His mother had been on Diesha? “I thought she went to the Orbiter with my father.”
“She did.” Dehya started walking again, her gait slowed with fatigue. “She used the Dyad Chair there. It showed her Kurj.” She lifted her hand, then dropped it. “We know so little about the Chairs. They allow the Dyad to use their functions. Sometimes they do other things, like this. But why? Their intelligence exists in Kyle space, not here. They are too different from us.”
“Well, they seem to like you and Kurj.” Maybe the Chairs didn’t want the Traders in charge of the Kyle meshes, either.
“I don’t think they have emotions, at least not the way we do.” Dehya smiled wanly. “Maybe we interest them.”
“Just as long as they don’t turn on you.”
“Why would they?”
“Because you’re trespassing in Kyle space.”
The gauntlet worn by the captain of Dehya’s Abaj buzzed. He lifted his arm to speak into the comm. Or at least Eldrin thought he meant to speak. The man’s face furrowed and he lowered his arm again, slowly. Static buzzed at the edges of Eldrin’s mind.
Dehya was watching the captain. “What is it?”
“I thought I received a page,” he said. “But it wasn’t.”
She regarded him uneasily. “Check it out.”
He nodded, and his face took on the inwardly-directed quality of a Jagernaut communicating with his internal node.
A hum came from behind Eldrin. As he turned, a teardrop car floated alongside him. It was open to the air, shaped like its name, and just large enough for two people to sit. Several other cars whirred around them, enough for their bodyguards.
Eldrin smiled, intrigued. “Where did these come from?”
“I called them.” Dehya lifted her hand toward the car as if offering an invitation. “Care to ride?”
He bowed to his wife. “My pleasure, lady.”
They all boarded the cars. As Eldrin and Dehya whirred off, the Abaj captain pulled up alongside them in his car. He said, “I’ve tracked down the page, Your Majesty. It was a spike in the energy output of a system here in the port.”
The Final Key: Part Two of Triad (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Page 14
