The Final Key: Part Two of Triad (Saga of the Skolian Empire)

by Catherine Asaro

  It sounded as arcane as everything else they said. “What would that do?”

  She brushed a strand of hair off Roca’s mouth, then took a cloth and dried the spittle on Roca’s lips. “Your daughter thinks Arabesque doesn’t have enough memory to reactivate your wife’s brain.”

  Bile rose in his throat; they turned the people he loved into machines. He forced down his nausea. He would do whatever it took. Nothing mattered but filling this husk that had been Roca. “Could it make her worse?”

  “Probably not.” Softly she added, “But it isn’t likely to help.”

  His voice caught. “Try.”

  Roca opened her eyes.

  The ceiling arched in vaults, patterned with stained-glass mosaics. A face came into view, a woman with dark eyes.

  “Councilor?” the woman said.

  Roca tried to respond, but her voice wouldn’t work.

  “Did she answer?” a man said, out of sight.

  Roca wet her lips and tried again. “Yes?”

  “Do you recognize me?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Roca answered. “Should I?”

  “I’m Taza Rajindia, a biomech adept.”

  The man spoke again. “At least she understands words.”

  Roca lifted her head and frowned at the medtech who had spoken, a young man she didn’t recognize. “And why,” she inquired sweetly, but with an undeniable edge, “would that be a surprise?”

  “Gods above!” a familiar voice said. “That’s her.” A man strode past the medtech, up to her bedside.

  Eldri.

  His eyes were full of tears. “Roca? It is you?”

  “Of course it’s me. Why are you crying?” She tried to sit up and discovered she was attached to all sorts of lines, tubes, and monitors. Confused, she lay down and glared at Rajindia. “What is all this stuff?”

  The biomech’s eyes turned glossy as if she, too, had been hit by an urge to shed tears. Odd. She didn’t seem the weepy type.

  “Welcome back, Councilor,” Rajindia said.

  Their responses bewildered her. “Back?”

  Then her memories stirred.

  They came slowly, like a wave rolling up a beach. Another wave of recollections came after them and soaked her mind. A larger wave followed, then another, even bigger. The memories flooded her, one after another, each deeper and more turbulent. They piled up, then curled over and crashed down, pounding her mind. More breakers came, huge, towering, thundering. Behind them, bigger waves loomed, higher, too high, she would drown—

  Roca gasped. Alarms blared and red lights flashed.

  “Knock her out!” Rajindia yelled.

  Roca had no idea what they put in what intravenous line, but almost immediately she felt woozy. Lethargy spread over her and the waves withdrew, becoming smaller and choppy, until they settled into rolling swells. She closed her eyes and drifted like flotsam, grateful the onslaught had stopped.

  For some time she stayed that way. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was in the old family room, though someone had transformed it into an infirmary. Her memories still inundated her, but they were bearable. Gods. That blue universe had been real. Somehow, incredibly, her family had pulled her through Kyle space to the Blue Dale Mountains.

  Eldrinson sat on the bed. He looked like hell, his hair uncombed, his clothes wrinkled, his eyes dark—and she had never seen such a welcome sight. She squeezed his hand, too woozy to speak.

  “Do you remember me?” he asked.

  She raised her eyebrows. It would, be rather difficult to forget you, given how long we’ve been married.

  Ah, Roca. A tear ran down his face. He brushed it away and blushed until it hid the freckles on his nose.

  She smiled. He truly was a mess. You look lovely.

  He glared at her. Men are not lovely, Roca. They are handsome.

  You’re truly a handsome sight. She laughed softly. But you are also a mess, love.

  Rajindia was watching with a puzzled expression. That tended to happen when someone saw telepaths going through the facial expressions of a conversation. It was why Roca rarely had mental discussions in front of people who weren’t psions.

  The Bard slanted a look at the doctor. “The operation must have worked. My wife is insulting me.”

  “I am glad,” Rajindia said. When he glowered at her, she laughed. “I meant that Councilor Roca is recovering.”

  Judging from her mood, Roca suspected “glad” was a far too mild a description of Rajindia’s response. The adept withdrew, leaving them as much privacy as they could manage with so many people in the room. Roca’s memories continued to roll in slowly. She wished she had lost those of the Aristos, but they remained.

  Your memories are intertwined, Arabesque thought. If I erase the brutal ones, others will go as well. Do you wish me to delete them anyway?

  No. Let them stay. Roca would rather endure the bad than give up the good. Is it true? she asked Eldrinson. Did you make a Triad?

  It is true.

  Good. She felt a fierce satisfaction. All the nobles who had condescended to her husband, the Assembly delegates who plotted to dissolve her marriage, the ones who tried to deny him status as a free citizen so they could study him in a lab—now they had to bow to him. Every last one.

  He smiled. You look ferocious.

  Just gratified.

  He lifted her hand and pressed her knuckles against his cheek. This feels like a miracle.

  Warmth spread through her. But the “miracle” had flaws. I have holes in my mind. It hurts.

  You must not retreat to Windward and refuse to see anyone.

  She smirked. I must stay here. Otherwise, who would bedevil you?

  He laughed and pulled her into his arms, lines, sheets, equipment, and all. I am here. Remember that.

  I will. She had a long recovery ahead, but with her family around her, she could manage anything.

  “It isn’t absurd!” Soz crossed her arms and faced off with Rajindia and Colonel Corey Majda, commander of the Lyshriol orbital defense system. They were standing outside the infirmary with Soz’s father.

  “The Chair tried to tell me,” Soz said. “It showed me Jaz.”

  “Jaz?” Eldrinson asked. “What is that?”

  “Not what,” Soz said. “Who. He was one of my roommates last year.”

  “He?” Her father’s face turned thunderous. “You had a male roommate?”

  “Oh, Hoshpa.” Soz didn’t want to argue. “The Chair showed me an illusion of him. Jaz told me that Mother had forgotten her birthday.”

  “This has significance?” Rajindia asked.

  “She forgot.” Soz wished she could express herself better. “That was about the time Arabesque closed down her mind. The Chair was saying she needed help.”

  Colonel Majda considered her. Dark-eyed and dark-haired, the Majda Matriarch resembled her sister, Devon, but she was younger and less austere. “Soz, don’t you think that’s far-fetched?”

  At least she hadn’t said, That’s crazy. “I can’t give you proof,” Soz said. “But the Chair protects us. The Ruby Dynasty. That includes Althor. It told me that he forgot. Like Mother.”

  “The Chair couldn’t have known,” Rajindia said.

  “How do you know?” Soz demanded, painfully aware of her father listening. She would hate herself if she gave him false hope, but she couldn’t let this go, not if any chance of success existed. “Althor had his node for less time than Mother, but it’s a more advanced model by decades.”

  “Your mother lost knowledge,” Rajindia said. “Your brother’s brain is dead. It isn’t the same.”

  Soz knew they believed she was in denial. Maybe they were right. But this went beyond her resistance to accepting his condition. “Yes, he died. His ship revived him.”

  Rajindia spoke with the sympathy of someone who often dealt with bereaved families. “It revived his body. By that time, the brain damage was too extensive. He had almost no neural activity left in his c
erebral cortex.”

  “Neither did Mother,” Soz said.

  “A great deal more than Althor,” Rajindia said.

  Soz made herself stay calm, though she wanted to shake someone. “The first attempt to revive her didn’t succeed because after storing her neural patterns, her node had too little memory to activate her bioelectrodes. But you gave it more, right? You augmented it with her Rhon brain cells.”

  Corey Majda spoke. “You think Althor’s node is holding his mind, but it doesn’t have enough memory to fire the bioelectrodes in his neurons?”

  “Yes,” Soz said.

  “It sounds to me like a surefire way to destroy his brain,” Corey said.

  “It’s a risk,” Soz admitted. “But Mother survived it.”

  “Althor’s node had no time to store his mind,” Rajindia said. “They were in combat.”

  Her father finally spoke. “Soz, are you sure this isn’t just wishful hopes on your part?”

  “I can’t be certain.” It was true, though she struggled to admit it. “But we’ll never know unless we try.” She forced out the truth she had denied for so long. “It isn’t as if he has any other chance.”

  Rajindia glanced at Eldrinson. “It is your decision.”

  He answered quietly. “Try.”

  22

  The Viewing Chamber

  The Bard particularly disliked hospitals at night. Death waited in the halls, at home in the dark hours. Nor had he ever liked the world Diesha, with its red hills, red mountains, and red air. Such a harsh place. Even after his visits during his last trip here, this ISC hospital felt strange and unwelcoming. He slouched on the sofa in the viewing room, half asleep, hungry but unable to eat. His legs ached.

  “Would you like some kava? I’m going for some.”

  He opened his eyes and fumbled on the sofa for his glasses. When he put them on, the blur standing in front of him resolved into Soz, dimly lit by a lamp across the room. Denric was sprawled in an armchair near the door, his head back and his eyes closed. They were the only family members who had accompanied him to Diesha. Del and Chaniece had stayed home to look after Dalvador and the younger children. He wished the doctors would let Roca travel, but they hadn’t, so he would deal with this all himself.

  He sat up straight, as tired as when he had first tried to go to sleep. “Yes, kava would be good. Thank you.”

  Denric yawned and opened his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” he told Soz. “Take a look around.” He stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. Despite the curl of hair that stuck up over his ear, he no longer looked like a boy. It bemused Eldrinson that yet another of his sons had turned into a man, this one a scholar who planned to attend the university on Parthonia if no more wars intervened.

  “Not much to see at the canteen,” Soz said.

  “This is my first trip offworld in years,” Denric said. “I want to see everything.”

  Soz squinted at him. “In the middle of the night?”

  “Maybe not now,” he allowed. “But at least the kava place. I’ve never been to a canteen.”

  “Well, hell,” Soz said. “Why not?”

  Eldrinson scowled at her. “Sauscony, watch your language.” He knew she was a soldier and probably said worse when he wasn’t around, but his instinctive parental reaction came out anyway.

  “Sorry, Hoshpa.” She didn’t glare the way she would have in her earlier teen years. She wasn’t a child anymore, either. His little girl had grown into a formidable woman.

  As Denric stood up, Eldrinson rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness. The viewing window across the room was dark and opaque. The doctors, Callie Irzon and Tine Loriez, were in there. They could have worked on Althor in a biomech lab, but they didn’t consider it necessary. They weren’t operating, only trying to communicate with his node. They had been cloistered with him for such a long time. Hours.

  Soz followed his gaze. “We didn’t hear anything while you were sleeping. We checked at the doctor’s station outside.”

  Denric came over to her. “It’s taking too long.”

  “He’s been in a coma for months,” Soz said. “Even if this helps, it won’t happen immediately.” She didn’t sound convinced by her own words.

  “Yes.” Eldrinson rubbed the muscles in his neck, which felt like cords. He wondered if they would ever relax again.

  “Want to come with us?” Denric asked him.

  He had seen plenty of canteens in his travels with Roca. He found them about as interesting as an inert log. “I should wait here, in case anyone comes with a report.”

  After the children left, Eldrinson stretched out his legs, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. His attempts to sleep had so far been futile, but he tried anyway.

  Eventually the door opened again. Footsteps entered, only Denric’s heavier tread. Eldrinson yawned. “Did Soz stay in the canteen?” He opened his eyes—and froze.

  “Shannon?” Eldrinson stood up with alacrity. “What the blazes are you doing here?” The doctors had been adamant; Shannon wasn’t to leave Lyshriol until they understood if travel would adversely affect his remarkable brain. Eldrinson spoke sternly. “Does Rajindia know?”

  Shannon’s face was hard to read in the dim light. Then he spoke in cultured Skolian Flag. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand you.”

  Saints almighty. Eldrinson had never heard that voice in his life. Nor did he sense Shannon’s mind. He was facing a stranger, a man in his twenties, perhaps, though it was hard to tell with Skolians, who could cheat the aging process. Now that he looked more closely, he realized this man had a stronger jaw than Shannon and more classic features, with blue eyes instead of gray. In fact, he looked like one of those infernal holovid actors women liked so much. His yellow hair hung straight and thick to his collar. He took better care of it than Shannon, who let his hair grow in a shaggy mane until someone coerced him into trimming it.

  Although Eldrinson was fluent in several Skolian languages, he rarely used any but Iotic. He answered in stumbling Flag. “My sorry. I think you are other person.”

  “You’re the second person I’ve met here who reacted that way to me.” The man lifted his hand, palm up in a traditional Skolia greeting. “My pleasure at your acquaintance, sir. I am Chad.”

  “You doctor Althor?” No, that wasn’t right. Eldrinson tried again. “You treat my son?”

  The man paled, going so white that Eldrinson saw the change despite the dim light. Chad responded in heavily accented Iotic. “You are Althor’s father?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  The young man bowed deeply. “My honor at your presence, Your Majesty.”

  Well, hell. Eldrinson was too tired for bowing and titles. He wanted to tell this Chad to stop, but his family kept insisting he learn to accept Skolian protocols.

  “Thank you,” Eldrinson said, which wasn’t really the right response, but would do. “Have you news about Althor?”

  “I’m not a doctor. I’m a—a friend of Althor’s.”

  Eldrinson didn’t recall hearing about a Chad. Then again, he knew so little about Althor’s life, almost nothing of the last two years. He inclined his head. “I am glad to meet you.”

  “You are?” Chad immediately looked as if he wished he could take back his words.

  “Shouldn’t I be?” Eldrinson asked.

  Chad pushed back his hair, moving with unusual grace, another reason Eldrinson thought he might be a performer. “I mean no offense, sir,” he said. “Sire?” He seemed bewildered.

  “Eldrinson.”

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Call me Eldrinson. Please.”

  “Yes, Sire. I mean, Eldrinson.”

  “It is kind of you to visit Althor.” His son and this fellow must have been good friends, for Chad to come even when the doctors gave no hope. “It is so late.”

  Chad seemed relieved to change the subject. “We had two shows tonight. We just got out.”

  “Are you an actor?”

 
“Yes, I am.” Chad’s face relaxed. “We’re doing Harvest of Light.”

  “Harvest of Light,” Eldrinson mused. “That is the story about the two brothers, yes? They find a teacher for their village. The older brother falls in love with her, and the younger one gets upset. Then a sandstorm destroys the village.”

  Chad’s expression lit up. “Yes! That’s right. I play the younger brother.”

  “It’s a good role.” It pleased Eldrinson that they had this in common. “Years ago, my wife danced the teacher in a ballet based on the story.” It was a gift to say those words without the pain that had weighed on him since his nightmares about her capture. She might never regain all her memories, and she had to relearn a great deal, but she was Roca again, the woman he loved.

  “You must have enjoyed the performance,” Chad said.

  “Yes, I did.”

  The conversation ground to a halt.

  “Well.” Eldrinson tried to think of more to say.

  Chad motioned toward the window. “Have you seen Althor?”

  “Not yet. They haven’t finished.” He hesitated. “Or maybe they are done, but they aren’t getting any results.”

  “Finished?” Chad went rigid. “What happened?”

  Eldrinson wanted to kick himself. Of course Chad didn’t know. With care, he explained what they were doing. “His doctors aren’t optimistic,” he concluded, fearing to express his own hope. “But they were willing to try.”

  Chad started toward the window, then stopped and turned back. “You mean he might wake up?”

  Eldrinson went over to him. “Son, don’t get your hopes up. Even if he does revive, he will probably have severe brain damage.”

  Chad twisted the sleeve of his sweater. He seemed in shock.

  “Are you all right?” Eldrinson asked.

  “I just—I can’t believe even a tiny chance exists that I—I might see him again. Talk to him. Touch him.”

  Eldrinson felt the same way, though he couldn’t say it aloud, especially to a stranger. In fact, Althor’s friends never talked this way. They tended to be laconic and military in bearing. They certainly never showed their emotions. Well, Chad was an actor. He was supposed to emote. Odd, though, that he and Althor were friends. How did they meet? And “touch him”? What did that mean?