It didn’t occur to him to wonder why he attached so much importance to how Cissy would feel if she learned Diltan had once tried to take Lindsey from her clan.
He drew near Maf’s chambers and fought to bring his scattered thoughts into focus. Right now he needed to deal with the other source of stress in his life: Emperor Zarl’s records. Diltan paused just outside Maf’s door and drew a deep breath. His colleague would know what to do. That would go a long way to relieving the brutal headache that pulsed behind Diltan’s eyes.
Bolstering his resolve, Diltan stepped into the offices of Councilman Maf. Maf’s assistant Dramok Sitrel, a man who managed to be handsome despite a long face and thin lips, stood up from behind the desk where he worked. He bowed. Diltan returned the courtesy.
In his usual quiet, cultured tone, Sitrel smiled at him. “Councilman Diltan, always a pleasure. What may I help you with this morning?”
Explain women to me and why I act the way I do around those strange and wonderful creatures was on the tip of Diltan’s tongue. Instead, he responded, “I don’t suppose Councilman Maf would have a moment to speak to me?”
Sitrel gave him a pleasantly concerned look. “He is always glad to see you, but at the moment he is meeting with one of his constituents.”
Diltan nodded. He knew he should have commed instead. “That’s all right. I’ll be glad to make an appointment when it is more convenient for him, if you don’t mind.”
Sitrel sat down and tapped at his computer. “He has time open this afternoon. Will that be soon enough?”
“That will be fine.”
More tapping. For some reason, it made Diltan’s headache worse.
At least Sitrel was a quiet man. Most of the time people were unaware of his presence in a room. “May I inquire as to the subject of discussion?” he asked Diltan.
“Emperor Zarl’s records. I’ve come upon a concern that would benefit from his objective opinion.”
Sitrel paused in his typing and gave Diltan a look that was sharper than usual. “Will you excuse me for just a moment, Councilman?”
“Of course.”
Sitrel stood, bowed, and announced himself at the closed door that led into Maf’s personal office. After a few moments, it opened for him and he went in.
Diltan watched all this with bemusement. So Maf wanted to know anything to do with the Imperial records, did he? Once he heard the revelations Diltan had come across, he’d no doubt feel vindicated. He was about to get the answers he’d demanded for so long. Now he could join in Diltan’s struggle as to what to do with them.
Less than a minute after going into Maf’s inner chambers, Sitrel came out again. At his side was a Kalquorian woman of singular beauty. Diltan recognized her right away: Matara Feyom.
The statuesque woman was the lifemate of another councilman, and a well-known face around the Government House. Too well known. The gossip surrounding her was thick and not complimentary. There were those who made remarks discussing how many of Feyom’s dozen children were the progeny of her clan. Even Diltan, who felt rumor mongering to be the activity of lower, petty minds, could not help overhearing such tales on occasion.
Had Feyom been leaving another councilman’s inner chambers, Diltan had to admit he might have thought the worst himself. He hated that his thoughts turned in that direction, making him no better than other judgmental men. For all Diltan knew, Feyom made it a habit to visit other councilmen to argue for her Dramok’s political agenda.
And even if she was the kind of person others alleged her to be, it was not Diltan’s place to condemn her. He’d done his share of unethical activities. Matara Lindsey’s face flashed in his mind, and Diltan felt that squirmy sense of shame in his gut once more. No, it was not his place to judge, not by far.
Besides, it was poor, twisted Maf Feyom had been visiting. The idea of such an amazing example of femaleness having a liaison with the deformed Dramok was laughable. Feyom shined dazzling bright.
She did not appeal to Diltan beyond her surface beauty. As he bowed in respect to the lifebringer, he reflected how hard her otherwise perfect face was. Though Feyom’s appearance was flawless, she missed something, something warm and lively. The Kalquorian woman would have benefitted from a touch of the fire that Cissy Salter possessed. Diltan thought his lover of the night before compared well against the woman who gazed at him with cold calculation.
Trying to put his mind back on the here and now, Diltan straightened from his bow. “Good day, Matara,” he said before glancing at Sitrel. “I do hope I am not the reason your visit is cut short?”
Feyom looked him over. Her gaze was a bit too evaluating for comfort, making Diltan feel perhaps her reputation was not without merit. Her return smile was appreciative, but thankfully bored.
With a husky tone, she replied. “Not at all, Councilman. My business with Maf concluded some minutes ago. We were simply chatting as old friends will.” She smiled at the Dramok aide standing as silently as he often did. “Sitrel.”
Sitrel bowed and she walked out. The aide said to Diltan, “Councilman Maf will see you now, Councilman.”
“Thank you.”
Diltan walked past Sitrel and entered Maf’s chambers. The senior councilman’s office was much like those of most councilmen. There was an informal seating area with a table that visitors could gather around. There was the more official desk for business talks, with a hover chair suspended behind it and four chairs ranging in front of it. The desk had two computers, a com unit, and a couple of awards from businesses and advocacy groups. More awards graced the walls, along with still vids of Maf in the company of various dignitaries. A bar and news vid, set on mute, completed the room’s attributes.
Only one detail varied from the norm. All of the seating, including that around the informal visiting area, was the kind that kept one off the ground. Floor seating cushions were noticeably absent. It was little wonder; Maf’s infirmities did not allow him to lounge comfortably on the floor.
The man himself came from the small round table where he’d apparently been visiting with Feyom. His gait lurched, his twisted legs carrying him without the easy grace of most Kalquorians. Diltan hardly noticed anymore, except to feel the familiar stab of sympathy he always did for Maf. Born the way he was, Maf barely seemed to notice it himself.
Maf made the awkward dip that counted as a bow for him. “Diltan, what brings you all the way down to my end of the corridor? Can I get you a drink?”
His bright, cheerful voice brought a responding smile from Diltan. He waved his host back towards the sitting area. “Nothing for me, please. I’m afraid this is more business than pleasure.”
Maf wobbled back to the chair that sat at just the right height for him to perch easily on. Diltan sat across from him, glad that the other councilman didn’t stand on much ceremony. Procedures were rigidly held to in council and committee meetings, but in the environment of his office Maf had always been affable with Diltan. Heated confrontations on the council floor had never found a place here.
“Tell me,” Maf invited as soon as they were both settled.
Diltan drew a deep breath and plunged in. “I have come across some delicate matters in the records of Zarl when he was the emperor. What I have found is disturbing, perhaps too much so for it to be made public.”
Maf crooked a brow at him. “You know the rule of transparency, my friend. We hide nothing from the people of the Empire.”
“Not even when it might mean a break within the Empire?”
Maf blinked. “Is the matter that sensitive? It must be for you to question our openness with the people of Kalquor. I’ve never known you to be secretive when it comes to public policy.”
Diltan felt a rush of relief that Maf saw to the heart of his dilemma. “It is to the greater good that we keep no secrets, save those of the military, from our people. This is something you and I have always agreed on as members of the Ethics Committee. When possible, everything must be laid bare.”
“Which is why I try to live by the creed of honor and Empire.” Diltan winced, thinking of Cissy being upset that morning and his shame getting in the way of doing well by her. He’d missed honor in a big way that time. “I do not claim to always get it right, but I try.”
Maf chuckled. “As do we all. But Diltan, let’s cut to the chase of why you feel differently about whatever has brought you to me today.”
“I’m torn, Maf.” Unable to sit still, Diltan got out of his chair and pace back and forth. “There is no room for secrecy in our Empire. Yet the truth could destroy it. Which way does one lean when the two are opposed? Do I toss aside honor to safeguard the Empire? Or do I stick to honor, knowing I may be sacrificing our people? “
Maf’s forehead wrinkled as he considered him. “Are you sure it would be a sacrifice? Diltan, change is difficult in any case. Sometimes it is forced upon us, as the acceptance of Earther Mataras has been forced upon all of Kalquor in order to continue our culture.”
“Most of us don’t feel as if the women have been forced onto us.” He thought of Cissy, and his chest warmed.
“There are those of us who struggle with this issue, more than you might imagine. It has wrought fundamental change on everything we have held dear for centuries. Will we be stronger for it or will we crumble in the end? That has yet to be answered. Meanwhile, terrible things have happened in the fight to find our way through it.”
“Like the end of Earth. The Beast of New Bethlehem.” Diltan’s warm feelings crumbled as horror filled his being.
Maf nodded. “Greater yet is the end of our own species, to be replaced by those we defeated. Still, the Empire has not fallen apart yet. Adapting to such immense circumstances may be the end of life the way we know it, but it is not the end of life in the universe. Civilizations come and go, and yet the cosmos continues.”
Diltan could see that Maf had devoted a great deal of time to the question. Perhaps his views were opposite of most Kalquorians, but Maf had not reached his conclusions haphazardly. It made him feel he had done right to come to the senior councilman.
He dove in. “I find it interesting that you would bring up the Earther Mataras.”
“You do? Tell me.”
“That’s the matter in Zarl’s records. Maf, I have irrefutable proof that Zarl not only knew the abductions were going to happen, but he sanctioned them as well. I have the order that sent our people out to kidnap the Earther women and bring them against their will here to Kalquor.”
Maf’s mouth dropped open. His eyes widened, and a hectic light bloomed within them. “Did you bring the file?”
Diltan took a file drive, no bigger than his thumb, out of the pouch he wore on his belt. “I brought a copy.”
He handed it over, putting it in the clawed hand held out to him. It shook, as if Maf had been seized by a great tremor.
As the file passed from Diltan’s fingers, it felt as if a terrible burden passed with it. Perhaps it was cowardly of him, but he was more than happy to share it with someone like Maf ... someone who could decide best if secrets should remain hidden or brought out into the light of day.
Maf stood and limped to his desk as quick as his twisted limbs would take him. He wasted no time in plugging the file into one of his computers and looking over the damning document.
Diltan sighed in relief, relaxing in the chair. His mind approached a semblance of serenity. He waited as the other councilman perused the contents of the record that had been Kalquor’s supposed salvation ... and could lead to its collapse.
* * * *
Cissy sat in her sister’s greeting room at the low table, alternating between chewing on her lower lip and sipping coffee. Tasha sat across from her. Cissy kept her gaze down. She couldn’t bear to meet her sister’s eyes.
Despite her resolve, it had taken Cissy two hours to summon the courage to knock on her twin’s door after sending Clan Diltan on their way. Tasha was a late sleeper anyway. Putting off the coming confession had been all too easy. However, Cissy finally made herself go to Tasha, determined to clear her conscience and somehow make things right.
She heard the amusement in her sister’s voice. “Okay, what did you do this time?”
Cissy’s shoulders slumped. “Something tacky and stupid. And totally wrong.”
“This should be interesting.”
Tasha almost sounded as if she was laughing. A flare of temper blazed for an instant in Cissy’s gut, and she quickly quashed it. She was in the wrong, not Tasha.
Cissy made herself look up into the face so much like her own. She struggled, but she managed to meet her sister’s gaze. “Tasha, I owe you a huge apology. I know you said you weren’t into Clan Diltan, but there’s no excuse for what I did. I got drunk, but that doesn’t justify my actions either. I would never hurt you in a million years.”
To her surprise, Tasha looked delighted. “Oh, so you finally decided to give them a chance? It took you long enough.”
Cissy’s mouth fell open. “Wait. What?”
Tasha erupted into giggles, rocking back and forth on her seating cushion with glee. “For heaven’s sake, Cissy. I wanted you to get with them. That’s the only reason I went on the second date! So you could see them and maybe realize how you infatuated you were.”
“You – me, infatuated – what?”
Tasha nearly fell over with laughter. “Oh my gosh, the way you ranted about how much you didn’t like Dramok Diltan. It was a dead giveaway. I knew you had a crush on him.”
Shock and anger fought for the upper hand. Cissy fell squarely between them, unable to choose which one felt right. “Hey, now hold on! You played me? Your own sister? And no way I had a crush on Dramok Stuffy Pants. That guy is a jerk!”
No, not so much a jerk. However, Cissy was determined to let Tasha have a piece of her mind, even if that piece wasn’t entirely truthful.
“A jerk you like. When you weren’t snarling at him, you had those big moon eyes all over him and his clan.” Moving into brat mode, Tasha sang, “Cissy and Diltan, sitting in a tree—”
Cissy picked up a smaller pillow lying next to her on the floor and pitched it at her twin. “You are such an ass.”
Unperturbed, Tasha dodged the pillow and finished her ditty. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Man, I thought last night would never end. I spent our whole date telling stories about you to get them interested. I hoped those three would get the hint to move on to you.”
Cissy at last came down on the side of anger. She yelled, “I can’t believe you would do such a thing! Here I was, feeling awful I’d slept with them, only to find out you sicced them on me!”
Tasha gave her wide eyes. “You already gave them sex before a trial date? No kidding. Damn, you do have it bad for them. So when is the clanning ceremony?”
Cissy folded her arms over her chest. The nerve of her sister! “The clanning ceremony is scheduled for never. We had a fight this morning, and I made them leave. That’s what your matchmaking results in, you meddler.”
Tasha groaned. “Of course you had to pick a fight. After I wasted an entire night making sure they knew how great you are under all that ... that Cecilia-ness. You are too much.”
“Not half as much as you,” Cissy spat back. “Who asked you to play Cupid anyway?”
“Well, I won’t do it again,” Tasha snapped. “Go back to dating those silly young boys who will never make you a decent clan.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
With that, they sat silently, sipping their coffee and refusing to look at each other. Cissy thought about stomping back to her apartment. She decided it would irritate Tasha more if she just sat there.
She knew the whole thing would blow over in a matter of minutes. The twins could never stay mad at each other for any length of time. Pretty soon Tasha would remark on the weather or sugges
t they go down to the spa. Or Cissy might mention something about the art show she heard would be coming to a local gallery, one she knew Tasha would love to see. They’d act like their little disagreement never happened.
For now, however, Cissy was content to pout. After all, Tasha had connived to put her in that jerk Diltan’s arms – that sexy, gorgeous, melt-in-his-arms-when-he-kissed-her Diltan. Right where Cissy had wanted to be all along but couldn’t bear to admit to it.
Chapter 11
After going through a weapons scan and search, Diltan walked the gauntlet of Royal Guards on the palatial uppermost level of the Government House. He was on the Imperial Level now, heading for Emperor Clajak’s chambers. The grandness of the hall with its vaulted ceiling made little impression on the councilman.
Over an hour ago, Diltan had thought he had unloaded a great weight. Now his shaking knees tried to buckle under added pressure. His headache had gotten so bad that he felt nauseous.
He had little hope of it lessening any time soon. Of perhaps adding to it. He felt crushed under responsibility to the Empire. It was due to his well-meaning but colossal mistake.
Diltan had to face up to that error by speaking to Kalquor’s highest leaders. All the members of the Imperial Clan were busy people. Clajak was known to be hands-on when it came to his duties; he demanded to know everything going on in the Empire. A man once considered to be an irresponsible playboy, the Dramok Emperor had silenced his adversaries on that count.
Yet Diltan had to see the man immediately. If Clajak would not grant a spontaneous audience, Diltan would beg Empress Jessica for her time. The matter could not wait.
He reached Clajak’s reception area. He noted how crowded it was with others who had appointments and who hoped to be squeezed into the emperor’s busy schedule. There were no places to sit in the room save for at the desk of the receptionist. The lack of seating was a smart move, meant to discourage too many people from hanging about and begging for Clajak’s precious time. It didn’t deter everyone however, as was evidenced by how near to capacity the room was filled.
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