The Moon's Shadow (Saga of the Skolian Empire)

by Catherine Asaro

  That Jai understood; his mother had been a Jagernaut, a Skolian military officer in the elite corps of psions whose ability to link their minds to their ships gave them an immense advantage in battle. They also lived with the danger of what had befallen this man, that they might be captured and sold as providers. The thought made him ill.

  Jai strove to hide his disquiet. “Did ESComm question the Jagernaut before he escaped?”

  Corbal shrugged. “The fellow had been missing for nearly two decades. His knowledge and internal systems were too far out of date to provide useful data.” His amusement faded. “Still, it was sloppy of Admiral Taratus not to question him more thoroughly.”

  “Why didn’t he?” Although Jai was glad the Jagernaut had benefited from Taratus’s negligence, it surprised him the admiral had overlooked such a detail.

  “Taratus claims it wasn’t worth the trouble. He wanted the man in good shape for the auction.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “It isn’t unreasonable.”

  “But do you believe him?”

  Irritation flashed on Corbal’s face. “I think our dear admiral wanted to unload the man fast, before his appallingly bad health became obvious.”

  “It sounds like a mess.” Jai could hardly admit he supported the Skolian escaping. “But I don’t see why the courts can’t take care of it.”

  “Well, you see, we have a bit more of a problem.”

  Jai regarded him uneasily. “More?”

  Corbal leaned forward. “To escape, this dying provider just walked to a launch bay of Minister Iquar’s space habitat and stole a shuttle.”

  “Wasn’t anyone watching him?”

  “They were watching the news-holo of your speech when you became emperor.” Corbal smirked. “Minister Iquar says this provider of hers was also watching the speech. The next time she checked, he was gone.”

  It still made no sense to Jai. “Her habitat must have security systems that could have stopped him.”

  “Indeed it does. State-of-the-art, designed by ESComm.”

  “The military? I thought her habitat was civilian.”

  “It is.”

  “But then why—”

  “Apparently,” Corbal said, “your military and finance advisers have, shall we say, ties that are a bit too close.”

  Jai had no clue how to unravel the conflicting intrigues here. He stuck to the obvious. “How did the provider escape?”

  “It seems that he somehow shoved his mind into the computer networks and shredded the security throughout the habitat.”

  Jai had learned enough about ESComm to know what Corbal described couldn’t happen. “That’s impossible.”

  “Indeed.” Corbal couldn’t contain his glee any longer. “Astonishing, isn’t it? This man pulverized Minister Iquar’s system and pfifft—he was gone. It is one of the worst security breaches in history. And one provider managed it, without a single weapon.”

  “It’s incredible.” Jai could see why this had reached the highest levels of the government and military. Unfortunately, he had no clue what to do. “Is ESComm working on it?”

  “Yes. Also the Ministry of Intelligence.”

  Jai squinted at him. The Intelligence Minister, Azile Xir, was Corbal’s son. The chronicles of Azile’s rise to power showed an impeccable record. Too perfect, in fact. Jai had found traces of less-than-impeccable deletions in the files. Having one’s father next in line for the throne had its advantages.

  What to do? Jai felt as if I’m lost! was emblazoned on his forehead. Trying to project confidence, he leaned one elbow on the arm of his chair, copying his posture from portraits he had seen of his great-grandfather. The pose felt more natural than he wanted to admit.

  “What Minister Iquar and Admiral Taratus need is a judge and court,” he said. “Not me.”

  Corbal studied Jai as if sizing him up. “Your Finance Minister is set against one of your top admirals in a matter that involves a severe breach of security, and a phenomenally expensive provider with too much military knowledge is gone. This isn’t the time to distance yourself, particularly not from Tarquine Iquar. She has too damn much power, and she isn’t likely to ally herself with us.”

  Interesting. Apparently Corbal didn’t much like the Finance Minister. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “She covets the influence of the Xir Line.”

  Hah! So Corbal didn’t like the competition. That could be useful. “What do you suggest I do?”

  A gleam came into Corbal’s eyes. “I think it is time Minister Iquar and Admiral Taratus paid their respects to our new emperor.”

  The four of them met in the ivory and gold sitting room of the palace: Jai, Corbal, Minister Iquar, and Admiral Taratus. They sat in wing chairs around an octagonal table, and Jai’s bodyguards took up posts around the walls.

  Jai was surprised to find that even with three Aristos at close range, he could bear their minds enough to control his anxiety, at least for a short time. Actually, they were two Aristo minds; he had given up trying to detect Corbal. Iquar and Taratus affected him as a single force he couldn’t separate.

  He listened as Corbal went through the formalities required before the minister and admiral could address their emperor. Jai wondered how Hightons ever got anything done when they spent so much time giving honorifics. As he waited, he thought back to the files on Iquar and Taratus. Both were wealthy and powerful even by Highton standards, and well on in years, Taratus in his eighties and Iquar over a century. The sheer length of their lives intimidated him. How could he, at seventeen, hope to deal with these people?

  He distrusted Taratus immediately. The admiral looked the perfect aristocrat, but he had the mind of a master thief. His hair was pure glittering black, unbroken by a single strand of gray. He had a narrow face and hooked nose, and his eyes were a darker red than Jai’s. He seemed to assess everything around him, missing no details.

  Tarquine Iquar was another matter. Jai couldn’t stop looking at her. To say she was a striking woman was akin to saying the Eubian empire was sort of impressive. Her high cheekbones and aquiline nose gave her an austere beauty that had matured into honed elegance. Her snow-marble skin had no flaw. Long and lean, she was almost his height. She was mesmerizing, and she intimidated the hell out of him.

  Technically, he and Tarquine were kin; she was the aunt of his grandmother, the late empress dowager, which made Tarquine his great-great-aunt. But the empress hadn’t really been the mother of Jai’s father, so Jai had no blood relation to Tarquine, though only he knew. The red of her eyes matched his, suggesting they did have mutual ancestors; it wasn’t a common shade, except in the Qox Line.

  Tarquine had the usual Aristo hair, with one difference: white threaded the glossy mane that brushed her shoulders. It added to her aura of authority. She distracted Jai, disrupting his concentration.

  Corbal turned to him. “Minister Iquar and Admiral Taratus request the honor of your acknowledgment.”

  Jai wondered what they would do if he said “no” after that interminable introduction. “It is given.”

  Tarquine spoke. “You honor the Line of Iquar, Your Esteemed Highness.”

  Jai inclined his head as his protocol people had taught him. He wished everyone wouldn’t address him with so many titles. He also hoped Tarquine couldn’t tell how much she flustered him.

  Taratus spoke. “You honor the Line of Taratus, Your Esteemed Highness.”

  Jai nodded again. He couldn’t imagine having to go through this every time he met a Highton for the first time. The seclusion Corbal wanted to impose on him looked more inviting all the time.

  Finally they got down to business. Jai wanted to ask about the situation, but of course he couldn’t be direct. Unfortunately, he had about as much proficiency in the intricacies of Highton speech as a brick. He made a stab at it anyway. “I’ve noticed a remarkable amount of credit flowing lately.”

  Taratus nodded as if accepting a compliment. “More to the
glory of trade.”

  “Indeed.” Tarquine spoke dryly, her voice deep and husky. “One would certainly prefer such a glorious trade to, say, fraud.”

  The admiral sat in a relaxed posture, surveying her as if he were a sage and she a callow youth. Given that she was twenty years his senior, it had less effect than it would have had on someone less imposing.

  “Perhaps ‘glory’ is an inadequate word,” Taratus said. “ ‘Astonishing.’ There is a word for you. It describes many things, even, say, escapes by a supposedly dying man.”

  She looked unimpressed. “Many words come to mind, Admiral. Like ‘swindle.’ ”

  “ ‘Security.’ ” Taratus smirked. “Or a lack thereof.”

  Jai couldn’t see what they hoped to accomplish with this dissembling. But if he came straight to the point, it would diminish him in their view. So he tried an oblique angle. “You must be a much-beloved patron of the arts, Minister Iquar.”

  Tarquine tilted her head, a sultry curiosity leaking from her mind. “I’ve always appreciated aesthetic compositions, Your Highness.”

  A blush heated Jai’s face. She was looking at him as if he were the aesthetic composition. He stumbled over his words. “Fourteen million worth of art.”

  Her smile soured. “Fourteen million of dying art.”

  “An unusual acquisition,” Jai managed.

  “Perhaps that is the current fad right now,” Taratus said, too smoothly, like acid eroding a surface. “Death. Change. Escape.”

  She gave him a bored look. “Have you ever noticed, my dear admiral, how often auctioneers are themselves something of a fad? Popular one day, vanished the next.”

  Jai winced. What did she imply, that someone would assassinate Taratus? He wished Corbal would jump in and give him some guidance. His cousin, however, was sitting back, listening with interest.

  The admiral regarded Tarquine blandly. “I do realize the vigor and energy of youth can be wearing on our more elderly citizens.”

  “Youth is often a euphemism for inexperience,” Tarquine murmured. She glanced at Jai.

  Good grief. Had she just insinuated he was immature? This meeting was going nowhere; so far all they had done was insult one another.

  Like an optical illusion, Jai’s perception shifted. The conversation had no point; how they spoke was what mattered. This was his chance to take the measure of the minister and admiral, and for them to assess him. He wondered if it even mattered whether or not their discussion made sense.

  “Words are like the poles on a planet,” he said. “North and South. Immature and mature. Vigor and serenity.” Let them figure out his meaning. He didn’t know himself, but what the hell.

  “Indeed,” Tarquine said.

  Taratus scratched his chin. “So they are.”

  “Transcendence and compassion,” Jai said.

  As soon as Corbal stiffened, Jai knew he had made a mistake. He wasn’t sure what, though.

  “An Aristo,” Taratus said, “can show no greater compassion than to elevate a provider through transcendence.”

  Bile rose in Jai’s throat. He wondered how Taratus would like it if someone “elevated” him that way.

  Although Corbal spoke casually, his laser-like focus never left Jai. “An interesting juxtaposition of words. It inspires provocative pairings.” He paused. “Eube and Imperialate. Qox and Ruby.”

  Jai froze. Was it coincidence Corbal paired Qox and Ruby? He answered with a nonchalance he hoped hid his alarm. “I hadn’t realized you had such a liking for opposition.”

  “Qox and Ruby?” Minister Iquar snorted. “Hardly the most innovative opposition.”

  Jai tried to relax. She had taken Corbal’s comparison at face value. Qox and Ruby: they were the ultimate opposed pair, but she was right, that made them a cliché. He wanted to believe Corbal had simply tired of the verbal parrying, but he couldn’t stop worrying. Did his cousin suspect the truth, that Jai was both Qox and Ruby? Perhaps he ought to send Taratus and Iquar away before Corbal said too much.

  Shifting his weight, Jai tried to communicate dismissal. To his surprise, it worked; Corbal began the process of letting the minister and admiral leave. On the surface, the Xir lord seemed no different, smooth in action and word.

  Jai just hoped he hadn’t revealed himself.

  Standing in his office, Corbal poured red wine into two goblets and gave one to Jai. “To your health.”

  Jai didn’t drink. “To my health.”

  Corbal sipped his wine. “And to your father’s honored memory.”

  “Of course.”

  “And your mother’s, may she rest in peace.”

  Sweat broke out on Jai’s forehead. Stay calm. He shouldn’t have let Corbal send away the Razers. They were supposed to guard both Jai and Corbal, but Jai wondered who would protect him from Corbal. Could his cousin shield this room even against the emperor’s security? Corbal had a formidable security network, including his son, Azile Xir, the Intelligence Minister.

  Corbal lifted his glass to the light. “Lovely, isn’t it? Like liquid rubies.”

  Panic constricted Jai’s chest. The word “ruby” could be coincidence. Let it be coincidence.

  “Or blood.” Corbal took another sip. “Rubies and blood.”

  Jai relaxed his barriers enough to probe the surface of Corbal’s mind, but if his cousin knew the truth, he hid it well. Jai wished he could find out how much Corbal had guessed about his parentage. He feared to push too hard, lest he make Corbal suspicious. He also hesitated to lower his defenses any further. Hightons could sense the link they made with a provider. He didn’t know if Corbal had that ability, given his differences from other Aristos, but if he did, Jai might reveal himself in the process of trying to discover what Corbal knew.

  Jai spoke casually, though inside he was as tight as a coil. “Rubies and blood? That sounds unpleasant.”

  “Rubies. Transcendence. Compassion.” Corbal took another swallow of wine. “Or should I say an abnormality of compassion. And one of parentage. Distasteful topics, don’t you think? Unpleasant enough that I should hope not to speak of them again.”

  Jai hesitated. He was only just learning to interpret Highton speech, so he couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Corbal was offering a bargain; he would remain silent about Jai’s questionable parentage if Jai would remain silent about Corbal’s lack of transcendence.

  Jai spoke with care. “Yes. I agree.”

  “Good.” Corbal tapped his finger against the rim of his goblet. The hue of its wine matched the clear, crystalline red of his eyes. “Think of it as insurance.”

  “Against what?”

  “Perdition, perhaps.” Corbal softly added, “Shall we spend eternity in a hell of our ancestors’ making? At the least, we should make our own hells.”

  Jai shivered. “I prefer none at all.”

  “So would we all,” Coral murmured.

  Jai feared his had only begun.

  7

  Fugitive

  Jai recognized the man in the holo.

  He viewed the recording by himself, or as alone as he could be given that Security monitored him all the time. He thought he and Corbal had come to an agreement to guard each other’s secrets, but their verbal skirmish made him uneasy. He decided to keep his Razers in the room from now on. They stood by the walls and Jai sat in a wing chair, far enough from them to ease the pressure of their minds. He had the holostage replay the report about the provider who had caused such an uproar.

  Jai knew the man.

  At first it surprised him that no one had identified the provider. But then Jai realized he had seen images of this man available to no other Eubian. Jai’s mother had kept those holos in a family album, one of the few personal items she had taken into exile. The man was her brother, Kelric Valdoria. Jai’s youngest brother had been named for him: Del-Kelric, which meant, “in honor of Kelric”—because Kelric had died over eighteen years ago.

  Jai rubbed his eyes. This situation gr
ew ever more bizarre. He couldn’t be certain this was his uncle Kelric. The provider certainly looked older than the man in his mother’s album. Kelric had also had gold skin, hair, and eyes, whereas this man had brown hair and eyes, and tan skin. Gold highlights showed in his hair, though, and his irises had a metallic glint. Could it be his uncle, or was that only wishful thinking on his part?

  Another puzzle tugged at Jai; he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had met this man recently. When Jai had been a Dawn Corps volunteer on the planet Edgewhirl, a man had come into his office, a refugee searching for his family. Jai could have sworn this was the same person.

  Jai touched a panel on the arm of the chair. “Attend.”

  “Tomjolt here,” a voice answered.

  Jai jerked, then schooled his face to impassivity; he couldn’t afford behavior that might make people notice him. He could get away with some “eccentricity” because everyone knew he had grown up in isolation, but he kept as low a profile as possible.

  It had shaken Jai deeply to discover that the emperor’s personal EI, or Evolving Intelligence, answered to “Tomjolt.” His father had named it. Jai suspected he was the only one who understood its significance. Tomjolts were animals on the world Prism, where Jai’s family had lived in exile. The symbolism gave Jai a grim satisfaction; a tomjolt was the top predator in the food chain there. His father must have christened this EI in defiance, after he had been ripped away from his family and forced to become a puppet emperor.

  “May I help you?” Tomjolt asked.

  Jai shook himself out of his reverie. “Yes. What is the latest news on the provider who escaped from Minister Iquar?”

  “ESComm is increasing the search volume in the region where he is believed likely to cross into Skolian space.”

  Jai frowned. Nothing about this had been in the report sent to him a few hours ago by Azile Xir, the Intelligence Minister. “And what region might that be?”

  Tomjolt described the Skolian border territory that had been closest to Minister Iquar’s habitat at the time Kelric escaped. It seemed unlikely he could evade capture; the searchers would detect his ship as soon as it dropped into normal space. Had the fugitive been anyone else, Jai would have assumed, like ESComm, that he would run for home. But Kelric was a Jagernaut; he probably knew how ESComm would search. Even if he had the foresight not to head for the border, though, he had very few choices, given how little fuel his stolen ship carried.