Jai froze. What decision? And since when had he become a “Sagacious Majesty”? Corbal had gone over in detail what was expected from him at the hearings. These opening arguments were only the start. Rebuttals and examinations could go on for months, even years. None of it had included Calope Muze asking his sagacious self for a decision.
Jai glanced at Azile Xir. The Intelligence Minister nodded with respect—and gratitude.
Gratitude.
Ah, hell. Jai made himself drop his barriers, so he could verify what he feared, reading the truth from Azile. Comprehension hit him even worse than the impact of the Aristo minds. He hadn’t just blundered when he spoke with Azile about Sunrise, saying he would see to the matter himself.
He had promised that he, Jaibriol III, would render the verdict in these hearings.
I’m dead, Jai thought.
14
Verdict
Panic surged in Jai and his mind reeled. They were all waiting for him to speak. What did he do now? With the perfect vision of hindsight, he realized Azile had been waiting for exactly the opening Jai had given him. The minister had deliberately chosen to interpret Jai’s comment in a broader context than Jai had intended, and Jai had been too naive to stop it from happening.
He tried to intensify his barriers, but he couldn’t do it right with so many emotions pouring in on him and so much pressure from the Hightons. He had to get out of here, talk to someone, find out how to respond. But he had no one to confide in. No one. If he showed any weakness, the Aristos would devour him like Earth’s legendary piranhas.
The silence stretched out like a band pulled too tight. He felt everyone’s disquiet, all wondering why their untried and perhaps unstable emperor didn’t respond.
Jai took a shaky breath. Then he rose, followed by the others at his table. He had trouble sorting out the emotions bombarding him, but Calope’s came through strongly; if he left the chamber now, it would be tantamount to dismissing the case. The result would be unmitigated disaster: Taratus would go free, the bureaus would escape paying, ESComm would be left hanging, and Tarquine Iquar would recoup none of her losses.
After the emperor, the three most powerful civilians in Eube were the Ministers of Finance, Trade, and Intelligence. With her influence, Tarquine could cause a major economic crisis if she chose to do so. Jai had no doubt she was fully capable of doing it. If he walked away from this, he would set appalling precedents in the criminal, military, and economic sectors, and possibly precipitate an interstellar catastrophe.
Jai fought down his panic. He had to say something. Although he had an idea what to do in some of the cases, he was lost for how to phrase his decisions. He had nothing resembling the fluency in Highton he needed, but if he answered plainly, it would be an insult so deep, gods only knew what would happen. Maybe someone would assassinate him and put him out of his misery.
Until now, his lack of experience had been a shield. No one had taken him seriously enough to consider him a danger. But no matter what he did now, he would make potent enemies. And whatever he decided would directly impact Corbal. Sunrise’s situation had too many similarities to what had happened with Kelric. No wonder Azile had been so grateful; Jai had practically promised to render a verdict that benefited Corbal. If he didn’t follow through with what Azile expected, he would alienate the Intelligence Ministry.
At the table below, Taratus shifted his weight. Jai felt everyone’s concern growing as their emperor’s silence continued. They had to realize his quandary. Most of them knew he didn’t speak Highton well. His strange behavior heightened their concern. Conformity meant everything to Aristos; they feared he would cause a crisis, become unhinged, even destabilize the government with his erratic behavior.
Desperate, Jai turned to his aide, Robert Muzeson, who stood at the end of the table. Beyond him, Jai could see the waiting Hightons.
Jai spoke carefully. “It is well known that as the emperor’s heir, I was in seclusion for most of my life.”
Robert stared at him with undisguised shock. That Jai addressed him now, instead of the Hightons, was so anomalous, it verged on deadly. He looked petrified.
Anger came from the Aristos—and curiosity. Jai had startled them. Still talking to Robert, Jai said, “As such, I have less facility with the perfected discourse of the Highton language than needed for a proceeding this sensitive.”
Robert’s rigid posture suddenly eased, as he understood. He met Jai’s gaze squarely so it would be obvious the emperor was speaking to him, a taskmaker. Jai could then use plain language without—he hoped—giving insult.
Here goes, Jai thought. “I will leave my most esteemed High Judge to implement my decisions.” Given the bare bones of his decisions, she would know far better than he how to implement them. Jai had no time to weigh consequences; the best he could do was start with the easiest case, giving him space to think. “In the matter of security, Eubian Space Command shall not be required to release any confidential documents to any bureau that doesn’t have a direct need to know. I also charge ESComm with determining what caused the security lapse on Minister Iquar’s habitat and ensuring that no such lapse occurs again.”
That created no stir, except for relief from the ESComm officers. No one expected that the military would give out classified information. Had Jai commanded them to, he would have no doubt found himself mired in bureaucratic resistance. As for the investigation, they were already doing one.
Jai continued. “In the case brought by Minister Iquar against Admiral Taratus, I rule thus: Admiral Taratus will repay Minister Iquar her purchase price of the provider minus whatever the insurance bureaus estimate as his true value.”
Triumph came from Tarquine, anger from Taratus, and cautious approval from Calope Muze. Jai didn’t think he had made any drastic mistakes so far, but the punitive damages Tarquine wanted would be more difficult. Although high, the amount wasn’t unreasonable given the magnitude of Taratus’s fraud. Reasonable, yes—until it became known that the “overpriced” provider was a Ruby prince, the Imperator, for saints’ sake. Jai hated that Hightons so cavalierly put a price on human beings, but regardless of what he thought, the military ruler of Skolia would be well worth fourteen million to them.
Jai knew he was about to make an enemy of someone he really, really didn’t want to antagonize. But if he didn’t do this, the eventual consequences could be even worse. Steeling himself, he said, “I award no punitive damages to Minister Iquar.”
An explosion of breath came from someone. Surprise washed over Jai from the assembled Hightons, and Judge Muze frowned. Wicked glee flashed in Taratus’s eyes. Tarquine met Jai’s gaze with a hard stare, like ice, unforgiving and promising vengeance.
Damn.
Jai didn’t try to explain, afraid to tangle himself into more trouble. If Kelric’s identity became known, Minister Iquar’s case against Taratus would disintegrate. Although it would infuriate Taratus that he had been forced to repay her the fourteen million, that ruling would probably hold, given the way he had cheated her. But if Jai awarded her additional damages, it would be too much when the admiral discovered the truth about the “worthless” provider. The situation could explode.
Jai forced himself to go on, speaking to Robert, though he could see everyone in the chamber. “In regards to the insurance claims: since Minister Iquar will receive repayment from Admiral Taratus, the bureaus are responsible only for the value of the provider determined by a reevaluation based on the records of his health made available to this court.”
Someone gasped, an aide maybe, Jai wasn’t certain. If Tarquine could have killed with her laser-like stare, Jai knew he would be dead. Sweat broke out on his brow. She, more than the others, was the one he feared. And she might as well have come out and said, You’re ashes now.
Not unexpectedly, the insurance people looked pleased, self-satisfied even. Taratus was smug, more from knowing that Tarquine, his foe, had been outmaneuvered than because he cared what the burea
us paid her.
Jai’s anger smoldered. They were too full of themselves. He spoke quietly. “I make two stipulations. The first: the insurance carrier will recalculate the fee it charged to cover the provider, setting a new fee based on the updated appraisal of his worth. They will reimburse Minister Iquar for the difference between that fee and the higher one she has already paid.” He paused. “In addition, I may, at any time, order an independent evaluation of the provider. If it proves him worth more than the lower value set by the bureaus, they will pay Minister Iquar double the difference between their assessment and the independent appraisal.”
That elicited little reaction. The fee the bureaus would have to repay Tarquine, although large, was nothing compared to the fourteen million they would have had to pay if Jai had ruled in her favor. And no one could evaluate a missing provider. Even if they found him, it was unlikely any reevaluation would place the worth of a dying man higher than that determined from his health records.
Just wait, Jai thought. Just wait.
Tarquine’s hostility was palpable. Jai wished he could brush the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. To Robert, he said, “In the matter of Admiral Azar Taratus—” Then he stopped, flooded with animosity from the admiral. It didn’t show on Taratus’s face; he hid his emotions behind an icy Highton veneer. Just once Jai wished he could tell them, You can’t fool me. I know the deceptions in your minds.
Jai took a breath. “I find Admiral Azar Taratus guilty of fraud and the misuse of ESComm resources. His sentence will be—” He pulled straight from Taratus’s mind the sentence that the admiral had feared to receive. “A fine of one million credits and a suspension from ESComm for a period of time determined by Judge Muze.”
A harsh chiming filled the chamber. Struggling to handle the avalanche of emotions in the courtroom, Jai was too distracted at first to register the source of the sound. Then he remembered: Aristos made their opinions known, not with words, but with finger cymbals they wore on their thumb and index finger during formal assemblies. He wasn’t sure what they were expressing now, but it wasn’t happy. Taratus had clenched his fist at his side.
Jai felt as if a mountain were collapsing on him. Judge Muze had a strange expression, as if she saw it thundering down but didn’t know how to stop it. Her thoughts came to him: although she respected many of his decisions, she also believed he had just undermined his reign, probably beyond repair. He had no idea how many unwritten rules of custom and favor he had broken.Worse, he had made an enemy of his Finance Minister, who wielded far more influence than he, regardless of his title. Tarquine had spent decades building her power base, and now she would turn it against him.
Jai felt sick. Corbal, I need you. But he had no ally. He had to keep going, sinking into the hole he had dug for himself while the world buried him. He looked out over the courtroom, and Tarquine met his gaze with undisguised enmity. He stared back, taking in her terrifying and glorious fury. Again he saw the white at her temples. White hair, advanced age, and Qox heredity: after Corbal and Calope, Tarquine was the only other Aristo he knew with those three traits.
She terrified him.
She mesmerized him.
Jai turned back to Robert. “I have one more verdict.”
Everyone froze. He had ruled on all the cases; what further damage could he do now?
Even Jai didn’t know what he intended until the words came out of his mouth: “Tarquine Iquar shall become my consort—the empress of Eube.”
PART TWO
Umbra
15
Betrothal
The cacophony of finger cymbals in the courtroom hurt Jai’s ears. Only Tarquine hadn’t moved. She stared at him, finally losing her cool, her icy expression turning into incredulity.
Calope Muze grabbed her mallet and banged the gong. “Enough!”
The cymbals silenced, but shock from the Aristos filled the room like smoke, so thick that Jai found it astounding none of the others felt it. He was suffocating. Maybe it would asphyxiate him right here, saving him from his lunacy, for surely he must have gone insane.
And yet—even if he could have retracted his words, he would have let them stand. If he was wrong about Tarquine, he had just condemned himself to one hell of a marriage, but he had expected that anyway. If he was right, he had chosen one of the only High-ton women whose presence he could endure without pain. And she brought with her an incredible power base. Not that marrying him meant she would turn that formidable political machine to his advantage, but at least it might motivate her not to pulverize him.
The sunset flamed, visible through a window in Jai’s office. Silhouetted against the fire, Azile stood facing him. The last person Jai wanted to talk to now was Azile, whom he barely knew, besides which, his head already throbbed from too many Hightons. But Azile refused to be put off.
“Eube has venerable, well-established traditions,” Azile said. “Traditions don’t form without reason.”
Jai paced his office, back and forth past Robert, who was standing by the door. He knew Azile’s point: emperors didn’t marry ministers. He was supposed to choose his wife from among the most beautiful of Highton maidenhood, name one of the fourteen moons for her, and bring her out to look aesthetic at balls and galas.
The hell with it. No law forbade him from marrying his Finance Minister. Jai didn’t want a lovely young thing for his empress. His mother had been a Jagernaut, a cybernetic warrior, as deadly as a puma protecting her brood, and later she had become the Imperator of Skolia, military ruler of an empire. For the first fourteen years of his life, she had been his sole model for an adult woman. He couldn’t imagine his empress as a marginalized High-ton girl whose primary purpose was to look decorative.
Jai stopped in front of Azile. “Traditions are created so new generations can rebel against them.”
The minister snorted. “New generations exist because the previous generations gave birth to them.”
Jai understood that implication. Tarquine, who was over a century old, would have to give him an heir. “It is astonishing what modern medicine can accomplish. Store enough eggs, and woman can have a child at most any age.”
Azile scowled, probably as much for the bluntness of Jai’s response as for its content, but before he could answer, the door comm buzzed.
Robert touched the panel. “Muzeson here.”
The voice a guard came out of the comm. “Minister Iquar has arrived, sir, as summoned.”
Jai swore under his breath. Had they told her that he “summoned” her? He had made a point of saying, “request that she attend him.” Just what he needed, to further aggravate Tarquine by having her think he was ordering her around.
Robert glanced at Jai. “Your Highness?”
Sweat broke out on Jai’s forehead. “Yes. Bring her in.”
Robert bowed, his face neutral, though his thoughts were anything but. He believed his emperor had either gone mad or had a death wish.
As Robert left, Jai dismissed his bodyguards. Then he turned to Azile. “I find myself anticipating what my betrothed will say to me in private.”
Azile gave him a dry smile. “You are a brave man.”
Right. He was practically hyperventilating.
As Azile took his leave, Robert returned. He bowed to the departing Intelligence Minister, then to Jai. “Your betrothed awaits, Your Highness.”
“You may escort her in.”
After Robert withdrew, Jai went to the window and stared at the darkening sunset. Night came fast. When he heard a rustle behind him, his stomach clenched. He half expected to feel a laser slice into his back. Slowly he turned around. Tarquine was standing by the closed door, watching him. He was suddenly aware of her height, as tall as him. Danger and sensuality filled the room, and he didn’t know which unsettled him more.
Tarquine bowed and languidly straightened. Then she spoke in a voice like whiskey, dark and potent. “My honor at Your Most Unpredictable Presence.”
She emanated a blend of emotions: puzzlement, anger, curiosity, conjecture. When he realized her speculations included his clothes, or their potential absence, his face heated.
More than what he sensed, though, he responded to what he didn’t pick up from her. He had been right. Her mind exerted no pressure. He could bear her presence. The relief hit him so hard, he started to close his eyes. He caught himself, but he couldn’t stop his audible exhale.
She considered him. “I must admit, I’ve never been betrothed as part of an insurance settlement.”
Her remark sounded odd, though Jai wasn’t sure why. “I’ve never been betrothed at all.”
Dryly she said, “Usually one inquires about the bride’s willingness before announcing the hallowed event.”
Jai finally realized what sounded strange. She was speaking directly, yet he detected no intent to insult him, neither in her body language nor her mind.
He smiled. “I haven’t participated in too many hallowed events.”
“This makes a rather inauspicious start, then.”
A flutter tickled his throat, as it often did when he was nervous. He crossed the room, never taking his gaze off her face, and stopped in front of her, his eyes level with hers. He could smell her now, an astringent soap fragrance mixed with her own natural scent. He spoke in a low voice. “I would differ on that estimation, Minister Iquar. I don’t find it inauspicious at all.”
Her eyes closed halfway, like a cat contemplating a bird. “Indeed.”
He didn’t know whether to run or hide. Instead he chose an even more lunatic course. Closing his hand around her upper arm, he pulled her forward—and kissed her.
Jai expected her to resist. Instead she slid her hand around his neck, and a jolt went through him, like electricity. It astonished him to feel her muscled curves against his body, giving him that reeling sensation of finding the impossible within reach. He had wanted to do this since the first time he had met her, though he only now admitted it to himself. Vertigo shook him. She represented everything he hated, but as intense as the responses were that she evoked in him, they definitely weren’t hate.
The Moon's Shadow (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Page 14
