by Jo Zebedee
As Lichio joined them, the presence in the room lessened, and now she focused on Sam, who’d once been the Empress’ man, but had fought back. Sonly called his name and he turned to her, before he looked again at his Empress and then he, too, crawled, each tiny movement seeming to cost him more and more. He got halfway and, like a drowning man, held his hand out to Kare, who didn’t take it.
“A little more, Sam,” Kare said. “Just a little more.”
To Sonly’s amazement Sam crawled another couple of feet and then Silom reached for him and pulled him to his feet so the five of them were gathered together, in a tight circle around Kare. You clever bastard, thought Sonly.
Kare pulled himself from the centre of the circle and said, very quietly, “Thank you.”
Then he pushed them behind him and walked across to his mother and Sonly could feel a new presence growing and growing and growing, this one familiar and strong. Stronger than she’d ever imagined it could be. And crueller, driven by a hate she’d never known in him before. If she’d been facing it, she’d have backed away.
His mother didn’t. She met his eyes, glaring back, hers as hate-filled as his.
“It’s about confidence,” Kare said, conversationally. “That’s why you’re here now; you know if you leave it any longer I’ll have bags of it. You knew I always did, that’s why you stole my powers from me. That’s why you stole everything you could from me.”
As suddenly as the Empress’ presence in the room had appeared, it vanished, and when Sonly heard a gasp she realised the Empress had taken all her power, every bit of it, and focused it purely on Kare. Sonly saw him sway slightly and, briefly, close his eyes against the power. As he dropped his head, Sonly was sure he would cave in at any moment. She could hear his breathing, watched as his knees started to buckle, and he sank onto one of them in front of his mother.
“Yield,” she told him.
He moaned, a long moan, and nodded his head, very slightly. He couldn’t do it. Tears pricked Sonly’s eyes– he might have been able to once, but he’d been too harmed, too damaged, to do it now.
“Fight, Kare,” she said, not realising until the words had left her that she’d said them aloud. The Empress turned her attention to Sonly for one moment, and Sonly quailed under her glare.
She looked again at Kare and saw he had opened his eyes and was watching her. Slowly, he got off his knee and straightened, his eyes moving from Sonly back to his mother.
“So, why would I have no confidence? I’ve taken your city,” Kare told the Empress. Sonly could see the tightness in his jaw and knew every word was being forced out of him. “I’ve survived what my father told me would either kill me or make me.”
Now he took a step forward and Averrine moved back, very slightly. Silom grinned with pride, a look in his eyes which said he’d told everyone so, continually, over the years.
“I wielded no power, yet they came to me. Some were too strong for you, some had to crawl as you clung to them, some just had love to guide them, but they came to me. Who’s going to come to you just for the love of it?”
His mouth tightened into a thin line and he stepped towards her. His eyes focused on her, and Sonly could feel the power coming from him, sharp and precise. His mother gasped, her eyes becoming uncertain, and he stepped forward again. Sam closed his eyes beside her, his breath coming in gasps. She touched his arm and he opened his eyes.
“Can’t you feel it?” he asked. “Maybe… he’s done it to me once, maybe that’s why, but it’s so strong.”
He put his hands up to the side of his head just as the Empress shrieked, high and pain-filled, and now Sonly could feel it, like a buzz in the air, not aimed at her, but too strong to miss. She glanced at Lichio, saw he was pale, his hands trembling, and at Silom. Even he was breathing heavily.
“Stop!” yelled the Empress. Sonly whipped her head round and saw her clutching her hair, pulling it.
“Yield,” Kare said, his voice hard and implacable. His mother shook her head, drew herself straighter, and for a moment the two psychers stood, neither willing to back down.
Kare stepped forward once more, and this time the Empress stepped back, putting her hands out, as if to hold him back.
“My empire,” he told his mother. “My people. My city. Accept it or I destroy you; and I will. My terms– a place in the outer rim, with no one to manipulate. A room: luxurious, fitting for your stature, where there is no outlet for your power. You’ll be like Ealyn; the power turning inward until it destroys you.”
“You can’t do that,” the Empress said. “You know what it would do.”
“Trust me, Mother. After what you did to me, to Ealyn, and especially to Karia, I can and will do it if you oppose me further.” He turned to Sonly. “Draw up a document, an official abdication; she’ll sign.”
The Empress looked at him and opened her mouth. He cut her off.
“If you don’t, I will incarcerate you. You can’t take me, you can’t take them, and you certainly aren’t retaking your empire. Not after what it cost me to get it.”
***
Kare sat in the room with his mother, only Silom with him as he waited for Sonly to complete the document. He didn’t talk to her, didn’t talk to Silom, but at no point did he let his psyche fall back or give her a chance to establish hers. Tiredness lay as a tight band around his head, and he was relieved when the door opened and Sonly and Lichio entered.
Sonly set the filche in front of the Empress, who read it. She looked at Kare, as if calculating what to do, and he flared his psyche a little more, leaving her in no doubt that if he had to, he could hold her even more firmly. He wished he had some supply of whatever concoction she’d been giving him but they hadn’t, so far, found it.
Slowly, Averrine picked up the filche and prepared to put her mark on it. Once again, she looked around the small room and Kare, alert– ready for her– felt her reach out and saw Silom move towards him.
Kare looked at Silom, but her focus wasn’t on his cousin. Too late, he turned and saw Lichio, blaster raised, his hand shaking.
Kare saw the bolt coming for him, but had no time to stop it. He tried to shield himself, but he was shaking with exhaustion now, the effort of holding his mother back tiring him. He dived to the side, but knew he was too slow. Something blurred in front of him. He saw a gush of blood and a falling body, and then Silom fell to the floor, a great wound in his stomach, red spreading from it.
“Sam!” shouted Kare as he turned back to his mother. He had to close her down, stop her using her power to hurt others, to hurt him anymore. He remembered the block he’d placed in his own mind, how it had stood against all the Great Master’s knowledge.
He took his psyche and pushed against his mother, fury giving him a strength he didn’t know he had. His powers formed a wall in front of hers, holding it in place, holding it so she could not get around it. He realised to hold her forever, he would have to leave his own psyche inside her, blocking her. Can I do it: become powerless again? This was the glory Ealyn had foreseen. Not the pain but this, the surrendering of his powers to finish Averrine’s reign. Resolved, Kare pushed his mind in front of hers, and slammed it in place.
“What have you done?” she hissed, as she felt his wall. “Where are my powers?” She put her hands up to either side of her head. “You bast– ”
“Take her away. I’ll deal with her later.” He dropped to his knees beside Silom. Sam was already there, trying to stem the flow of blood from a stomach wound gaping through Silom’s ripped uniform, a wound too wide to staunch. Sonly was holding Silom’s hand, telling him to wait for Kare.
“We were at the end,” Kare whispered. He grabbed Silom’s other hand; it was warm, life still in it. There was hope– if they could get a medicine team quickly enough, if they had the right equipment, if he could find a way to do something. Distantly, he was aware of Lichio’s blaster clattering to the ground, of him joining the group, but it didn
’t matter, nothing but Silom did.
Silom’s hand tightened on Kare’s and Kare leaned down to him. He made out the whisper of a name and nodded to one of the soldiers. “Get Sergeant Woods. Quickly.” His voice tailed off and there was only silence and Silom’s breathing, thick and wet.
A clatter of footsteps, and Sonly was pushed aside. Kym. She fell to her knees, taking Silom’s hand from Kare, cupping it like it was something precious.
“Don’t you dare,” she said. Silom’s hand tightened on hers, and Kare drew in a breath. Fight. She pushed Silom’s hair back, ran a hand down his cheek. “I mean it. We’ve got things to do. A baby. Marriage. Coming off the front line.” Her voice cracked; she swallowed, throat rippling. “You promised.”
Silom should get his chance; it would never be right if he didn’t. Kare reached inside himself, found the place his psyche should be, the power that could bring Silom back, that would stop this and give him– them– the future they deserved. Silom had pulled Lichio through the quarries, he’d taken the palace for Kare, there had to be something left for him. Had to be. He put his hands to his head, tugged at his hair, seeking any last remnant that could make a difference: there was nothing.
“Please, Silom.” Kym’s voice, infinitely gentle. “The medics will be here soon. You said you were too tough to kill– prove it.”
His mouth moved, the words a low whisper, drawn out and pained. “Love you.” His breath stopped; his chest stilled.
Kare ripped at Silom’s jacket. He put one hand over the other, ready to press on his heart, keep it beating, not give in. Sam touched his arm, gave a soft shake of his head; there was nothing that could be done. The knowledge tore through him, sucking the breath from him.
Sonly had taken Kym in her arms, holding her as her shoulders shook, murmuring distant, useless words of comfort.
“No.” Kym lifted her head and glared at Kare, eyes swimming with tears. She pushed to her feet, and he didn’t look away, meeting her gaze, embracing the hatred in her eyes.
“This is your fault.” Her voice was cold, brittle. “You made him follow you, took him to the edge.”
“Kym…” He looked at Silom again, and then up to see the others watching him. He could see no way past where he was now. He’d won, he tried to tell himself: if he had, the price was too high.
“I won’t forget,” she said. “Everyone else might buy into you. I don’t.”
Kare got to his feet. Silom’s chest was still, his big body unmoving. He had always been the strongest, the one able to go on, to survive another day in the quarry, to lead soldiers into battle through exhaustion and pain. Someone covered his face; Sam said quiet words over his body, a blessing or a prayer. Kare stumbled back, let two soldiers lift the body. The floor was red underneath, the deep carpet stained. Kym followed, soldiers from her squad joining her at the door, encircling her, giving the comfort she needed, the rigour of the army.
Two more soldiers entered the room– his mother’s escort, he recognised.
“Is she in the cells?” His words came from a distance, from someone else, someone who knew what he was supposed to do. “Guarded?”
“Yes, sir. With no one to enter the cells, except on your orders.”
His orders. Hell, he didn’t know how to think, let alone command. Distantly, he heard Lichio on the comms unit, ordering a squad to the room, presumably a clean-up. Sonly was beside him, face pale, eyes flitting from Lichio to Kare, as if unsure who needed her more. The normality of it all, the crystal nature of everyone’s actions, was at odds with the fracturing inside him. Silom was dead and things were going on the way they always had.
He sucked in a breath. The day Karia had died, he’d felt like this. He’d walked in a daze, barely knowing what steps he’d taken, relying on the direction-finder to take him to Shug. There was no direction-finder this time. Nothing to tell him what should be. His legs buckled; his vision darkened.
“Kare!” Sonly called. He felt hands on him, but pushed them away. Breathe. He grew steadier, but his mind was frozen. He managed to start walking, steps slow, and left the room. No one stopped him; in the corridor people moved away, making space for him to leave. Silom wasn’t amongst them. He was gone, like his father, Karia, Marine. Dead because of him. He couldn’t breathe, and he unbuttoned the top button of his jacket. He stopped and this time his legs didn’t hold him; he sank to the floor and wondered how he’d ever get up again.
Arms under his shoulders pulled him to his feet. His name was called, but it was faint and far away. Slowly, he looked and saw Sam on one side of him, Lichio on the other, his face streaked with tears. Sonly stood in front of him.
“Kare, come on, love,” Sonly said. She sounded like she was coaxing a child, and that was okay because he felt like when he was a child, shocked and out of place, and glad for someone to take over.
“Where to?” asked Lichio.
“Somewhere quiet,” Sam said.
Kare closed his eyes and saw Silom’s eyes staring at him, dead and accusing. He stopped, leaning forward, hands on his knees, head against the cold wall. Someone rubbed his back, and he tried to straighten up. He’s dead, fucking dead, and it’s my fault.
“Get him into one of the anterooms,” said Lichio.
A small crowd had gathered, watching him. His soldiers. He let Lichio take him to an antechamber, and sank into a seat. They moved around him, Sonly, Sam and Lichio, all that was left, and he knew they were talking about him, but didn’t care. He wanted a bubble around him, one he’d never come out of again. He looked down at his hands and realised they were shaking. Sam came forward, holding a syringe, and Kare didn’t ask what it was, or try to stop him. A pinprick and the room slowly faded, blurring as it did, and he was glad. He couldn’t do any more. All he wanted was to let everything go, to stop being the one who mattered, who brought hurt to everyone he cared about. Slowly, the world faded into the distance, and he let it.
EPILOGUE
Sonly held the paper in front of her. Her hand shook slightly, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. “This is a declaration of a new empire.”
Tom Peiret, dressed in his usual trademark grey, and Maxin Clorinda, in a slightly battered pilot’s jacket, nodded. She wasn’t fooled by their lack of formality. In fact, the very fact they’d elected to come here in casual dress told her more than any uniform could have done: they thought this was a done deal, that she had ran out of negotiation space. They might even be right.
Still, she had to try. She shook her head. “I can’t sign this– only Kare Varnon could agree to the terms, and he won’t. He’s made it very clear he intends to dissolve the empire.”
“The document is a declaration for your daughter,” said Maxin Clorinda. His grey eyes were like stones, challenging her to refuse it.
“For Kerra?” Lichio’s voice, beside her, was smooth and she was grateful for him.
The two men exchanged glances and Tom leaned forward. He was the softer of the two, as ever. Playing each other off.
“Sonly, we’ll be honest with you, no games. Your husband has failed to convince anyone of his plans. If no one takes action, there will be war in the central zone– millions will die.”
Sonly closed her eyes, briefly. Until a week ago, her husband was just about getting up each morning, and mostly because Sam was forcing him to. That this had come now, when he was showing some signs of coming back to himself, when he’d actually started to engage and ask sensible questions about what was happening and what sort of mess his revolution had left behind, was an irony she didn’t miss. All she’d needed was another few weeks, a month at most, and she’d have been able to get him involved. Or at least put on a decent pretense that he was a functional leader.
“In fact,” said Maxin, “in the four months since the abdication, we’ve dealt with you and your brother.” Damn, they were turning the screw. The families knew they had to act before Kare came back. He’d been open about his views all
the time he was at the Banned– they knew an empire wouldn’t be what he sought. And he’d had a chance, in those first weeks when the families were in disarray and ready to agree anything that might get rid of the vacuum the Empress’ removal had left. But that impetus had gone, and the families had regrouped. “An absentee leader is not what we need.”
“He’s working through us,” she said, her words calm despite the quick panic that had leaped in her. She reached and took a sip of water, proud to see her hands were steady. Beside her, Lichio glanced at her and then back to the two men.
“There’s a lot to put in place,” he said smoothly. “But Kare is very aware of the plans outlined and will not support an empire. He has been clear on the matter.”
Maxin Clorinda’s mouth tightened. “No more games. Kare Varnon has been playing no part in any plans. Now, we appreciate, after such an… ordeal– ”
“Torture is the word we’re using,” said Lichio. “We’ll be open– he was badly hurt; he no longer has the powers that sustained him. On medical grounds, he has to be cautious until he fully recovers. But he is directing us in every matter.”
Sonly saw Tom shake his head and knew they’d found out– however they’d done it– that Kare was… what? Destroyed by what had happened– breaking down. No amount of arguing that he was improving would change their views. It would only make her seem weak.
She read it again and set it down. “I can’t allow it.”
Maxin slammed his hand on the table. “He won’t sign to be Emperor, he won’t meet any of us, and the empire is teetering.”
“Fighting for Abendau again won’t stop that.” She put steel in her voice, determined to hold firm for Kare, as she had all along.
Tom Peiret held his hand up, his family’s signet ring, with its huge amber stone, glistening. It was a sign that he spoke for all of Peiret, that this was a formal meeting.
