The Last Hawk

by Catherine Asaro

  "So we add murder to your crimes," a voice said.

  Ixpar turned her head with a start—and looked up into the bore of her own laser carbine. Far up the length of the gun, Avtac watched her like an iron statue brought to life.

  Ixpar spoke hoarsely. "Kill me and you're the murderer."

  "Kill you? And make you a martyr? I think not." Crimson light edged the planes of Avtac's gaunt face. "When my Tribunal finishes with you, this golden warrior-goddess image of yours will be slag. Then you go to the guillotine." She prodded Ixpar with the carbine. "Get up."

  Ixpar climbed to her feet, a Straggle of hair falling into her eyes.

  "Where is Sevtar?" Avtac said.

  "Where you won't find him."

  "Don't be obstinate, little girl. It will be less painful for you if my search is short."

  Ixpar gritted her teeth. "Go rot in a Lasa whorehouse."

  A muscle under Avtac's eye twitched. Then she swung the carbine and slammed the barrel into Ixpar's injured leg. With a gasp, Ixpar reeled backward to the edge of the dais. The steps dropped away beneath her and she fell, tumbling toward the Opal Table, almost into the crackle of flames and heat.

  Avtac walked over and planted a foot on either side of Ixpar's hips. She raised the laser, holding it like a club. "Now. Sevtar."

  In her side vision, Ixpar saw flames ignite a chunk of wood. "All right." As she spoke, she heard a distant rumbling. "I'll tell you where he is." She grabbed the blazing chunk and hurled it at Avtac's head.

  The Minister easily dodged, but her motion made the carbine slip and her thumb hit the firing stud. Ixpar clamped her eyes shut, then opened them to see melted stone clattering down from a jagged hole in the hall's vaulted ceiling. While Avtac was still blinded by the flash, Ixpar jumped to her feet and ran to the Calanya dais.

  The rumbling she had heard was swelling in volume, its thunder filling the hall. What was going on? Avtac would never have come onto the Estate unless her troops had ensured it was safe, yet it sounded as if the destruction had begun again. Above the clamor in the hall, she heard the unmistakable roar of riders above Karn. Fighting. Fighting? It was impossible, yet it was happening.

  The rumbling on the Estate grew louder, until it drowned out even the riders. The entire Hall of Teotec was shaking. Plaster flew off the walls and windows cracked. As Ixpar stood in the Circle of the Calanya, her feet planted wide to keep her balance, the far wall of the hall bowed inward. In a nightmare of slow motion, it collapsed, peeling away like a giant wave.

  Pillars toppled, one after the other, massive stone trunks crashing over in clouds of debris. Avtac stood in the midst of the chaos, seeing now, staring upward as, with formidable majesty,-the Hall of Teotec thundered down around her.

  Dropping down within the Circle, Ixpar shielded her head with her arms. Debris richocheted off the rail above her and dust swirled around her body, thick with. ashes and flakes of stone. The Hall's collapse roared like the judgment of an avenging deity.

  Gradually the thunder lessened. Became a growl, A rattle. A trickle.

  Amid swirling clouds of dust, Ixpar rose to her feet. Ruins open to the sky surrounded her. In the entire hall, only the Calanya dais remained intact.

  She still heard the riders. They filled the sky, far more than she had thought either Karn or Varz had left. Although she looked up, she couldn't see well enough, with dust and tears in her eyes, to make out the symbols on the craft. She had no idea, what rider belonged to what Estate.

  But that didn't dilute the miracle.

  They flew circles, loops, rolls, dives, other combat maneuvers. But they weren't fighting.

  They were playing Quis.

  Ixpar found Avtac's body beneath a mountain of rubble. She knelt by the late Minister, her head bowed, listening to the roar of the dice game above her. Why the battle started again or how her forces had managed to recoup, she had no idea. Only one fact blazed in her mind. They had switched from death to dice.

  The patterns were obvious. Each windrider identified itself as a particular Quis piece. They probably kept straight who was what using a corn channel open to everyone. Soaring in perilously close formation, the riders flew the same moves they had been using to shoot each other out of the sky, but now instead of firing they let the combat maneuvers represent structures. Even without access to their com chatter, Ixpar recognized some of the patterns. She could only imagine the multitude of transmissions going on as the air- and ground-based forces coordinated the session.

  Afternoon faded into evening and still the Quis session continued. Only when twilight deepened did they bring it to an end, with the same awe-inspiring display of aeronautical skill that had marked the entire session.

  Still Ixpar continued her vigil by Avtac's body, hidden in the encroaching night that shrouded her Estate. A dusty mist seeped into the ruins of the Hall and softened the contours of destruction.

  Some time later footsteps approached. Ixpar raised her head to see a wraith coalesce out of the mist and shadows, a figure cloaked in veils of dust.

  "Manager Karn?" Anthoni asked.

  Numbly Ixpar said, "Why aren't you with the evacuees?"

  "It is you." Anthoni came toward her, clambering over the debris. "We've been searching everywhere. Manager Viasa even—"

  "Manager who?" Ixpar asked.

  "Manager Viasa. And Jevrin."

  "Jevrin?"

  "He's been in Bahvla. He brought the Bahvla/Viasa fleet."

  "A Viasa/Bahvla fleet?" Her mind began to function again. "I've never heard of Bahvla and Viasa cooperating on anything."

  "It's a first." Anthoni reached her, slipping and stumbling on piles of broken stone. "Apparently Manager Viasa felt that starving a city, even Bahvla, was an outrage. She had mountain climbers smuggle in supplies, and Jevrin helped both Estates arm riders and train pilots. When Varz pulled off the blockade, Viasa and Bahvla launched their air forces."

  "Those were the riders I heard fighting?"

  "Yes." He paused. "The Varz forces were decimated. With the reinforcements, we gained advantage. Varz knew they had lost."

  She heard the hesitation in his answer. "But?"

  "Our numbers and theirs were close. Too close."

  "Meaning?"

  "To win, we would probably have had to wipe them out and would have lost most of our forces as well It would have been a massacre on both sides."

  "So they played Quis. In the sky."

  "Yes. Karn far outplayed Varz."

  Ixpar nodded. And so Varz saved face, allowing its forces to back down, without humiliation, from a final battle they all knew would end in mutual carnage. "A worthy combat."

  Anthoni spoke quietly. "We had a report that Minister Varz came onto Karn just before news of the reinforcements reached her fleet. But we've found no sign of her."

  "You can stop looking. She's here."

  "Here?"

  The words felt like dust in Ixpar's mouth "Yes. Here. Buried. Dead."

  Anthoni spoke in a subdued voice. "Varz is finished, Ixpar. We won."

  She looked at the ruins of the Hall from where she had once ruled Coba. "Did we?"

  46

  The Tower of Olonton

  When the voice first crackled over the com, it sounded almost unintelligible. Nearly two decades had passed since Kelric had heard his own language. The message repeated again and again, distant, impassive, remote.

  ". . . identify yourself. This zone is Restricted. Starport grounds are closed to natives. Please identify—"

  "I'm an Imperialate citizen," Kelric said. "Do you read?"

  The recording continued to repeat, an automated message from an automated port. His rider arrowed through the dusk unchallenged by more than a mechanical voice.

  Towers rose out of the desert like obelisks. No defenses surrounded them, only a low wall. He landed by an outcropping of rock and jumped down from the rider, warm wind ruffling his hair.

  Then he walked to the starport.

  It
didn't even have a gate, just a wide gap in its wall. He stopped short of the opening and stared at the sand-covered street on the other side. Wind brushed sweat from his forehead and whispered across the desert.

  Kelric looked back at the mountains. Up there, hidden in the peaks, an Estate had raged in flames because of him. He could never undo what he had rent here. But he could give Coba a promise.

  Protection.

  He would say nothing that might bring ISC to this world. For as long as he lived, he would keep his silence, in deed, in word, and in mind.

  He guarded more than Coba: he also protected his children. He had to make a choice; trust Ixpar with them or take them into the life-and-death intrigues surrounding the Imperial dynasty. He could never undo the damage that dance of interstellar politics had wreaked on his life, nor could he know what would happen when he returned, almost two decades from the dead, to face his half brother, a man who had murdered his own father for the rule of an empire and would see Kelric dead if he perceived him—or his children—to be a threat.

  Kelric had never seen Jimorla and had spent only one winter with Roca, yet they had forged a link so strong that even here in the desert he felt them, alive and secure in Karn. Part of him wanted to go to them, to return to Karn, though it meant giving up his life. Another pan wanted to leave Coba and return with backup regardless of the Imperial attention it would bring. And it would draw notice: given his long absence, his family and the Assembly would have him watched every moment—if they still existed, which was in no way certain considering the volatile nature of the interstellar situation when he had disappeared.

  Until he knew what he faced in his own future, Roca and Jimorla were safer here in anonymity. But knowing it was in their best interest to stay made it no easier to leave them. Perhaps the time would come when he could return with a title no one would dare defy. Imperator.

  No matter what happened to him, someday Coba would have to face the Imperialate. If his sense of Coba was true, Roca and Jimorla would grow up strong and self-assured, ready to face their heritage rather than diminished by it, two miracles hidden in obscurity where none of his opponents would think to look. Should the lmperialate ever descend on Coba, Roca could claim her right to the line of Rhon succession; her DNA carried indisputable proof of her identity.

  Until then, he could only do what his heart felt was best for the wonders his seed had grown.

  "Ixpar, protect them. Make them strong for the day when they claim their heritage." His words swirled in the wind as tears ran down his face. "Take care of them for me."

  Then he Stepped across the invisible line that separated Coba from the lmperialate.

  Anthoni found Ixpar as she was preparing to enter the Dawn Chamber. Silent and grim, he handed her a ring. When she turned it over, she found the inscription: To Captain Eb Karn, for her years of service to the Ministry.

  Ixpar swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. "Where was it found?"

  "In the runs near the Atrium."

  Her fist closed around the ring "And Sevtar?"

  Anthoni pulled a Calanya armband out of his pocket. As Ixpar took the partially melted circlet she saw the name.

  Sevtar.

  A roaring filled her ears. "There would have been more gold than this."

  "There was." Anthoni struggled to speak evenly, but his voice caught. "All melted."

  She stared at him "It could have come from anything. A vase. A molding. The stair banister."

  "Ixpar, I—I'm sorry."

  The roaring cut off, leaving her in dead silence. She turned numbly and limped into the Dawn Chamber.

  They were all there, the Managers of Coba, gathered around a makeshift Opal Table: Dahl, Haka, Shazorla, Eviza, Ahkah, Lasa, Bahvla, Viasa, Tehnsa. Only the Ministry chair remained empty.

  Ixpar went to stand at the Karn chair. When she was in place, a door opened across the chamber and Stahna Varz entered, a tall figure dressed in the blue cloak of mourning. She took her place before the Ministry chair and swept her gaze over the assembled Managers.

  "We meet today," Stahna said, "to end this war of Estates. We begin with the Council's call for a ballot of confidence. The ivory cube supports the Varz Ministry, the ebony cube a Karn Ministry."

  A ballot of confidence? "I was not informed of this," Ixpar said.

  "Perhaps," Stahna said. "In any case, the law forbids you and me to vote. Do you protest this?" .

  "No." It made no difference. Even if the vote went in her favor, Ixpar knew Varz would never relinquish the Ministry.

  Stahna spoke. "Dahl?"

  Chankah set a black cube on the table. "Dahl supports Karn."

  One by one Stahna called the roll and one by one the Managers played their dice: black from Bahvla, Viasa, Tehnsa, Shazorla. Eviza. Haka and Ahkah set down white cubes, but in an unprecedented move the Lasa Manager voted against her primary, placing a crystal ring of neutrality.

  Ixpar heard their voices saw their dice. None of it registered. Her mind was numb.

  When the vote was done, Chankah Dahl spoke. "The ballot favors Karn."

  Stahna Varz watched them with the same iron gaze that had made her predecessor infamous. "A trade was made in good faith by Varz. A Sixth Level for the Ministry. So. Sevtar is at Karn. The Ministry stays at Varz."

  Ixpar spoke. "There is no Sixth Level at Karn." She took the armband from her pocket and set it on the table. "He is dead."

  In the silence that followed, the only sound came from the tall clock ticking by the door.

  Finally Henta spoke. "Ixpar—I'm sorry."

  Chankah swore softly. Then she turned to Stahna. "Hasn't there been enough conflict? End this. Return the Ministry to Karn"

  "I will relinquish the title" Stahna said. "If a condition is met."

  That caught Ixpar by surprise. She would never have expected Varz to give up what cost so much to attain. "What condition?"

  "That for your successor," Stahna said, "you choose a girl born, raised, and educated at Varz."

  "That's absurd," Henta Bahvla said.

  "You might as well demand that Karn hand the Ministry back to Varz after one generation," Chankah said.

  "It's worse than that," Khal Viasa said. "Such an agreement would also give control of Karn to Varz after one generation."

  Rashiva spoke. "Then let it be. Varz gained the Ministry in a fair trade, one instigated by Karn. The title belongs where it is."

  Chankah leaned forward. "A Varz Ministry has no support."

  "My condition stands," Stahna said.

  Henta snorted. "Do you honestly believe we would allow such a condition?"

  The Ahkah Manager spoke. "And do you honestly believe this Council can rob Varz of its rightful title?"

  "The condition is an insult," Chankah said.

  "An outrage," Henta said.

  "Ludicrous," Manager Shazorla put in.

  Ixpar listened to them argue. When the debate ebbed, she said, "I accept the condition."

  Silence.

  Then they all spoke at once, their voices piling over one another. The debate raged on and on, but Ixpar neither wavered nor explained. Late that night, with the Council as witness, she signed the documents and once-again became Minister.

  As Ixpar left the Chamber, Rashiva joined her. They walked together through the scarred halls of Karn.

  It was Rashiva who broke the silence. "Sevtar will be mourned by many."

  Ixpar swallowed. For the rest of her life she would wonder why he had chosen to leave her suite that day. "I will have Jimorla brought to you."

  Rashiva's shoulders relaxed. After a moment she said, "The boy Hayl is in my Calanya. Fourth Level, if you are willing to grant him a Karn Oath for his years spent here."

  So It was true, the rumors she had heard; Hayl had been at Haka. Knowing that all along wouldn't have prevented the war; Hayl had only been an excuse Avtac used, one she would have bent to her purposes regardless of what Karn claimed Had Rashiva intended to negate A
vtac's strategy she would have done so long ago.

  In any case, it wasn't Hayl s fault he had become a pawn. "Yes" Ixpar said. "I will grant him a Karn Oath." Eighteen years of age and Hayl was after Mentar, the ranking Calani among the Twelve Estates.

  They walked in silence for a time. Finally Ixpar said, "Captain Zecha survived. My Tribunal sentenced her to prison."

  Rashiva raised her eyebrows "Varz will demand her freedom."

  Ixpar suddenly felt tired. "And Karn will challenge Varz." She doubted the irony was lost on Rashiva that as long as the Council fought over Zecha's fate, the captain would remain locked in the prison she had once controlled.

  They parted at the Haka guest suite, Rashiva going in to await the return of her son, a sign of good faith, while Ixpar went on alone to the North Tower. She climbed the spiral stairs and paused at the top, acutely aware of the guards watching her. Then she opened the door to the tower room.

  Inside, a Hakaborn boy sat in a window seat gazing out at Karn. As soon as Ixpar saw him, her heart leapt: the shimmer of his skin, the cast of his features, the way he rested his elbow on his knee—it was so hauntingly familiar that the tears she had fought all day surged against her defenses.

  He turned with a start, then rose to his feet. He was tall for his age, already the height of a grown man. Emotions rippled across his handsome face: curiosity, apprehension, shyness. True to the ways of the desert, he gave her no smile. In him, she already saw the Haka mystique that evoked such fascination from women throughout the Twelve Estates.

  "Jimorla." Ixpar bowed. "Your mother's escort waits for you."

  Relief washed over his face. As he crossed the room, she reached to open the door. But her hand halted at the handle. She couldn't make herself take this final step that forever cut her last tie to Kelric.

  The boy hesitated. "Manager Karn? Are you all right?"

  Although Jimorla had yet to take an Oath, Initiates rarely spoke to Outsiders, let alone the Manager of a hostile Estate. Hearing him, the familiar lilt of his voice, was too much. Ixpar's voice caught. "You look so much like him." She reached to cup his cheek, but managed to stop her hand before it touched his face. "Jimorla, my offer for your contract stands. I would like you to come here. As my—my—Calani."