“Not anymore. Return at once, sire, or I will resign my post.”
Alarm frissoned up his spine. “Come now, Gorgie, are you not being overly dramatic?”
“Nay, I have failed you.” The older man’s voice clogged with grief. “You will know the full extent when you arrive.”
“Nonsense. We can resolve this crisis, if you tell me calmly what is wrong.”
“I will only brief you in person. How fast can you get here?”
Zohar’s mouth curved down. Torn between his current mission to prevent annihilation, or serving his people, he made his choice. Should he fail and Ragnarok occur, he’d at least like to be known as the king who cared.
“If I burn the engines at hyperspeed, I can be there within three days.” He stiffened, his voice deepening. “But this has to be quick. Every minute I lose, we are one step closer to disaster.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I’m Kaptein Rolstoff. Who are you, and how did you get here?”
The military officer squinted at Nira from behind his desk in command headquarters, a squat stone building at the end of the lane. His hook-like nose and oversized ears reminded her of a malformed owl. He smelled like something a cat might drag in.
“I’m Nira Larsen, and I demand to see Algie.” She’d decided her best defense should be an offense. Her knees quivering, she resisted the urge to whisk herself elsewhere using her magic shoes. This was still her best chance to find Grace.
“She does not obey orders?” The Kaptein’s narrow gaze skewered the guard who’d nabbed her.
“The woman appears to be resistant to confounding, min drott.”
“Curious.” He turned his beady eyes on her. “We’ll see what the Grand Marshal has to say. His Eminence prefers to interrogate prisoners personally.”
I’ll bet. Nira repressed a shudder but then his words hit home. Did that mean the Grand Marshal held rank above the military commander? That nugget could be useful.
“If you harm me, you’ll be sorry.” She thrust out her chin. “I have vital information for Algie. Notify her I’m here.”
The sentry, eyes flashing, slapped her. “Show some respect, human. You are not in a position to make demands.”
She stood tall, bringing a hand to her stinging cheek. “The Drift Lords will raze this place to the ground when they find me. You’re making a mistake.”
“The Drift Lords?” Kaptein Rolstoff pushed to his feet and strode around the desk to confront her directly. Spiky whiskers, tinged with gray, dotted his jaw.
“You got it. I’m valuable to them and to your leaders as well. A bonus might be in this for you if you handle it right.”
The military commander studied her while she fought the urge to puke. Glancing away from his flabby ripples of skin, she surveyed the room. It wasn’t only the cold wind whistling through cracks in the stone walls that made icy fingers of fear tickle her spine, but the general miasma blanketing the town. This entire place resonated with the stamp of evil, as though it had been the site for ancient pagan rites and human sacrifices.
“I suspect you’re a spy sent by our enemy.” The Kaptein swiped at a dribble of drool on his pudgy chin. “Confounding doesn’t work on the Drift Lords, either.”
“Algie wanted me to find out why. We’re working together. I told you to contact her.”
The Kaptein directed an oblique glance at the sentry. “Wait outside. I will question the human myself before we take her to His Eminence.”
After the soldier left, Rolstoff shut the door before turning to her. “Tell me about Algie Morar. I’ve heard things about the general’s wife but don’t credit gossip.”
Algie has a husband? Nira smiled with a confidence she didn’t feel. “She reports directly to the Council of Elders.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. What does she want with you?” His cheese-scented breath wafted her way.
“It’s classified, unless you’re privy to what goes on in Tent Ten.” Maybe she could gain some info here.
His glacial eyes perused her. “The Council is aware of her collusion with a human?”
She shrugged. “I imagine so.”
Conflicting emotions crossed his face. “Come, I will take you to His Eminence myself.” He gripped her shoulder. “He will decide if you speak the truth, or if you should have your tongue cut out for lying.”
Nira swallowed past a lump in her throat as he led her outside. Flanked by a troop of four soldiers, they marched toward the largest residence, with fresh sealant between the stones and a thick thatched roof. Smoke poured from the chimney, adding a pungent odor to the chilly evening air.
Glad she’d donned her jacket, Nira shivered. She hoped this Grand Marshal didn’t have the same sexual predilection as the previous one she’d met. Hopefully, this guy hadn’t heard what happened to the other official.
A blast of hearth-warmed heat greeted her inside the structure, brightly lit and decorated with colorful tapestries, upholstered furniture, and polished wood tables.
Nothing but the best for the village tyrant.
Nira, accompanied by Rolstoff, followed a blank-eyed serving woman into a rear parlor. A bulky Trollek sat in a wing chair stuffing grapes into his mouth. At their entrance, he discarded a pile of vine remnants onto the wood floor.
“Clean it up, human.” He kicked the slave bowing before him then swung his lazy gaze toward his visitors. “Rolstoff, why do you bring me this skinny redhead? I have my quota of house slaves. Do you wish her for yourself?”
“No, Your Eminence. She wandered in from the outskirts of town. She is resistant to our spell and claims she works for General Morar’s wife, Algie.”
The Grand Marshal looked her over as he might a spider on the wall. “Does she now? Come closer, woman. What’s your name?”
“Nira Larsen.” Shoved forward, Nira stumbled to a halt in front of him.
If he dared to lay a finger on her, she couldn’t vouch for the consequences. Unable to control the mental power she barely understood, she might harm everyone in the vicinity. She needed to train herself, so she could deploy her talent at will rather than under emotional stress. Hoping she wouldn’t have to test her ability, she swallowed.
The Grand Marshal’s eyes narrowed to slits as he studied her. “So you are one of Algie’s protégés? How is this, when you are human?” He eased himself upright, a generous paunch showing under his uniform tunic.
Relief bowled through her. “You know Algie, then?”
“The doktor is chief scientific advisor to King Jorg.” He snickered. “Everyone knows she got her position through her father, chieftain of the Jarvik clan. She itches for a place on the Council of Elders. Imagine!” Snorting with laughter, he swatted Rolstoff on the shoulder.
“Do females not serve on your ruling body?” Nira asked.
The two beasts chortled. “Only males are permitted to enter the competition to become a chieftain.” Rolstoff puffed out his chest, his biceps bulging. “And council members are elected from among the chieftains.”
So Algie was a scientist with the ear of her king, Nira thought, but she also had political ambitions. Interesting.
The Grand Marshall dismissed the slave sweeping the floor, then he spoke to Rolstoff in a hushed tone. “Doktor Morar is in charge of that special research project involving the Tent Tens in each village. You’d think that would keep her busy enough.”
Kaptein Rolstoff hunched his shoulders, his brow perplexed. “The General serves on the Council of Elders. Does she seek to upstage her own mate? Perhaps that’s why the king granted her a position of authority, to keep her under control.”
The Grand Marshal’s gaze darted toward the doorway. “Take precautions if she comes here. There are some who question her loyalty to the Crown. She has her league of supporters.”
Rolstoff raised his caterpillar-thick eyebrows. “Then you will summon her?”
“We can’t risk her anger should this human speak the truth.”
“Excuse me.” Nira, who’d been absorbing their exchange, interrupted. “Can you tell me if you have a slave named Grace in the village? She’s an older lady, thin with gray hair.”
The Grand Marshal sneered at her. “Be silent, woman. I haven’t given you permission to speak. Take her away until Algie’s arrival,” he ordered Rolstoff.
“Where do you want her? In the pen with the slaves marked for Tent Ten or bunking with the labor force?”
“Put her in an isolation cell. Feed her, but don’t allow her to have contact with anyone else.”
“As you wish, Your Eminence.” Rolstoff clicked his heels together and bowed.
“How are people marked for Tent Ten?” Nira tried one last time to get some answers. “What makes them different from the other folks you capture?”
Rolstoff pushed her toward the exit. “Doktor Morbus checks everyone’s health when they get here. He decides which slaves become house staff, who will work in the field, and who should be set aside for Tent Ten.”
“Wait.” The Grand Marshal’s command made them both freeze. “One more thing. Remove her shoes and give them to me. My third wife has a collection.”
****
Zohar paced back and forth in a parlor at the Grand Palace on Karrell. A visitor might be dazzled by the gilt trim, silk wallpaper, and crystal chandeliers, but he’d grown up here and took them for granted. Instead, he considered Primer Pedar’s concerns.
Unhappy with harsh economic conditions, dissenters fomented rebellion. Leaders among them organized terrorist cells to engage royalist forces in bloody skirmishes.
“A republic isn’t such a bad idea,” Zohar told his prime minister, who sat slumped in an armchair with his permission.
He didn’t stand on protocol with his old friend. Wearing a scarlet coat of office and a feathered hat, Gorgie appeared an anachronism to Zohar’s eyes.
“Your Highness has no faith in himself. You can fuse the empire back together, but only if you take action. You have shirked your duty for too long. It is time for you to assume the throne.”
“I am the worst person to lead the people. My father’s weakness taints my blood.”
The Primer’s keen gaze studied him. “What makes you say that, sire?”
Zohar, who always felt like a child under the older man’s scrutiny, glanced away. “I have fallen for an Earthling.”
“Ah.”
“You do not understand.” Zohar raised his agonized glance. “She invades my mind and dominates my dreams. It must be a spell. I have no other explanation for this obsession.”
“You think you are confounded? Is she a Trollek?”
His mouth curved into a twisted grin. “She possesses a strand of Trollek DNA. It gives her unusual abilities. How can I trust her?”
“I think you do not trust yourself, my liege.”
“No…yes. I am confused.”
Primer Pedar uncrossed his legs and stood with a muttered curse at his arthritis. “Does she command, and you obey?”
“How would I know? Confounded individuals are not aware they have been compromised.”
“Your father knew. It destroyed him. That’s what made him go insane.”
Zohar’s brow creased. “I believe I have free will when we are together. She wanted me to find her missing friend but instead I left to pursue my mission.”
“You walked away from her?” Pedar gaped at him.
He nodded, misery pitting his stomach. “Nira’s mentor and landlady was taken by the Trolleks. What if our positions had been reversed, and you were the one missing? I’d tear up the universe to save you.”
“You’d do your duty. It is your task to defeat the Trolleks and seal the dimensional rifts.” Pedar squared his shoulders like an old soldier. “You have no choice. Personal feelings must be put aside in your role as Drift Lord captain.”
“And as king of Karrell and emperor of the Star Empire?”
“Put to rest your fears about her being like your stepmother. Has she ever made you do anything contrary to your nature?”
“Nay. She has protected me against the Trolleks, but that could be a ruse.”
“How so?”
“To trick me while she uses divide and conquer tactics. Kaj is missing and Dal is ill. Our team is gravely diminished.” Hanging his head, he despaired at their future. While he languished at home, the Trolleks would gain the upper hand. Success seemed a distant dream.
“Taking a queen would bolster your position.”
Zohar bristled at the twinkle in Gorgie’s eyes. “Then let the Assembly choose a bride for me. Besides, there’s the Edict to consider.”
“Ah. I presume you mean the Edict against inter-species marriage?”
“Exactly. The Assembly meant to prevent our people from falling into the same trap as my father.”
“Bah.” Pedar waved a hand. “Prejudice ran rife after the old king’s death. You will be emperor. You can repeal it.”
Zohar shook his head. “And risk being accused of tyranny? I will not cause the empire’s descent into the same abyss as before.”
“So you care what happens to your subjects?”
His eyes blazed. “Of course I care. But the empire is a behemoth better off without me at its head.”
“You are wrong. Listen to the rebel leader we caught. He may change your mind. This is why I wanted you to come home.”
Zohar strode inside the formal throne room while Primer Pedar summoned the prisoner. Approaching the cushioned chair on the dais situated under a silk draped canopy, he hesitated. He hadn’t sat here since his father died.
Destiny pulled him onto its worn upholstery.
He stiffened when guards threw open the doors and dragged inside a shackled man.
“Bow before the Crown Prince,” Pedar told the unfortunate fellow, who sported an unkempt beard, cracked lips, and defiant eyes. Beneath a soiled tunic, his muscles outlined a firm body.
“I don’t bow to anyone, least of all to a tyrant. Put me on display for public torture if you will, but I refuse to obey.”
A guard poised to strike him with a staff, but Zohar held up his hand. “I will hear your complaints. What is your name?”
“Ungar Quinn. Your people are starving, sire.” The man’s voice rang with boldness. “Taxes take what little we have, and high prices take the rest. But that is not the worst of it. The punishments maim our children, sterilize our women, and kill our men. We hoped for change when you took your father’s place, but all you have done is reinforce the evils he brought upon us.”
Zohar stood, fists clenched at his side. His face flushed. Chills ran up and down his spine. “What taxes? Why are people going hungry? Our warehouses reported surpluses last year.”
“Surpluses that went straight to your officials.”
Zohar’s eyes widened, and he skewed a glance toward his prime minister. “Is this true?”
Pedar steepled his hands. “The High Exchequer assured me we had a positive balance sheet. I am not skilled in finance, sire, so I did not question his report. The failure is mine.”
Zohar thinned his lips. If anything, the oversight was his own. “You spoke of punishments. Explain.”
The rebel cocked his head. “Your father enacted severe penalties during his oppressive regime. He decreed that thievery was punishable by cutting off the right hand of the culprit. Adultery resulted in hysterectomy for the woman involved. Speaking out against the monarchy and its injustices brought death by public torture. These laws are still in effect today.”
Redness invaded his vision. “No…that cannot be true. I repealed those measures.” He spoke in a choked rasp.
Primer Pedar’s bleak gaze met his. “This abomination is my fault. You instructed me to reverse those edicts. Apparently, since the Emperor signed the decrees, only you have the authority to stamp the revised documents. Again, I should not have relied on the word of others that matters were well in hand. With my sincere regrets, I tender my resignation.”
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br /> “You will do nothing of the kind.” Zohar tugged on his uniform tunic. He’d refused to wear the robe and crown of office. “We shall rectify this at once. Draft the relevant declarations and bring them to us for immediate approval. Quinn, we wish you to take word to your people.”
He swallowed, finding it difficult to force the words from his throat. “We regret the, uh, neglect that caused this sad state of affairs. The laws will be amended and people compensated for their losses.”
Realizing he’d lapsed into the royal plurality, he plowed on. “In addition, we will initiate further reforms. Our Assembly is run by hereditary nobles who fail to represent the majority of their constituency. They have been lax in keeping us informed. Therefore, we wish to establish a People’s Electorate, with representatives chosen from each district in the Empire.”
Nira would approve of his decrees, he thought with an ache in his chest. If only she were here to offer advice.
Quinn sank to his knees. “Bless you, Your Highness. You have answered our prayers. I will carry forth your message.”
Zohar gestured impatiently. “Guards, release this man’s shackles and set him free. Keep in mind, Ungar Quinn, we have not been crowned yet. Let us call for a referendum after the Trolleks are defeated. We shall yield to the people’s will.”
“Long live Prince Zohar!” Despite his reverent tone, a wary gleam remained in Quinn’s eyes, as though he were afraid to trust Zohar’s intent.
Realizing he had yet to prove himself, Zohar’s first order of business was to reverse those terrible edicts. After Quinn departed, Pedar hastily drew up a series of documents for him to sign and stamp with the Royal Seal. Then Zohar called a brief meeting with his top advisers to issue further orders.
Proclamations would go forth announcing reform, but they needed a better system of delivery. News media, for example. Mass communications had been forbidden since his father’s era. That would have to change.
Chariots of the gods, he could use Nira’s input in bringing his empire into the modern age. How could he survive without her? She made him feel worthy, as though the mantle of authority suited his shoulders. And for the first time, he wanted to lead his people into the future. A future that wouldn’t exist if the dimensional drift kept widening.
Warrior Prince Page 27
