Fortunes of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  The Uctu master clutched the viewpad to his flowered chest.

  “Once this comes to pass, I should not need to destroy them, but it is best to be prepared.” He gestured expansively to the Bertus. “I will take you to meet my ally! He will be as pleased as I am. You shall be our honored guests tonight and all nights in our new and glorious future.”

  Skana and Nile exchanged smug grins.

  CHAPTER 29

  “It’s NAY-sur, my lord, not NAH-sur or NA-cre, as some of the vids suggest,” said Janice Galeckas, Imperium ambassador to the Autocrat’s court. The tall blond woman and her staff had met us on the landing pad as soon as Oskelev popped Rodrigo’s hatch. Ambassador Galeckas was tall, though not as tall as I, but more strongly built. She wore protective spectacles against the sunlight’s dangerous spectrum. Her long blond hair hung loose over her shoulders. She wore a flowing, floor-length skirt, slightly fitted at the waist. The neckline of her soft, coral-colored bodice was modest, displaying flesh no lower than the collarbone. One small brooch, with a cabochon sapphire in the center, was her only adornment. The long hand that reached out to clasp mine was ringless. As befitted not only an ambassador but one who greeted a cousin and envoy of the Emperor, she was surrounded by a number of attachés, hangers-on, clerks and go-fers. They all waited with us under a marquee that sheltered us from the glaring sunshine on the crushed tan gravel while the customs officials, all Uctu except for one large Solinian, examined the ship inside and out. “And this planet, the homeworld, Dilawe 4, is called Memepocotel. Accent on the third syllable. Moving the stress one syllable either way is incorrect. You’d be able to tell if you read it in the Uctu script, but the transliteration allows for too many potential errors.”

  I rolled the name around on my tongue, finding it interesting but dry, like a crisp wine.

  “What a mouthful!” I said. “I will endeavor to keep the pronunciation accurate. Is Ya! at fault?”

  She hesitated, as I would have expected of a career diplomat.

  “It’s . . . caused some confusion, my lord,” she said, which I took to be a deep understatement. “We have had to instruct some visitors so they wouldn’t cause offense. I would appreciate it if you would spread the word to the Imperium. It would make my job easier.”

  I bowed slightly.

  “Consider it spread.”

  At last the inspectors withdrew. They presented a hexagonal device like a common viewpad to Ambassador Galeckas. She ran her right thumb down the lines of complicated script. The chief inspector tapped the screen with a clawed forefinger, and waved to his staff. They climbed aboard a covered cart and rolled away.

  “What a pleasure it is to meet you, Lord Thomas,” the Ambassador said, favoring me with a firm handshake. “Do you mind turning this way?”

  I had not been unaware of the obvious news crew that hovered nearby on an antigrav sled. The cameras, including two small self-powered orbs, took several angles of my entire crew as well as Jil and her friends.

  I was inordinately pleased that the Ambassador had greeted me before any of my crew—or my cousin. Jil, dressed in a filmy wisp of nothing that had cost the equivalent of the entire wardrobe of Galeckas’s staff, cleared her throat at my shoulder. I took the hint, though I made her wait just a moment, to raise her blood pressure.

  “Ambassador Galeckas, may I make you known to my dear cousin, Lady Jil Loche Nikhorunkorn? This is her and my first visit to the Autocracy. We look to you to guide us through the proprieties and curiosities. Do put us under your wing.”

  “That would be my pleasure, Lord Thomas, Lady Jil,” she said. “Please call me Janice. May I introduce my partner, Stephanie Smith?” I bowed deeply to an even taller woman with a strong jaw. “My attaché, Donal Nirdan, and my chief aide, Vira Metcalf. The rest of my office staff.” Four earnest young people in formal tunics bowed to us. “We are all pleased to be at your service, day or night. I’m sending you a file with everyone’s addresses and Infogrid keys. Call on us any time, for anything you need.”

  “So very kind of you,” I replied.

  I continued with the introductions of my crew and coterie, beginning with Jil’s ladies in waiting and ending, as befitting the most important member except for me, with Parsons.

  “Madam Ambassador,” Parsons intoned magnificently with a microscopic inclination of his head. The news crew all but bounced up and down on their little sled at his elegant pronunciation. “Ms. Smith. My lord, pardon my momentary absence.”

  I nodded. I never questioned Parsons if he requested anything, with the exception of my favorite clothes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sidle up to the three Uctus on the news sled. His voice was too low for me to hear. I would have to inquire later as to his purpose in addressing the reporters. I hope he was not forbidding them to video me! I had already been anticipating with pleasure finding the digitavid feed and linking it to my Infogrid page. Our cousins would be emerald with envy.

  He returned on silent foot and listened as Janice laid out our itinerary for the next few days.

  “. . . Any of us are available to guide you around the region to see the historic sights. You’re free to take any tour on your own with local guides, but my aide, Donal Nirdan, did an advanced degree in Uctu art and architecture.”

  “Ah!” I exclaimed with pleasure. “Architecture was one of my past enthusiasms, though I retain an affection for form and execution of a good building. Please let us make an appointment, Mr. Nirdan.”

  “Any time, my lord.” The fresh-faced young man—although I realized with a start that he was no younger than I—blushed. He tapped the screen of his viewpad. My pad pinged. On the screen was a schedule, I presumed, of his free hours. “Just let me know. It would be my honor.”

  “The honor is mine,” I said, with a formal inclination of my upper torso.

  Janice continued with her prepared notes. “The day after tomorrow you might want to do some clothes shopping. Later this week is the second anniversary of the Autocrat’s accession. You will all receive invitations. The custom is for guests to wear Uctu attire. The Autocrat and her court will wear Imperium garb.”

  “Wonderful!” I exclaimed, for though I had a quantity of proper formalwear with me, it was never as comfortable as garments of my own choice.

  “Well, I’m not interested in architecture,” Jil said, waving a hand. “I’d rather shop tomorrow. And the next day. I leave the diplomatic missions to Thomas. He isn’t bored by them, heaven knows why!”

  I favored our hosts with a patient smile.

  “I am afraid my cousin has not yet recovered from the long trip,” I said. “Let me tell you some time about the village she purchased. Now, there was a study in architecture!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the very tip of Jil’s tongue peek out between her lips, the subtlest of cousinly rebukes.

  “I’ll make sure you have an escort to the shopping district,” Janice said. “It’s vast and ancient—I think you can find anything you want there.”

  “When may I meet Her Excellence?” I asked. “As the representative of my cousin, the emperor, I would like to present my credentials as soon as possible.”

  “She would like to see you this afternoon. Would that be convenient?”

  “Certainly,” I said. “I look forward to it.”

  “Wonderful!” Janice said, making a note on her viewpad.

  “But I have one further request,” I added, hoping the press was out of earshot, “a very important one. I am in receipt of a certain amount of correspondence regarding Imperium citizens who are being held by the authorities.”

  Janice’s brows went down in concern.

  “Which citizens?”

  “Accused smugglers,” I said, prepared to launch into their defense. “I have been in correspondence with some of them who appealed for my aid. It would seem that the laws of the Autocracy are harsh, not to say draconian . . .”

  “If I may, my lord,” Parsons said. He stepped forward a pace, and suddenly the n
oises around us deadened. The others did not notice, but I fancied my hearing to be as keen as any Uctu’s. Parsons had no doubt deployed one of the small devices concealed about his person to enhance our privacy. “On behalf of the Emperor, we must request meetings with those citizens. It is part of his lordship’s responsibilities to offer our assistance.”

  “That may be a little tricky,” Janice said, with a frown. “They are charged with capital crimes. I or someone on my staff has been in to see each of them, but there is a rule against outsiders entering the prison precinct. They are allowed contact only with their counsel until their trial, which has not yet been scheduled.”

  “Nevertheless, it is imperative that Lord Thomas speaks with them,” Parsons said, imperturbably. He was not to be put off by one bureaucrat’s frown, or indeed a whole concert hall of bureaucrats frowning in six-part harmony.

  Janice was not one to challenge one so confident, as indeed any diplomat worth her salt would not. She bowed slightly.

  “I will make arrangements. It could take some time. Would you all like to have a chance to freshen up before the audience with Her Excellence?”

  I stood before my bed, my chin in hand. What to wear?

  I wished to make the greatest possible impression upon Her Excellence. I knew that the young Uctu leader was considered wise beyond her years, but what did that mean? Anyone of my acquaintance who used a word more than five syllables long was often interpreted to be of superior intelligence, when close examination would prove conclusively otherwise. Although I cared deeply for my cousins and would defend them to the death, I was under no illusions as regarded their intelligence or reasoning faculties. Doubtless, of course, they would have said the same about me. But at least I was willing to improve myself. Most of my relatives were content to calculate their degree of separation from the throne and fulfill every whim that they could afford. I, too, had spent most of my life doing just that. But things had become so much more interesting since I had found a purpose. Working on covert missions was enormous fun, not to mention providing me with fresh venues in which to show off my extensive and ever-changing wardrobe. I must not forget that the missions were actually important to the well-being of the Imperium.

  All my luggage and that of my contingent had been transferred to rooms in the Nacer Raffles Hotel. As the emperor’s direct envoy, the Celestial Suite was ceded to me in its entirety. It consisted of fifteen rooms of several sizes, from the junior powder room, smallest of the three euphemisms, through the fountain room, an octagonal glass-roofed indoor garden suitable for meditation or a charming afternoon tea, up to the reception room, which could have hosted a party of sixty in comfort. The suite occupied the entire top floor of the hotel, a grand old establishment in the oldest part of the city. All in all, I had more space granted to me than in my quarters in the Imperium compound in Taino. Jil and her ladies shared the Magnificent Suite that filled the floor below mine. My crew were bestowed here and there in humbler quarters. I assumed Parsons had been given a group of rooms somewhere filled with surveillance equipment and hot and cold running spies.

  My bedroom, largest of the four within the gilded doors, was painted the palest of shell pink and decorated with antiques and beautifully made faux antiques that stood out against that gentle glow. The robotic room steward, which also acted as my personal valet during my visit, had unpacked anything that was not coded shut with my personal seal.

  The remaining three cases had been transferred to an office, the door to which was secured with an optical scanner and a word lock. No necessity or luxury had been neglected, to my eye. After a rapturous examination of the premises, I had temporarily run out of superlatives.

  I explored the bedroom with an eye to feng shui, and determined that my bed needed to face in a different direction for maximum flow of chi. I summoned the robotic room steward, EXLS-53don, from its niche beside the main door, and had it rearrange the furniture to my liking. Once that was done, I felt as though the energy was much better. I had also asked that the elegant and plushy white dressing gowns that hung in every closet be replaced by the same in red. All that was done in an instant. The ancient hotel chain had not fallen down in its long tradition of service.

  At my request, EXLS-53don had also arrayed my formal attire so I could peruse it easily. The plain black suit for which Parsons had expressed an initial preference for my first encounter with Her Excellence was simply that: plain. I rejected it out of hand. Out also for consideration went my naval uniform. Handsome and fitted to my size as though it had been a second skin, it stood out in drab contrast to the rest of my wardrobe. Neither was it suited to my rank nor my position as envoy.

  I did like the one-piece dark-blue oversuit that was overwritten in tiny letters with my family history and descent. The sleeves consisted of broad rings of fabric that encircled my arms at intervals, as the rings of the upper half of the garment did my torso. Underneath it went a flawlessly made white silk shirt with billowy sleeves and a standing collar. I thought the outfit looked well on me. It reminded me of a portrait in the gallery of my family home, of a long-dead ancestor who had been famous for leading a raid on the banking system of a star cluster and saving the economy of several worlds, the tale of which was included in the legend on the cloth. I liked the piratical aspect of the costume. I had, for luck, brought along my bright red coat that I had worn to the Castaway Cluster, as well as a set of elaborate robes in rich blue silk satin made for me for a cousin’s theme wedding. The dernier cri, a suit of ecru linen whose jacket sleeves reached only to my elbow and pants legs to the knees, might have looked a trifle too sporting. I had boots, shoes, sandals and all manner of footgear available that complemented each combination.

  “What do you think, Excelsis?” I inquired of the room valet, as it held the oversuit up to my neck before the three-way mirror set in the wall. I turned this way and that to admire every angle.

  “It exceeds fashion norms,” EXLS-53don replied.

  I liked the sound of that, but I pressed for specifics.

  “I am sure that you listen to scuttlebutt from your fellow AIs in the palace,” I added, leaning companionably closer to its central processing unit, which was in the center of the robot body instead of in the “head.” “Tell me more. Would Her Excellence find this distracting, annoying or any other adjective that indicated less than satisfaction or admiration?”

  “Distraction index, unusually high,” Excelsis replied, “since you ask.”

  “In what way?”

  “Her Excellence is keen for knowledge, my lord. She might spend your audience reading the text on your clothing.”

  “Hmm,” I said, thoughtfully. I put the oversuit down. “That won’t do. It’s difficult to make conversation with a companion who is reading. Not that I haven’t often attempted it.”

  The valet circled me, its optical pickups scanning my frame up and down.

  “If I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion or two, my lord?”

  I beamed at Excelsis.

  “I would be delighted to hear them!”

  The mechanical hummed over to the left side of the bed, the opposite of where he had bestowed the darker-colored clothing. I followed him. Excelsis put out a pincer claw and tapped two of the outfits.

  “Either of these would be well-received. Her Excellence is fond of bright colors and intricate patterns, but her attiring-robots have no record of guests arriving in anything like these. This way, Her Excellence would pay more attention to you than to your attire. Is that not your purpose, or do you wish to distract her so she does not examine you too closely?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “I always prefer to present the real me. If she enjoys clothes, that will come out during our conversation. I am interested in, people, not politics. I would be useless in say, Madame Galeckas’s position.”

  I could almost fancy I heard a smile in Excelsis’s tinny tenor voice.

  “Not so, sir. Truth, welcome or unwelcome, would be a refreshing addition
to difficult negotiations. As a high-level valet for visiting dignitaries, I am programmed to judge subtleties.”

  “Well, you’ll be starved for material with me,” I told him frankly, arms outspread to indicate the depths of my sincerity. “I am not at all subtle.”

  The robot housing zipped noiselessly over and once again ran its optical sensors up and down my person.

  “There are subtleties to you, my lord, but they are not of the usual kind. You are interested in people. Perhaps you would care to exchange observations at some point during your visit? It would add useful information to my database.”

  I smiled broadly.

  “I could ask for nothing better. And afterwards as well, if you like! I keep an active correspondence with many friends and acquaintances. Some of them are LAIs like you.”

  A momentary pause from Excelsis meant his computational circuits did complex calculations that would have taken me the rest of my life. He was looking me up. I was under no illusions that he could not read every Infogrid entry that had been made by or on me since before I was born, no matter what levels of secure code had been written into them. LAIs shared information of specific interest to themselves and others like them. But I was pleased when his eyes lit up again.

  “I see you do, sir. It would be my privilege.”

  “The privilege would be mine,” I said, with a bow. “And if you would be so kind, over the course of my visit here, to let me know if anyone shows too deep an interest in my personal files or correspondence, it would be of great help to me. I am here on an important mission.”

  The optic on the right appeared to flicker, as if Excelsis winked at me.

  “Of course, sir. I am programmed to assist you in any way.”

  I went to peruse his suggestions with my thumb upon my lower lip.

  “Hmm,” I said, deep in thought. Either would do. The first selection was the most formal of summer day suits. I adored the fabric, a butter-soft challis in toasty bronze. The trousers were so comfortable I had had the tailor make several in a host of different colors. The slim-fitting, high-collared shirt that went underneath was crisp but not oppressively so. I would not mind donning that, even in the heat and humidity of the afternoon.