Fortunes of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Thomas, I’m afraid you’re going to be the tiniest bit squeezed when we go home,” she said, her voice falling into a wheedling tone with which I was intimately familiar.

  “And why is that, my dear cousin?” I asked, though I could already guess.

  Jil gave me a very sweet smile. It portended worse than I had initially assumed.

  “Well, I have just purchased a new summer house in Ultin,” she said. “It just cries out for up-to-the-minute décor. And there is a designer in the next street,” she pointed out of the door, “with whose work I have just fallen in love.”

  I sighed. “How many rooms’ worth of love?” I asked.

  “Only eight. The house has just three bedrooms. The rest is for entertaining. They will deliver it to the ship, if you will give me the entry code for the hold.”

  “No can do, cousin of mine,” I said. “Security, you understand.”

  She pouted. “But I thought it was your ship!”

  “And so it is, within the good graces of the Imperium Navy, under the lordship of my mother. But Nesbitt will arrange to meet your delivery at the ship and bestow the cargo therein.”

  She stood on her tiptoes to kiss me. “You are splendid,” she said. “I’ll have my other purchases sent at the same time.”

  I admit that I blanched.

  “Other purchases? How much of the Uctu economy have you supported since the last round of must-haves?” I asked, assuming a long-suffering expression.

  “Oh, Thomas,” she said, striking my arm with her fingers. “You know I came here to shop. And I have. You encouraged me.”

  “More fool I,” I said. “Very well. It is a small price to pay for peace.”

  “I knew you would see it my way!”

  The Rodrigo was stuffed full of goods, arranged into the smallest possible space by Banitra’s deft hand. Still, Nesbitt informed me that even my quarters had several coffers bestowed therein, if only to get them out of the corridors that needed to be kept clear.

  Visoltia called for a meeting with the royal correspondents from the press to express her gratitude to my crew and Lord Rimbalius’s staff. She had commissioned medals with twinkling lights not unlike my lucky circuits and pinned them on each of us in full view of the cameras. At the end of the line, Redius waited with trepidation, but she stood on tiptoes to embrace him just as she had the rest of us.

  “I will do my best to understand why some of my people left our realm,” she said. “But I am grateful for your friendship and your aid.”

  “It is my gift to you,” Redius said, much gratified. Visoltia grinned almost mischievously.

  “We will correspond about Ya! in the future.”

  “I look forward to the conversation.”

  I was deeply gratified. Wherever she had come by it, the Autocrat had her own version of high wisdom. With Visoltia beaming our midst, we all posed for the cameras. I took the lead reporter aside and was assured of copies for my Infogrid file.

  I took my final leave of Visoltia with deep regret.

  “I will miss you, Thomasin,” she said, when we had read my Tarot cards just one more time together on the broad divan in the State Bedroom. She hugged me tightly, her small face nestled against the front of my robe.

  “And I you,” I assured her, patting her on the shoulder. “But we can keep in touch.”

  “Oh, we will!” Visoltia said, letting go and plumping back on the divan. She still seemed to be the eager child that she had been when I first met her, mere days ago, but I could at last see the shape of the adult to come. I regretted the loss of innocence, though it was not a total alteration. “Your reading says that we will always be friends.”

  I bowed to her. “If the cards say it, then it must be true.”

  “Well done, my lord,” Parsons said, in a tone of voice that almost admitted to a trace of emotion as we departed through the privy door and out into the corridors. The servants smiled at us.

  “I think it was,” I said. The full story of the High Wisdom’s perfidy gradually came out. In spite of the growing burden of proof and the terrible betrayal that it revealed, the Autocrat preferred to believe only a portion of it. “She still prefers her superstitions to real life. She misses her fortune teller.”

  Parsons looked sympathetic.

  “You can do only so much, sir. The Lady Visoltia needs to have time to grow up. Thanks to your efforts, she will have it.”

  I sighed. “I know. In the meanwhile, I had Anstruther program a number of nanites for her. They will occupy the fissures and spaces within that marvelous crystal ball of hers. If she asks it whether someone is lying, they will measure temperature, respiration and pupil size and put the answer in the ball. And if someone won’t admit the truth, they will tweak the pain nerve above the tail. She absolutely loves it. In time she’ll learn to read people herself. A wise man from Old Earth once said, ‘Trust, but verify.’ Not a bad way to govern.”

  “No, indeed.”

  I straightened my back as we walked. It was time to essay a difficult matter.

  “I have a favor to ask, Parsons.”

  “My lord?”

  “Yes. In future, I would rather not take my cousins along on missions. You may say it provides good cover, but it inhibits my normal exuberance.”

  Parsons inclined his head less than a millimeter.

  “As you please, sir, although you must admit that Lady Jil and her associates were more than useful to your activities. It is not every noble that would permit herself to be used as a stage prop.”

  “Oh, you would be surprised,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’ll try anything if it sounds like fun. That’s why I do this.”

  An eyebrow climbed his epicene forehead.

  “The only reason, sir?”

  I smiled blandly.

  “No, of course not, Parsons. I also enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

  “You do me too much honor, sir.”

  I smiled, and ushered him through the kitchen doors before me.

  “I saw it in one of the old books: Fortunate is he who has good friends.”