She cast a quick sidelong glance at Darbeni. Her daughter was the only one who could bring her down now. The girl was frightened, but Vivia felt she could trust her. She is my daughter; she will be tough, she thought.
“We were using our good offices for the benefit of the Sisterhood,” said Vivia smoothly. “We know full well the horrors of the war at Aurora. We were trying to find a way to broker a peace deal that would have Cheval Kantus Hilson withdraw his forces in exchange for gold.”
Hildegard looked at Vivia, and her jaw almost dropped at the guild mistress’s sheer audacity. Then she laughed, and the merry sound was incongruous, for Vivia was dead serious. Her laughter broke the tension in the room and paradoxically gave Darbeni heart.
“Vivia, if you had any morality whatsoever, you would have made a great Resident,” Hildegard said. Then she grew serious again. “The weight of the evidence before this tribunal is overwhelming. You plotted with Darbeni Milsina and Cheval Kantus Hilson to lure Princess Deirdre and Yukia Rabbina into an ambush on the inner wall overlooking the Docks district in Aurora Citadel. Princess Deirdre was in the process of putting together a case of high treason against you. Yukia knew too much and was becoming a dangerous liability. Do you deny these charges?”
“I absolutely deny these charges,” said Vivia coolly. “It is all hearsay, and what circumstantial evidence you have was obtained illegally and will be thrown out of any Zon court. I am innocent.”
“Thank you for your statement,” said Hildegard gravely. “I will now poll the tribunal to reach a verdict.”
Hildegard looked questioningly at Andromache and then at Kyra.
“Guilty,” said Andromache emotionlessly.
“Guilty,” echoed Kyra.
“My own conclusion is that you are guilty,” said Hildegard. “So it is unanimous. By the emergency powers vested in me as Queen Empress, I sentence you to death. You will be shot today. We will now proceed to examine the case of Darbeni Milsina.”
Darbeni looked down at her plain shoes. She could not bring herself to look up at the stern tribunal or at any of the hard-eyed Guardians. I have made my bed, now I must lie in it, she thought. Well, at least my mother and I face Ma’s judgment together.
To everyone’s surprise, Vivia laughed gaily.
“Do you think your kangaroo court will be the end of me?” she asked, her voice rising. “Do you think I am so stupid that I have not taken precautions against just such an eventuality? All my life I have faced the prejudice of electrae like you and your envy of my wealth and success. I always knew that you would use any means, fair or foul, to bring me down. So I have made arrangements. If you shoot me, the Sisterhood will be utterly destroyed.”
There was a heavy silence in the room. Vivia locked eyes with Hildegard, Andromache, and Kyra in turn. She read their confusion and indecision. She smiled and tossed the trailing end of her beautiful kanjiam scarf over her shoulder in her habitual way.
“Explain yourself,” said Hildegard finally.
Vivia arched an eyebrow again and looked around the room.
“Are you sure you want this information so widely disseminated?”
There was only the slightest pause before Hildegard made up her mind.
“With the exception of Centuria Lady Alexandra, I request all other personnel to leave the chamber,” she said. “Princess Andromache, Praefecta Kyra, let us switch off all the recorders, please.”
Vivia was rapidly gaining her confidence back. She looked over at Darbeni and whispered, “Chin up, my darling.”
“Go on,” said Hildegard, with a note of tiredness.
“I have secreted a large cache of weapons and batteries at a secure location,” Vivia said. “And I have a network of barbarian agents, each with a fragment of the map of the location. On the first of every quarter, I send an airboat on autopilot to each one of them, mechanically delivering five gold talents.”
“Why should we believe you?” asked Kyra sarcastically.
Vivia shrugged her shoulders theatrically.
“By all means, don’t believe me,” she said indifferently. “Shoot me. Shoot Darbeni. Then brace yourselves for the barbarian hordes that arrive at the gates of Atlantic City armed to the teeth with ’grators and enough batteries to power them for more than a year.”
Andromache had already worked out Vivia’s dead-letter plan but continued in a dull monotone, mainly for Kyra’s benefit.
“So what if your autopiloted airboat does not arrive?”
“Why, my barbarian network has instructions to proceed to a common meeting point to collect their gold talents, using their map fragments to identify themselves. Once together, they will quickly figure out that their individual fragments can be put together, and the complete details of what they have will be clear. They know that any rebel baron will pay them a fortune for the weapons. There are enough to arm over a thousand men.”
“This is technically feasible,” said Hildegard. “But what is to stop your barbarian agents getting together even if you pay them?”
“Greed, ma’am,” said Vivia. “I have bugs planted on all of them. If they go to the meeting point without a missed payment, they know that the payments will stop immediately.”
“How much time and effort have you put into this, Vivia?” asked Hildegard.
“A lot, Your Majesty,” said Vivia, smiling now. “But with my life at stake, why would I stint?”
“We must confer,” said Hildegard, brushing back an errant curl. “Alex, take them outside, and wait there with the Guardians.”
“I hear and obey,” said Alex. She quickly shepherded Vivia and Darbeni out of the chamber.
Kyra spoke first.
“This is so far-fetched, we were foolish even to hear her out. Facing the death penalty, she will say anything. We should shoot the two of them immediately.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Andromache slowly. “Vivia has built her barbarian network over a long time. She has profited hugely from our rising military spending caused by barbarian rebellions. In light of what we know now, I have no doubt that she has incited rebellions before. She is far too clever to play such a risky game without insurance.”
“We all know that what she has claimed is technically feasible,” said Hildegard. “I cannot risk it. Already, we have faced unimaginable reverses. Even very small numbers of ’grators have enabled the barbarians to defeat us at Ostracis. The obsolete weapon of dynamite has placed us in dire straits at Aurora. We have less than ten thousand huntresses. With barons flocking to his banner, Duke Hilson could field an army of over two hundred thousand. With such a huge cache of ’grators, I fear that the barbarians will destroy the Sisterhood.”
“What’s to stop her from doing it anyway—” began Kyra.
“Alive, she has every interest in the survival of the Sisterhood,” said Hildegard impatiently. Andromache was tempted to roll her eyes but restrained herself. Instead, she tapped her wrist bracer and opened a comm channel to Alex, asking her to bring Vivia and Darbeni back in again.
“Vivia, I will commute your sentence,” said Hildegard as soon as they were back in again. Her voice was brittle. “Your game of blackmail has worked—but mark my words, there will be a price to pay. For a start, your plum position as prime contractor to the government will cease. There are other Guild Mistresses that we will patronize.”
Other than death, there was nothing Vivia disliked more than financial reverses. She wrinkled her nose in distaste but spoke sweetly.
“Come, Your Majesty,” she said. “Surely we can make a deal. I will guarantee not to ship any war materiel to the barbarians, in exchange for retaining my prime government contract.”
Hildegard thought it over. While she was thinking, Andromache spoke.
“Vivia, if you want to get into the good graces of the government again, you will have to do something more active.”
“What do you suggest, Princess?” asked Vivia, emphasizing the title.
“You must
help us win this war. You created the nightmare we are facing in Aurora by selling the Hilsons dynamite. You must fix it. Darbeni has won the trust of Cheval Kantus Hilson, the barbarian commander at Aurora. She must contact him and lead him into a trap so we can kill him. And you must increase weapons production and mark down your prices.”
“You are asking my daughter to risk her life,” sniffed Vivia. “And you want me to become an active participant in your war and subsidize the government. If we are to serve like electrae, then you must make us electrae. That is my price.”
“You cannot be serious!” exclaimed Kyra.
“On the contrary, I was never more serious,” retorted Vivia. “You must admit me to the Lower Temple, Lysia. You must legitimize Darbeni as my lawful daughter and admit her to the Middle Temple, Magis, as is her right. In addition, I would like to be to be created a countess, with the title passing to Darbeni and her progeny.”
“There are only six Zon aristocratic houses, Vivia,” said Hildegard, striving to be patient. “I could not make myself a countess, much less you.”
“Don’t toy with me, Your Majesty,” countered Vivia, inwardly gleeful that Hildegard had not refused her demand that Darbeni and she be made electrae. “We both know our history. Only two of the Zon aristocratic houses came over from Eartha—the Royal Houses of d’Orr and Saxe. The other four were created by New Eartha queens.”
“Then you also know that no queen has created a hereditary noble house in over five hundred years,” said Hildegard tightly.
“A title limited to one generation, then,” said Vivia, bargaining as she would in the market. “A damehood that I can use and pass down to Darbeni.”
Hildegard did not respond immediately. She made Vivia wait and studied the High Mistress’s face.
“If you want a title in addition to being made an electra, you must pay more,” she said. “Two and half million gold talents.”
Vivia clutched her chest dramatically.
“You will give me a heart attack, Your Majesty! Where will I find so much money?”
Hildegard did not reply, but just looked at her and waited again. Vivia played with her scarf and Hildegard knew she was hooked.
“You will drive me back into poverty, Your Majesty. But I am a loyal supporter of the government, I will pay two million for the title.”
“Very well,” said Hildegard, ignoring Kyra’s thunderous expression. “It is in my power to make you a dame, with the inheritance of the title limited to one generation. But what guarantee do we have that you will not renege on your promises?”
“Your Majesty.” Darbeni spoke up for the first time, her voice sounding strange after her long silence. “I will work with the huntresses to ensnare Cheval Kantus Hilson. I will do so willingly, for I am ashamed of my role in this affair. As Chief Counsel, nothing happens in Pragarina Enterprises without my knowledge. And I swear fealty to you and to the Zon Crown now and for the rest of my life.”
So saying, she strode down the side of the long table till she was face to face with Hildegard. Alex followed her, a mere step behind, her hand on her pistol butt. Hands still force-restrained behind her back, Darbeni knelt before her queen and bent her head.
“Rise, child,” said Hildegard softly. “I accept your word.”
TWENTY-THREE
ALUMUS HURRIED ALONG the long corridor to the king’s private reception chamber in the Great Stony Keep. He held several rolled parchments in his hand, and his small eyes were bright with excitement. His senior cleric, Holodus, walked beside him, and they were followed by two of his Red Sentinels. They entered the anteroom of the reception chamber and were met by a Life Guard unit of an officer and four troopers, their gleaming blue-and-gold ceremonial breastplates flashing in the flickering light from dozens of candles.
“Red Khalif Alumus,” the officer said, his tone neutral. “The king has asked not to be disturbed unless there is something extremely important.”
“This is very important,” said Alumus curtly. “The king will be furious if you don’t let me see him at once.”
“Wait here,” said the officer. He knocked on the chamber door and entered. He returned a moment later and said, “Red Khalif, you may enter. Your staff must stay out here with me.”
“Very well,” said Alumus, hastening through the open reception chamber door. Artor Hilson was lounging in a great armchair with a blazing fire at his left and a series of arrow-slit windows to his right. Wan, wintry sunshine filtered into the room. His elder daughter, Lady Talia, sat by him. She was always with him, it seemed.
King Artor was not in a good mood. He scowled as Alumus entered.
“What brings you here, Red Khalif?” he asked tersely. “Unless you have news of my daughter Esme, my grandson Axel, or my worthless son-in-law Harald, I fear you will not find a warm welcome here.”
“Your Majesty, you well know that no one has reported seeing your younger daughter leave Dreslin Center of her own volition,” said Alumus eagerly. “All the gates are manned around the clock. It stands to reason that she was kidnapped by the Zon, along with her husband and son.”
“But why?” barked Artor. “What good is she to them? Surely they don’t expect me to be so weak as to give them any concessions to get her back. They must know that she is a daughter of the Northern Marches, and I will sacrifice her like I would anyone else’s daughter.”
Alumus’s eagerness got the better of him.
“I urge Your Majesty not to dwell on this depressing issue,” he said excitedly. “For I have news that will certainly make both you and the beautiful Lady Talia smile.”
Talia smiled lazily in anticipation.
“We could certainly use some good news,” she said, sitting up sinuously. While she shared Esme’s pert, pretty face and hourglass figure, she had a serpentine grace that was all her own.
Alumus cleared his throat and unrolled one of the parchments.
“Your Majesty, Lady Talia, I take great pleasure in bringing you the news that Deirdre d’Orr, Princess Ice, has been killed by your Hilson slayers. Cheval Kantus Hilson deployed a unit of slayers in the Docks district of Aurora, and they got the princess in their sights on the citadel’s inner wall. There can be no doubt—she is dead. The bells at the infidel Dawn Temple of Ma in Aurora Citadel have been pealing a dirge for days, and the Zon flags are flying at half-mast.”
Talia unwound herself from her chair, fluidly walked over to Alumus, and took his hands in hers.
“Red Khalif, this is wonderful news!” she cried. “The bitch is dead! Aurora should fall to us any day now.”
“No doubt, my lady,” said Alumus. But he looked over her shoulder at King Artor expectantly. He was not disappointed.
“Red Khalif, you were quite right to come straight to me,” he said. “I wonder that Kantus has not seen fit to contact me himself.”
“It is not for want of trying, Your Majesty,” said Alumus hurriedly. “I got the news from one of my Red Sentinels who was serving as an observer with Cheval Hilson’s army. He left as soon as he could confirm the news. He was able to change horses at our Thermadan Mission houses along the way. Cheval Hilson’s messenger should be here within hours, but I sought the honor of bringing you the news myself.”
“Well, well, these are wonderful tidings indeed,” said Artor, mollified. But he continued to look grim. “I wish I could have been there to see it for myself! I remember the War of Brigon Succession like it was yesterday. After the Zon airboats scattered our forces at the Residency, my brother Mygor and I retreated to Dreslin Center. I can still see Princess Ice, golden locks spilling out of the plumed helmet, riding that huge stallion through the streets as we scurried through the alleys like rats. When she cornered us with her Guardians, Mygor showed himself and allowed himself to be taken to give me time to get away. I crept onto a rooftop and watched her have proud King Harald IV, his loyal older son, my poor brother Mygor, and so many other brave men bound to spits and roasted in Castle Square. Their screams s
till sear my soul and keep me awake at night.”
Even Talia had never heard this story before, and she listened wide-eyed.
“How I wish we could have taken her alive!” continued Artor. “There are so many things I would have liked to do to her before killing her!” Still seated, he half bowed to his daughter. “I beg your pardon, my dear. That was not meant for your gentle ears.”
“The Zon are not women, Father,” responded Talia. “They are whores of the Evil One. He has given them unearthly beauty to seduce right-thinking men from the true path.”
Alumus nodded sagely.
“As always, Your Majesty, your daughter has hit the nail on the head,” he said. “I could not have put it better myself.”
Artor waved expansively.
“Pray sit with us, Red Khalif, and take some Brigon apple wine. Young Harald may not have been much of a king, but he kept a good cellar.”
Alumus poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter on the sideboard and seated himself, facing them.
“Your Majesty,” he said after he took a few sips and smacked his lips. “I have more news, which you may well consider good tidings.”
Artor inclined his head quizzically and let Talia ask, “What is it now, Red Khalif?”
“Coincidentally, I had another messenger this morning,” Alumus said, unrolling a second parchment. “A White Sentinel bringing me a letter from my subordinate, Animus the White Khalif of Nordberg. It seems King Shobar has abandoned Nordberg and fled to the Great Ice Range. Lady Death has butchered the troop of the Skull Watch he left in Nordberg Castle. Karstein Tenus has turned traitor and now holds Nordberg and its associated barony for Zon in return for which he has been elevated to Arch Baron.”
The Empire of the Zon Page 50
