by K. B. Wagers
“They might,” Emmory said thoughtfully. “If they’re supporting Laabh instead of Ganda. Remember that his father left with Admiral Shul the same day you returned home, Highness.”
“This is a Shiva-damned viper’s nest.” I rubbed both hands over my face. “And they’re on some kind of timetable that I’d bet a good chunk of ravga has to do with that corridor we saw this afternoon on the map, Admiral.”
“I already sent the empress my report, Highness. She approved it and orders went out. I can message the commander at Canafey and let them know to be on the lookout, but that’s about all I can do.”
“Do it,” I said. “It might be enough. I need to know what else they’re planning and when it’s supposed to go down.”
“Hit the weak link and the chain will shatter.” Zin, who’d been quiet up to this point, shifted away from his spot near the door. “We can find out, Highness. I just don’t know if it will be in time.”
“We’ll deal with it if it happens. Go.”
“No protests about coming with me?”
I stuck my tongue out at the tease. “I have plenty to deal with here and this is your job. Who are you going after?”
Zin shook his head with a slight smile. “Sorry, Highness. It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Zin, I can’t leave her.” Emmory’s voice was low and edged with regret.
“I know. I’m a decent enough Tracker on my own, Emmory. I think I can manage.”
“Admiral, why don’t I see you to the door while these two hash it out,” I said with a grin and headed across the room. I’d seen the way her jaw had tightened at Zin’s remarks and pinned her down with a curious look when we reached the door.
“I’m not questioning your judgment, ma’am, but can you trust them?”
“With my life, with the empire. I know their methods might seem a little mercenary. Dark Mother, I know my methods probably seem that way.” I laughed briefly and then sobered. “We’re not up against people who are willing to play by the rules, Admiral. They’ve killed my sisters, my niece, and my mother—your empress—and too many other innocent people. They’re pushing this empire to the brink of a war you and I both know we can’t win. If that means I must take the slightly less civilized road to protect the people of my empire, I will do it. If you have a problem with it—”
“I don’t, ma’am.” She dipped her head. “I understand the necessity.”
“Good. I’d like you to take Zaran back to your ship with you. I’ll feel better if our sole witness to my cousin’s treachery is somewhere with very few access points.”
Of course, if they really wanted to remove her, all they’d have to do is blow up the admiral’s ship. I could tell by the look in Hassan’s eyes she’d thought of it, too, but neither of us wanted to say it out loud.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you after Pratimas.”
I nodded in reply and closed the door behind her. When I turned, Emmory and Zin were standing silently, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes closed. “Did you two finish your argument?”
Emmory gave me the Look. Zin grinned. “We’ve got five days until Pratimas, Highness,” he said. “I probably won’t see you until then, so try to keep your head down and stay out of trouble?”
“Likewise,” I replied, my cheeky salute ruined by the unexpected yawn. “Good night, gentlemen.”
“Good night, Highness. Sleep well.”
22
Ma’am?” I nodded at the steward and she poured more chai into my mug with a deft hand. Mother shook her head, pressing a hand to her stomach with a sigh.
“I’m stuffed, Hana. Tell Olizi that was his best meal yet.”
“I will, ma’am. He’ll be pleased to hear it.” She bowed and left the room.
Mother and I sat in silence. We were alone in the room—even our Ekams were outside the door—but the silence wasn’t awkward.
It was three days since Zin had taken off. Three days filled with a ridiculous schedule of meetings, more meetings, and Pratimas rituals. For once in my life I enjoyed the rituals—mostly because they gave me respite from the meetings. The one today had involved touring several carefully selected private homes to light lamps and trade gifts with the owners. Neither Emmory nor Bial had allowed Mother or I to eat any of the carefully prepared treats the men of the house had presented to us until Mother snappishly reminded them she was dying anyway. In an almost comical scene both BodyGuards scanned each treat, then Mother ate part of it and handed the rest to me with a nod and a smile.
I hadn’t spent so much time with Mother since before she’d been crowned. It was bittersweet and I found myself blinking back tears at the oddest moments. The experimental treatment Dr. Ganjen was trying appeared to be working. Over the last few days Mother had been more alert, more stable, and even more like the pre-empress mother I remembered.
I knew it wasn’t going to last, so I was trying to stay with her as much as possible. The first day had been stiff and strange as we navigated between the past and the present, trying each in our own way to find some common ground—and failing with laughable results. That, I think, was what broke the tension between us.
Mother’s yawn interrupted the silence. I finished my drink and stood. “I should go, let you get your rest.”
She reached a hand out and I took it. “Sometimes I think it’s easier you’ve changed so much. You looked so much like your father I’m not sure I could have stood it.” Her smile was sad. “Good night, Haili.”
“Night, Mother.” I kissed her cheek and headed for the door.
Alba met me at my rooms. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I know it’s late, but can I trouble you?”
“Sure. What is it?” I stood back as my Guards swept my apartments and then followed Alba into the room.
“I’ve been screening your incoming mail for you, for junk mostly. I am passing on anything that looks legitimate.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Alba, it’s your job to look at my mail. What’s going on?”
“At first I dismissed it, but you’ve gotten fifty or so in the last week.”
“Fifty or so what?”
“Of the same e-mail. There were a few early on, but lately there’ve been more and more.” Alba shifted, clearly uncomfortable, and I couldn’t stop the laughter.
“Shiva’s bones, woman, what it’s it? Naked pictures? I can’t imagine death threats would bother you so, I’m sure I get a dozen a day.”
“No, ma’am, nothing of the sort. It’s just weird.”
“Well, let me see it then. Throw it up on the screen, though I’m sure Emmory’s already in the loop on this?” Alba nodded and sent the offending message to the screen on the far wall. I took one look and laughed out loud. “Bugger me; Hao, you ass.”
It was just white text on a black background that said: V sorry about P. You owe me 100 credits.
“You know who it’s from?” Emmory was shooting for casual and missed it by a meter and a half.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “When did the first one come in?”
“About a week ago, Highness.”
“It’s Hao. He must have been on a news fast or something. That took him longer than I figured it would. I’ll have to think of a reply.”
“Highness, you cannot send one hundred credits to a known associate of Po-Sin’s.”
“I don’t owe him one hundred credits, Emmy.” I paused. “At least I think I don’t, maybe I do—either way.” I waved a hand in the air. “It’s just Hao letting me know it’s him. He’s not looking to collect. He always liked it when I owed him money because he could bring it up as often as possible.”
“Should I message back a reply, ma’am?” Alba asked.
“Tomorrow. I need to think of what to say and I have to be up ridiculously early in the morning. Night.”
The next morning found me up before the sun, dressed in a horrible petal-pink sari that clashed with my hair. It was traditional, so I hadn’t complained—out loud anyway
—and my mutterings were quickly followed with an apologetic prayer.
Normally I wasn’t one for paranoid superstitions, but we could use all the help we could get in surviving this mess. Both literally and figuratively.
So I knelt in the flickering light of the temple dressed in that awful pink sari with the statue of Ganesh looming over me. He was massive, our dancing god with one foot raised in the air and his four arms spread wide. His ears were stained with red, and a great stripe coated the length of his trunk. Garlands of flowers in red and yellow were draped around his neck and lay in great piles around his foot along with the piles of offerings brought by devotees.
The temple was still except for Father Westinkar’s quiet chanting. The sweet smell of the treat offerings—modak and laddus—mingled with the spice of burning incense.
The great elephant-headed god looked down at me with an expression I always felt was a mixture of amusement and pity, and I found myself wondering if He remembered that time Cire and I stole his sweets.
“I don’t think we should be doing this.”
“Hush,” I hissed, tugging Cire back down by my side. “The priests will hear you if you don’t shut up.”
Together we crouched, hidden in the broad leaves of the midget palms that ringed the reddish columns of the temple belonging to Lord Ganesh. We found some relief from the oppressive heat of late Bhadrapad in places like this around the palace grounds. The dying summer sun did what Mother couldn’t—it made us too tired and lazy to attempt to outwit our BodyGuards and venture out into the city.
Instead, we confined our mischief to the palace grounds and today, on the last day of Ganesh Chaturthi—the ten-day festival—I’d promised Pace modak.
She’d been sick with fever for most of the festival and Mother was being mean. I knew a few of the sticky sweet treats wouldn’t harm my little sister, but the physician said no so Mother said no. Not even Father had been moved by my pleas.
So I was taking matters into my own hands.
“We can’t steal from a god, Haili!”
“Be quiet.” I felt a little pang of guilt as I brandished my fist at my sister and she subsided with tears in her eyes. “Sorry, Cire. Really. But Ganesh isn’t going to begrudge a few sweets. They’re not for us. They’re for Pace. He loves Pace, and if you do, too, then you’ll quit your bitching and help me.”
Cire’s lip quivered. “I do love Pace,” she whispered in a voice thick with tears, and I knew I’d gone too far. I wrapped my arm around her. Cire was the oldest, the heir, but sometimes I wondered if my kindhearted sister would survive as empress.
“I know you do,” I whispered back. “You keep watch; whistle twice if you see anyone. I’m going in.”
“Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha,” Father Westinkar chanted, jerking me back to the present. He pressed his thumb to my forehead and left a smear of precious red sandalwood paste there before bowing low. “Om Gam Salutations to the Lord of Hosts.”
I echoed the chant, folding my hands together and bowing until my forehead touched the cool temple floor. I was suffering from the early morning hours so I focused on the puja instead of the sun crawling up over the horizon on my left.
It was a ritual we’d repeated every morning for the last several days. A plea to the One who trampled obstacles under his broad feet. A lead-in to the holiday, a wish for Him to guard the light and keep us all safe.
For all my bitterness about the gods, there was a special place in my heart for Ganesh. I’d never told Cire, but when I scrambled up on the base of Ganesh’s statue to steal those modak for Pace, I’d left the bracelet our father had given me at the start of the celebration and whispered a quick, reverent prayer to the god to make my sister better. I’d told my father I’d lost it and he’d looked at me with disappointment, but it was worth it when Pace recovered that very evening.
“Highness?” Emmory’s voice was worried, and I realized why when a hand to my face came away wet. “Are you all right?”
“I was just remembering something.” I squeezed his forearm. “Give me a moment, would you?” He nodded and moved off to stand with Jet, two silent shadows against the reddish column less than ten paces from me.
Ganesh’s temple on the palace grounds was a small one, meant more for private ceremonies like ours. I’d always preferred it to the gigantic temple on the far side of the capital, which was filled with too much noise and confusion. But even here I apparently wasn’t safe. Cas was on the other side of the temple and the members of Team Three stood at parade rest along the far wall.
Sinking to my knees again, I reached a hand out and rested it on the god’s foot. The flowers tickling my arm were forgotten when I made contact with the statue. A tingle of electricity shot through me and I closed my eyes, dropping my head and pressing my free hand to my heart.
“I haven’t been the most faithful, Father,” I whispered in the Old Tongue. “My travels took me far from home and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to pray. But I haven’t forgotten what you did for Pace, and I won’t—not ever. I don’t know if I can do this, but I do know there’s no one else.
“I need help, Father. Clear the obstacles from my path. Help me save my empire, my people.” I knew a request of that magnitude required an equally great sacrifice, and I dragged in a deep breath. “I don’t have anything I can offer you but my freedom. Do this for me and I swear I’ll do my duty for as long as you require of me. I swear I will be faithful to you for the rest of my days.”
It was a hell of an open-ended vow, dangerous enough to make to a person, but to a god it was a promise of endless devotion.
My heart tore itself open as I sacrificed myself for my people the same way my ancestors had so many thousands of years ago when they volunteered to go out into the blackness of space.
“What the fuck are you doing, Hail?” I muttered the question even as I unwound the leather band from my wrist and took off Pace’s heavy silver ring, leaving them both amid the piles of flowers. Wiping my face with the heels of my hands, I rose to my feet, gave the god a final bow, and headed out of the temple with my shadows following me.
Alba met us outside the temple and I answered her bow with a smile. We were halfway back to my rooms when the ping of an incoming call sounded. “Emmory, it’s Admiral Hassan,” I said, holding up a hand and stopping to answer the call.
“Admiral,” I greeted Inana when she appeared on the screen I threw onto the nearest blank wall.
“Highness, I’ve got Caspel on the line also,” she said. The screen split and the hawk-faced head of GIS appeared in the second panel. I added Emmory to the link with a thought.
“Your Highness, I have bad news.”
The knots in my stomach that had been slowly loosening themselves snapped taut. “What?”
“I’ve just received reports from our assets on the ground in Canafey. Less than ten minutes ago Saxon Shock troops hit the governors’ palaces on Major and Minor. Governor Phillus is dead. Governor Ashwari has been taken prisoner. I’ve got an operative trying to get her out, but I can’t give you any promises.”
“The shipyards?”
“They’re intact, ma’am. The lockdown order went out from Governor Phillus’s office; that’s all I know at the moment. So the ships in the yard—all forty-seven of them—are pieces of floating rubble as far as the Saxons are concerned. Unless they can get the lock codes from Governor Ashwari.” Caspel’s expression was so cold it froze my skin. “If she’s still alive, ma’am, they’ll get them one way or another.”
“You get her out of there, Caspel.” I’d seen what Saxon Shock troops could do to their prisoners and I’d be damned if I’d leave any of my people in their hands. “Alive. Do you hear me?”
“We’re working on it, Highness. I’ve got one of my best trying to get in there now.”
I barely smothered the curse threatening to crawl up my throat. The man knew his job and so did whoever he’d just sent in to rescue the governor. My railing at him wasn’t going to
help matters.
“It’s the day before Pratimas, Caspel. They know what this holy day means, how could they—”
“It’s not how could they, Highness. It’s that they did. They know we’re vulnerable right now. Governments in transition always are. I wanted to move your coronation up, solidify your rule. This delay makes things wickedly unstable, but—”
“What? No one told me that.”
“Your empress-mother disagreed and no more was said on the matter.” Caspel glanced away from the camera. “We’re landing. I’ll be at the palace in five minutes, Highness.”
I didn’t bother to ask how the head of Galactic Imperial Security knew I was in the palace and instead nodded sharply. “I’ll meet you in the War Room.”
“I’ll join you on-screen,” Admiral Hassan said. “It would take me too long to get to the surface. I’ve already commed the other members of the Raksha. They’ll meet you in the War Room.”
“We’re on our way.” I waited until the com was off before I blistered the air with curses. “Alba, where’s Toropov? I want an explanation from him and I want it immediately.” Rubbing my hands over my face, I started down the hallway again at a speed that forced my chamberlain to run to keep up with me.
“I’m messaging his aide now, ma’am. I also sent a note to Leena about your meeting with Taran.”
“Bugger me,” I muttered. I’d forgotten about my lunch plans. “Make sure it gets rescheduled, Alba. After Pratimas probably. That is, if we don’t end up at war again.”
Mother and Bial met us at the door to the War Room, with Caspel showing up just a heartbeat later.
“Highness,” Bial said with a short nod.
“Your Majesty.” Caspel bowed. “I didn’t think you’d want to bother with this.”
“I am still empress. Sick or not. Next time you try to tell my Ekam not to trouble me, I’ll have you cut into pieces and fed to my cats.”
I raised an eyebrow, but Caspel didn’t look the slightest bit abashed. He shrugged a shoulder. “You know as well as I do, Your Majesty, that emergencies are taxing. I thought calling you into a crisis of this magnitude would only complicate matters and it was better left to the heir.”
