Corbal blew out a gust of air. He saw no good solution. No matter what the courts ruled, it would create schisms in the structures of Highton power. He felt as if he were watching a magrail train hurtle down a mountain, out of control, and nothing he could do would stop the crash. Because he knew what was going to happen.
Yes, he knew exactly what.
They were going to drop the whole mess into Jaibriol’s lap.
The whisper of a sliding screen awoke Sunrise. “Come to bed, love,” she murmured. “Do your worrying tomorrow.”
Corbal didn’t answer. He crossed the room quietly, with consideration for the late hour. In her younger days, Sunrise hadn’t believed Aristos like him existed. But it was true. He was gentle. She had heard, through palace gossip, of one other: High Judge Calope Muze, Corbal’s first cousin and second in line for the Carnelian Throne. Sunrise had even wondered about the emperor. She had only been with him a few moments that night, and he had guarded his mind, but she had felt an odd sense of recognition. Perhaps something in the Qox line made them different from other Aristos.
Another rustle came from across the room. She rolled over in the billowy covers. “Cori? Are you—”
A hand clamped over her mouth. It happened so fast, she had no time to breathe. No! Who was this? An air-syringe hissed against her neck, bringing darkness . . .
Corbal gave a long stretch as he stood up, working out kinks in his muscles. He felt stiff more and more often now. For all that the nanomeds in his body delayed his aging, they couldn’t stop it. The years were beginning to take a toll.
He headed for bed, seeking the comfort of Sunrise’s arms. A century ago, Corbal had done his duty, married a Highton woman and sired heirs. He and his wife had lived together for twentyfive chilly years. When she had passed away, he had given her a magnificent burial. He never again had to marry, never again had to live in the vacuum of a cold Highton union. Now he wanted Sunrise.
It was dark in the bedroom, but a breeze wafted across his face. A wall screen was open, letting starlight into the room. Odd that Sunrise would leave it that way. She didn’t like to sleep in open areas. It made her feel vulnerable.
“Suni?” Sitting on the bed, Corbal reached for her. But no one lay there; the covers were piled in a heap. Puzzled, he said, “Lumos on.”
The lights activated—revealing an empty room. Corbal frowned. Sunrise wouldn’t just leave. He went to the open screen and peered into the night. “Lumos outside.”
Lights came up in the garden, bathing the flowerbeds in soft colors. It was very lovely and very empty.
He made a thorough search of the slumbering house and gardens, aided by several Razers. By the time they had verified she was neither inside nor out, his bewilderment had turned to anger. Sunrise wouldn’t disappear. Someone had taken her. But how? According to the monitors, no one had come in the room. She had gone to bed and stayed there.
Corbal expected Xirad Kaliga to be asleep, but he found the admiral in a console room, with two bodyguards and a slew of aides. A guard searched Corbal before letting him enter. Kaliga was leaning over a console, talking in staccato bursts to someone on the comm. Corbal didn’t like it; ESComm’s Joint Commander looked as if he hadn’t slept at all.
As the guard escorted Corbal to the console, Kaliga glanced up and nodded formally. “The hospitality of my household is at your service, Lord Xir.”
Corbal understood the unstated question: Why was he wandering around the house late at night instead of enjoying the charms of his concubine?
“We appreciate your hospitality,” Corbal answered. He doubted Kaliga missed his implication; a satisfied guest would offer more praise than “appreciate.”
Kaliga motioned an aide over to the console. “Lord Xir, perhaps you would join me for a late-night refreshment? One of my ships brought in an unusually fine liqueur.”
Corbal nodded, relieved. “It would be my pleasure.”
As they left the console room, Corbal said, “Your household is admirable in its work ethic.” In other words, why the blazes was everyone working at this hour?
“Rumors, my friend.” Kaliga rolled his left shoulder slightly, indicating concern. “They sprout everywhere.”
“Tales and truth are not necessarily the same.”
“No, not necessarily.” Kaliga said no more.
Corbal fell silent. He wanted to press the matter of Sunrise, but whatever troubled the admiral clearly had greater import, at least to ESComm and the empire. He discovered that right now he didn’t care a whit about the welfare of Eube.
It wasn’t until they were inside Kaliga’s study, with their guards outside, that the admiral spoke again. “It appears the Ruby Dynasty also works long hours.”
Corbal inwardly swore. Eube had enough problems without the Skolians creating yet another of the never-ending crises they precipitated simply by their onerous existence. “The Ruby Dynasty would do well to rest. It might improve their ability to think.”
Kaliga laughed dryly, with fatigue. He went to a table and poured goblets of a turquoise-hued liquid, then handed one to his guest. As Corbal swallowed, nanomeds in his lips and saliva checked the liqueur; then bioconduits in his body shunted it to a holding area, where other meds analyzed the liquid. After his security systems finished their checks, they released the liqueur. He barely noticed the pause before it continued down his throat.
He raised the goblet to Kaliga. “A fine choice.”
The admiral nodded, obviously preoccupied, and motioned Corbal to a sofa, then sunk into a wing chair himself.
Corbal settled in his chair. He was tired enough to wish he could just come out and say, What happened with the Ruby Dynasty?
Kaliga took a swallow of liqueur. “It has a punch, eh?”
“Is it from Emerald Sector?” In truth, Emerald wasn’t known for its liqueurs. However, “punch” could refer to whatever Kaliga had learned about the Ruby Dynasty, and ESComm had major command centers in Emerald Sector.
Kaliga considered him. “So it does. It just came in tonight.” He set his goblet on a table and leaned back, closing his eyes. “A long night.”
Corbal wanted to groan with the delay. “Longer yet, if one has to deal with Ruby Dynasty machinations.”
“Or rumors of such.”
“Rumors often fall apart under scrutiny.”
The admiral lifted his head. “Unfortunately, some become even more odious.”
Corbal tried not to grit his teeth. Sunrise could be dying while they sat chatting about the infernal Skolians. “What isn’t odious about the Ruby Dynasty?”
Kaliga regarded him steadily. “Their deaths.”
Corbal paused in raising his goblet. Then he lowered it. “I take it no more of them have died, then?”
“Even worse.” Kaliga’s expression soured. “They have an uncanny ability to show up alive after we eliminate them.”
Skolia be damned. “One more is always too many.”
“One implies a single occurrence. It seems we are infested with them.”
Corbal’s grip on his goblet tightened. Did they suspect Jaibriol? Surely not. Corbal had destroyed the evidence. It wouldn’t surprise him if ESComm had stolen genetic material from Jaibriol for more analyses, but they would find only that the boy’s DNA came from his father. Corbal had arranged proof of a Highton mother who had passed away. He kept his suspicions about Jaibriol’s real mother to himself; Soz Valdoria, the Skolian Imperator, was dead now, blown to plasma, along with her inconvenient DNA.
Corbal suddenly tensed. Could Kaliga’s remarks refer to the late Imperator? Had she arisen from the dead?Good gods. “Infested by whom?” he asked.
At the blunt question, Kaliga raised an eyebrow. “I apologize if the nocturnal activity in my home has disturbed your sleep, Lord Xir.”
Corbal held back his grimace. Kaliga had good cause for the rebuke, and he was courteous enough to imply Corbal’s bluntness came from fatigue rather than an intended insult.
“Your hospitality is unsurpassed,” Corbal said. “Even the dawn avails herself of its freedom.” He had no doubt that Kaliga knew perfectly well providers didn’t up and avail themselves of freedom.
“An intriguing concept,” Kaliga mused, “that the sun would rise on a space station.”
“It honors your home that such a remarkable occurrence should happen here.”
Kaliga leaned forward. “I will relay your compliments to my security people immediately.”
Kaliga’s implicit promise to take immediate action in finding Sunrise relieved Corbal. While Kaliga contacted his security, Corbal checked with his own people. No sign of Sunrise had surfaced. His unease deepened; a provider couldn’t vanish from the home of Xirad Kaliga. Someone must have taken her, which meant they had penetrated security and slipped away without a trace. That implied a betrayal at high levels.
Kaliga met Corbal’s questioning look. “It seems it will be longer than we thought until the dawn arrives.”
So the admiral’s people claimed they knew nothing. Corbal didn’t like it. “The dawn always arrives. Nothing can stop it.”
“Rest assured, Lord Xir, we will do everything possible to make that true.”
Corbal nodded. It wouldn’t help Sunrise for him to dash about like an untried youth, but he loathed just sitting here. Where was she? If someone harmed her, he would see that the perpetrator suffered, long and hard.
He narrowed his gaze at Kaliga. The admiral had the means and opportunity to arrange a kidnapping. He would be a fool to do it in his own home, and Xirad Kaliga was no fool. Even so. If Kaliga didn’t produce her soon, he could find himself embroiled in a legal tangle with the emperor’s cousin.
Kaliga pushed his hand across his buzz-cut hair. “It has been a long night.”
“A night of Rubies,” Corbal said.
“Rubies,” Kaliga muttered. “Thrones. Pharaohs.”
Hell and damnation. Dyhianna Selei, the Ruby Pharaoh, had died during the war. That was how ESComm had captured Eldrin, her consort; he had sacrificed himself so she and their son could escape. The ESComm commandos who made the capture reported that she committed suicide by jumping into one of the Locks, but no one really knew what would happen if a human being fell into an operational Lock, which was a singularity in spacetime.
“I wouldn’t have thought the Pharaoh had such resilience,” Corbal said. “She looked weak.”
“Perhaps.” Kaliga sounded tired. “The loss of the Kyle webs makes it difficult to gather information. My ships bring messages, but that takes time. One rumor says the Pharaoh is dead, another says she is missing, yet another says she lives.”
“Such stories show creativity.” Or so Corbal hoped.
Kaliga’s gaze hardened. “Another says Eldrin Valdoria, her consort, has been reunited with his Pharaoh wife.”
At the prospect of the Ruby Dynasty retrenching, Corbal silently went through his arsenal of profanity. Even worse, he was the one who had released Eldrin. “Xirad, your liqueurs are unsurpassed. Perhaps you have one that is even stronger.”
“Indeed.” Kaliga grimaced. “For both of us.”
This time, the admiral poured whiskey. As they drank, Corbal brooded. If Eldrin was reunited with his wife, it would lift morale among their people. The awe that the Skolians held for the Ruby Dynasty baffled Corbal. Weak and uncontrolled, the Ruby psions created havoc. They were providers, for saints’ sake. As long as they promulgated their notions of freedom for taskmakers and providers, they corrupted human life.
And Jaibriol? The boy’s naiveté and inherent weakness as a psion should have made him malleable; instead, he caused no end of trouble. Corbal also had other concerns. Hightons reacted to providers. So far Jaibriol had hidden his telepath’s mind, but it would only take one mistake to reveal him. An unwelcome realization came to Corbal: Jaibriol’s well-being mattered to him. He didn’t want to care; it made him vulnerable. Nevertheless, apparently he did.
Then he had an even more disturbing thought, scandalous, preposterous. Yet there it was: given time and guidance, Jaibriol might make a better emperor than a true Highton.
Raziquon leaned over the girl manacled to his interrogation bench. “The procedure is simple. I ask questions. You answer. If you refuse, I will, shall we say, encourage you to speak.”
Sunrise shook her head, her eyes wide with fear.
“Oh, I understand,” Raziquon said. “You are loyal to Lord Xir. You have neural implants that prevent you from telling me about him, that may even erase your memories if I push too hard, hmmm?” A smile spread across his face. “But you see, no method is one hundred percent effective. You will tell me what I want to know. Eventually.” He touched her breast. She truly was a beauty; she must have cost Corbal millions. He hoped the old man had good insurance for her. “Yes, eventually you will reveal all his secrets.”
Raziquon had no personal animosity for Corbal, at least no more than he had for anyone else. His antipathy came from the danger Corbal posed to the Aristo way of life. Most considered the Xir lord’s behavior toward this provider no more than eccentricity, but Raziquon knew better. If Xir took a moderate hand with Sunrise, other providers might come to expect the same. What then? Providers agitating for change? It was absurd. Dangerous. Xir would probably argue that they were incapable of agitation, but he was a fool to take risks.
Eube was the largest empire created by humanity, its population almost two trillion strong, taskmakers mainly, governed by a few thousand Aristos. It didn’t take a genius to see that each Aristo held sway over far more people than he or she could individually control. Fear and punishment weren’t sufficient motivators to manage groups that large. However, a contented populace rarely agitated for change.
Those taskmakers who lived acceptable lives were rewarded; those who disobeyed were punished. If their defiance became serious, they were eliminated, on a planetwide scale if necessary. The slagged remains of several worlds served testament to that fact. But no sane Aristo wanted genocide. Taskmakers formed the backbone of civilization; keeping them happy was far preferable to killing them.
Providers were another story. Only a few thousand existed. Their sole purpose in life was to please their owners. Their happiness made no difference; in fact, it benefited Aristos for them to be unhappy. Besides, their suffering elevated them.
If providers began to demand contentment and self-determination, it would create chaos. From there, how far to the decadence of the Skolian Imperialate, where providers roamed uncontrolled, and even worse, presumed to positions of authority? An upsurge of immorality among Eubian providers could destabilize the social structure of Eube. And if providers aspired to freedom, would taskmakers be far behind? A specter lurked in every Aristo’s mind, the remote but not impossible chance that one day the taskmakers would rise against them, not a world, not a star system, but all of them, billions, trillions. Nothing could stop the fall of Eube then. Civilization would collapse.
Corbal Xir’s “eccentricity” threatened the very fabric of Eubian society. And Xir stood closest to the throne, far more astute in the ways of power than the emperor himself.
Raziquon leaned over the bench, his gaze hard on the girl. Mines, he thought. Platinum mines.
Then he went to work, “encouraging” Sunrise to divulge the secrets of Lord Corbal Xir, arguably the most powerful man alive.
12
Betrayal
You’re taking Lord Xir into custody?” Bewildered, Jai stood in the entrance to the console room and looked from Kaliga to Corbal. None of Kaliga’s busy staff in the room had realized Jai had arrived.
“Why?” Jai asked Kaliga, his voice low. It was early morning, but neither the admiral nor Corbal looked as if they had slept.
“A good question.” Corbal’s anger was sharp enough to pierce Jai’s mental barriers.
Guards surrounded them. Four were Jai’s Razers, who had accompanied him as he wandered through the house, looking for breakfast, his heart content
and his thoughts full of Silver, who was sleeping in his bed right now. Instead of food, he had stumbled into the console room and what felt like a surreal play, where he found himself onstage with no script.
Kaliga spoke coldly to Corbal. “I’ve just returned from meeting with my security chief. Apparently the dawn comes and goes of its own accord.”
Jai stared at the admiral. What the blazes did the dawn have to do with anything?
Corbal, however, obviously knew what Kaliga meant. His voice hardened. “And apparently preposterous ideas come and go of their own accord within ESComm now.”
At a nearby console, a major spoke, a man intent on his holoscreens. “Admiral Kaliga, we’ve another scout ship coming in. I’m getting a transmission.”
Kaliga went over to the console. “Any verification?”
The man scanned his screens. “It’s ESComm—been on reconnaissance—got it, sir!” He looked up, his face flushed. “We have verification. The Ruby Pharaoh was seen alive on Delos.”
Jai felt as if the ground dropped beneath him. Alive? His aunt was alive? Good Lord, how long had they suspected? That no one had bothered to notify the emperor gave him an all too clear idea of how they viewed his role.
“Hell and damnation,” Kaliga said.
Corbal stepped over to the console. “Where is she now?”
Kaliga spoke sharply. “Major, do not answer that. Until further notice, Lord Xir is in custody.”
Sweat broke out on Jai’s forehead. Why were they arresting Corbal? “What are—”
Corbal shook his head at Jai, cautioning silence. The major glanced coolly in Jai’s direction—and froze, his eyes widening. Immediately, he went down on one knee. People around him looked up, saw Jai, and followed suit, their reaction spreading like a wave. As Jai watched, dumbfounded, every taskmaker in the crowded room knelt to him.
The Moon's Shadow (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Page 11
