The Moon's Shadow (Saga of the Skolian Empire)

by Asaro, Catherine

  “It isn’t worth arguing about.” Time to deflect him. “Your Joint Commanders concern me more.”

  Like a restless beast unable to stay still, he paced out of the alcove into the tower chamber, his black garb stark against the pale marble walls. “It seems they have trouble holding their secrets.”

  Did he mean he knew their minds? “You have succeeded?”

  He was standing with his back to her. “If you can call it success.”

  She spoke quietly. “Success would be discovering whether or not they have decided their ‘duties’ to the emperor include his assassination.”

  He took an audible breath. “Then yes, I have succeeded.”

  Tarquine waited.

  Jaibriol turned to face her. “Taratus helped Raziquon’s kin on the first attempt, with Kaliga’s blessing.” He sounded much too quiet, as if he were holding in a turmoil of emotions. “Both of them masterminded the second attempt. They intended to implicate you and Corbal. The Diamond Coalition had nothing to do with it.”

  Tarquine spoke with a deadly calm. “I see.”

  “I have no proof.”

  “This is enough for me.”

  “No one will consider you an impartial judge.”

  She met his gaze. “I’m not.”

  “Tarquine—” He lifted his hand as if to reach toward her, then dropped it. “The peace talks start in a tenday, if they go forward.” Bitterly he added, “If I live that long.”

  She came forward and put her hands on his shoulders. “Give up this idea of talks.”

  He laid his hands over hers. “I cannot.”

  “If you die, you will achieve nothing.”

  “I can’t give up.”

  She wanted to shake him, hold him back, lock him up, whatever it took to protect him from himself. Damn his integrity, his honesty, his gods-forsaken purity. “No one is worth these sacrifices.” She clenched her hands on his shoulders. “Not even your parents.”

  He stared at her, his face pale. But he didn’t deny her implication. “I won’t let them have died in vain.”

  “You cannot take the problems of all humanity onto your shoulders.” Her voice caught. “You will break.”

  He took her hands and brought them together in front of him. “We all do what we must.”

  Tarquine had no answer, for she was certain Eube would never accept his desperate peace.

  The empress found the man she sought in a studio with many windows. Sunshine streamed into the high-ceilinged room. Actually, she found two people. The older man sat on a stool in front of an easel, working with holographic paints. The younger had settled in an armchair and was reading a holobook. It was a tranquil scene, domestic and cozy, or at least it was until she arrived with her bodyguards.

  Robert jumped to his feet, tossing his holobook on a table. His father looked up from his easel like a diver surfacing in a lake. Then he saw Tarquine and dropped his paintbrush.

  For an instant father and son remained frozen. In the same moment that Robert’s father jumped off his stool, Robert stepped forward as if to protect him. Then they both knelt, averting their gazes.

  Tarquine considered their bowed heads. “You may rise.”

  As they stood, she got a better look at the older man. Good gods. No wonder the pirates had taken him. Even with his auburn hair graying at the temples and lines showing around his eyes, the fellow was breathtaking. His maturity made him even more appealing, at least to Tarquine. Yet for all his striking looks, he left her unmoved in a way that would never have happened before her marriage. Her mind was muddled with thoughts of her husband, a most unacceptable situation, but one that seemed unlikely to go away.

  The father, however, wasn’t the one she had come for. Although she recalled seeing the younger man attending Jaibriol, she had never paid much attention to him. He resembled the older man in his auburn hair and brown eyes, and he was reasonably pleasing to look upon, as expected for a member of the palace staff. But his appearance was more subdued than his father’s; he was professional rather than sensual, proficient rather than devastating. In short, he looked like a palace aide with unusually high rank.

  Tarquine nodded to Robert. “You will come with me.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t move.

  She spoke coldly. “I assume it is unnecessary for me to repeat myself.”

  Robert’s face had turned ashen. “Please accept my worthless apologies, Your Most Glorious Highness, but I am only allowed to serve the emperor.”

  Skolia be damned. The fellow had refused her. She would have ordered him flayed and hung out a tower window by his toes, except Aristos didn’t do that to their taskmakers anymore, besides which, as the emperor’s private aide, he was only allowed to serve Jaibriol, on penalty of death in fact, though she knew perfectly well Jaibriol would never hurt him. In any case, she needed Robert predisposed toward her wishes, which he would hardly be if she had him hoisted out the window by his feet.

  “Robert.” She put her hands on her hips. “It would please me to have your company in my sitting room to share a glass of Taimarsian wine.”

  He spoke carefully. “You honor me, Your Highness.”

  “Well, yes, I do.” Remembering that she was softening him up, she added, “The pleasure is mine.”

  He was no fool. “It would be a great privilege to accept your generous invitation, Most Esteemed Highness.”

  “Very well.” She nodded to him. “You may arrive at the Ivory Sitting Room at sixth hour this evening.”

  Both father and son bowed to her. Then Tarquine took her leave, striding out of the studio with her Razers. They headed for a staircase that swept down to more populated levels of the palace. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the captain until he cleared his throat.

  Tarquine frowned at him. “Eh?”

  “Would you like me to have some Taimarsian wine sent to the sitting room, Your Highness?”

  “You mean we actually have some in the palace?”

  “I believe so, ma’am.”

  “Oh. Well, good. Yes, send it down.”

  Then she took off for the palace hospital.

  Xirad Kaliga awoke to the knowledge that enemies surrounded him. He remained motionless as the biomech web in his body analyzed his situation and sent him data. He was lying in a room, in a bed. Traces of gas remained in his bloodstream, a sedative that left his mind groggy and his throat raw. Three medbots moved in the room, tending medical equipment. A woman sat nearby. The rate of her breathing suggested she was awake but relaxed.

  Kaliga opened his eyes. None other than the empress herself sat at his bedside. He spoke in a rasp. “My greetings, Your Highness.”

  She inclined her head. “Admiral.”

  “Please accept my apologies. I’m afraid my condition prevents me from greeting you properly.” She wouldn’t miss his implication: he shouldn’t be here in this condition.

  Tarquine stood regally. “It is most gratifying to see you awake, Admiral. We deeply regret that you were caught in the assassination attempt.”

  “Indeed.” Assassination? Kaliga waited.

  Tarquine waited.

  Kaliga closed his eyes. He had no energy for this.

  Several moments passed. His internal sensors indicated Tarquine had settled into her chair again. Kaliga resisted his fatigue, but he hadn’t yet recovered from the gas. Putting his biomech web on alert, to awake him if necessary, he allowed the healing sleep to take him . . .

  Robert didn’t recognize the woman who ushered him into the Ivory Sitting Room; she was one of the aides Tarquine Iquar had brought with her when she moved into the palace. The empress was standing by a window, her Highton profile limned with light from the setting sun. In her black-diamond trousers and tunic, she looked like a dark gem. The ceiling shed a warmer light than the sun, giving her an unreal look, as if she were a portrait rather than a person.

  Turning, she spoke in the husky voice that had unsettled generations of Eubian men. “Come in, R
obert.” She indicated a table near the window. A black tray with two goblets and a decanter of wine sat there. “Please be seated.”

  “You are most kind, Your Highness.” Robert went to the chair, then hesitated. He couldn’t sit while she stood, but she had bid him to sit and he could hardly refuse.

  Tarquine sighed, taking a last look out of the window. Then she came to the table. After she seated herself, he settled into his chair, relieved but alert, taking no liberties, not even sitting back. She had couched her summons as an invitation involving no formal work, so it didn’t violate his responsibilities to the emperor, but Robert was neither naive nor arrogant enough to believe the empress had any wish to entertain him socially.

  After Tarquine dismissed her bodyguards and aide, she poured the wine and gave a glass to Robert. Then she sat back. “It pleases me to chat with you. I haven’t had sufficient time to meet my husband’s staff.”

  Robert felt as if he were prey being stalked by a sleek, deadly gemcat. “Your dedication to your work blesses the empire.”

  “Well, yes, it does, doesn’t it?” She scrutinized him. “As does yours.”

  “You are most generous.”

  “I am indeed.” She took another swallow of wine. “Your father has talent.”

  “It is kind of you to say so.”

  She paused. “Perhaps a public exhibit could be arranged for him in the gallery.”

  Even knowing she was softening him up for whatever she wanted, Robert couldn’t help his surge of excitement. A public exhibit at the Qox imperial palace—the number of artists offered that honor was astronomically small. Even if his father had realized a successful career on Earth, he could never have hoped for such an achievement. Word of his brilliance would spread everywhere, even among the Skolians and Allieds.

  With a mental wrench, Robert halted his wild imaginings. If he angered the emperor by letting the empress talk him into some ill-advised scheme, it would backfire on his father, who was here only on the good graces of Jaibriol III.

  Good graces. It was true. Jaibriol III had a grace of heart. Years ago Robert had begun his job at the palace determined to avoid mistakes and advance himself, and he had never lost sight of that purpose, but since the ascension of Jaibriol III to the throne, Robert’s dedication had grown into more. He gave his fealty to Jaibriol for more reason than because it was expected. The young emperor had a goodness Robert had never associated with Hightons, for all that he acknowledged their power.

  “You are indeed generous.” This time, Robert put only enough warmth into his tone to express gratitude without appearing eager.

  “Perhaps I speak too soon.” Tarquine held up her goblet to the sun, making the wine sparkle. “If the emperor dies, my interest in art will likely vanish.”

  Gods. Where had that come from? “His Exalted Highness will live a long and glorious life.”

  “Yes, well, we all hope so.” She lowered her glass. “If my exalted husband isn’t careful, he won’t survive the year.”

  Robert felt as if he were walking through a minefield. “Your Most Glorious Highness, please be assured that the well-being of your husband is my highest concern. I will do my utmost to make certain it continues.”

  She spoke dryly. “I wish the same could be said of him.”

  Robert had to admit she had a point. Jaibriol III, in the uncommon decency that motivated his life, rarely operated in his own best interest. “His Highness sets a high standard for himself.”

  “His Highness is woefully idealistic.” Tarquine put her goblet on the table. “Have you sent the order he gave you yesterday evening, refusing the pardon for Lord Raziquon?”

  “It is in process.” Robert set down the wine he hadn’t touched. He knew now what the empress wanted. He even knew it would be better for Jaibriol. But he couldn’t “forget” to send the order rescinding Raziquon’s pardon. It would be a betrayal of the emperor.

  Tarquine rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, her posture a study in regal carriage. “We both want what is best for His Highness.”

  “More than anything else.”

  “Reason exists to believe the Line of Raziquon was involved with the first assassination attempt.”

  “I hadn’t realized new evidence had come to light.”

  Tarquine waved her hand, dismissing his words.

  Robert didn’t doubt she had good sources or that they gave her reason to believe Raziquon’s kin had plotted to kill Jaibriol. But if her evidence could have held up in court, an accusation would have been made. He hated the position she was putting him in. If the emperor rescinded Raziquon’s pardon, he would further incite the Line of Raziquon and aggravate the crumbling relations between ESComm and the palace. Jaibriol had already released Jafe Maccar, the Skolian captain, and now he intended to return Jacques Ardoise to Earth. Refusing to free Lord Raziquon would be the final outrage.

  Robert knew if he “mislaid” the order rescinding the pardon, allowing Raziquon to go free, it would be nearly impossible for Jaibriol to put the Highton lord back in prison. The emperor would lose face if he declared he had made a mistake by freeing Raziquon. It would be a debacle. But if Robert did what the empress wanted, he would incur the wrath of the person he most respected. Jaibriol wasn’t likely to put him to death, and if Tarquine intervened Robert might not even suffer consequences. But Jaibriol would never trust him again. Robert valued that trust, deeply, even more than he had realized until now, when he contemplated its loss.

  He spoke wearily. “The decision of what is best for those that we love is not ours to make.”

  “Sometimes we make it ours,” Tarquine said.

  Robert knew what he had to do. He hated it, but he knew. “It is odd,” he said, his voice low. “I thought I had new orders regarding the pardon of Raziquon, but apparently not.”

  She said simply, “Thank you.”

  Don’t thank me. He would have to live knowing he had betrayed the one emperor who actually deserved his loyalty.

  34

  The Balcony

  Corbal found Sunrise curled in a fetal position, buried in the cushions on the floor of her favorite room. Seeing her shoulders shaking, he crouched next to her. “Suni? Why do you cry?”

  She raised her face, her cheeks wet. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to sadden you.”

  He took her hand. “You must forget Raziquon.”

  She clung to his fingers. “I had to remember.”

  He tried to read her face. It was too lovely, sculpted to his specifications, forever set in beauty, which made it hard to discern her true expressions. “What do you mean?”

  “What Raziquon ‘thought,’ about his platinum mines—I—it was all there, I just—” Her voice caught. “I didn’t want to remember.”

  He settled next to her, rubbing his hand along her arm. “Then don’t.”

  “I already did.”

  Then she told him what she had learned—and destroyed his carefully planned revenge.

  The second time Kaliga awoke, he was less disoriented. Stronger now, he sat up slowly, looking around. This was a room for an honored guest, blue and white, with gilt trim. Again, Tarquine Iquar was seated beside his bed, with a holobook in her lap.

  The empress set down her book. “My greetings, Admiral.”

  “You honor me, Your Highness.” His voice was less hoarse now. “It isn’t often an empress sits vigil on a patient.”

  She inclined her head. “The Line of Qox deeply regrets your injury in the assassination attempt.”

  Assassination again. She could be implying a great deal with that word. He personally knew of no attempts planned for the night of the emperor’s celebration. Perhaps the Intelligence Ministry had uncovered clues of his involvement in previous attempts. No matter what they suspected, they would never find proof. He looked her in the eye. “It is always the honor of ESComm to protect and venerate the emperor.” He even said it with a straight face.

  Tarquine gave him a perfect Highton smil
e. “The Line of Kaliga has always provided exemplary military commanders.”

  True. It would continue to do so, in spite of Jaibriol III. “You honor my Line.” He had to admit, she made an impressive empress. Deadly and extraordinary. She was wasted on Jaibriol.

  “Indeed,” she murmured. “The emperor also wishes to esteem the Line of Kaliga.”

  Kaliga held back his snort. “It is fortunate His Highness happened to leave the room prior to the attack.” For all he knew, the odious emperor had gassed them himself.

  Tarquine’s gaze darkened. “Fortune can be capricious.” She touched a button on the nightstand by his bed. Kaliga said nothing, guarding his responses as always.

  Across the room, an entrance flickered open. Kaliga glimpsed several Razers outside, and then a woman entered, a lieutenant colonel in the medical corps. She wore her hair in a roll, the blond streaked with gray. With grace, she knelt to the empress.

  “You may rise.” Tarquine sounded bored. As the medic stood, Tarquine turned to Kaliga. “Dr. Qoxdaughter can answer any questions you have about what happened.”

  Qoxdaughter bowed to him, her manner polished with impeccable courtesy. She was probably the daughter of Ur Qox, grandfather of the current emperor; Ur had always given his taskmaker children the best educations and positions that decorum would allow.

  “It would be my privilege to answer any questions,” she told him.

  Kaliga scrutinized her. “I understand you treated me after I was caught in an attempt on the life of the emperor.”

  “Yes, I did.” She looked exceedingly contrite. “We are terribly sorry. Security released the gas. They had to act fast, before either you or General Taratus suffered worse injury.”

  Kaliga raised his eyebrow. “Palace security knocked out the general and myself?”

  The doctor reddened. “Yes, sir. I truly am sorry. The poison in your bodies was set to activate when your pulse and breathing rate went above a certain level. It had nearly reached that point.”

  “What poison?”

  “In your drink.”