The Ashes Of Worlds

by The Ashes of Worlds (v5. 0) [lit]

  “I didn’t ask to be made King, you know.” Rory still wore his royal clothes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret some of the things I did.”

  “No one understands that better than I do,” Peter said.

  “I’m glad the Chairman is dead. I don’t have to be afraid anymore.” Rory’s dark brown eyes looked up at him. “I don’t know how you were strong enough to stand up to him.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know either.”

  Basil’s portrait in the boardroom had been labeled “the last Chairman of the Terran Hanseatic League.” That room had been sealed off. Eventually, the gallery might prove instructive as a place of historical significance, but for now Peter didn’t want anyone staring at Basil’s portrait.

  Earlier, he and Estarra had attended the subdued and poorly publicized funeral of Chairman Wenceslas out of a sense of obligation. As far as the King could tell, no tears were shed. Though Sarein had the opportunity to join them, she could not face returning to Earth yet and chose to remain aboard the Jupiter. She would soon go home to Theroc. Colonel Andez might have been the only person who wanted to attend the funeral, but she and her cleanup crew had been arrested and charged; they were locked up awaiting trial.

  Now, in front of the crowds, Peter and Estarra took their seats on adjacent thrones, while Rory faced them standing. The boy had memorized his lines for one last public presentation. The audience fell into a hushed anticipation, and Peter gave the young man a slight encouraging nod. Rory removed the intricately worked gold crown that rested atop his dark hair and held it up as if a great weight had been taken from him.

  He said in a loud, clear voice, “The Hansa and the Confederation must have one leader, one true King. I did my best to guide the Hansa, but now that we have sailed safely through those troubled waters, I yield to you, Peter. I abdicate my throne and give you this crown for safekeeping.”

  Peter accepted the crown and laid it on his lap. Applause swelled among the viewers, growing even louder as Rory dropped to his knee in a gallant, and unrehearsed, gesture of fealty.

  Peter said, “The Queen and I ask that you continue to serve your people and help them feel welcome in the Confederation.”

  “Always, sire.”

  “Then rise with our blessing.”

  A gala reception took place with dignitaries and bureaucrats from the Hansa as well as representatives from across the Confederation. Green priests had already spread the word throughout the colonies.

  Deputy Cain came up to Peter. Rather than seeking power, Cain was now more interested in acquiring, and enjoying, additional classic art for his Velázquez collection.

  “What else will you need before taking over the Whisper Palace, sire?” he asked, holding but not sipping his champagne. “Will you reclaim your quarters in the old Royal Wing, bring your son here? The people of Earth would surely welcome you. They are ready to have their King and Queen back.”

  Estarra looked at her husband. “We didn’t talk about that, Peter.”

  In addition to the occasional lunar fragments that still slipped through the vigorous search nets, the loss of the Moon had left the Earth unsettled, with sporadic tremors and quakes. Peter had assigned teams of Hansa scientists to make projections of the climatological and seismic consequences, and many Roamer scientists had already volunteered, eager to sink their teeth into another interesting, and extreme, problem. Eventually, the pieces of the broken Moon would settle into a broad and diffuse ring around the planet. In the meantime, though, there would be a lot of changes, many of them unpredictable.

  But that wasn’t the reason why Peter did not want to move back to Earth. He shook his head. “No, Deputy Cain. Theroc is the heart of the Confederation. That’s our new capital, and that is the place from which I must rule. But I’ll be back here often enough, and we’ll have green priests and treelings so that direct lines of communication remain open.”

  OX, as always, accompanied them. “If I can be of any service in the transitional government, I would be interested in accepting the assignment, or any other assignment you deem appropriate, King Peter. I am eager to make many new memories.”

  Peter said, “You’ve proved your loyalty and your competence plenty of times, OX, but it still bothers me how much of your past is missing.” He turned to Cain. “Mr. Deputy, I have a favor to request. It’s a long shot, but I have to ask.”

  “Ask. Now you have me intrigued.”

  “As the Teacher compy here at the Whisper Palace, OX taught me, Prince Daniel, Old King Frederick, and all of our predecessors. Since he’s such an important compy, I was hoping that someone in the Hansa had recognized his value.”

  Cain’s hairless brow furrowed. “Certainly, we realize how vital the Teacher compy has been. What favor did you need?”

  “OX purged most of his memory storage in order to fly the hydrogue derelict and operate its transportal. I can only hope and pray that Chairman Wenceslas was wise enough to keep a backup of all his memories. Otherwise, we have lost OX’s vital experiences, as well as the wonderful personality that he developed over all those years.”

  The deputy sighed. “I know for a fact that Chairman Wenceslas never considered such a thing. He wouldn’t have wasted the time or effort.”

  Peter’s expression fell. “I had to ask.”

  Cain’s expression broke into an impish grin. “I, on the other hand, was not so lax. There is indeed a backup of OX’s memories. I did that myself shortly before you and the Queen escaped. We can install it without any difficulty.”

  161

  DD

  Though he had become friends with the two technical compies, DD did not accompany KR and GU when Kotto Okiah returned to the Roamers. Instead, he chose to remain with Orli Covitz. Margaret Colicos had told DD to watch over the girl, and he liked being around her.

  After Tasia Tamblyn put in a good word for Orli and Mr. Steinman, King Peter found them a place to live on Earth, and the Friendly compy joined her in their comfortable new quarters, with Mr. Steinman in the immediately adjacent apartment. After everything they’d been through together, they wanted to settle near each other. Though housekeeping and meals were provided, DD tried to be of service as much as possible. They all took care of each other.

  Orli slumped onto the small bed in her clean bedroom. “I don’t know what to make of my life, DD. For so long I’ve just been reacting to one disaster after another. Now I don’t know what to do with myself.”

  “I should point out, Orli Covitz, that most girls your age have not yet begun to make big life decisions. At your age, my first master, Dahlia Sweeney, was full of dreams. She told me stories of what she wanted to do, places she intended to see, but they were just wishes. You remind me very much of her. She was very nice.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  “It has been a long time since I last saw her. It has been a long time since I saw Margaret Colicos, too. Do you think she is all right? The Klikiss are gone now.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out, DD.”

  The next day the compy was delighted to receive word that Margaret was indeed alive and had returned to Earth. Once Orli told him the news, DD suggested that they contact her immediately; Orli was happy to do so, since she and the older woman had become close on Llaro.

  They set up a time to meet, and DD was filled with excitement about the reunion, although Orli seemed somewhat hesitant. He couldn’t understand why. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” she said when he asked. “Margaret will want to see both of us.”

  He and Orli traveled to the university district where Margaret shared an apartment with her son, Anton. When the older woman opened the door, DD’s optical sensors flashed. “Margaret Colicos, I am pleased to be reunited with you.”

  The woman threw her arms around his polymer shoulders. “Oh, DD, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” She gave the girl a hug as well. “And Orli! I’m so happy you’re safe.”

  Anton invited them into his small
apartment, then hurried to make tea. Out of habit, or perhaps by accident, the scholar brought out a cup for DD as well as the others.

  “I have heard very much about you, Anton Colicos,” DD said. “Your mother told me tales of how you grew up with her and Louis Colicos on their archaeological digs, and how you gave her the small music box that saved her life among the Klikiss.”

  “I’m still amazed by that.” Anton flushed. “It wasn’t much of anything.”

  “It was exactly what it needed to be,” Margaret said. “DD, we’ve been through so much, and truth be told, I’d just as soon we were done with our adventures. It’s time to relax and recuperate.”

  Orli nervously cleared her throat. She hadn’t touched her tea. “That’s why I brought DD back to you, ma’am. He’s your property. You should take him back.”

  DD suddenly realized that this was what had been bothering the girl. He hadn’t even considered the consequences, hadn’t understood why Orli was so worried.

  The offer surprised Margaret. “I won’t hear of it. DD is yours now, Orli. You two belong together.”

  Orli started to cry, though she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, pretending that no one had noticed them.

  “I am pleased with that decision, Margaret Colicos,” DD said. “But are you certain you won’t need my assistance? Will you not be doing other work?”

  The old woman and Anton exchanged smiles. Margaret said, “Oh, we definitely have interesting work ahead of us, but we can handle it ourselves. Orli, you watch out for DD now. I don’t want to worry about him. My son and I have places to go.”

  162

  Mage-Imperator Jora’h

  In spite of the devastation of Ildira, the Mage-Imperator found great cause for hope and gladness, especially with his Empire strongly connected once more. The faeros were defeated, and the treacherous Hansa Chairman dead by his own deputy’s hand. The numerous soulfires stolen by the blazing elementals had safely found their way to the Lightsource. Even the one burned-out sun in Ildira’s sky now shone again.

  The landscape of the universe had been forever changed, as had Jora’h and Ildira itself. Nevertheless, he was home, leading the remnants of his people, reconnecting the splinter colonies that had been adrift since the faeros invasion.

  In spite of the rough conditions of the temporary camp outside the remains of Mijistra, Nira had mentally healed and strengthened, finally achieving a new peace. “Look at this as an opportunity, Jora’h. You have a chance to be the greatest Mage-Imperator the Empire has ever known. The slate is wiped clean.”

  Ildiran civilization had long rested upon old accomplishments. The people revered the past to such an extent that they changed very little. Now that the foundation of Mijistra had been swept away, however, the people had no choice but to make a fresh start.

  Getting to know the human race better had changed Jora’h’s opinion about steadfast Ildiran ways. It would do his race good to be creative and inventive. Architects and builders, diggers and rememberers, medical kithmen and administrators — he could pull them all together in a project vastly more complex than anything ever chronicled in the Saga — re-creating the entire capital city in its glory. Maybe even make it better.

  And they would do it.

  From their camp on the outskirts of the ruined city, he and Nira watched the work continue. Yazra’h and Prime Designate Daro’h had shown amazing verve and independence. Rather than requiring detailed orders, they took initiative and lifted some of the burden from his shoulders.

  Unlike Thor’h, who had shirked his duties as the leader in training, Daro’h clearly would one day become a formidable Mage-Imperator. The young man no longer looked reticent about his role, and the Mage-Imperator reminded him to begin breeding many, many new Designates. Attender kithmen, eager to follow the Prime Designate’s instructions, followed him around as if he were already sitting in the chrysalis chair.

  Teams of rememberers struggled to chronicle all those who had fallen, trying to tally the deaths caused by the faeros and mad Rusa’h. The names of the dead were etched on diamondfilm and made into structural plates that would be used to assemble a new Hall of Rememberers.

  Cargo ships and cutters descended from the Solar Navy warliners in orbit. All of the Ildiran soldiers had been reassigned as workers, though they remained ready to defend the Empire, should the need arise. The Mage-Imperator was confident that his people would have at least some time to recover before the next crisis struck.

  Designate Ridek’h had brought together all the survivors from the Hyrillka refugee camps and spoken to them. Now he approached Jora’h, bursting to talk. “Hyrillka is where these people belong, Liege, not Ildira. There is rebuilding enough for them to do there. With your permission, I shall lead them home.”

  “I give it gladly.”

  “And one other thing.” The boy hesitated, then added quickly, “I believe I should take former Designate Rusa’h with me.”

  That surprised Jora’h. Though he was free of the faeros since his defeat and collapse, Rusa’h was a mere shell of himself. Because he was so unresponsive, it had taken the rest of them several days to discover that he was blind, like Tal O’nh, his sight burned out from within by the faeros. Utterly broken, unaware of his surroundings, he often sat trembling; Rusa’h did not seem to remember anyone or anything, as if his mind had been purged.

  “We have lens kithmen and medical kithmen,” Designate Ridek’h continued in a rush. “We should surround Rusa’h with Ildirans, enfold him in the true thism and through it allow him to see the brilliant light of the suns. Let him return to his home on Hyrillka.”

  Jora’h was skeptical. “My brother was in a sub-thism trance once before, because of his severe head injury. When he awoke, he was dramatically changed.”

  “And now he needs to awaken again — but properly. If there is a chance he may recover, then we are obligated to try.”

  Nira considered, then slowly nodded. “I think Designate Ridek’h’s suggestion shows great maturity.”

  Jora’h thought of what he had done to his own son Thor’h after his betrayal, keeping him drugged with shiing and locked in an underground chamber. He would not do the same to Rusa’h, no matter what crimes the mad Designate had committed. “Very well. I entrust him to you. It pleases me that your desire is not for vengeance, but for healing.”

  Then the Mage-Imperator saw one of the most hopeful signs of all: Giggling, and actually playing, Osira’h and her brothers and sisters ran through the camp, chasing a small mirrored balloon that drifted into the air and slowly bounced back to the ground. Muree’n seized the balloon and ran faster than the others, rushing up to her mother and Jora’h; Osira’h raced after her sister.

  Nira looked immensely happy. “It’s good to see them acting like children. They need this change.”

  “We all needed it,” Jora’h said. “With my people here and my family around me, I feel strong . . . and the Empire will be as well.”

  163

  Anton Colicos

  When he and his mother arrived at Ildira, Anton did not have to look hard for Yazra’h. Lean and sweaty, she strode up to him with a feral grin; her coppery hair flowed like the tail of a metallic comet. “Rememberer Anton, it is fortunate you have returned. Much history is being made here. You should record it for us.”

  The two Isix cats bounded forward, startling Margaret, but Anton laughed and scratched behind the big cats’ ears.

  Yazra’h looked scuffed, dirty, and ready to explode with energy even though she probably hadn’t slept for some time. Anton doubted she’d ever been given so much responsibility in her life, placed in charge of so many major projects. “You look good, Yazra’h.”

  “As do you, Rememberer Anton.” She touched his arm warmly, stood very close to him. Then with an almost dismissive glance at Margaret, she added, “And who is this woman?”

  “My mother.”

  “Ah, the xeno-archaeologist. One of the discoverers of the Klikiss To
rch. Your son has told tales of you.” Yazra’h bowed slightly. “Anton is a great rememberer. He helped me see things in our Saga that few Ildirans noticed. My father holds him in very high esteem. Come, I will take you to him.” Yazra’h marched away, giving them no opportunity for argument. The Isix cats bounded ahead of her.

  Margaret asked, “Was she flirting with you?”

  Anton was embarrassed. “She intimidates the hell out of me.”

  “I see.”

  Mijistra’s construction continued all around them. Even with the advantage of their thism, the Ildirans seemed barely able to control the chaos of all the parallel efforts. A new headquarters camp had been set up on the outskirts of the old city. The camp held hastily assembled structures, interlinked shelters, the frameworks of new towers. Scavengers excavated raw materials from the rubble of Mijistra, while other vital components came from Ildiran colony worlds whose people had raced back to the central planet to help.

  Margaret’s face was wistful as she looked at the broad impact site. “Louis and I never went to see the Ildiran Empire. I wish we had.”

  After Yazra’h announced their arrival, the Mage-Imperator came out to greet them himself and led them into the new audience chamber. “Rememberer Anton, I am glad to see you safe. And I am sorry to hear about Vao’sh. I deeply regret that he was abandoned, that I abandoned him.”

  Anton had thought he was done crying, and the sudden tears welling up in his eyes surprised him. He tried to find some way to answer, but the words would not come out of his throat.

  Chief Scribe Ko’sh looked distraught at the news. Anton had had previous difficulties with Ko’sh, who strenuously objected to changing the Saga, even after being shown the obvious historical errors. Now, though, Anton felt for the man whose Hall of Rememberers and all the ancient records had been smashed into dust. Ko’sh seemed overwhelmed, showing none of the hardness he had displayed before.

  After a few quick formalities, the Mage-Imperator surprised Anton by offering a new assignment. “Some time ago, I asked you and Rememberer Vao’sh to perfect and rewrite our majestic story. Please stay with us now and help our rememberers reconstruct the Saga of Seven Suns. The Empire needs you.”