by David Weber
"We are also asking for emergency volunteers from the Talents to fill critical positions in communications, intelligence gathering, medical care, and many other areas. If we cannot fill those needed positions through volunteerism, we will have no choice but to institute conscription."
Shock detonated through every Talented delegate to the Conclave. Even Darcel was stunned by the suggestion. Of all the major Sharonan nations, only Uromathia practiced conscription. Ternathia, Farnalia, Harkala, and New Ternath and New Farnal all relied upon a tradition of voluntary military service. So did virtually all of the smaller Sharonian nations, and even in Uromathia, the Talents were automatically exempt from conscription because they were so relatively scarce, as necessary to the civilian infrastructure as to the mnilitary. What Zindel had just suggested-or threatened-was unprecedented, hadn't happened in over four hundred years, and a roar of protest rose. It hammered at the Chancellery's banner-hung walls and-
"You will be silent!"
Zindel chan Calirath's bull-throated bellow stunned the entire vast chamber into silence.
"By our best estimate, judging from when we initially lost contact with our forces in Hell's Gate," he said into the ringing stillness, biting off each rough-edged, husky word like a sliver of bone, "the Arcanans advanced over four thousand miles in approximately twelve days. They are now little more than forty-four thousand miles from Sharona. If they launch a second-and successful-assault on Fort Salby and continue to advance at the same pace, they could cover the remaining distance to this very city in barely three months. Do not presume to protest anything the Throne demands in a war of survival. We don't have time for it, and I will not let any of you jeopardize all of us. Is that clear?"
No one said a word, and Zindel chan Calirath's nostrils flared with satisfaction.
"Good," he said much more quietly. "Then understand this, as well-all of you. We did not start this war, but we will finish it. We will take back the portals they've taken from us in their treacherous attack.
We will punish the atrocities they have committed against our people. And we will insure that this
'Union of Arcana' will never again pose a threat to us, to our children, or to our grandchildren."
A roar of approval went up, louder by far than the previous protest. Kinlafia found himself on his feet with the rest, applauding madly, yet even as he did, he looked down from the gallery at Chava Busar's face and saw the cold, calculating eyes that watched Zindel with carefully veiled contempt.
When the tumult finally died, Zindel continued his implacable, methodical outline of his preparations.
Troops to be raised and trained, railroads to be extended, shipyards to be built, munitions factories to be expanded, fortifications to be planned and built, weapons to be improved, developed, and deployed … the list went on and on, marshaling the resources of every universe Sharona had ever explored and hammering them into a weapon of war.
"What I require from you," he finished finally, "is the immediate passage of sufficient taxation to pay for these utterly critical measures. We do not have time to wait for formal parliamentary elections. The Arcanans have taken that luxury out of our hands. When those elections are held, I will seek approval of our present emergency revenue measures from that Parliament, but they must be passed now, and they will not be a negligible burden for anyone. This will be an expensive war. Never doubt that. Every Sharonian will feel the bite of higher taxes, and that bite will be deep. Many will protest when they realize just how deep. But when they do, ask them this question. Which do you prefer-higher taxes and higher prices, or Arcanan dragons in your skies, burning down your homes and loved ones? That is their choice. We did not ask for this war, but we will, by the Triad, fight it with everything we have-with every ounce of strength we possess!"
Another ovation met that statement, although it was more subdued than the last one. Talk of things like higher taxes and conscripted labor forces had that effect.
"That concludes my prepared remarks," Zindel said when silence had fallen once again. "Does anyone have questions? Not debate-questions?"
No one spoke for several seconds, but then the Emperor of Uromathia stood in the heart of his own delegation.
"Your Majesty," he began, bowing in Zindel's direction, "and esteemed colleagues, Uromathia shares the profound grief which the heroic death of Crown Prince Janaki has brought to all of Sharona and applauds the Emperor of Ternathia's determination to deal with this crisis."
Something flared deep inside Kinlafia as Chava said the word "Ternathia."
"However," Chava continued, "while no one could deny the necessity of the measures which he has outlined, Uromathia must question whether or not he possesses the authority to demand them." A stir of protest began, but he continued speaking, clearly and strongly. "It is unfortunately true that Crown Prince Janaki's death has reordered both the Ternathian imperial succession and the proposed succession of the Empire of Sharona. And it is also unfortunately true that as of this moment, there is no 'Emperor of Sharona,' nor an Empire for him to rule. There has been no Coronation, and the conditions specified by the Act of Unification for the Empire he is to rule have not been-and cannot, as written, be-
satisfied."
"What are you suggesting?" Ronnel of Farnalia demanded furiously.
"I am simply suggesting," Chava replied, "that this is a time of enormous uncertainty, and that under those circumstances, it is particularly important that all these matters be handled in strict accordance with the provisions under which the nations represented at this Conclave agreed to surrender their sovereignty. Yes, we are at war. Yes, it may be a war for our very survival. But if we are to face our enemies as a single, cohesive whole, we must be truly united, and there must be no question of the legality and legitimacy of the government under which we will fight."
"Come to the point-quickly," Zindel chan Calirath said icily.
"Very well, Your Majesty." Chava bowed once more. "My point is this. The death of your son has invalidated Section Three of Article Two of the Act of Unification. Unless the provisions of that article and section are satisfied, the Act is not binding upon Uromathia or any other signatory power. If there is to be a true Empire of Sharona, then I must respectfully request that the succession be secured as contemplated by Article Two in light of the changed circumstances resulting from your son's lamentable death. Is Crown Princess Andrin ready to marry the son I designate as her groom?"
A savage roar of outrage erupted. Half the members of the Conclave were on their feet, shouting and demanding Chava's ejection from the Chancellery, and Zindel's hands tightened on the podium with such force that Kinlafia expected the wood to crack. Then the gavel crashed down again and again, hammering for order, and all the while, Chava stood in the tumult, eyes defiantly insolent and wearing a smug little half-smile of satisfaction.
The furor died down at last, trickling slowly away into silence. When the entire Chancellery was still once more, the Emperor turned his attention back to Chava Busar.
The Uromathian's smile faltered as Zindel chan Calirath's icy gray eyes bored into him with scalpelsharp contempt.
"The son you designate?" the Emperor said, and Chava actually blanched at the menace in his deadly soft voice. "Haven't you overstepped your authority by presuming to name which of your lecherous, illbred mongrels will have the right to rape my daughter?"
Chava Busar's face went sickly white with shock, then purple with rage.
"How dare you-?!" he began.
"Do not presume to dictate terms to me!" Zindel thundered.
"I-" Chava began again, but a third voice interrupted him. It was a youthful voice, a soprano, which had never been raised in that Chancellery before.
"Do not discuss me as if I were not here!" that voice said with icy precision, and every eye turned to the Ternathian delegation.
Andrew Calirath stood there, and the golden strands in her midnight hair seemed thicker, brighter than ever, gleaming as she fac
ed the combined leaders and rulers of her entire planet. She stood in her gown of muted grays and dark blues, the mourning band dark about her sleeve, and her eyes were Calirath eyes, dark with portents of the future, yet hard with the lightning flash of purpose. In some indefinable fashion she looked like both the teenaged girl she was and the avatar of Sharona's future-tall, strong, fearless, and wounded.
Emperor Zindel stared at his daughter, and his eyes were no longer those of an emperor. They were the eyes of a father, stark with fear for a daughter he loved more than life itself. They were the eyes of a man who had been asked for one sacrifice too many, of a man who could not-would not-give his family's juggernaut destiny his daughter, as well as his son. And they were the eyes, Darcel Kinlafia realized, of someone who recognized in this instant one fragment of the Glimpse he and Kinlafia had shared.
That man opened his mouth, his face hard with bitter determination, but the daughter looked up at her father and shook her head.
"Chanaka s'hari, Halian. Sho warak," Crown Princess Andrin Calirath said softly, and her father's face twisted as if the words had been bullets.
Yaf Umani was one of Sharona's foremost linguisticians. He'd never held a position in any university's Department of Ancient Languages-his career as the Portal Authority's Chief Voice had precluded that
– but he had a true Voice's love for languages … and he was one of the very few people in that enormous chamber who recognized the language in which she'd spoken. He was also a man of impeccable integrity, but the shocks had come too hard and fast over the past fourteen hours; his recognition of what Andrin had said leaked out to every Voice in the Chancellery.
"I am your daughter, Halian. I remember."
Silence hovered, and then, slowly-so slowly-Zindel chan Calirath bowed his head.
Andrin smiled at him almost gently. But then she turned to look across the Chancellery floor, and there was no gentleness in the tempered steel of the eyes which fixed themselves upon the Emperor of Uromathia.
"I beg leave to inform Emperor Chava that he is in error," she said clearly and distinctly. "The Act of Unification has been neither nullified nor invalidated by my brother's death, nor will the House of Calirath seek to evade its obligations under that Act. There is still an heir to the throne of Ternathia, and that heir is prepared to accept her obligations under the subsection Emperor Chava has just cited.
"But I am the Imperial Crown Princess of Ternathia, Heir to the Winged Crown of Celaryon, daughter of the House of Calirath, descendent of Halian and Erthain the Great!" Her eyes flashed gray lightning, and her voice rang out like a soprano sword. It was no longer the voice of a teenaged girl, but the voice of the most ancient lineage in human history, speaking through its current avatar, and all the weight of that lineage crackled in its pride and defiance … and anger. "My ancestors were emperors of half the world while yours were still picking lice, raiding their neighbors' sheep, and stealing their neighbors' wives.
You will not presume to dictate to me the man I will marry, Chava Busar!"
Busar's face darkened in fresh rage, but Andrin's eyes were deadly, and she continued speaking with that cold, lethal precision.
"Subsection Three of Article Two requires the Heir to Ternathia to wed a Uromathian royal prince within three months of the ratification of the Act of Unification, and that Act was ratified two weeks ago. Very well. You will submit to me no later than noon tomorrow a list of those you wish to nominate as my husband. You may list every unmarried male of your lineage, if such is your desire. But I, Chava Busar-I, and no one else-will make my choice from all the eligible nominees. I will marry as the Act requires, within the next ten weeks, but do not ever make the mistake of attempting to dictate to a member of my House again!"
"I can't believe she did that," Alazon Yanamar shook her head. "What was she thinking?"
"You know exactly what she was thinking, love," Kinlafia chided her sadly.
The two of them stood in Alazon's office in Calirath Palace, surrounded by her collection of horses as they gazed out the windows. The lamps were turned low, the sun had set hours ago, and a silver moon drifted over the palace gardens. It was a serene and beautiful sight, utterly at odds with the chaos and confusion which had enveloped the people who lived and worked in the Palace.
"You just don't want to admit that she was right," Kinlafia continued.
"Right?" Alazon stared at him in stark disbelief. "Gods, Darcel! She's seventeen! And she's a Ternathian!
The youngest of that bastard's sons is twenty-nine, and they're all just as bad as he is! Can you imagine what will happen to her when she marries one of them? Especially after humiliating his father the way she did this morning? Why not just invite him to rape her on the floor of the Conclave and be done with it?!"
"Yes." The word came out harshly, but Kinlafia met her angry eyes levelly. "I can imagine exactly what will happen. Vothan! Do you think I like the thought? But that doesn't change the fact that she's right.
That we've got to unify, and that we don't have time to give Chava the opportunity to reopen the entire unification debate."
"Yes we do!" Alazon protested. "And if Chava's going to open the door then I say we should use the opportunity he's given us to delete that entire subsection from the Act!"
"You know better than that." Kinlafia regarded her sternly. "In fact, I know you know better than that-
you've been the one teaching me to think in strategic political terms for the last two weeks! Do you really think Chava would have opened this entire subject if he wasn't prepared to announce that Uromathia would use the pretext of Janaki's death and the 'invalidation' of the Act to justify refusing to accept unification after all unless it's revised once again? This time to give him more power, more room to spin his webs? And do you think he waited until after the Emperor detailed his requirements by accident? He wanted every member of the Conclave to accept, gut-deep, just how serious the threat is.
And then he issued his demand.
"He wanted them to know how big a pistol he was prepared to hold to all of their heads. If he claims the Act is nullified, if he refuses to acknowledge Zindel's rightful coronation, then what happens to all of the preparations we need to make? Do you think for an instant that once that sack of snakes was untied, there wouldn't be enormous pressure from other members of the Conclave to give him more of what he wanted in the first place if that was the only way to get him to sign back up quickly now that the Arcanans have proven they're a genuine, immediate threat?
"He might as well have handed us a written memo about his new strategy, Alazon! The way he saw it, he won either way. Either he got to name Andrin's husband under the terms of the Act, or else Zindel told him to go straight to the Arpathian hells before he gave one of Chava's sons his daughter. And if that happened, if Zindel refused to honor the Act's terms, then Chava could declare that Zindel's decision to invalidate the Act absolved him of his agreement to surrender the sovereignty of Uromathia to Zindel … and that would have given him all the leverage in the world, unless we chose to fight that very civil war the Emperor told me last night he wanted to avoid!
"It's obvious from the Voice reports and print articles you've had me Watching and reading ever since I got back that Chava never really regarded the original Arcanan massacre as a genuine threat. He was doing his best to game the situation then, and he's doing exactly the same thing now. He's just changing technique, using the threat everyone else sees as genuine to frighten them into conceding the points they refused to give him before. If he can simultaneously frighten the other members of the Conclave badly enough and appear sufficiently intransigent, he'll get at least some of his demands-maybe even most of them. And he won't give a good godsdamn how long he delays unification, how much damage he does to our ability to deal with the Arcanans, as long as there's a chance of improving his position."
"But-"
""thinspace"'But' nothing, love," Kinlafia said softly, sadly. "You know that's what would ha
ppen. And so does her father. My gods, Alazon, you know how much he loves her, and you saw as well as I did what he was prepared to do out there today! Yes, it was her decision, and I know as well as you do that she never even warned him she was going to do it. That she deliberately didn't give him time to think about ways to stop her, or for the father in him to find some justification-any justification-for keeping her from doing this. But if he hadn't realized in the end that she was right, he would never have let her get away with it. Never."
"But there has to be another way." Alazon was no longer protesting or denying. She was almost pleading. "We can't just let her do this, Darcel. We can't!"
Tears glittered in the Privy Voice's eyes, and Darcel put his arm around her and hugged her tightly.
"I don't see how we can stop her," he said, and in the back of his brain he saw once again the image of Andrin weeping. "I'm finally beginning to understand-really understand-what sort of price being born a Calirath can exact. She's going to do this. The only person who could stop her is her father, and he won't-he can't. He'll do everything he can to protect her, but this is the one thing he can't stop her from doing."
"It will kill her," Alazon said softly. "Maybe not physically-not quickly. But it will kill her." She looked up at Kinlafia, and a single tear broke free and trickled down her cheek. "I never really knew her until this entire impossible crisis just exploded in our faces. But now that's changed. And if she marries someone like one of Chava Busar's sons, it will just destroy her inside."
Kinlafia nodded, hearing the pain in her beautiful voice. That pain, he knew, was the reason someone with Alazon's sharp intelligence and grasp of politics could insist that Andrin had to be stopped. And gods knew she was right. If there'd been any way to avoid this … .
