He didn't believe her. He was the one who oversaw security. If they trusted him, they would have told him. Why didn't you warn me? This time, though, he moderated the power of his thought.
We had to make it convincing, Roca thought.
She had a point; he was a terrible actor. But she was testing him, too, regardless of what she claimed. He gave her a dour look. Did you ask Denric to challenge me, too?
Surprise came from her mind. No. I didn't.
Although that troubled Kelric, he knew Denric had never been easy with the military. The problem isn't Vazar. The Assembly doesn't like our hereditary seats. If they could remove them all, they would.
Roca crossed her arms. I can't believe they still expect us to do the Promenade.
Kelric couldn't either, but he had always felt that way. Every seven years, the Assembly asked the Houses to walk in a ceremonial promenade. The public loved it, which was why the Assembly promoted the whole business, because it inspired the public to love them, too.
We can refuse, he thought.
I'd like to. Roca uncrossed her arms. But it would make us look bad. She resumed pacing. I need to talk to Councilor Tikal.
Dehya glanced at Kelric with a slight smile. I think we should let her loose on the Assembly to work her magic.
Maybe she'll convince them to take another vote. Aloud, in case someone actually was eavesdropping, he added, "If you believe I plotted with Vaz, you should, uh, leave." He almost winced at his lousy acting. A swirl of amusement came from Dehya.
"Very well," Roca said. "I will." With that, she swept out of the room. In the wake of her departure, the chamber seemed smaller.
Dehya sat back in her chair. "She won't stay angry."
Kelric just shrugged. He was still simmering.
"I spoke to Vaz before I came here," Dehya added.
He hadn't caught that from her mind. He always kept his shields partially up when he mind-spoke with her, though. She had more mental finesse than he would ever manage, and he didn't want her to learn too much from him.
"About the vote?" he asked.
"She didn't want to discuss it," Dehya said. "I think she's as upset with herself as we are."
Kelric scowled. "That didn't stop her from doing it."
She told me something peculiar, Dehya thought.
Wary, he let her see only the surface of his mind. Peculiar how?
Her answer had an odd stillness. That you had an ex-wife.
Kelric was suddenly aware of the dice pouch in his hand. He shored up his mental defenses, and Dehya's thought came to him as though it were muffled. I thought Trader empathic slaves were forbidden to marry.
They are.
Then how could you have had a wife?
He couldn't respond.
Kelric? Dehya asked.
His thought came like a shadow stretching out as the sun sunk to the horizon. I wasn't with the Traders all those eighteen years.
Neither her posture nor her face betrayed surprise, but it crackled in her mind, not from what he told her, but because he finally admitted what she had always suspected. He couldn't explain. The words wouldn't come. So he formed the image of a woman. It wasn't Rashiva Haka, his ex-wife. Instead, he showed her the woman he had married later.
Savina.
She had brought sun into his life. She laughed often, and her yellow hair framed an angelic face. She stood only as tall as his chest, but that never stopped her from doing outrageous things to him: climbing the tower where he lived and hanging on a rope while she proclaimed her love; kidnapping him up to a ruined fortress; getting him drunk so she could compromise his honor in all sorts of intriguing ways. Somewhere in all that, their play had turned to love, and it had changed him forever.
Kelric couldn't bear the memory. He hid it deep in his mind.
"Saints almighty," Dehya murmured. "What happened to you?"
He just shook his head.
After a silence, she said, "Do you want to be alone?"
He nodded, staring at his dice pouch. He heard her leaving. He looked up just as she set her hand on the crystal doorknob.
"Do you remember," Kelric said, "when I asked you to make copies of my dice?"
She turned to him. "I still have them."
"Tonight, at home, will you join me for a game of Quis?"
"Quis?"
He shook his pouch, rattling the dice. "This."
Her posture altered slightly, with a new tension. "I would like that."
He said no more. That had been enough. Maybe too much.
After Dehya left, Kelric poured his dice onto the divan. He picked up the gold ball. He almost never used it. For him, it symbolized one person. Savina. She had been an empath, a mild talent, but she carried every one of the genes. On a planet with primitive medical care, in a place with infant mortality rates higher than on almost any other settled world, Savina had brought an empath into the world, and incredibly, the baby girl had survived the agonizing birth.
Not so for Savina. She had died in Kelric's arms.
On that distant world, protected by the inimitable Hinterland Deployment, a child with gold eyes was growing to adulthood. She had been born of Kelric's greatest sorrow, but she was a treasure, hidden by the Restriction and by the power of one of the greatest military forces known to the human race.
VII
Sunsky Bridge
Dehya sat at the round table with Kelric. He rolled out his dice, and she shook hers out of a box. While the rest of the Assembly slept, celebrated, or brooded, he and Dehya played Quis.
Words had never been his forte, so he showed her the rules instead. He placed a regular tetrahedron—a ruby pyramid—in the center of the table. Then he waited.
Dehya looked from the die to Kelric to the pyramid again. Then she took a gold pentahedron and set it next to his piece.
That surprised him. Did she know she had started a queen's spectrum? She had probably studied records of his solitaire games, trying to figure them out. Building a spectrum against an advanced player was difficult. An augmented queen's spectrum was almost impossible; to his knowledge, he was the only living person who had done it in Calanya Quis.
He set a yellow cube against her die. She placed a green heptahedron. Well, hell. She was making a spectrum. He played an emerald octahedron. "My game."
She looked up at him. "You can win Quis?"
He grinned. "Of course. You're lucky we aren't betting; you would owe me ten times whatever you had risked."
Dehya cocked an eyebrow. "Why should I believe you won?"
Despite her outward skepticism, he could tell she was enjoying herself. It was the advantage of being an empath; it helped him learn gestures, body language, and expressions until interpreting them became second nature. He could read Dehya even when she shielded her mind.
He tapped the line of dice. "These increase according to number of sides and colors of the spectrum. Five make a queen's spectrum. Three of the dice are mine and two are yours. I have advantage. So I win."
"I was helping you, eh? If you start the spectrum, you win no matter what."
"You can block my moves." He took his dice and slid hers across the table. Then he set an amethyst bar in the playing area. "Your move."
"Are we gambling?"
"If you would like."
She laughed softly. "Ah, well, you made up the rules, I don't know them, and you've been playing for decades. I don't think I want to bet." She set her amethyst bar on top of his.
Kelric stared at the bars until he felt her amusement fade to puzzlement. Finally he said, "I didn't make up the rules."
"Who did?" Her voice had a waiting quality.
He set a diamond sphere near the structure. Its flattened bottom kept it from rolling away. "Your move."
She waited a little longer, but when he didn't respond, she said, "Spectrums go by color, yes?"
"That's right."
"And white is all colors, in light."
"Yes." So she had
already figured it out. She was going to be formidable at Quis. He wondered if she realized he had represented her with the diamond ball. As the highest ranked piece, it seemed appropriate. Dehya wasn't hard like a diamond, but its implied strength fit her. And the way it refracted light within itself, releasing a spectrum of vivid colors, fit her well.
She set a gold dodecahedron apart from the other dice. Interesting. Although a sphere was the highest-ranked shape, the dodecahedron came next. What did she mean? Possibly nothing. He could never tell with Dehya, though; her complex, evolving mind often startled him.
He set down an onyx ring, one of his symbols for himself. She responded by balancing a jeweled arch so it connected the diamond ball and gold dodecahedron.
Kelric tapped the structure she had built. "That's a sunsky bridge."
"What does it mean?"
"It suggests a cooperative venture."
She indicated the gold dodecahedron. "Roca." Then she touched the diamond ball. "You."
He regarded her curiously. "Why assign names to the dice?"
"I've watched you play. Your structures evolve. It's almost as if they have personalities."
It gratified him that she understood. "They tell stories. Or make the story. The dice shape events as much as portray them."
"I don't see how gambling can spur events." Wryly she added, "Except to lower my credit account."
Kelric waved his hand. "Gambling is for Outsiders. It isn't true Quis." He leaned forward. "Suppose everyone played. Everywhere. Throughout the Imperialate."
She was watching him closely. "And?"
"I put my stories into my Quis. I play dice with other people. My input goes into their Quis. They sit at Quis with others. The better designed my strategies, the more it affects their Quis, and the more they pass on my intentions."
"So your effect spreads."
"Yes."
"And if, say, Vaz Majda played Quis, you might affect her opinions."
Good! She saw. "But other people also input stories. Ragnar might build patterns of war. Councilor Tikal would focus on politics. Naaj would bring in heredity. Their input goes to the public, who all play Quis. Everyone affects the game, but most people don't play well enough to do much beyond accepting, refusing, or transmitting ideas."
Her voice took on a careful quality. "And when everyone is playing Quis, what do you call your world?"
He knew what she was really asking: where he had spent all those years? He gathered his dice and put them in his pouch. "Thank you for the game."
"Who won?"
"Both of us."
"So you and I, we don't gamble."
Calani and Managers never do. But he kept that thought shielded from her. "With you, I would rather work together."
She met his gaze. "So would I."
He stood and bowed. "We will play again."
Dehya rose to her feet. "I hope so." Her thoughts swirled with unasked questions, and he knew if he let down his barriers, they would flood his mind. But she didn't speak. Perhaps she knew he couldn't answer.
Not yet.
VIII
Plaza of Memories
Sunlight filled the city center. Skyscrapers pierced the lavender sky, which had never taken on the bluer hue intended by the world's terraformers. The mirrored buildings reflected clouds as if they were constructed from the sky itself. Kelric strolled in a plaza tiled with blue stone. Government officials walked in pairs and trios across the area, their jumpsuits glossy in the sunshine. Many glanced at Kelric, but they gave him and his heavily armed guards a wide berth.
The beautiful weather contrasted with his mood. He had no desire to attend the Assembly after yesterday's loss, but the sessions continued. At least he could escape during this break. Najo, Axer, and Strava walked with him.
"Nice day," Strava commented.
"It is." Kelric needed say no more. It was one reason he liked these guards. They were as taciturn as he.
He stopped at the plaza's fountain, a jumble of geometric shapes with water cascading over them. It looked like a big pile of wet Quis dice. What would happen if he introduced Quis into Skolian culture? It might be no more than a fad. But he knew it too well to believe that. Quis would fascinate his people: scholars would write papers on it, gaming dens would proliferate, schools would teach it, player conclaves would form. The game was too powerful to fade away.
Maybe it would spread to the Traders. The Coban queens had sublimated their aggression into Quis. He doubted it could affect the Traders as much, but even a small change might get the stalled treaty negotiations back on track.
A silver spark flashed in Kelric's side vision.
Combat mode toggled, Bolt thought.
What the hell? As Kelric spun around, Najo literally shoved him to the ground. Strava and Najo both threw themselves across Kelric as he hit the pavement. Axer stood over them with his feet planted wide, firing, his massive Jumbler clenched in both hands. The gun had to be big; it was a particle accelerator. It carried abitons, the anti-particle of the biton. Electrons consisted of many, many bitons. With a rest energy of 1.9 eV, they produced only orange light when they annihilated abitons—but that was all it took. It was bad enough in the atmosphere; when the beam hit solids, the instability of the mutilated electrons blew apart the material.
Axer swept the beam across the plaza, his speed enhanced, his reflexes powered by the microfusion reactor in his body. Strava and Najo were shooting as well, even as they protected Kelric with their bodies. The air glittered with orange sparks, and where the beams touched ground, it exploded in eye-searing flashes. Debris flew everywhere and dust swirled around the fountain.
Kelric lay with his palms braced on the ground, tensed like a wire drawn taut. He wanted to throw off his guards and vault to his feet; it took a great effort of will to let them do their job. His enhanced vision picked out bullets headed toward him and also their demise in flashes of orange light.
After what seemed an eon, his bodyguards stopped firing. The air had the astringent smell of annihilated bitons. Sirens blared throughout the plaza, and engines rumbled in the sky.
"Imperator Skolia?" Najo asked, getting to his feet. "Are you all right?"
Kelric pushed up on his elbow. "I'm fine. Are we clear?"
"Looks like it," Strava said. She was kneeling over him, her calves on either side of his legs while she surveyed the ruined plaza. Najo scanned the area with his gauntlet monitors, and Axer was speaking into his gauntlet comm.
Kelric stabbed a panel on his own gauntlet. "Major Qahot, what the hell is going on?"
The voice of his security chief came out of the mesh. "The shooters are dead, sir. It doesn't look like they expected to survive."
"Suicide assassins," Kelric said.
"Apparently. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he growled. "I want to know how the hell they got in here." The Assembly drew delegates from all over Skolia. Some attended through the web, but many gathered in Selei City. ISC had ramped up security so high, they should have known if someone a hundred kilometer radius even breathed oddly.
Strava got up, freeing Kelric. He climbed to his feet and spoke quietly to his bodyguards. "Thank you."
Najo inclined his head, and Strava lifted her hand in acknowledgement. Axer was getting updates on his gauntlet and probably his ear comm, too. ISC police were already combing the plaza, adjacent parks, and no doubt every nearby building. Flyers rumbled above, gold and black, reflected in the mirrored skyscrapers.
Kelric finally let himself absorb he had almost just died.
****
"They never had a chance," Major Qahot said, pacing across the security office beneath the Assembly Hall. A stocky man with bristly hair, he moved as if he were caged, unable to break free until he solved the mystery of Kelric's attackers.
People filled the room: officers, aides, and his guards. And Roca. Kelric had arranged to have Dehya and his brothers taken to safety, as well as the First Councilor and the Inner
Circle. Roca, however, refused to leave. His people would take her if he ordered it, but he knew it would antagonize her. For now, in the depths of this secured command center, he let her stay. She stood by a wall, listening while his officers investigated the attempt on his life. Kelric sat at a console that monitored the Assembly Hall, Selei City, the countryside, even orbital traffic. From here, he could access any system on the planet.
"The assassins could never have reached you," Qahot said as he paced. "Their clothes were shrouded against sensors, but the moment they drew their weapons, it triggered alarms all over Selei City. Their shots would never have hit home."
Roca spoke, her voice like tempered steel. "They should never have gotten close enough to shoot."
Perspiration beaded on Qahot's forehead. "It won't happen again, Your Highness."
"Imperator Skolia." Strava spoke from her seat at another console. "We've identified the security hole that let the assassins get their guns by our systems."
"A hole?" Kelric said. "How did that happen?"
"It migrated from another system." She was reading from one of her screens. "The Hinterland Deployment."
Kelric froze. The Hinterland Deployment guarded Coba. "How could that affect us? It's a different region of space."
She rubbed her chin as she studied the data. "It's odd. A few bytes are missing from a security mod in the Hinterland codes. Almost nothing at all. But the hole propagated to other systems." She looked up at Kelric. "The mesh-techs couldn't locate the cause, but they're patching the hole."
It was all Kelric could do to remain impassive. One little hole in Hinterland security. Just one, but it had spread. Because it hadn't been properly coded. Because it should never have existed. Because he had made it in secret.
Kelric had told Dirac to "forget" Coba was the focus of the Hinterland Deployment. He should have known better. The deletion had ended up drawing far more attention than if he had done nothing. Hell, it had nearly gotten him killed.
"Keep me apprised of their progress," he told Strava.
"Will do, sir."
He swiveled his chair to Axer, who was standing by another console. "Do you have anything on the three assassins?"
A frown creased the broad planes of the guard's face. "Sir, they were delegates." He cupped his hand to his ear, listening to his comm. "They've been members of the Assembly for years. The police found records in their quarters."
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