The Reluctant Empress

by Teresa Howard

  He couldn’t blame her. As a Brother, he had nothing to offer a woman used to living in palaces with servants at her beck and call. She hated living in the Temple City; she hated the cold.

  There was a ringing of a small bell. My Lady wanted his presence. Arturon sighed and put away his memories to answer her summons.

  “I want you to go to Sayeri’s as soon as the first thaws begin,” she said. “The baby will be born in the spring and someone will have to certify the paternity test and christen the child.”

  “Wouldn’t I lead Hanoree straight to them?”

  “Hanoree has tightened his hold on the Council of Nobles. Our future is dark if they support Him. The time to act is now. We will say you are ill and sneak you out. They will not be able to follow you. The late emperor’s DNA is on file so you can test the child and prove there is a match.”

  “I don’t want to leave you here alone. What if Hanoree orders his men to take the city.” Arturon expressed his greatest fear.

  “One of us will be out of the city to lead an attack against his palace and rally the other kingdoms. I am too old to make the trip.”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Twenty-Three

  Hanoree struggled with a problem. Varick was becoming too powerful and was beginning to try to direct policy. His strategic plans were sometimes brilliant, and he had made himself indispensable by providing a source of drugs and women. On the down side, he knew all of Hanoree’s secrets, and that made him very dangerous. Worse, he failed to bring in the girl and her baby or kill them.

  “How may I serve you?” Varick said.

  “Bring me this woman who claims to carry the late emperor’s child or bring me her head.”

  “I am doing the best I can. There are new leads coming in. Unfortunately, no one knows her location,” Varick explained.

  “What new leads?”

  “She has fled the Empire and is in a southern kingdom awaiting the birth of her child.”

  Hanoree looked up. That was something he might do. Which kingdom would he choose? Who would help him if he were this girl?

  “You took care of the assassin?” Hanoree asked for the umpteenth time.

  “Yes, my Emperor.” Varick’s voice lowered on the last.

  It was forbidden anyone be called emperor before being officially crowned. Hanoree smiled. He loved the title. The sooner it was his the better. The drug took effect. He relaxed, feeling magnanimous. “You have been a loyal servant and advisor. What would you desire if I choose to reward your service?”

  “I ask for my life, my Emperor, and to serve you. I would also ask my estates be protected for my children.”

  Hanoree almost blasted Varick for false modesty, but realized the man knew his days might be numbered and was asking for his life. “I shall grant your request. You shall live and prosper as my servant. You will be the next First Minister of the Empire.”

  Varick blinked. Hanoree hid his smile. First Minister was the highest rank an emperor could bestow on a non-royal. The head of the Council of Nobles was higher but was always of noble blood.

  Varick bowed low. “I am not worthy.”

  “Are we any closer to getting a date for our ascension to the throne?” Hanoree asked as Varick straightened.

  “No, and I do not understand it. There is no reason to delay. Even the people have begun to get restless for a decision.”

  Hanoree’s voice grew thoughtful as he said, “Perhaps someone is trying to delay the matter.” He was not generally a pensive man. The drugs made him calm, and his mind was sharper when focused.

  “That is a possibility. Someone may know the girl carries the late emperor’s child.” Varick strode to the table where a bottle of the best wine was standing in a bucket of ice. He picked up the bottle and pulled the cork.

  “Join me,” Hanoree said. “If the late empress had a confidant, someone who helped her arrange things with Madama Ector, who would that be?”

  Holding a glass of wine to his lips, Varick turned. He took a slow sip before answering, “Someone we would not suspect. None of the court ladies comes to mind. They could not keep the secret. This person would have a vested interest in helping the empress.”

  “See if you can find a name for me. Is there anyone who might have connection to the empress or a connection to Madama Ector herself?”

  “I will find out,” Varick promised.

  There was little Hanoree could ferret on his own. His wife would be able to learn if there were any rumors among the Noble ladies. Of course, his wife would need to leave their country estate and join him in the Imperial City. She would hate that, as would his current mistress.

  The sound of activity outside the room made him start. Hanoree stepped down from the throne, and Varick hid his glass of wine. There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Hanoree said, and Varick bowed and left as the visitor entered.

  The current First Minister strode in as if he owned the palace. He was a pompous old man, large and loud in his advice. Hanoree never understood why the late emperor chose such a buffoon.

  “Why are the Nobles dragging their feet with your appointment as regent?” the First Minister demanded.

  Hanoree almost choked on his wine. This had to be divine providence. “I don’t know, First Minister. It is not for me to decide in these matters. I am in mourning for my emperor.”

  “Admirable. The Empire cannot go long without an emperor. They are trying to consolidate their power. If they have their way, the emperor would be a puppet position.”

  Hanoree put his hand to his chest, his heart beating excitedly. He had not expected the First Minister to be an ally. In fact, he intended to oust the old fool as one of his first acts as emperor. The man rarely attended the council meetings and showed little ambition. It was amazing how the Spirits continued to shower blessings on him. “Don’t say such things, the Nobles are honorable. They supported Emperor Rhealgar.”

  “If I thought you believed in the honor of the Nobles, I wouldn’t support you as regent.”

  Hanoree laughed with First Minister and shook his hand then he walked from the throne room with the First Minister. He made sure as many people as possible saw the two of them together and noted the fact there was an accord there.

  Hanoree parted from his guest and strolled toward a group of Nobles he had seen watching. Time to stir things up.

  Twenty-Four

  Houston sat upright in the back of Sayeri’s transport. His route to the Imperial City was far from direct, but it gave him a chance to remain untraceable. If he were captured, it would be almost impossible to track his movements back to Sayeri and the others. He was more comfortable with his persona now, and once in the Imperial City he could contact the League if backup became necessary.

  The lush fields gave way to flatlands. The southern kingdom located near the equator was humid and warm year-round. In the Imperial City it would be winter. Sayeri provided some cold weather clothes, but he would need more. He studied the map of the Imperial City—he liked to do reconnaissance a day or two before a mission. It helped him prepare for the worst and put backup and escape plans in place.

  The last leg of the journey began in the City of Tupon. His train to the Imperial City departed mid-morning, the next day. Houston used the free afternoon to shop for more winter clothes and get a feel for the political climate in the Empire. He sat in a local pub, deliberately choosing a seat at the bar, eating sandwiches and drinking ale.

  “I say the Order is behind the emperor’s murder. They’re always messing around behind the scenes. They control half the planet from their Temple City,” one well-dressed man said.

  His companion, a wilder looking individual, shook his head. “What would they gain? Must be someone on the Council of Nobles, maybe all of them. Might even be Hanoree. He is parading on the news feeds like he’s in charge.”

  The bartender sauntered over, wiping the bar. He leaned forward and asked the louder man to keep his voice
down. “I don’t want Imperial security closing this place.”

  The men complained about their right to free speech but lowered their voices. Traders were known to like the ladies, so Houston feigned an interest in a few but left alone.

  The next day he slept on the train into the Imperial City, he wanted to be fresh when he scouted around that night. He took a transport to the rougher side of the city, got off several blocks from the bar then walked around. The bar was in a warehouse area where workers came in and out at all hours. The streets were narrow, but there were alleys wide enough for one-way traffic. These were lined with trash cans, and homeless people were sleeping against the backs of the shabby buildings. There would be people in the alleys twenty-four-seven, or as the Bengarian time ran thirty hours a day, eight days a week.

  There was one back exit to the bar, and it led into a long alley. Luckily, this alley wasn’t a dead end. He timed a brisk walk down the alley and up a side street, noting a few hiding places. If this was a large Earth city, he might have found a subway system, but there were no subways in the Imperial City. Local transport vehicles hovered just above the roads or drove down them. Longer distance travelers used higher altitude lanes and moved faster, and travel outside the Empire was monitored. The nearest public transport stop was a mile from the bar and few private transports were parked in the area.

  Houston jogged down a less seedy street, attracting little attention. It offered a handy escape route but had its own risks. A vehicle parked here could receive too much attention or be stolen and stripped. There were many variables. One thing was certain, he would need a quick getaway.

  He made a cash purchase of an older transport that had been modified. It looked like a clunker but had a hot engine. After parking it near the end of the alley in a small area where a few other vehicles braved the neighborhood he circled the bar. Soon there seemed to be a steady flow of people in and out.

  Sauntering in, he took a seat at the bar. There were two barkeeps serving a dozen tables, and the bartender kept those at the bar supplied. The slender woman behind the bar as his target. She walked over to take his order, and their eyes met.

  Beliani looked away. “What are you drinking?”

  “Blue ale.”

  She turned and filled a glass then sat the drink in front of him. She leaned forward and whispered, “Not here.”

  Taking his drink and moving toward the tables, he smiled at a couple of women and chose a spot near theirs. There was something written on the napkin Beliani handed him with the ale. He unfolded the napkin and read it. I get off at 2 a.m. Meet me in the alley behind the bar.

  “Damn.” There was no way he’d sit in the bar for four more hours. There was no entertainment. After buying drinks for the women at the next table and after some minor flirting, he left.

  His vehicle was still there. He walked past it and a few blocks further to an all-night market. The thin, pimple-faced youth behind the counter stiffened when Houston entered.

  The youth watched him in the network of mirrors in the store. I guess I can disguise my race and species, but military training and law enforcement can be spotted.

  Houston selected some bagged munchies and a large cup of hot tea and took them to the counter to pay. The youth kept his attention on the door. The acrid smell of fear, distinct from his general poor hygiene, surrounded the boy.

  What had he walked in on? “You got trouble, kid?”

  “No, um... yea maybe a little.” The kid kept his gaze on the empty street outside as if waiting for an invasion. “These guys want me to open the safe. I told them I can’t, but they’re crazy. They said I better figure out a way. I know they’re going to come back and hurt me.”

  “This is a rough neighborhood for someone your age to be running the store alone.”

  “It’s my uncle’s store. He is sick so there’s no one else. The day clerk comes in the morning and puts the cash in the safe. He has a weapon. There’re less than a hundred credits in the till.”

  Houston’s reply was interrupted by the door opening as three thugs entered. Houston walked over to a counter and looked at the merchandise.

  “You got the key?” one of the thugs said.

  “No man, I told you I can’t open the safe. It says so on the door.”

  The larger thug grabbed the youth and pulled him over the counter. “I said I think you have the key to open the safe.”

  One of the other boys, all underage, took out a knife.

  Well hell, Houston didn’t want to get in the middle of this, but the kid was going to get cut up bad if he didn’t. “Let the boy go.”

  The knife wielder waved it in his direction. “You shut up. This isn’t your business. I’ll slice off that fat mouth of yours.”

  In a lightning fast move, Houston whirled and kicked the knife from the boy’s hand. He pointed a shiny black blaster at the trio. The thug holding the cashier was now hiding behind him. Houston could smell his fear. “Let him go.”

  The thug let the boy go and stepped out holding up his empty hands. Houston waved the blaster toward the door. The trio inched in that direction. “You boys get on home before I give your mothers a reason to cry.”

  They fled like the young stupid kids they were, getting down the block before they began to bluster and shout insults back at him. He grinned at the young store clerk and removed a second blaster. “They’ll be back. You know how to use a weapon?”

  The boy swallowed nervously. “Sort of. Nothing this powerful.”

  He took a few minutes to give the kid a lesson in operating the baster and left him with a few spare rounds. His uncle must be a real dick to leave the kid alone in this neighborhood.

  Glancing at his timepiece, Houston was relieved to see it was nearing time to meet the woman. He left the store, scanning the surroundings to make sure the thugs weren’t waiting in ambush. Seeing that it was clear, he headed for the rendezvous.

  Once in the alley behind the bar, he blended into the shadows and waited. After fifteen minutes or so, the door opened, and the woman came out. She called something over her shoulder and shut the door. She shouldered a package and looked around. Houston stepped from the shadows.

  “Come on let’s go,” she said hurrying down the alley.

  He followed. She was fast but stopped once to look back over her shoulder. That gave him a bad feeling. He caught up and grabbed her arm. “Tell me you didn’t rob the place.”

  “No, hell, I own the place. I left everything in the till and the place running like normal.”

  “Why are you scared?”

  “Someone’s been watching me. People know I was Ricol’s wife. There hasn’t been much of an investigation into his death, but Imperial security keep coming in, pretending to be normal people. They stand out worse than you.”

  “You think they’re after you?” Houston studied her.

  “No, if they believed I knew Ricol’s business, I’d be dead. They’re watching to see if I go after the payoff. They can’t find where he hid it.”

  They walked to the end of the alley, and he indicated the waiting car. After getting in, her body relaxed. Now she appeared younger than he first thought—late twenties, maybe early thirties and pretty in a buxom, flashy sort of way. Her face was too thin, and her nose too sharply pointed to be called a true beauty. Her smile revealed crooked and discolored teeth.

  Houston started the motor, glancing at the bag at Beliani’s feet. “Is that the evidence?”

  “No, it’s a change of clothes and a few personal things. You get the evidence when I’m under the protection of the League.”

  Houston navigated the transport from the area and stopped at a small hostel where he booked a room which opened to the outside but was not visible to passing traffic. As they exited the transport, he drew his blaster. He made sure the room was secure.

  “League couldn’t fund a better place?” She blinked in the dull yellow light of the street ­lamp.

  He motioned for her to enter
. The room was small with two beds, a table, two chairs, and an entertainment console mounted on the wall. The assassin’s wife turned on the console and flopped onto the bed with a grunt.

  “We won’t be here long,” he replied. He did not want her to sleep yet.

  “You got any stims?” She pulled a flask from her bag and opened it. The smell of alcohol filled the small room.

  “Not here. We don’t have time.” He scanned the outside from the window. The parking area was quiet, and the yellow light of the street lamps cast shadows. Few of the lights on this side of the building were on.

  “So why are we here?” Beliani stretched one thin leg then the other.

  “We’ll check in with the League, and you can change.” He could smell the mixture of her musky perfume and body sweat. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, but he couldn’t help remembering how Tegani smelled and the way she held her head.

  “Call me Beliani,” she said, taking the things he brought to change into. She looked at the wig and wrinkled her nose. “I never wear my hair short.”

  “Good, that’s the idea.”

  She sighed and headed into the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack as she stripped off her work clothes and changed into the new clothes and wig.

  He turned his back to the door and studied the window. When Beliani returned he smiled. She looked very different. Short dark curls replaced her long, straight, silver hair. With most of her makeup gone, she could have passed for an average housewife.

  “Yuck!” She made a face at her image in the mirror.

  “You’ll do well.” He opened the portable communicator and turned it on. He trusted it was preset to a secure League frequency.

  “Houston, have you picked up the woman?” the general answered.