Fortunes of the Imperium - eARC

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Her voice sounded even more taut.

  “My father would have died rather than have me meet with the son of the one who was the last to defeat his armies. Peace came into being between us, though you must understand how it hurt his pride to face the necessity.”

  “I understand, Your Serenity. I believe that is why my mother sent me, as a gesture of good will. Those of this new generation must hold out the hand of friendship to one another. I hope you will allow me to make this gesture. Make of it what you will. Even if you take out your family’s ancient frustration on me, it still won’t change the import of what I have to say to you. In other words, even if you kill the messenger, the message is still a friendly one.”

  I heard Jil gasp behind me, but what did she expect? She had known me all our lives. Audacity was my stock in trade. Murmuring also broke out among the Uctu contingent, especially in the neighborhood of Prime Minister Rimbalius, who added growls and muttering to his throaty exhalations.

  My bold sally had had one more sound effect of note: a giggle. My ears perked up hopefully. I heard a slithering of cloth and the soft pattering of slipper-clad feet on the floor, accompanied by heavy jingling noises. A small, coral-scaled face insinuated itself underneath my hood and looked up at me. The Autocrat’s jaw was lowered in a smile. I peered down at her, and winked. Delighted, she extended her small hand. I enveloped it carefully in mine.

  “You are so big!” she said.

  “I apologize,” I said, without moving either my body or my face. “I didn’t mean to be big. You are just the right size, of course.”

  She laughed, a musical squeak like a wooden flute.

  “You are most courteous,” she said. “I admire your accent. You sound as though you live in my city.”

  “That is a great compliment,” I said, deepening my bow and adding a switch of my robe’s tail. “My cousin and I have busied ourselves learning your language.”

  Her dark eyes shone.

  “I see. You do not use a device?”

  “None at all,” I said, with pride. “We did use devices to learn. Is that incorrect? I must confess that I am new to this diplomatic process. My cousin the emperor normally relies upon career envoys who are trained not to offend, like Ambassador Galeckas here.”

  Visoltia giggled again.

  “You are not incorrect. So many do not attempt to speak the true language, but rely upon machines. I am pleased. You do not have to bend your back any longer before me. You may stand up.”

  Gratefully, I drew myself upright. My spine thanked me profusely. As I had learned to do from the files, I put my palms together, one set of fingers angling upward toward my face, the other toward hers.

  “I am so glad to have pleased Your Excellence.”

  Her small face lit up again. For possibly the first time in my life, I realized that I was more mature than someone else. Though she ruled hundreds of star systems, she was a child.

  “My friend gave us instruction,” I said, beckoning my crew forward. “May I present Lieutenant Kolchut Redius?”

  Very reluctantly, Redius emerged from the concealment of Nesbitt’s bulk. The lids of Her Serenity’s eyes peeled back, and the eyes themselves seemed to bulge outward. Her tail lashed back and forth, as did those of her ministers. They hissed low under their breath.

  “What does this person do with you?” she demanded.

  I had not expected such a reaction, though it looked as though Redius had, hiding himself where he would not be easily observed. I frowned.

  “He is part of my crew, Your Serenity.”

  “He is a nacch,” the Autocrat said. The guttural sounded uncannily nasty. “The ones who ran away. The human-sympathizers. Traitors to their system of origin. I accept you, though you are the son of our deepest enemy, but there is no reason I must look at him.”

  Redius’s tail drooped to the floor.

  “I withdraw,” he said, in Imperium Standard, edging away.

  “No,” I said, putting my arm around his shoulders. “He is part of my retinue, my crew and my trusted friend. He is brave and honest, and has a marvelous sense of humor. I hope you will come to appreciate him as I do. We are all fans of the Autocracy’s greatest export, the digitavid show Ya! Is it possible that you are also a devotee?”

  Plet looked as though her eyes were going to bulge out of their sockets, but I was adamant. I had seen diplomats in the Emperor’s court behave as imperiously over small things. If Visoltia was going to judge me, let it be by the entire picture that was Thomas Kinago. I stood with my chin up, though it made me tower high above the Autocrat.

  Ambassador Galeckas bustled forward, interposing herself between my friend and the Autocrat. She positioned her hands as I had, one set of fingers pointed up at her chin, the other toward the angry ruler.

  “Your Excellence, Lord Thomas has no intention to offend. It’s the custom to bring all members of a distinguished visitor’s party to meet you. Mr. Redius is part of the ship’s crew. He is routinely assigned to the envoy’s service. He is here only because they want to honor you.” I could tell that that argument had been brought to bear more than once. The girl, for so I had come to think of her, stopped and glared at all of us.

  “Very well,” the Autocrat said, “but he will stand there.” She pointed to the end of the chamber, beside the door.

  “I obey my hostess,” Redius said in Uctu. He marched over to the door. The very end of his tail tip switched back and forth, but otherwise he stood very still. I was determined to reform not only my family’s image, but also that of one of my dearest friends. The Autocrat threw a hand gesture at him, one I had not seen before, with all fingers spread out, as if pushing air toward Redius. He cringed.

  “If you will allow me,” I said, though I vowed privately that would not be the end of the argument regarding Redius, “I would like to introduce the rest of my party. My cousin, Lady Jil and her friends.” Jil floated forward and described an elegant curtsy. Her friends followed in her wake like fish swimming in a narrow channel then eddied outward to surround my cousin. I pronounced all the names. I presented the remaining members of my crew, trying not to feel dismay for Redius alone at the door.

  The Autocrat gave one nod, acknowledging my retinue. She spread her hands to encompass those who stood beside her.

  “These are my chief ministers and trusted advisors,” she said. “My prime minister and also champion of defense for the Autocracy . . .”

  “Lord Corvain Rimbalius, also called High Protector,” I said, daring to interrupt her. “My lord, I am honored. Beside you is High Nourisher, which I think is a splendid title for the minister of agriculture. I will be sure to tell Your Excellence’s Imperial brother so. Then, High Knowledge, provider of education. The others I don’t know on sight.”

  “Good,” the Autocrat said, beaming. “You have studied my cabinet.”

  “And many other things. I hoped it would save us some time getting to know one another. I see that a few are missing . . . ?”

  “Yes. They are not always within the doors of my palace, as their duties take them far and wide across the Autocracy,” Visoltia said, with a glance over her shoulder toward a smaller door at the rear of the chamber. “But I did expect Lord Toliaus to be here.”

  High Nourisher, a plump female with dark red skin, lowered her kindly eyes.

  “High Wisdom informed me that he has another appointment, Your Excellence,” she told the Autocrat. Visoltia looked dismayed, almost lost. Rimbalius’s heavy brow lowered.

  “It is an insult to you, Autocrat,” he said, with a furious look at me. “Not so insulting as the presence of this invader’s offspring.” I recognized his name from my mother’s annals, since he had been a minor officer who tried to undermine the peace that was being made between the Autocrat’s father, the late Autocrat, and the late Empress, Shojan’s predecessor.

  “Lord Thomas is our guest,” Visoltia said. “And Toliaus should have been here to give him the honor he deserves as
a visitor.”

  The big male subsided immediately. “Your wishes must always take precedence, dear lady. He knows that, but he does not obey.”

  Visoltia shrugged her small shoulders.

  “He is undoubtedly busy in our interests, High Protector.”

  The subtle shake of his head told me Rimbalius did not think so.

  Parsons glided to my side and described a perfect bow to the Autocrat. She gave him a surprised nod of approval.

  “Your Excellence, the crew has duties it needs to fulfill,” he said, in flawless Uctu, far better than I would ever be capable of emitting. “If you will permit us to withdraw at this time? We will return at your pleasure.”

  “Oh, but Lord Thomas and his party must stay,” the Autocrat said.

  “As long as you like,” I agreed. “And my cousin and her friends will stay, as well.”

  Parsons bowed again and gathered up my crew with an eye. They slipped out of the room. It seemed as though the rest of the onlookers let out a breath they had been holding.

  The young female returned to her couch and hopped up on it, using her tail for leverage. Though she sat with great dignity, her sandaled feet did not touch the floor. Her ladies ran to array her robes fetchingly about her.

  “May I ask, Your Excellence, for the meaning of that movement you made with your hands?” I asked. “Behind me, I hear Ms. Galeckas shifting in discomfort. I assume that means I ought to have known it, or not asked about it, but I am curious by nature.”

  “That?” the Autocrat asked, then giggled nervously. She glanced at her ladies. The most senior of them, who wore the air of a nanny, shook her head briefly, but Visoltia ignored the admonition. “It is naughty of me to use it. It is a lowborn sign. It means ‘take your bad luck with you.’”

  “Really?” I asked, intrigued. “We have many similar superstitions in our culture. Back on Old Earth, there were similar gestures of all kinds in every country and fiefdom.”

  “Do they keep misfortune away?” Visoltia asked.

  I smiled.

  “I must tell you, the reports are inconclusive. I have a theory that if one’s enemy believes that it works, that is effect enough. Are you familiar with the concept of superstition?”

  “Indeed I am, but what is your interest?”

  “Chiefly academic,” I said, “though I have been examining these concepts in a practical manner over the last few months. Superstitions are important. They have power over people. They can kill without guns or knives. Once an idea takes root in one’s mind, whether or not it is a logical one, and especially if it is not, it can only be dislodged with great force. Persuasion cannot work against it. I wish to investigate them to learn what truth, if any, lies at the bottom of these beliefs. One should not throw out the . . .” I sought for a comparable term in Uctu and wished Redius had been allowed to remain, “. . . figurative baby with the bathwater. He, or she, or it, may have a morsel of nourishment for our minds, a reassurance that we have decoded a portion of this very complicated and seemingly random universe.”

  “Such wisdom,” Visoltia said, gravely. “I noticed your garment. You must be a student of astronomy. Did you know that I, too, study the stars?”

  “Yes, I read that about you on your Infogrid page,” I said. “Star charts are part of my latest enthusiasm. What does Your Excellence seek among the stars?”

  Her eyes were wide with sincerity.

  “I seek our fate, Ambassador Thomas. How we are intertwined as those distant lights are in pictures we draw in our minds.”

  I approached, ignoring the grumbles of her guards and the High Protector.

  “I am pleased that you should mention that, Your Excellence. Allow me to tell you about my latest enthusiasm. I study how the fates affect the psyche of those who believe in them.”

  “I should be delighted to hear all about it,” Visoltia said, her eyes wide and eager. “I have many theories as well.”

  “Oh, stars, Thomas,” Jil said, rolling her eyes in deep dismay. “She’s one of you.”

  CHAPTER 32

  In spite of the white-hot heat of the day, Skana stopped to stare open-mouthed at the castle doors. The bronzework was breathtakingly beautiful. The overwhelming fragrance of the gardens suddenly seemed proportional when considered against their setting. Fountainheads shaped like flowers spewed out streams of water from the center of each angled side wall so that visitors could trail their hands into raised pools as they walked by. Uctu guards, wearing old-fashioned padded breastplates in distinct contrast to their very modern pulse rifles, stood to either side of the doorway. Skana held up her pocket secretary to record the images. Her mind filled with exquisite plans.

  “Nile, we are thinking too small. I want to rework the doorway of headquarters with enameled plaques. And gates. Wrought iron in our coat of arms on one side and the company logo on the other. I want one on the building and at the ground approach from the southwest, on the way toward Taino, high enough to be seen from skimmers.”

  “That’d be impressive,” he said. Since money had changed hands a few days before, he had been in a great mood. He beamed at his companions. “Ladies, what do you think?”

  Because he had been acting like a human being again, the women had stopped being openly terrified of him. One of them worked in cost analysis. In spite of her scanty attire, she looked every inch the accounting professional she was as she assessed the entrance.

  “The enameling could be done by LAI, sir,” she said. “That would cut the labor down below ten percent of the material cost. I’d put the stats into an architecture program, of course, but Bertu Corporation did a fancy façade for the fashion house on Egunzi for less than two million. For HQ, I’d go higher end, maybe four, four and a half.”

  “Fabulous,” Skana said. “Tuk, take some images and send them back. I’d like to see if they agree with her. Keep an eye on the decorations as we go, honey,” she said to the young woman. “Take a picture if you see anything really nice and unique.”

  “Yes, Ms. Bertu,” she said.

  Enstidius had put up with their dawdling, and was all but flapping his hands in impatience.

  “We must go! He is not accustomed to waiting!”

  “All right, all right,” Skana said. “Come on, Nile.”

  The guards came forward briefly at the sight of several outworlders, but withdrew when they saw Enstidius. They stared straight ahead of them into the middle distance as the group passed. Skana couldn’t help herself. She snapped her fingers in front of the right-hand guard’s nose. He blinked.

  “Hah,” she said, triumphantly.

  “Skana!” Nile called.

  “Coming!”

  The grand entrance was about fifty degrees cooler than the outside. A few grandly dressed servants stood in the center of the hall at a table that was covered with bowls of fruit, pitchers frosted with condensation, platters of sweetmeats and boxes that probably contained some other dainties.

  “Well! How nice!” Skana exclaimed.

  The servants glanced at Enstidius and his party but didn’t move. The female Uctu who looked as though she was in charge tilted her head. A lone juvenile male picked up one of the big pitchers from the table and poured water into a trayful of thin metal cups. He served them, starting with Enstidius, then returned to his station.

  “What about the rest of the goodies?” Skana asked, disappointed, though she gulped her water. The servant took her empty cup. She pointed at the bowls of fruit. “Don’t we get some of those, too?”

  “For Her Excellence’s guests, madam,” Enstidius said, a trifle embarrassed. “Come, we must go this way.”

  Instead of passing down the great corridor that opened out before them, their guide opened a small door that was invisible among the elegant traceries on the metal walls and beckoned to them toward a low-ceilinged passageway. With reluctance, Nile abandoned the fancy reception area and moved after Enstidius. The guards guided the two young women to follow. Skana glanced behind at
Tuk, who was too tall to walk upright in the low tunnel. This was not at all how she pictured visiting the royal palace.

  After a long walk in the very low, barely-lit, echoing, rounded passage that felt like passing through the palace’s intestines, they emerged out from behind a swinging tapestry that smelled of hot brass and dust into a wide, airy room. A broad divan covered with gold cloth and shaded by a canopy sat in the middle of the floor. Servants in gray robes adorned with a dark blue badge over the heart stood in a knot beside the divan. Two of them waved enormous fans to stir the air.

  “Is this the throne room?” Skana asked, breathlessly. Her words echoed from her pocket secretary in Uctu.

  The curtains parted.

  “In a manner of speaking, honored visitor,” said a male voice. “I am that which keeps the Autocrat upon her throne.”

  Scarlet slippers touched the floor, followed by the hem of a dark blue robe that, even at the distance, Skana priced out at multiple thousands of credits. Though it was translucent, it was oversewn with cabochon gems with gold and platinum thread that rendered it into a night sky full of stars. An underrobe of pale gray added mystery as well as modesty. The male inside the cloak was impressively tall for an Uctu. She could not see his face, as the robe’s hood was pulled down almost to his chin.

  Enstidius went forward and gathered up a handful of the Uctu’s hem to kiss.

  “Lord Toliaus.” He beckoned the Bertus forward. “These are our benefactors, Mr. N—”

  Lord Toliaus threw back his hood, revealing a long, pouchy face and piggy eyes. His pale skin was almost pinkish instead of the light reds of most of the Uctu Skana had met. The point of his crest looked as though it had been chopped off at the top. He waved an imperious hand.