Fortunes of the Imperium - eARC

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “I shall perform that office for you, Thomasin, and for you, High Wisdom,” Visoltia said, her eyes wide and solemn.

  I smiled inwardly as Toliaus squirmed, twisting his lizardlike body into a grand impression of a serpent practicing reeling, writhing and fainting in coils, as one of the great writers of Old Earth had once written.

  “A fight?” he said weakly. “Physical altercation? Over words? You must have misunderstood me, Lord Thomas!”

  “I doubt that, sir,” I said. I appealed to the others in the room. “Did you hear what he said? Was my understanding mistaken?”

  If Toliaus had never appreciated how few allies he had in court, he had ample proof at that moment. All of them, to the lowest servant in a gray smock, signaled no.

  “Very well, then,” I said, sliding off the State Bed and retrieving my boots. “I will confront you with the truth. As the challenger, the time and place are at my option. But the choice of weapons . . .” I did my best to avoid a smile, because I could almost see his brain working. “. . . Is yours.”

  I marched out of the State Bedroom and into the High Protector’s office. I was glad to see that Parsons had returned. Plet had joined him. They were scanning an infinity of images projected upon the wall. I could hardly wait for them to pause and turn to regard me.

  “I have done it,” I said. “I am going to discredit Lord Toliaus.”

  “How will you do that?” Lord Rimbalius asked. He seemed to be alarmed at my appearance. Perhaps I did look a trifle excited, with my nostrils flaring and my face red with excitement, not to mention the fact that I was in my stocking feet.

  “I challenged him to a duel! I provoked him into insulting the emperor. He left me no choice. We shall meet on the field of honor.”

  Parsons allowed just the corner of his mouth to turn up.

  “Well done, sir.”

  “Thank you, Parsons,” I said.

  “I thought that you said to kill him would be counterproductive,” Lord Rimbalius said, his heavy brow lowered almost to his eyelids.

  I waved a hand.

  “I don’t plan to kill him. He needs to be discredited, and that is just what I will do. I must defeat him on his own ground, and I will get the Autocrat to disown him.”

  “But he’ll attack you,” Plet said.

  “Not physically,” I said. “He’s a terrible coward. He only strikes at those who cannot strike back. He will only fight where he thinks he can win, using a weapon that he thinks only he can wield. As the challenged party, he chose the medium in which we will compete. I am skilled in numerous martial arts, starship racing, sword-fighting and marksmanship, which he could learn by checking my Infogrid file. As he is a terrible coward, I knew it wouldn’t be a physical fight.

  “Magic,” I said, with deep satisfaction at the expression on their faces. “We are to have a duel of wizards at the Autocrat’s accession feast.”

  “But you are not a wizard,” the High Protector pointed out.

  “Neither is he,” I said. “But I will pit my technical trickery and superstitious folderol above his any time. He has had an audience of one. I have plied my trade with hundreds, even thousands. And I have an idea.”

  “Once I have made him foolish in Visoltia’s eyes, when that gap in influence opens up, it is up to you to fill it.”

  “Oh, I will, human lord, I will. But perhaps you should stay here tonight. He will try to have you killed before the duel.”

  “He can try,” I said, “but I posted news of the upcoming contest on my Infogrid file right there in the State Bedroom. If anything should befall me between now and then, you know what the public opinion will be.”

  “That is not a bad plan, my lord,” Parsons said, “but the High Protector’s information services have picked up rumblings of activity close to Memepocotel. Ground forces are gathering. Whatever the Bertus have brought in is likely to be used during the feast. We have been examining scans from all over the region. Power surges and unusual movement have been noticed. You could provide a distraction for the wrong reason.”

  “I think it’s an excellent plan,” I argued. “Dignitaries are coming in from all over the system. Her Excellence is very excited about the guest list. If I have sufficiently provoked Toliaus and he is indeed the instigator of the coup attempt, he will almost certainly strike during the feast, so as to rid himself of as many enemies as possible at once.”

  “In that case, I insist that you delay the duel, my lord,” Rimbalius said. “We cannot risk the Autocrat’s life like that.”

  “No,” I said. “High Protector, I can meet his coup with great force, from within and without.”

  “You?” Plet asked, scoffing.

  I ignored the scoff.

  “Of course. I am the greatest weapon that you have. I can lift the embargoes on all the ports singlehandedly! Lord Toliaus will be actively trying to kill me, and all I have to do is humiliate him. Expect fraud galore, my friends. I must go back to the hotel to prepare.”

  I bowed deeply, and marched out the door, swinging my boots in my hand.

  Upon returning to the hotel, I made immediately for Jil’s suite. Ignoring Banitra’s curious gaze, I strode past her and rapped upon Jil’s door.

  “Go away!” my cousin’s voice wailed.

  “Do come out,” I said. “It’s been days, and you’re not having any fun. The Autocrat misses you.”

  “I am not coming out!”

  “But, Jil, I need you.” I turned my most pleading gaze to the painted door. “I am making such interesting plans, and I need a trusted ally to help me with them.”

  The door was obdurate.

  “It’s not safe, Thomas. That Lieutenant Plet of yours told me that no one knows where Nile Bertu went.”

  “They will find him, Jil. Maybe sooner than you think. But you like Visoltia, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course I do. She’s a darling.”

  “And you dislike Lord Toliaus, don’t you?”

  A notable pause ensued, before a tentative voice said, “Yes. Why?”

  “I plan to take the High Ego to a humility lesson. Don’t you want to help me with that? Hasn’t he spoiled enough of our fun this trip?”

  The door was thrown wide open. Jil beckoned me inside. Her friends, with grateful looks, followed.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  The six of us sought out Anstruther. We found her bent over her microscope. She became very shy in the face of my cousin and her coterie, but I commanded her gaze.

  “We have a change in plans,” I told her. “We will need to provide a much more showy exhibition.” I pointed to the barrel of gleaming dust. “How much of that can I possibly carry around with me without rupturing both meniscuses?”

  CHAPTER 45

  Skana wore Lord Toliaus’s embroidered outfit over a lightweight undergown of her own. She accepted the puzzled glances and outright gazes of admiration from the other guests as they entered the State Dining Room.

  She, Tuk, Nile and his two girlfriends had been transported from the oasis before dawn in an unmarked flitter and deposited at the rear entrance of the palace. Enstidius had dressed them up in huge, voluminous robes with fake tails attached to their waists and hoods that pulled down to their chins, concealing their faces. He warned them not to talk to Lord Toliaus at any time. The Bertus didn’t care as long as they got to attend the banquet.

  One of his underlings who had traveled with the Bertus made sure they were scanned by one particular guard at the entrance. After that, he guided the five of them through the bowels of the palace to a tiny room where they stripped off their disguises and waited. And waited.

  Skana had to admit it was worth waiting for. The gray-clad servant who had finally come guided them into this enormous, high-ceilinged room filled with long tables and a dais at one end. The chairs at the head table were ornamental but not too fancy, except for the one in the middle. It was molded of twisted bronze rods as thick as her leg, but mottled as though they
had scales. Two uprights rose high on the back of the throne and braided themselves into a complicated knot with a bright orange gem the size of her head embedded in its heart. Skana began to design the dais for when she and Nile took over. She designed two more chairs to either side of the throne. Not as fancy as hers, of course, but equal in size. She wasn’t totally in love with the local style, but she could always import whatever she wanted, once the borders were open again.

  She was filled with admiration and not a little envy. It was like being inside a rainbow mosaic. Not one square centimeter of the walls or ceiling, or floor, for that matter, was unadorned. On three of the high walls were enormous stained glass windows whose images twinkled with their own light.

  “Do you think those pictures are history or mythology?” she asked Nile’s two girlfriends.

  “I don’t know enough about Uctu culture to have an idea,” said the cost analyst, whose name Skana had finally retained as Cenide. The three women had really gotten to know each other during their desert exile. With limited Infogrid access, there was little else to do but talk. “They’re just gorgeous.”

  The other, Pemelle, could hardly speak, she was so overwhelmed. Both of them wore light green Uctu gowns with gold embroidery and flat oval gems around the neck and hems. They looked beautiful.

  They were the first to arrive. A quintet of musicians with two stringed gizmos, a drum and two wind instruments looked curiously at them as they arrived and set up quietly in a corner. They began to play gentle, floaty airs. A few Uctu guests in fine Imperium clothing peered nervously into the hall, spotted the Bertus, and made their way timidly to an empty table. More followed, two or three at a time. The room had been set up to seat at least five hundred.

  “When do you think she’ll get here?” Nile asked.

  Skana had no illusions as to who “she” was.

  “Later. They’ll make an entrance, just like they always do.”

  The five of them were by no means the only Imperium visitors. At least two dozen humans, all dressed with equal elegance, filtered in, along with a few Croctoids and a couple of Solinians, all in local dress. The rest of the guests were Uctu, who looked uncomfortable in human attire that wasn’t really made to accommodate tails.

  “You think we’re gonna be able to tell who it is?” Nile asked, watching servants in bright yellow seating guests at the tables.

  Skana shook her head.

  “Not until the last minute.”

  Enstidius and his people had been remarkably careful not to use the name of the target. She and Nile didn’t even know if Toliaus’s enemy was male or female, only that it wasn’t the Autocrat herself. Skana had looked her up on the Infogrid. Visoltia was a little girl. Skana and Nile had speculated for hours on who among the guests was worth importing fighters and arms. But no amount of reading the political or economic digests gave them a clue. All they knew was what was going to happen some time that evening.

  Nile, Tuk and Skana all wore shield belts under their voluminous robes. When the action started, all they had to do was switch them on and enjoy the fireworks. Nothing the Uctu insurgents were packing could get through the multiple protective waves. The power packs only lasted about forty minutes, but the attack shouldn’t take more than ten. How hard could it be to target one person and blast them?

  Nile grabbed her arm.

  “There she is!” he hissed into her ear.

  Skana glanced at the crowd. Among the horde of coral-skinned Uctu, the human nobles stood out like golden statues. Lady Jil had on a translucent turquoise gown covered with golden embroidery like the mosaic designs on the wall. The tall man who was Lady Jil’s cousin on her father’s side towered above the group. He was dressed in a black robe covered with stars. Behind them was a group of women, a couple of whom looked like they could be nobles, but she wasn’t sure. They all wore floaty dresses with light hoods clinging to their upswept hairstyles. Unconsciously, Skana touched her own coarse, rusty hair. Never mind. It was what was inside that counted. The Imperium ambassador and her partner who followed the nobles in were more in her own mold, their long blond hair modestly coiffed, and their Uctu gowns calculated to compliment their hosts instead of drawing awkward attention.

  Nile stared openly at the procession. Skana rolled her eyes at him.

  To their amazement, the lord caught sight of them, and spoke to Lady Jil. She startled openly, but her cousin bowed to the ambassador and detached himself from their party. He dragged Lady Jil toward them. Skana could hardly believe it. He seemed to be having some trouble walking, but they were definitely coming their way. Nile sprang to his feet.

  “Well, hello!” the tall man said. “How nice to see fellow Keinoltians this far from home. I believe you are acquainted with my cousin, Lady Jil Nikhorunkorn. I am Lord Thomas Kinago.”

  “Sort of,” Skana said, presenting her hand. Lord Thomas bowed over it. “Skana Bertu. This is my brother Nile. My assistant Tuk.”

  Tuk bowed deeply. Nile just gaped at the lady. Skana poked him hard with her elbow.

  “Uh, yeah. This is Pemelle Dubarov, and Cenide Pollan.”

  “I say, Jil, it looks as if these ladies got the memo,” Lord Thomas said, cheerfully. He hadn’t missed the resemblance. He would have to have been blind to. “How very nice you all look. Don’t they, Jil? Say good evening to the good folks.”

  “Good evening,” the lady echoed.

  “Nice to see you,” Skana said.

  “Thank you.” Skana thought the girl looked like she might faint. Nile cleared his throat.

  “Look, Lady Jil, you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said. The lady just quivered. She had to be feeling bad about how she had behaved. Skana changed the subject. She turned to Lord Thomas.

  “So, what are you supposed to be?” Skana asked. “We had to buy local outfits for this party.”

  Lord Thomas smiled at her, and she felt as though she might swoon. Maybe there was something in Nile’s obsession.

  “I am dressed as a local,” he said, leaning down and dropping his tone to a confidential whisper. “One of the Autocrat’s ministers. Lord Toliaus.”

  Skana felt a shock at hearing his name, but thought she controlled herself incredibly well. “We don’t know any of the ministers. We’re just here to do business. You look like an old-time wizard.”

  “We wizards are eternal,” Lord Thomas said, putting on an austere expression for a split second. He was a lot nicer than most of the nobles that Skana had met. “But I would be happy to tell your fortune.” He slid into the chair next to Skana and spread a deck of fancy cards on the table. “Pick one. It will act as your significator.”

  Skana was so dazzled to have him close by that she chose the first card and turned it face up on the pristine tablecloth. Deftly, Lord Thomas spun a circle of cards around it.

  “The Chariot is your card, Ms. Bertu. Two strong personalities pulling side by side. That’s both of you, isn’t it?”

  Lord Thomas babbled on, talking about deep secrets and long journeys. Behind him, Lady Jil obviously couldn’t wait to get away. She embedded herself in her circle of friends so there was no chance of Nile getting close to her. It didn’t look like she was going to deliver the apology Skana thought she owed them.

  Lord Thomas gathered up his cards and rose.

  “Well, we must get to our place,” he said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bertu, Mr. Bertu, ladies and sir.”

  Skana realized she hadn’t been listening to a thing he said.

  “Thank you so much, your lordship. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  The nobles sauntered away.

  “We have to tell them to leave,” Nile growled. “They shouldn’t be here now.”

  “It’s their lookout,” Skana said. “Did you notice she still hasn’t told you she’s sorry?”

  “Thomas, I will never forgive you for that!” Jil said in Uctu, as I escorted her away. She clung to me, her chin on my shoulder. “How could you make me face him aft
er I slapped him?”

  “It was necessary, Jil, I promise you,” I said, patting the hand that rested upon my elbow. “It’s all part of the joke we are playing.”

  “They’re part of the joke?” she asked.

  “It’s being played on them, too,” I said. In more ways than one: now that the Bertus had surfaced, the Uctu security service would quietly take them into custody and get the information that all of us so desperately needed to prevent a crisis. I bowed to an Uctu male wearing a very fancy Imperium naval uniform that dated from two centuries back. “You could have apologized. That would have made it far less awkward.”

  “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t get a word out.” Jil glanced over her shoulder at the brother and sister. “When does it begin?”

  “After dinner, I believe,” I said. I glanced around the room. Lieutenant Plet, in a handsome dark green caftan that was a formal ground-based army uniform of the equivalent rank, chatted a bit uncomfortably to a female Uctu wearing a very low-cut ballgown in an eye-watering shade of puce that clashed abominably with her scales. I tilted my head in the direction of the so-called merchants. She lowered her head in the merest suggestion of a nod. She lifted her wrist and spoke into her cuff. In the rear of the chamber, near a small five-piece musical ensemble, Nesbitt and Oskelev chatted as though they were ordinary guests. Parsons, as yet, was nowhere to be seen. I smiled at the knot of Uctu reporters at the center of the room, videoing everything for media broadcast and the Infogrid. “Yes, that is when the fun will start. Can you hear me, Anstruther?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the dulcet tones deep inside my ear. “How are you doing?”

  “Well enough, though I feel as though I am sloshing like a mobile water tank.”

  “I have over two billion nanites supporting your knees and back, sir.”