Shades of Empire (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  There was a hopeful note in her voice, but Alexander wasn’t willing to pander to her desire for reassurance.

  “There’s got to be more to it than that,” he said definitively.

  • • •

  Emperor Antonio Edward Martain du Plessis leaned back in a chair in what had been his father’s suite, and groaned. It had all seemed so simple when he had left his father’s body to be discovered, and returned to his own room to pretend alarm at the sound of the claxons. He hadn’t anticipated that everyone would immediately descend upon him and expect him to make decisions about all manner of things. Nor was he prepared for the fervent response of the Emperor’s Own Corps, who refused to leave him alone, even for a single minute.

  He knew the last problem was due to the perception by the Corps that they had failed dismally in their mission. Antonio had been present when Colonel Roger Beaumont, the senior officer in charge of the Corps, learned of Emperor Lothar’s death. As Colonel Beaumont had just broken to him the news of the Empress’ death, Antonio didn’t have to pretend shock or dismay on hearing that he was now the Emperor. It had never occurred to him that anything could happen to his mother. She had always been there, like a mountain or a giant tree of the forest, dwarfing those around her with her supreme disregard for their opinions.

  Antonio knew that he would miss her, in spite of the fact that her death would make it much easier for him to gain access to Vinitra. He was also sorry she wouldn’t be there to enjoy his triumph over Cassandra.

  It was more than an hour later that they realized that all the occupants of the palace had been accounted for except for his two sisters.

  “What?” Antonio demanded when the Colonel returned to his suite to inform him of this new disaster.

  “I’m deeply sorry, Excellency,” Colonel Beaumont said, almost groveling from guilt and anxiety. “We’ll keep searching, of course, but there’s no sign of either of your sisters.”

  Antonio frowned and glared at the senior Corps officer. “How many bodies did you find?”

  “Fourteen of our men, one servant, one concubine, and eight rebel scum.”

  “And all of them were male except for the concubine?”

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  “You’re quite sure she was a concubine and not one of my sisters?”

  “Oh, yes, Excellency. It was the blonde one—your father’s favorite lately. She was naked except for a robe. She must have been in the bath with him. For some reason, the rebels seem to have shot her right there and then taken the late Emperor away to the room where we found his body.”

  “How could a mere eight men get in?” Antonio demanded, his voice going shrill. The last thing he wanted was to dwell on the logistics of his father’s death.

  “We don’t know yet, Excellency. We do know they used false ID to get inside the gate, but we can’t tell how they got into the house. It’s possible they tricked Gunderson into opening the door. There’s no sign that it was forced.”

  “What kind of idiots do you have in the Corps?” Antonio said. “Do you breed them for size and looks, and not worry if they have any brains at all?”

  “I said we don’t know how they got in, Excellency. It’s not fair to blame it on Gunderson. He’s dead.”

  “I’m not blaming Gunderson,” Antonio said, his voice rising again, “I’m blaming you, Beaumont. Now, where the hell are my sisters?”

  Before the colonel could answer, the com on his belt beeped insistently.

  “Pardon, Excellency,” he murmured as he unclipped it to answer it. After a few seconds, he switched it off and smiled with relief. “They’ve found the Princess Vinitra.”

  “Where?” Antonio demanded.

  “In the servants’ quarters; they’re bringing her here.”

  “In the servants’ quarters? Weren’t they searched already?”

  “Yes, of course, Excellency. It seems there was a hidden compartment in one of the servants’ rooms. The woman who lived there didn’t even know the compartment was there. She said that when the Princess came out, she seemed rather dazed.”

  The door chimed discretely and Beaumont opened it to admit a half dozen guardsmen, a woman servant, and Vinitra, who kept well away from the guards, but looked around in confusion.

  “Tonio!” she said when she saw her brother. “Oh, Tonio, what’s happened?”

  “Come here, Vinnie,” Antonio ordered.

  She came close but flinched when he insisted on embracing her.

  “Please,” she murmured in his ear. “Please don’t, Antonio. It hurts!”

  Antonio released her reluctantly. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “The pain will be gone soon.”

  “If I might interrupt, Excellency?” the Colonel said, his voice full of diffidence. “I’d like to ask Her Highness how she came to be hidden away where she was.”

  “Yes,” Antonio said, stepping back enough so that Vinitra was no longer in discomfort. “Why did you hide there, Vinnie?”

  She blinked a few times and glanced around the room as if she wasn’t sure where she was. “It was Mother. She knew about that hiding place, and she had me conditioned to go there as fast as I could and hide for a few hours. I can only remember it vaguely, but I know that once she said the code words to me, I had no choice but to hide and stay hidden.”

  “Is it possible the Empress did the same for Lady Cassandra?” Beaumont asked.

  Antonio shook his head immediately. “I doubt it most sincerely.”

  “Cassandra is missing?” Vinitra asked, her voice betraying her eagerness,

  “Yes,” Antonio said absently, too concerned with the puzzle of his half-sister’s disappearance to worry about what Vinitra might give away. “Are you quite certain none of the attackers got away, Colonel?”

  The Colonel looked as if it pained him physically to admit it, but he shook his head. “Not completely, Excellency.”

  “Don’t release any of the details of the attack,” Antonio ordered, coming to an abrupt decision. “I don’t want anyone to know how miserable our security was. You’ll have to announce the deaths, of course, but don’t mention that Cassandra is missing. It’s always possible it was a kidnapping as well as an assassination attempt. Maybe they’ll think they have the wrong woman.”

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  Vinitra opened her eyes wide as if she had just noticed this form of address. “Did something happen to Father?”

  “Yes.” Antonio waved imperiously at all his assembled retainers. “Get out, all of you! I need to speak to the Princess alone.”

  The Colonel looked reluctant, but he ordered his men and the servant from the room, and went out with them.

  “Now, Vinnie,” Antonio said, “I have some bad news. Not only was Father killed by the attackers, but Mother, as well. They’re both gone, Vinnie. There’s only you and me now.”

  “Dead? Mother is dead?”

  “Yes. They shot her outside in the garden.”

  “I remember,” Vinitra said, sounding lost. “I was sitting with her in the garden, and she sent me away.”

  “It’s very sad, but our only consolation is that now we can truly be together, Vinnie. I’ll have the doctor remove the conditioning immediately.”

  “She’s dead,” Vinitra said, her eyes welling with tears. “Who’ll take care of me now?”

  “I will. Don’t worry. You mustn’t worry. I’ll take care of you always. We’ll never be apart.”

  She looked at him, and her features were so like his that her face was almost a reflection of his. Her gray eyes, wet with tears, were filled with love and trust. “I’m so lucky I have you, Tonio.”

  Antonio was suddenly consumed by a desire so strong, he ached from it. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer. “And I’m lucky to have you, Vinnie,” he said, keeping his tone gentle. “But I can’t wait, my darling. It’ll take days for the conditioning to be removed, and I can’t wait that long.”

  He took a step closer and reached out to st
roke her face.

  She cringed. “Please don’t,” she said, her eyes welling over with tears. “It hurts me so, Antonio. Please don’t!”

  He hesitated, then turned and went to the desk. After a moment he returned with a weapon in his hand.

  “This is a stun gun,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt at all; it simply makes you unconscious.”

  She stared at him for a moment, as if she were uncertain of what to say.

  “I won’t take your virginity yet,” Antonio said, reassuring her. He loved her so much, it hurt him to have to wait even a few seconds. “That will be a momentous occasion, and you should be awake for that, but I need to see your beautiful body, to touch you everywhere. Don’t deny me that, Vinnie.”

  She hesitated for just a second and then she nodded. “All right. Do it now, Tonio. Do it before I change my mind.”

  He raised the gun and fired in one motion, and Vinitra sank to the floor. Antonio lifted her and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her gently on the huge four poster bed in which they had both been conceived, arranged her limbs carefully, and then began to remove her clothing. When she was naked, he stared down at her with immense satisfaction, his eyes caressing her, and his breath coming faster and faster the longer he looked. She was so beautiful, and now she was his!

  He swiftly removed his own clothes and climbed onto the bed. As he lay down beside her, his feelings overcame him. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, and ran his hands over her body hungrily.

  “Ah, Vinnie,” he moaned. “It’s going to be so wonderful. So wonderful!”

  And then he moved to lie on top of her, burying his face in her hair as he pressed himself against her senseless body and moved rhythmically, crooning words of love and passion, until he felt himself explode inside.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day brought Antonio du Plessis a further taste of what life was like for an emperor. After a morning spent listening to endless reports of trouble in the provinces, near-riots in the cities, and the arrest of a single rebel, the new emperor received Baron Arthur Urquart, an ordinary-looking man of late middle age who called to present his condolences.

  Unlike most nobles, Arthur Urquart was a baron by dint of his own initiative and service to the empire, rather than by birth. He had been a simple municipal official, but Lothar du Plessis had granted him noble standing as a reward for his handling of the bread riots of the previous decade. The newly-made Baron had repaid his emperor’s trust by working to maintain order in difficult times. He had even managed to win over the nobles who initially distrusted him as an upstart, by always paying deference to their inherited honors, and never attempting to look anything other than middle class. He had eventually won the office of President of the Parliament of Nobles.

  Now, however, he succeeded in boring Antonio in a very short time.

  “Yes, yes, Baron,” the new Emperor said from his seat behind his father’s desk. “I appreciate your sympathy. Was there anything else?”

  The Baron didn’t go so far as to frown, but Antonio heard a certain constraint mixed with earnestness in his voice.

  “Well, Excellency, as I said earlier, this is a dangerous time. If you could consider the need to allay people’s fears before issuing any harsh edicts or otherwise alarming the populace, it would be helpful in maintaining order.”

  Feeling no need to hide his feelings, Antonio knit his brows in a furious frown. Was the fellow suggesting his power should be checked? “I’ll keep it in mind. I will, of course, do what I think is best for the Imperium.”

  Urquart seemed to know when to concede his hand. He bowed deeply, made one last protestation of his sympathy, and retreated from the Imperial presence.

  Almost immediately, another less noble, but no less sincere visitor came to pay his condolences and to offer his services to the new Imperium. Sergei Paznowski had been Emperor Lothar’s Senior Adviser for Public Affairs. Antonio had seen him at the palace a few times, but never bothered to ask for an introduction.

  Paznowski was a slender man, a little below medium height, with dark hair and a short, crisp beard. He bowed deeply to Antonio, and expressed himself in a mournful voice as he explained that, devastated as he was by the death of Emperor Lothar, he was determined not to fail in his duty to the dynasty.

  Antonio heard him out, listening carefully for the meaning behind the words. He realized first that the man was perfectly sincere, and second that he was offering his services in any capacity Antonio chose to name.

  “Your sympathy is, of course, appreciated,” Antonio said, deciding that this man might be of more use than his first visitor. “There are a number of matters weighing on my mind for which I could use some judicious advice.”

  Sergei Paznowksi all but purred with satisfaction. He stroked his beard with a pleased air and bowed again. “I should be honored to help if Your Excellency permits.”

  “The most important matter,” Antonio said, plunging right in, “is the succession. The du Plessis dynasty is vulnerable right now. It must not be allowed to die out.”

  “Of course not.” Paznowski’s tone said plainly that he agreed.

  “I have some ideas on the matter. It is of paramount importance to me that my heir should be the product of an illustrious heritage. His mother should be as exalted as I am myself.”

  Paznowski dropped his eyes. “I should tell you, Excellency,” he said, his tone warm with self assurance, “that your father honored me with his confidences on many occasions.”

  “Did he?” Antonio said, surprised at this change in subject.

  “He did. The late Emperor was worried that you might be contemplating a union that would find disfavor in the eyes of the populace. In fact, he feared your, er, personal preferences might be so repugnant to the public that they would add considerable fuel to the fires of revolution.”

  “And what did you advise?” Antonio asked, putting some menace into his voice. He was more than a little irritated to find that his father hadn’t been as much of a fool as he had thought.

  “I advised him, Excellency, to leave the entire matter in his wife’s hands. I believe that he did so.”

  “I see,” Antonio said, not at all pleased. “You’ve been very busy, Paznowski.”

  “I have always tried to serve the Emperor to the best of my ability, Excellency. I would be happy to do the same for you, of course, if you can bring yourself to accept my advice.”

  Antonio opened his eyes wide. “Am I to assume you don’t find my preferences repugnant?”

  Paznowski held his hands out in an expansive gesture. “Who am I to judge the Emperor?”

  “I see,” Antonio said, pleased that at last he had found someone who understood his place in the universe. “And just what is your advice?”

  Paznowski dropped his eyes discretely. “It’s not always necessary to reach a goal by a straight line, Excellency. One can often achieve more progress by a less direct route.”

  “And how would you define a less direct route in this instance?” After such an auspicious start, Antonio could barely contain his irritation. First the man dared to hint that he couldn’t have Vinnie, and now he was taking forever to get to the point.

  Paznowski smiled as he looked up. “It seems to me, Excellency, that what we need most is to find a husband for Princess Vinitra.”

  Antonio frowned at him, irritation turning to ire.

  Paznowski went on quickly. “A compliant husband, of course. A man who understands that the Princess’ deep attachment to you makes it impossible for her to reside anywhere but in the palace.”

  Antonio’s frown eased but he said nothing. This sounded promising. This man might be useful after all.

  “And of course,” Paznowski went on, “her husband must respect the profound shyness that makes it necessary that he exercise his conjugal rights only in a darkened room.”

  “A darkened room?”

  “Oh, yes. Quite dark. Have you ever observed, Excellency, that in the
darkness, one woman is much like another?”

  “Yes,” Antonio said with a smile. “Often.” It would do. After all, it didn’t matter whether everyone knew that Vinnie belonged to him so long as he had possession of her. And she certainly knew it. “I begin to understand, Paznowski, why you were such a valued confidant of my father’s.”

  The older man bowed again and returned the smile. “I thank you, Excellency. And I might remind you that if the Princess were married to a man of noble standing and this legitimate union produced a son, there would be nothing to stop you from naming your, ah, nephew as your heir presumptive.”

  “Nothing at all,” Antonio said happily. If he could perpetuate his dynasty as he desired, it wouldn’t matter that no one knew—no one but himself and Vinnie. And, of course, Paznowski. “So long as Vinnie’s husband understands that her sons must carry the du Plessis name, there will be no interruption of the dynasty.”

  “That is, of course, our paramount objective,” Paznowski said, again with incontestable sincerity.

  Antonio smiled a broad smile. Paznowski wasn’t the only one who could think quickly. “I have the perfect candidate in mind for Vinnie’s husband.”

  Paznowski looked surprised. “And who might that be, Excellency?”

  “Peter Barranca. He’s not married, and Colonel Beaumont just arrested his younger sister for treason. She was the one who provided the identification that allowed the assassins to get inside the gate.”

  Paznowski frowned as he pondered this suggestion. “The Barrancas are indeed an old and noble family,” he said slowly. “But they’ve had a history of republican leanings that might well prove dangerous.”

  “The man’s a war hero,” Antonio protested. “He shed blood for the Imperium—his own blood and others’ as well.”

  “And yet he’s taken his family’s business to new heights—quite literally. The Barrancas are among only a half dozen noble houses that have ventured into off-world trade. I’m not certain I want to involve anyone with Count Barranca’s kind of vision in a scheme such as this one.”

  “Pooh!” Antonio scoffed. “Just because the man has a knack for making a credit doesn’t make him a revolutionary. Quite the contrary, I’d say.”