Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3)

by Imperial Night (epub)

  ––––––––

  “He doesn’t seem particularly impressive,” Stearn murmured after watching the senatorial candidate for Carhaix South deliver his stump speech.

  “But he is in favor of the Order taking a larger role,” Loxias replied in the same tone. “How does the audience feel?”

  Stearn opened his mind and let it parse through the mass of feelings it picked up.

  “Nothing negative that I can sense, but not much enthusiasm either.”

  They were in the Carhaix City Gallery, a high-ceilinged, expansive structure used for public gatherings of every kind. Thousands of voters variously sat on folding chairs or stood along the walls, listening to the man whose aim was unseating the incumbent after only one term. Unfortunately, his charm and affability worked best in one-on-one interactions, not with a crowd.

  Stearn reached out and brushed the politician’s mind. Violating the oath was routine by now, something he could do with an ever decreasing expenditure of energy, though if Loxias’ stories about Gwenneth were true, he wondered how effective conditioning really was. Nothing struck him as notable about the man’s inner self. He was simply not that charismatic.

  But if Gwenneth secretly helped Morane sell his bizarre Knowledge Vault proposal back in the day, surely Stearn could give the challenger a little boost. Following Loxias into the halls of power after the election was now an overarching goal as he faced the decision on what he would do once his training ended.

  Counseling and teaching were out, as was spending decades tending the abbey’s environmental systems until he could succeed Loxias as chief administrator or become the first abbot. Nothing else interested him in the least, and he often regretted taking vows that bound him to the Void for good. Why not use his abilities to advance the Order’s interests if it meant he could find a better purpose?

  Stearn visualized himself pouring energy into the candidate’s mind, along with a greater sense of joy and self-confidence. Almost immediately, what was up to now a dull, meat and potatoes speech turned into a barn burner which energized the audience, even after Stearn stopped so he wouldn’t pass out from fatigue.

  Later, in the car, Loxias gave him a suspicious stare. “Did you do something in there?”

  “You know how Gwenneth supposedly helped Morane sell his scheme to the Estates-General?”

  “Sure.”

  “I just did something similar and didn’t even cross the line into forbidden mind-meddling.”

  Loxias inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “Impressive. How?”

  “I shared my energy with him. It can’t really be explained if you’ve never touched another’s inner self.”

  The chief administrator let out a pleased chortle.

  “You will be abbot one day, my friend. Someone so powerful will rise to the top of the Order and break the sisters’ stranglehold. Then we will remake it and assert our place on Lyonesse.”

  “We need not wait until I become abbot. If I can give a boring politician sudden charisma, think how I might influence the next president if enough of those who support the Order sit in the senate.”

  “You’re taking quite an interest in the Lindisfarne Brethren’s ultimate goals, aren’t you?”

  “If truth be told, I find the sisters increasingly irritating. Their horizons are annoyingly limited even though there’s an entire universe beyond Lyonesse, albeit one that’s still depopulating because of horrors like the Barbarian Plague.” They drove on in silence for a few moments, then Stearn said, “What I did is something any sister with advanced training can do. Send the ones belonging to the Lindisfarne Brethren out there, supporting our preferred candidates, and use them as multipliers.”

  “I might just do that, even if it means pushing against the spirit of the Rule.”

  **

  “How is Seled doing?” Gwenneth asked the moment Marta’s face appeared on her office display.

  “She’s learning at an impressive rate. Whatever else Seled once was, she’s highly intelligent.”

  “People with personality disorders often are.”

  “True. I just ran the last tests, and Seled can shield her mind in both directions. We can begin advanced training, which will confirm my suspicions her third eye is stronger than average. But I need your permission.”

  The two women held each other’s gaze while Gwenneth wavered. Seled was the first woman to undergo treatment. The first three men who came through the program had so far shown no behavioral changes. But in Marta’s estimation, their sixth sense was, at best, no more potent than that of an average human and therefore not worth developing any further.

  They didn’t know what opening a strong third eye in a mind that once harbored chaotic evil might entail. Yet if Marta stopped now, they never would. The Order had made considerable advances in its understanding of the human mind over the last few years by taking the sort of risks that would make a Summus Abbatissa on Lindisfarne blanch. As a result, the younger sisters trained on Lyonesse were more potent and more capable healers than their predecessors.

  “There should be plenty of engrams available for an expanded conditioning process, inhibitions that will kick in if her sociopathic tendencies return,” Marta said. “I’ll do it before attempting to open the inner eye.”

  Gwenneth gave her a nod. “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you. How’s Stearn?”

  The abbess grimaced. “He’s spending entirely too much time with Loxias out in the community now that Katarin took him as far as he should go.”

  “I gather he’s still not interested in becoming a healer or counselor. A shame, but we can’t force him. And since a mind like Stearn’s won’t find satisfaction in a regular friar’s work, it’s just as well he explores other outlets now that Katarin conditioned him. Whatever we think of Loxias, he is a smart, capable chief administrator who ensures the abbey’s physical needs are met.”

  “Perhaps. But Jonas Morane tells me he’s also becoming adept at backroom politics and cultivating several senatorial candidates in favor of giving the Order a larger say in the republic’s affairs.”

  Marta shrugged. “The Order needs a well-connected chief administrator so it can work at peak efficiency. Besides, maybe he’s right, and we should look beyond our walls from time to time.”

  A teasing smile lit up Gwenneth’s features. “You’re spending too many hours under the tropical sun, my friend. It’s affecting your perception of reality.”

  “Doubtful, but the Windy Isles themselves might give me a fresh perspective on the world, the Order, and our place in the republic. Remember, I was once partnered with a star system governor general. My view of the universe is less parochial.”

  “May I infer you’ve gone native along with Mirjam and her flock?”

  “Most of our recent advances in mental health originated here. I could do worse than go native. You don’t need me at the abbey these days anyhow since we’re not taking in as many postulants.”

  “Very well. Stay as long as you wish or until Mirjam tires of your presence, whichever comes first, unless I need you here.”

  Marta joined her hands beneath her chin and bowed her head. “Thank you.”

  **

  “And that, Mister President, is the plan. We should adopt it now. If we wait until a reiver wolf pack filled with infected barbarians passes our inner moon, it’ll be too late. Thank you for your attention.” DeCarde stepped away from the rostrum and took her seat at the cabinet table again.

  The secretaries shifted their attention to Jonas Morane, waiting for his reaction at hearing the proposal he use his emergency powers and declare martial law so he could impose harsh quarantine measures should a plague ship make it past the Navy.

  Vice President Sandino was the first to speak.

  “The optics of preparing for such extreme measures strike me as particularly bad, Mister President. Brigid is suggest
ing you suspend civil liberties and essentially turn the republic into a dictatorship. You know how bloody-minded the citizens of Lyonesse are about their freedoms.”

  A grimace briefly twisted Morane’s lips.

  “Faced with an existential threat, it’s not just a necessity but an imperative. And existential threats are why I made sure the president’s emergency powers were written into our constitution. We can’t avoid it. The Defense Force and first responders need the unfettered ability to act rapidly and with decisiveness. Most of our fellow citizens will understand, even though they won’t like it. Martial law is for the stubborn or simpleminded minority who won’t let a deadly virus interfere with their lives, never mind the lives they’re risking are those of others. I’m sure the intelligence digests you receive from Brigid’s office discussed folks — mercifully not many — who think the Barbarian Plague is a fabrication by sinister elements in our administration intent on overthrowing the constitution.”

  “That’s precisely who I was thinking of when I asked about the optics.”

  “You can’t worry about conspiracy theorists, Charis. Sure, they’ll raise Cain, but most of the people won’t listen. I dare say a great majority will be reassured the government is taking their safety so seriously it’s prepared to impose the harshest measures.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said with a slight shrug. “It’s just that most of us here didn’t serve in the military or police and never thought about law enforcement in worst-case scenarios. Suspending civil liberties is alien to us.”

  “Madame Vice President.” DeCarde briefly raised her hand. “I lived through the breakdown of civil order on Coraline during the rebellion against Dendera’s governor general there. A frightened or angry mob with power weapons can quickly overwhelm even the best-trained troops, and every household on Lyonesse has at least one hunting gun. Letting people know ahead of time will make a difference. The last thing we want is potentially infected folks spreading the plague because of insufficient controls or out of sheer ignorance. The president must invoke his emergency powers the moment reiver ships appear in this system so the military and the police can deal with matters unhindered. Once the danger passes, the declaration expires, and our civil liberties come back into force. At least until the next existential threat arises. Besides, the president can only suspend them for thirty days. After that, it takes a two-thirds majority vote in the senate to keep emergency conditions in place.”

  “Folks.” Morane leaned forward and placed his hands on the tabletop. “This is one issue I won’t discuss at length because there is no other way. That alone should convince you how serious I am. The Defense Department will issue a directive aimed at the civilian population, the military, and the police informing everyone what will happen the moment I declare an emergency. Once that’s done, the uniformed branches will prepare contingency plans and carry out practice runs. To deal with an identified and immediate threat, the police will come under military control, and the chief constable will take his orders from General Barca.”

  He looked pointedly at the Public Safety Secretary, who signified his understanding with a silent nod.

  “After this meeting, the Attorney General will draw up the requisite executive order invoking emergency measures, ready for my signature in case of need.”

  “It’ll be on your desk by the end of the day, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Morane stood to pre-empt any further interventions and left the cabinet room.

  — 40 —

  ––––––––

  Stearn gave yet another senatorial candidate favoring greater political participation by the Order a burst of energy to strengthen her charisma as she addressed a thick crowd in downtown Trevena’s main square under a tropical sun. While doing so, he idly wondered why many of the people backed by Hecht and his cronies seemed weak. Not physically, to be sure, but none so far struck him as displaying remarkable strength of character, the sort he’d sensed in someone like Brigid DeCarde. Was it because they could be more easily manipulated or influenced?

  He gave Loxias a sideways glance, wondering whether Hecht was using the Order’s chief administrator to advance his own goals. Did the industrialist know or suspect something about the talent, or was he secretly one of those who believed in rumors that the Brethren harbored mind-meddlers in their midst? Or did he think the Order silently supporting specific candidates by showing up at rallies, speeches, and events sufficed? Under Gwenneth’s long rule as abbess, the Void Sisters came to be held in high respect if not awe for their selfless work as healers and counselors of exceptional skill as well as chaplains in the Defense Force.

  When the crowd finally perked up as the candidate’s speech took on a fierier edge, Loxias muttered ‘well done’ under his breath. Stearn withdrew his touch, feeling drained as usual. The fact he was doing the work while Loxias expected the glory became more irksome every time the chief administrator took him to political events or meetings with Hecht’s cabal.

  Like all Brethren, Loxias could shield his mind so nothing escaped and disturbed the abbey’s peace, but he possessed only an ordinary friar’s talent, which meant a smidgen more than the general population. Was it possible for Stearn to influence Loxias and take his place at the head of the Lindisfarne faction? Become the man who would enter the corridors of power instead of being a mere tool?

  Yes, Loxias saw Roget as the first abbot, although it would probably not happen when Gwenneth finally retired but was a strong possibility once her successor did so. That would make him the Order’s Summus Abbas, capable of charting their future within the republic, but how many years would he wait while doing Loxias’ bidding?

  Stearn believed he was more powerful than any sister by now, with a few exceptions such as Marta, and certainly outstripped every friar. Why shouldn’t he spearhead the Lindisfarne Brethren’s campaign and use Loxias as a figurehead?

  He reopened his mind and sent tired tendrils to touch Loxias, looking for a reaction, something that proved the older man could sense him.

  Nothing. Loxias’ eyes remained on the candidate, now wrapping up her speech.

  Stearn pushed against Loxias’ shielding. He found it flimsy and unable to prevent unauthorized entry. Of course. The sisters would make sure the friars couldn’t keep them out. So much for their pieties and oaths. Still no reaction from Loxias. He was unaware of mental tendrils working their way into his mind, tasting his aura.

  Stearn felt a forceful character, which he expected, and something he thought might represent overweening ambition, also not a surprise, but no trace of the serenity common among the Brethren, especially the sisters. Loxias struck him as a driven man, looking for something to fill a hole in his soul and not knowing what.

  But how to influence him so that Stearn might covertly become, if not quite the most powerful man in the republic, then the one sitting behind the presidential chair, whispering into the incumbent’s ear, a sort of gray eminence. He projected joy at Loxias, aiming it toward the notional hole in his soul, and watched him out of the corner of his eyes. Almost immediately, the chief administrator’s face lit up, and a goofy smile split his beard, proving friars, even the most senior among them, were just as vulnerable as the laypeople on whom Stearn tested his abilities. So far, so good. Then an idea struck him.

  He projected an image of himself and a sense of love at Loxias. Moments later, the chief administrator looked at him and said, “I’m not sure if I ever told you this, but you’re like a son to me, Stearn.”

  That night, the terror dreams returned, leaving Roget a sweat-drenched wreck.

  **

  “You look exhausted.”

  Amelia gracefully lowered herself onto the wooden bench beside Marta, who liked to gaze out at the peaceful lagoon before the hustle and bustle of the communal evening meal. The younger sister often joined her in silent contemplation or quiet conversation beneath the tall umbrella-like native
tree.

  “Probably because I am exhausted.”

  “Seled?”

  Marta nodded. “We finally made a breakthrough this afternoon. The weeks I spent conditioning her weren’t wasted.”

  “Excellent news. Congratulations. You truly are the Order’s most skilled trainer.”

  A tired shrug.

  “I merely use the Almighty’s gift as intended.”

  “What now?”

  “Now? I wait for dawn in Lannion and inform Gwenneth.” Marta turned her head toward Amelia and smiled. “I know. That’s not what you meant. I’m of two minds about Seled’s future. What I glimpsed of her talent makes me believe it sits firmly in the mid-range for Sisters of the Void, which is to be expected since the treatment removed so much of her personality. Yes, you don’t fully agree with me that what makes us capable of opening our third eye is informed by everything we are and experience. Still, Seled is changing and will continue to change our views on many subjects, including those beyond the purview of conventional psychology.”

  “Agreed. And what are your two minds about her future?”

  “Do I leave well enough alone at this point? Seled is a functioning member of this community and will probably stay so for the rest of her life. She’s highly intelligent and can be trained as a healer’s assistant, serving both inmates and exiles. Or, I work with her a bit longer and see if she has the strength to become a counselor capable of helping the more deeply disturbed prisoners.”

  “Why the indecision? Don’t I recall someone who looks remarkably like you tell me talents should be developed to the utmost?”

  “And so they should. Except Seled can never become a normal Sister of the Void. Though she’s no longer in thrall to her disorder, her past deeds are indelible. Even the Almighty cannot erase them.”

  “But the Almighty forgives.”

  “That isn’t the same thing, my dear. Our actions leave spiritual traces, no matter how deeply the mind is cleansed of them.”