She slowly turned as he walked, taking in the entire office and somewhat surprised to find it not nearly as overbearing as her mind’s eye had imagined in the gloom. While the chair was certainly oversized, it was not the mammoth construct the dimness and her imagination made it out to be. In fact, the only thing in the office that could truly be called grand was the window that literally took up the entire wall facing the botanical gardens. Even Janos would not mind such an extravagance when the view is so splendid.
The duke appeared at her elbow, a glass of some amber liquid in each hand, and he held one out for her. “Please, my lady. Drink and calm your nerves. Accept my apology.”
She glanced at the cup and examined the duke’s apparently sincere smile. Poison? She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Too many people knew she was here, and there was no possible way the duke could explain away her death. She gratefully took the drink, then nodded as though it were her due and took a careful sip. The heavy cinnamon flavor exploded on her tongue with other subtle spices, but then slipped away, leaving only the memory of its wonder, without an aftertaste that would leave one looking for something to cleanse the palate. On the verge of exclaiming at the unique and delicious beverage, she kept her reaction to a half smile and a nod of appreciation.
Duke Ari smiled in return as he drank a huge mouthful, then moved toward matching couches that faced the view. Standing before one, he swept his arm at the other, inviting her to sit. She moved slowly and gracefully—knowing her dress did not allow for quick walking—careful to keep her poise intact, and sat; half on, so that her skirt would settle properly without showing unseemly amounts of ankle.
You have the initiative, Julietta. Use it. Elis would. “Duke Humphreys, it pleases me that you finally acquiesced to my request for an audience.”
“There was no doubt, my lady.”
She nodded as she took another small sip of her drink and composed her thoughts. As with the marriage proposal, the words she needed to say were a sham. But if she could make them appear sincere— regardless of her mother’s doubts that the duke would ever even entertain the idea—then Jessica would be required to publicly thank her daughter for exemplary service to the state, and Julietta would be able to flush away forever thoughts of Cunin and the travesty of the marriage proposal. Vile man!
“My lady?”
Julietta realized she’d been silent too long, and took another sip. “I’m sorry, Duke Humphreys. This drink has captivated my attention. So wonderful, so subtle. I do apologize for my wandering mind.”
The man nodded, his nose twitching again.
Does the duke suffer from a tic? She tried to put it out of her mind. “Duke Humphreys. My mother, the lady Jessica, wishes me to speak plainly to you. These are evil and dangerous times. Stone’s peace has fallen away and in its place, ambitious men rise to harm those who wish to retain as plows the arms they so long ago forged into implements of peace.”
“Of course, my lady. War has returned to the Inner Sphere whether we wish it or not.”
“Exactly. And it is at such times that we must all determine who is a friend and who is an enemy. Who can be trusted.”
“A trusted ally . . . a trusted friend . . . such is a precious treasure during these times.”
Julietta nodded, pleased by the duke’s response to her words. She began to imagine the possibilities that would open up with an accord between their realms. Janos would be so proud of me. “And it is to find such allies that I have come. We have an ancient enemy on both our borders that has already flexed its muscles.”
The duke began to gently roll his empty glass between his palms. “But, my lady, the Capellan Confederation has struck at neither the Duchy nor the Protectorate, hitting The Republic instead. Some might say, simply taking back worlds it lost long ago.”
Julietta suddenly found herself in her favorite role, teacher to a student. “But, Duke Humphreys, House Liao and their chancellors have ever been more voracious than their stomach’s capacity. Do not forget how many worlds of your own Duchy at one time belonged to House Liao. Successor lords have long memories, but a Liao’s memory is a quilt lovingly crafted to enshrine every mistaken slight and misremembered fault, handed to each heir as a sacred right of duty to atone.”
The duke pursed his lips in appreciation. “My lady, your truthfulness is nearly as bold as your eloquence.”
Despite a lifetime of ingrained caution when dealing with any Andurien, she found herself warming to the duke. Slightly. “I simply convey my mother’s words, Duke Humphreys.” Perhaps polished as needed. Her own smile grew. “Duke Humphreys, we have centuries of history to show us that House Liao will always look on our worlds with possessive eyes. A mutually beneficial alliance against Capellan aggression would be advantageous to the Duchy as well as the Protectorate. “ She took a larger sip of her drink and leaned against the back of the couch, suddenly unconcerned whether she exposed her ankles. Mother will have to thank me.
The duke gazed out the window as though contemplating the importance of her words before responding. “You are most correct, my lady. We live in dangerous times, and in such times we must look to history to help guide our steps forward. We must look around us and decide who is an enemy and who is a friend.”
“Precisely.” She took another sip. This drink really is wonderful. Better by far than the honey tea. I must take some home.
“But in doing so, I find that history provides me with exactly the guideposts I need. And they are not, perhaps, the same guideposts you see.”
Absorbed in contemplating her success, she almost missed the change in his tone; it took a moment for the warning to penetrate her pleasant musings. She looked up to discover the duke on his feet, his earlier relaxed attitude gone as though it had never existed. “I beg your pardon?” She felt the abrupt, horrifying sensation of a situation spiraling out of her control.
“Julietta, there is no mutual alliance. There is only the Protectorate’s hypocrisy.”
His tone slapped her like a wave of icy water. What is going on? What just happened? She defaulted to her standard defense of haughty indignation. “Sir, I would suggest you choose your words more carefully. I have come at the behest of my mother the captain-general to discuss an alliance, and your boorish behavior jeopardizes any potential relationship.” How could I ever have started warming to such a man?
The duke smiled harshly in reply, his beady eyes bright with some unidentifiable emotion. “HPG communications may be faulty, Julietta, but the Protectorate’s adventurism is becoming known. You accuse House Liao of aggression for taking back worlds stolen from it decades ago, and yet the Protectorate is doing the same.”
Her mind raced to figure out how to respond. “Duke Humphreys—”
“My lady, your excuses will not work here,” he said, cutting her off. “You see a past where our realms fought side by side against House Liao. I see a past, a much more recent past, when your realm was instrumental in the subjugation of mine. I need allies. But I would rather the known quantity of an enemy any day than an ally with a knife poised at my back.”
As he spoke Julietta stoked her anger, pushing herself up from the couch and looking down on her opponent with all the imperiousness at her command. “Duke Humphreys, how dare you? I cannot understand how you can ignore the dangers of House Liao, but regardless of the folly you intend to pursue, you will not speak to me in such a way. I came to Andurien in response to a marriage proposal you endorsed; a proposal I accepted in good faith and have continued to consider seriously despite the abhorrent actions of your vassal. And now, when I offer my mother’s hand in cooperation against a common enemy, this is how I am received? This audience is at an end.” She turned away without another word, surprised and a little excited by her own boldness. I will have nothing to show Mother . . . but I will have left this den of deception with dignity.
“Ah, Julietta. The marriage proposal. Now we’re back to the hypocrisy. How long have you been here, my lady?
How vigorously have you dragged your feet at every opportunity presented by Charles to move the proposal toward a formal engagement? You never intended to accept the engagement, my lady.”
She slowed her steps, anger boiling over into fury at the audacity of the man. What he said was true, but how he said it was insufferable.
“As for poor Charles, perhaps he was pushed beyond even his limits, my lady. A gentleman can only take so much. Perhaps he only wished to discover if there was any warmth at all below that cold exterior.”
On the verge of turning around to castigate him again, she stopped cold at the duke’s words. Humiliation burned her skin and stabbed in her stomach. He knows. He knows! She rushed toward the door.
“There is more than one kind of unfulfilled promise. . . .”
Frantic to escape, on the verge of hysteria, her eyes filling with tears, she hiked up her skirts and ran from the room, desperate to avoid hearing the terrible words that might follow. Rushed down the hall, knowing she’d been used and manipulated from the start; ran like she knew she would be running all the way back home.
Her sobs began in earnest.
“My lord.” The voice from behind him shook.
Duke Humphreys raised his hand for silence, listening to the sobbing from the end of the hall before it was cut off with the closing of the elevator doors. Turned to see Charles standing in the doorway of a hidden room at the side of the office. The man’s ashen features were particularly stark against his huge mustache, making him appear ill. “My lord, that seems . . . unwise.” The man swallowed so hard that even at this distance Ari could see the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.
Ari barked a harsh laugh. “Unwise? Unwise my ass. That was reckless.”
The other man swallowed again several times and then nodded. “Yes, my lord.” Several more swallows. “I stand by my conviction that she’s a trollop and a prude. But . . . the consequences . . .”
Ari smiled as though he was in complete control, but a sheen of sweat slicked his brow. I may have found my allies elsewhere, but it is possible I went too far in poking the Protectorate nest to find out what’s beneath the surface.
He discovered that he was still holding his empty glass, and abruptly moved to refill it. “Too late now, Charles. The dice are cast.” As he poured his drink he stared for a moment at the painting that covered the false panel hiding the office’s safe, inside which lay a signed marriage proposal. He gulped down the liquor, then slammed his glass onto the table. “Let’s just hope the serpent I let into my bed will remain a serpent.”
“Yes, my liege.”
Ari poured himself another drink. Another large one.
Vale of Holm
Torrick, Ibstock
Former Prefecture VI
Force Commander Casson pulled the targeting reticule onto the target and clenched the primary trigger on his joystick. Twin coruscating beams of spitting energy leapt toward the target, both finding their mark over the Wasp’s center torso line. The attack was complete overkill: the beams obliterated armor, slashed angrily through internal structure and savaged such critical components as the engine and gyro, completely gutting the enemy ’Mech; the unspent energy ate its way out the back torso armor, but the machine was already dead.
Ignoring the stifling heat inside his cockpit, he targeted another unit; a heavy vehicle attempting to maneuver in the Vale of Holm, terrain made hellish by a multitude of terraced hedges. Years of training and experience allowed him to know the shot before the target-lock tone engaged or the reticule flashed gold; he fired another dual salvo of azure death. He coughed, his throat painfully dry, lungs searing in the oppressive waste heat. Yet a savage smile lit his face as the PPC bolts tore into the hapless machine: the first caught the already strained left-side track in its grip, tearing it completely away as it unraveled under the crew’s vain attempts to escape; the second found a weak spot already pounded by previous salvos and punched through the turret armor. The sympathetic explosion that tossed the turret high into the air was as sure a sign as the coming victory that he’d found the magazine stores.
His monitors fuzzed as the heat overloaded the computer and threatened shutdown, and his machine slowed to the speed of molasses; a quickly input key code overrode the computer and he slapped off the shrilling alarms. Panting, his sweat running like a river down his back, he immediately looked for another target, only to discover the region devoid of any moving enemies.
Another ten seconds passed before he finally realized the truth, and he opened a general frequency. “All right, people. I do believe that’s it.”
A few moments passed before he received a tired response. “Aye, Force Commander. The remnants are already surrendering.”
He closed his eyes under the strain of forty-eight hours of lightning strikes that put the world of Ibstock into his hands. Two worlds and two victories. While the warmth of that accomplishment felt good, he knew better than to think he had time to bask in his success. Low-hanging fruits. Barely trained militia. But we’re now within two jumps of the world Lady Jessica wants.
The world I want.
13
Amur, Oriente
Oriente Protectorate
14 May 3136
Nikol walked to the edge of the pond, the stone in her hand a flat, smooth disk of latent fun. Stretching back her arm, she let the stone fly, counting eleven skips before it slid beneath the surface of the water. “Ha, two better than last time.”
“Good for you, dear.”
Nikol wrinkled her nose, then smoothed her expression before turning around. Her mother lounged on a portable divan. She was wearing a modest bathing suit, yet somehow managed to look both imperious and demure—with just a hint of sexy, despite being in her seventies . . . and all apparently without effort. Damn you, Mother. I’m a woman, but you make me feel like I’m the freckle-faced, gangly thirteen-year-old you probably still see me as. Considering everything that had happened in the last few months, she knew that thought was unfair . . . but probably not completely off base.
“Just passing the time, Mother.”
“Of course, dear. We all must find ways to pass the time now and then.”
Nikol sniffed, chose a new rock and turned and heaved it out across the water, distracted from making a careful throw; it skipped a mere three times before vanishing with a large splash.
“You should never let those around you distract you, dear. If you are going to be distracted, it should be of your choosing.”
“Perhaps I wished to be distracted.”
The silence was deafening. And Nikol had never been good at silence. Unlike Elis. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“You know astrocartography better than I, dear. I’m sure you’ve already looked up all the information, and barring any accidents or time on Liao I’m sure you could provide me with an exact number of days.”
Minutes if I wanted to. But she didn’t say that out loud, despite a frantic desire to do so. She kept talking to keep from making that mistake. “She left so abruptly.”
“Her mission wasn’t exactly going as she’d planned.”
“Do you really feel she’ll be able to return with word from her brother? The chancellor . . . from our time on Terra . . .” She gave an involuntary shiver despite the warm weather. “Even being in the same room with him gave me the creeps.”
Her mother laughed and Nikol stiffened.
“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to offend you. I assure you that he makes me feel the same way. I just prefer a more eloquent description than ‘he gives me the creeps.’ “
Nikol squatted and this time didn’t even bother to avoid getting her fingers dirty as she dug for another stone. The mud was cold and slimy yet comforting, as if it were nature’s balms to all ills. “You mean politically correct.”
“If you wish, dear. But it is my choosing. If I wished to use your phrasing I would do so. But for reasons of my own I would never use such verbiage. Can you say the same? Did y
ou choose your words, or did they choose you?”
Still gazing at the water, she felt a retort dying on her lips as her mother’s words sank in; despite the lecturing tone, she thought about it. Actually dug a little to find if her mother was right or wrong, and as ever, didn’t like what she found. As ever, kept talking to distract herself. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“No, I didn’t. I allowed myself to be distracted.”
“Mother!”
“All right. All right, dear. To be honest, I am not completely sure what is going through Danai’s mind. Nor what she hopes to accomplish with a trip back to Sian. Either she has the authority to treat with us or she does not. In our first meeting she certainly conveyed a sense that she had all the power needed to make binding agreements. Which has left me confused as to her current actions.”
“Perhaps it has to do with her orders to invade the world of Zion when you received a verbal agreement from the chancellor that House Liao would leave that ancient Marik world alone?”
“Perhaps. Something is not right about the whole thing, however. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Nikol glanced down at her hand, rubbing her thumb and forefinger through the mud, smearing it into her skin. Julietta would be horrified. Nikol smiled. “But will she come back with an alliance from House Liao? Will they actually find a way to guarantee one of our borders?”
“I’m not sure how that’s possible.”
“Expect the unexpected from House Liao.”
“Exactly. And even if she does return with such a miraculous gift, we must be careful of the strings attached. The chancellor will want more than it appears.”
Nikol nodded, then reached for one more stone to redeem the previous disaster. Just as you do, Mother? She let it fly. . . .
Otho Mountain
Pandora's Gambit Page 12