The Radiant Seas

by Catherine Asaro

  Qox wondered what Tarrington would think had he known that same emperor had monitored every “private” walk Jessie took with the empress, every meal they shared, every moment they spent reading insipid poetry. He had watched Jessie bid the empress good-bye, watched him embrace her and swear his undying love. Viquara wept prettily in his arms, vowing to treasure his memory even though they could never see each other again. Qox suspected she hadn’t even been acting all that much. She did want the boy, though her idea of what to do with his charms rather differed from what he envisioned.

  So Jessie returned home, with a far different story of Eube than the malice spewed by the Skolian propaganda machine.

  “I like your son,” the emperor said, which was true, in its own way. “And I know what it is like to lose such a joy in one’s life.” That too was true. “If I played some small role in sparing another that knowledge, I am pleased.”

  Quietly Tarrington said, “And in that, you have my deepest gratitude.”

  Qox watched the mist. “We have a saying among my people: ‘Mutual appreciation paves the road of knowledge.’”

  “As well it should,” the senator said.

  So. Tarrington was willing to trade. Although the Allied intelligence agencies were less efficient than their ESComm counterparts, the Allieds had a different relationship with Skolia and so acquired different data on the Skolians. Valuable data. As Tarrington well knew.

  “It is unfortunate the negotiations stalled on the question of Allied trade autonomy,” Tarrington said.

  “Indeed,” Qox said. An interesting change of subject. The terms the Allieds wanted on trade autonomy were absurd. Freedom to export to Eube, with no taxes? It brought to mind the maxim that wars were fought more by banks than by armies. If this was the price for whatever intelligence Tarrington offered, the senator wanted a treaty concession far greater than any the Allieds had so far extracted from Eube.

  “The worth of paving a road depends on where the road leads,” Qox said. He had no intention of making concessions until he knew what Tarrington offered, just as he knew Tarrington had no intention of giving him data without a guarantee that any bargain they made would be upheld. So they had a dilemma.

  The senator considered him. “I’ve been encouraged by the progress the teams have made in the mediation of property rights in Onyx Sector.”

  Another interesting change of subject. The question of what belonged to who in Onyx Sector was one Eube wanted settled more than the Allieds, who had few holdings there. The negotiators were close to an agreement, but a well-placed word from Tarrington could destroy the accord. So he offered a solution to their dilemma: Qox agreed to the export concession, Tarrington gave him the information, Qox honored their agreement, Tarrington stayed out of the Onyx Accord. If Qox reneged, Tarrington destroyed the Accord.

  “Perhaps my people have been too stubborn on this matter of export,” Qox said. “Together with the Onyx Accord, a new export treaty will benefit both our governments.”

  “Indeed it would.” Although Tarrington hid his triumph, Qox detected it. The senator had driven a hard bargain and won.

  They were both silent for a while. Then Tarrington said, “My son requested I bring you a letter.”

  “It is charming of him to write,” Qox said. When Tarrington pulled a computer ring out of his coat and gave it to him, Qox added, “I am glad we were able to meet, Senator.”

  Tarrington bowed, recognizing the dismissal. “I am honored by this audience, Your Highness.”

  So you should be, Qox thought. Still, the man had handled himself better than Qox expected.

  After the guards escorted Tarrington from the tower, Qox sent for his Trade Minister, Kryx Quaelen. Then the emperor took out his palmtop. Tarrington had taken into consideration the difference in Eubian and Skolian standardization, providing a ring that fit a Eubian palmtop.

  The letter from Jessie came up on the screen. It was short, a well-phrased greeting to the emperor and empress. Qox easily ferreted out the hidden files and read them with far more interest than he had read Jessie’s letter.

  A rustle came from the entrance. As Qox looked up, a tall man entered, a Highton with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as red ice. He bowed, fist at waist, thumb extended.

  “My greeting, Kryx,” Qox said.

  “My honor at your presence, Your Highness,” Kryx Quaelen said.

  The emperor considered him. Quaelen was the one who would actually sign the export agreement with the Allieds. As Trade Minister, he oversaw the merchant guilds run by the Diamond Aristo castes. Qox knew many Hightons questioned his appointing Quaelen to a position of such power. Quaelen’s great-grandfather had married a Silicate Aristo instead of a Highton, a scandal that reverberated for decades. Although the Quaelen family had since maintained an impeccable bloodline, the stain remained. Privately, Qox suspected it was why Quaelen did his job well. Just as forbidden Rhon genes enhanced Qox’s abilities, so forbidden Silicate genes enhanced Quaelen.

  Qox motioned the minister forward. “I had an interesting meeting with Senator Tarrington.”

  Quaelen joined him. “A taciturn man.”

  “His son sent me a letter.”

  Dryly Quaelen said, “How charming.”

  Qox gave a slight smile. “It seems Skolians like Mozart.”

  “Who is Mozart?”

  “An ancient Earth composer.” Qox paused. “I learned a most interesting fact, just before you came in. You can use the works of Mozart to define transformation maps for sequences of time-varying complex variable functions.”

  Quaelen snorted. “A game for mathematicians.”

  “Indeed.” Qox lifted the palmtop, as if testing its weight. “Think of the possibilities it offers for encryption.”

  “An encryption scheme without encrypted messages to translate has little use.”

  “True,” Qox said. “Just as intercepting encrypted messages without a key to unlock them has little use.” ISC changed their codes often, almost always before ESComm broke the code. Whether or not ISC would ever use the Mozart Code remained to be seen. For that matter, it may have already been retired. But if they did use it, and ESComm picked it up, the pirated data would be available in a timely manner.

  Only the future would tell them if the sweet strains of Mozart were worth their price.

  * * *

  The halls beneath the Wilderness Palace were smooth black glass, tunnels far underground in the Jaizire Mountains. Antique lamps shed dim light on the severe Razers who walked with Qox. In his black uniform and military boots, the emperor became an austere shadow in the dark hours of the night.

  Qox knew he had earned the reward he allowed himself now. His work with Tarrington had ramifications beyond their bargain; it helped counter ISC propaganda. Each such success further, established the truth for the Allieds, that Aristos were nothing like the monstrous caricatures imagined by Skolia. Each success further revealed the hysteria behind the Ruby Dynasty’s fevered crusade to destroy Eube.

  Qox stopped before an obsidian door. It opened into darkness. When he touched the gauntlet around his wrist, a signal went to sensors within the room. In one corner, a dim light appeared, making a glint on the floor. As the light spread, the glint resolved into a metal chain stretched across the stone. A rodent ran across the links and disappeared into the gloom.

  Dampness saturated the air. Moisture collected on the walls and formed drops that ran down the stone. The expanding sphere of light reached a rectangular steel frame, half a meter high. The chain ran over the frame to a steel ring embedded in it.

  Two hands took form out of the shadows.

  The wrists were chained to the ring, palms facing outward. The expanding light revealed slender arms and a length of yellow hair looped over one elbow. Then the head came into view. The girl was lying on her back, unclothed, her arms pulled over her head. Yellow curls surrounded her face, a beautiful face, delicate and sweet, with gigantic eyes. A gag covered her mouth.
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  The frame pushed her upper back into an arch, then angled down to put her hips level with his. Chains secured her neck and long legs to the steel struts. His bodysculptors had further refined her exquisite shape, augmenting here, cinching there, rounding as needed.

  The emperor closed the door of the dungeon and motioned his guards to posts around the walls. He walked to the frame, the martial clip of his boots echoing in the cell. When he stopped by the girl’s shoulder, she stared up at him with sapphire eyes. He had selected the unusually intense color himself, from the palette offered by the Silicate pavilion where he bought her.

  “Don’t be afraid, Cirrus.” He had named her after the wispy clouds. “Reassure yourself with the knowledge that by raising me to a higher state of existence, so you elevate yourself.”

  A tear leaked out of her eye and ran down her temple, where it soaked into her hair. Qox touched the dampness, then raised his finger to his lips and tasted it. “To reach elevation is never easy, love. That is what makes it worth attaining.”

  A table stood next to the framework, with tools laid out for him. He chose a leather-handled quirt. When he snapped the whip across Cirrus’s torso, she gave a muffled cry and her pain surged out from her mind, magnified by her empathic strength. His Aristo brain picked it up and sought to increase his pain tolerance by directing the neural impulses to his pleasure centers. Transcendence swept over him. Ah yes, his choice of Cirrus had been inspired tonight. He had barely begun on her and already she was providing for his needs.

  The emperor felt at peace, knowing that today he had taken another step in establishing the truth for the Allieds, that the Hightons of Eube formed an honorable people of good character, rather than the monsters hallucinated by the Ruby Dynasty.

  IV

  Year Fifteen

  371 ASC on the Imperial Calendar

  394 EG on the Eubian Calendar

  A.D. 2274 on the Gregorian Calendar

  9

  Everyone helped build the orchard fence. They climbed the green and azure hill, wading through spatula grass, beneath a blue-violet sky with only Blue shining in its arched dome. Up this high, Jai could look out over the mountains that plunged and rose in great folds, in every direction, as far as he could see.

  Jai watched the procession wind up the hill. Six-year-old Vitar led them all, carrying a big rock and running around his exasperated sister. At the mature age of eleven, Lisi considered herself too dignified to give in to her brother’s antics. Finally Vitar took off up the hill, hair streaming out behind him, black curls that turned wine-red and ended in gold tips. He glanced back, laughing, his face classic in its Highton bone structure.

  Lisi chose a more sedate pace, carrying her bigger rock. Her hair fell around her shoulders, a glossy mane of red-gold curls much like that of the grandmother she was named for. She had their mother’s green eyes.

  At fourteen, Jai was almost as tall as his father and still growing. Across his broadening shoulders, he carried a wooden staff he had carved himself. Nets filled with rocks hung from each end.

  His full name was Jaibriol Valdoria Qox Skolia. Jaibriol III. He preferred “Jai,” having outgrown the “Jaibird” that his parents, in their more annoying moments, still used. He had the red eyes and classic features of a Highton Aristo. His hair, however, had a normal healthy sheen, rather than the Highton glitter. When he spent time in the sun, the tips turned gold.

  Vitar reached the top of the hill and dropped his rock on the pile there, then spun around and made faces at Lisi. She clunked down her own rock and took off after him, laughing as they ran. When Jai reached the pile, he eased his staff onto the ground. As he unloaded the boulders, his father came up next to him. Jaibriol II carried a similar load to his son, but with a heavier staff and bigger nets that held more stones. He smiled at Jai, his pride in his son’s work obvious in the tilt of his head, in his thoughts, in the crinkle of lines around his eyes.

  Their mother came into view, hiking up the hill, her hair blowing in the breeze, all the way to her waist now. She wore a fur skirt, fur boots crisscrossed with thongs, and a spiderpouch silk shirt their father had made for her birthday. Jai thought it silly to have birthdays set by a “standard” calendar with no relation to the real year, but he liked the celebrations.

  She carried the carbine slung over one shoulder and a bow and quiver on her back. Instead of balancing a staff on her shoulders, she pulled a sled loaded with rocks, its towing cables attached to a halter around her torso. In the worn sling resting on her hip, del-Kelric slept with his thumb in his mouth.

  Jai’s father finished unloading his boulders and turned to his wife, his face gentling as she handed him the baby. Del-Kelric gurgled at his father and went back to sleep, content in his father’s arms. While Jai helped his mother unload the sled, Vitar ran around them and Lisi ran after Vitar, both shrieking with laughter.

  “Enough already!” their father said.

  Soz laughed. Then Vitar plowed into her and almost knocked her over. Watching her regain her balance with enhanced speed, Jai wondered again if he would ever become that fast. His mother said no, it was something she had done before they came here, out in the universe he had read about in EdComp’s holotexts.

  It was hard to believe anything existed “out there.” EdComp insisted it was teaching him different languages: Iotic, the ancient tongue of the Ruby Empire, spoken by almost no one now but the Ruby Dynasty; Highton, spoken by Highton Aristos and their providers; Skolian Flag, a universal tongue designed for an empire with as many languages as it had peoples; Eubian, or Eubic, the Trader equivalent of Skolian Flag; and the Allied languages English, Spanish, and Japanese. It all seemed one big language to Jai, easy to learn.

  His mother stretched her arms, then walked over to examine the site where they intended to build the fence, about twenty meters away. The forever chattering Lisi and forever running Vitar went with her.

  Jai’s father glanced at him. “Shall we sit?” He settled down on the pile of rocks, holding del-Kelric in his lap. As Jai sat down by his father, del-Kelric opened his eyes and drowsily contemplated his big brother.

  “I enjoyed reading your essay on Aroclean philosophy,” Jaibriol said.

  Pleased, Jai sat up straighter. “I spent a long time on it.”

  “It shows.” Jaibriol smiled. “EdComp tells me you’re doing university-level work now.”

  Jai felt his shoulders tense. But I’ll never see a university.

  It was a moment before Jaibriol answered. Your mother and I have discussed this.

  Jai didn’t like the sound of that. Your mother and I have discussed this usually meant unwelcome changes, such as when they decided he had to study music composition. Discussed what?

  What to do now that your children are growing older. You need companionship.

  Relief touched Jai. He had harbored doubts his parents would understand how he felt. Will we leave here to find more people?

  Your mother and I must stay. But if you children are careful, we think you can go.

  That caught Jai by surprise. His family was part of his mind. They couldn’t separate. I don’t want that.

  Nor do we. Ours is one of the only Rhon communities in existence. He paused. Perhaps, when you are older, you could leave to find a wife. If you wished, you could return here with her.

  A Rhon wife.

  Regret shaded his father’s thoughts. The chance of your finding a Rhon woman is almost nonexistent. But you can find someone to love.

  How will I look?

  We can use the neutrino transmitter. A ship might pick up the signal and come here.

  Might?

  We have no guarantees.

  What if they won’t help? Jai paused. What if they want to do harm?

  That risk always exists. His father glanced at his mother, who was pacing out an area for the fence while Lisi and Vitar ran around her. Smiling, he turned back to Jai. If I were them, though, I wouldn’t wish to anger your mother.

>   Jai grinned. She’d make them study music composition.

  His father’s face gentled. If that is the worst you can imagine, you are a fortunate fellow.

  I read, Hoshpa. Jai frowned. I know what books say people do. It makes no sense. Why would people hurt each other? Do you think it is stories? “Literary devices”? I have been studying this with EdComp.

  Literary devices? Jaibriol swallowed. I pray, my son, that the universe will always seem so gentle to you.

  Del-Kelric started to fuss. When he reached out his pudgy arms to his brother, Jai laughed and hefted him into the air. “You’re turning into a giant, Kelli.” He set the boy on his knees and thumped his legs-up and down, making the delighted del-Kelric bounce. Then Jai grinned at his father. “I’ll bring back a wife and we’ll make babies. We’ll have a whole community. All psions.”

  Jaibriol smiled. “It is a nice dream.”

  “It’s not a dream. Even Hoshma is optimistic. She’s decided to name her spinal node.”

  His father stared at him. Then his face gentled. “That is indeed good news.”

  Jai looked at his mother. She was lying in the grass now, with Vitar climbing on her as if she were a pile of logs and Lisi sitting next to her, talking, talking, talking. Jai wondered where his sister found so much to talk about. It didn’t matter. He liked watching them. He would leave Prism to find someone to share this. Then he would bring her home and life would go on as it always had, the days and nights, the crops and livestock, and the people he loved.

  * * *

  Barcala Tikal, First Councilor of the Assembly, stood by the wall of polarized glass in Kurj’s office. A few meters away, Kurj leaned against the glass with his massive arms crossed.