The Moon's Shadow (Saga of the Skolian Empire)

by Catherine Asaro

  “A vow?” she repeated.

  “That’s right. To protect myself.” Jai raised his voice. “You hear, Corbal?” He had no doubt his cousin could monitor this room. “Sending pretty spies won’t work. I’m not that stupid.” He hoped Corbal really was listening; otherwise he would look like an idiot, telling the room he wasn’t stupid.

  The girl tensed, gripping his fingers. He spoke to her in a gentler voice. “Don’t be afraid of me. Lord Xir made a mistake, that’s all.”

  Doubt leaked from her mind. Then he felt another of her emotions—and it scared the hell out of him. Recognition. Just as he could feel her psion’s mind, so she could do the same with him. She didn’t understand yet, but she might soon. His parents had given him extensive training in using his abilities, and he had a greater mental strength than the provider, so it was easier for him to detect her than the reverse. But a faint suspicion glimmered in her thoughts.

  Jai exhaled. “The hour is late.”

  “Do you wish me to go?”

  “I think so.” He had to force out the words.

  She slid off the bed and padded across the room, her shift clinging to her body. He so wished she could stay. What a bizarre life this was, that he had to worry about being discovered as a kindhearted man.

  After she left, he lay down, even more aware of his loneliness. It wasn’t only sensual; he missed his family, too. For the first fourteen years of his life, they had been the only people he knew. Now they were gone. He had lost a part of himself.

  Lisi, his sister, was almost fifteen, bright and quick, with her teasing humor. Ten-year-old Vitar had always shouted with delight when Jai swung him around. Del-Kelric wasn’t even five. Their mother had left them in the care of Admiral Seth Rockworth on Earth, trusting him because he had once been married to her aunt.

  Jai had searched the nets for news about his siblings, but found nothing. He knew they would go into hiding when they learned he had become emperor. He dared investigate no further, lest he draw attention to them, risking their freedom and raising questions about his own parentage.

  Jai grieved, knowing he could never see them again.

  Corbal sat in his dimly lit study, relaxed in his smartchair, his hands folded around a crystal tumbler. He took a swallow of brandy and let it warm his throat.

  A door opened across the room. His bodyguards had let him know who was coming, but he said nothing, just stared into space, sipping his drink.

  Bare feet padded on the floor. Then she came into view, Sunrise, his favorite provider. She dropped to her knees in front of his chair, between his thighs, and bowed her head. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”

  Corbal took another swallow. “All right.” He wasn’t displeased; she had done her best. He could never be angry with her anyway.

  Her relief at his response showed in the relaxing of her shoulders. He set his tumbler on the arm of his chair, which adjusted to secure the glass. He ruffled Sunrise’s hair, enjoying its glossy texture. Pressing his legs against her body, he savored the flex of his muscles against her curves. One-hundred-thirty-two years old and he had a better physique than men in their thirties.

  “So.” He reclined in his chair. “Our prudish emperor talks to the air.”

  “He is intelligent.”

  “Is he now?”

  “Not as intelligent as you,” she added quickly. “Your wisdom is matchless.”

  “Hardly,” Corbal said. She would tell him he was the greatest genius alive if she thought he wanted to hear it. She might even believe what she said. Such traits had been bred into her; she came from a line of providers designed for devotion, submission, and affection. It was why he liked her so much.

  Jaibriol was a fool to send her away. Not that Corbal minded. It meant he had Sunrise tonight. And he did like her. Although she was his best spy, it had become harder and harder to offer her to other Hightons. He wanted her for himself, only for himself—and he hated that they hurt her.

  Careful. Love made a person vulnerable, which was, of course, unacceptable. He had enough to worry about, like the new emperor. He had suspected the boy’s intelligence from the start. Jaibriol had contacted him with what looked, at first glance, like a crude claim of Xir heredity. His true message had been cleverly hidden within the message.

  After watching the boy these past days, Corbal thought Jaibriol would comport himself as emperor better than his father. That wasn’t saying much; the father had lived in seclusion during the two years of his reign. The previous emperor would have been better suited to domestic life than to ruling Eube. The son clearly had more to work with. Maybe too much; the boy was proving unpredictable.

  Corbal knew he had to watch himself with Jaibriol, lest the boy discover his Xir cousin no longer transcended. Corbal had no intention of changing any other aspect of his life; being one of the most powerful and wealthy men alive suited him just fine. But he had no wish to hurt Sunrise. Providers were pleasure slaves in every sense of the word; that he had stopped transcending didn’t alter his enjoyment of her sensual charms.

  To change his brain, Corbal had needed to learn why he transcended, including how his genetics related to those of psions. It gave him knowledge possessed by few others—and so he had recognized the anomalies in Jaibriol’s DNA.

  The emperor was a psion.

  Jaibriol had hidden the evidence well; Corbal would never have noticed if he hadn’t already conducted forbidden research when he investigated his own genetics. Jaibriol III was without doubt the son of Jaibriol II, yet he was also a telepath and empath. It was impossible.

  Compelled to understand, Corbal had tried ever more obscure tests on Jai’s DNA, going far beyond those necessary to verify the boy’s paternity. Then he had cracked open the records of past emperors. It had taken an immense amount of work, and he couldn’t have managed without the intelligence networks he had been developing for over a century, but he had finally uncovered the truth.

  Eube Qox had been full Highton.

  Jaibriol I had been full Highton.

  Ur Qox had been half Highton.

  Jaibriol II had been one-fourth.

  Jaibriol III was one-eighth.

  The Qox dynasty had bred itself a Ruby psion. Corbal even understood why. Centuries ago the Skolians had found three Locks, ancient machines that had survived for five millennia after the fall of the Ruby Empire. Modern science couldn’t replicate the Locks. However, Ruby psions could use them to create a computer web in Kyle space, a universe outside of spacetime. The physical laws of spacetime had no meaning in Kyle space, making it possible to bypass the limitations of light speed—which allowed instantaneous communication across interstellar distances.

  Skolians often called the network the “psiberweb.” The name annoyed Corbal. Psions were providers. It was like saying “providerweb.” He preferred the designation “Kyle web.” Regardless of what they called it, the web gave Skolians a great advantage over Eube. Their communications sailed; Eube’s trudged.

  To operate, a Lock needed a Key—a Ruby psion. During the Radiance War, ESComm had stolen a Lock and captured Eldrin Valdoria, a Ruby prince. With both a Lock and Key, they could have built their own Kyle web. Corbal knew many Hightons condemned him for giving up Eldrin, even though they gained an emperor in return. Only Corbal knew that Jaibriol offered an even better solution. The pieces fit together, like a jigsaw puzzle.

  The Kyle webs protected the Skolians.

  A Triad of Ruby Keys powered the webs.

  The Radiance War had decimated the Ruby Dynasty.

  Soz Valdoria, the Imperator, had died. A Key.

  Dyhianna Selei, the Ruby Pharaoh, had died. A Key.

  Two vacancies now existed in the Triad.

  A new Ruby Key could join the Triad using a Lock.

  Eube had a Lock.

  The emperor of Eube was a Ruby Key.

  The beauty of it gratified Corbal. Jaibriol could join the Triad. Although they could have used Eldrin
to power a Kyle web, Corbal doubted they could have forced him into the Triad. Jaibriol was another story. As the emperor of Eube, he had motivation to do what Eldrin would have resisted with all his might. If Corbal had unlimited access to a Kyle web and the Triad, he might even collapse the power structure of Skolia without going to war. He doubted the restless young emperor could resist the allure of conquest on an interstellar scale.

  Closing his eyes, Corbal waved to Sunrise, a gesture she knew well. She unfastened his trousers and took him into her mouth exactly as he liked. He exhaled, his tension easing. He enjoyed his retirement. He enjoyed Sunrise. He had enjoyed Eldrin. He had hated giving up the Ruby Prince, but he hated it even more when ESComm interrogated Eldrin. Damn inconvenient, this business of remorse.

  Corbal was tired of wars. He wanted Skolia conquered, yes, but without fighting. Perhaps he was a fool, to let a provider sit on the Carnelian Throne. He could have been emperor himself. But his age had given him plenty of time to contemplate the job. It was an imperial pain. Let Jaibriol have the high profile; Corbal would rule from behind the throne. Through Jaibriol, he would control the Triad; through the Triad, he would control the webs; through the webs, he could manipulate interstellar civilization. Eventually he would dominate all humanity.

  To achieve his ends, he needed only to control an inexperienced boy.

  6

  Heredity

  Prince Eldrin stood at the glass wall of his room. Outside, the garden drowsed in the sun, unaffected by the heat of the long day. This view had never changed in the four days he had been here at the so-called Allied Embassy on the planet Delos, where the Traders had purportedly exchanged him for an Aristo. His routine never changed; in the morning, they brought him breakfast, later they came with lunch, and in the evening they brought dinner. Always they were solicitous. Always they plied him for information.

  Eldrin revealed nothing. He waited for the game to end, but it continued, and the seeds of hope had grown despite his struggle to stop them. Could this be an Allied embassy? It was still a prison, but far preferable to Eube. He rather liked the Allieds, or he had before today, when they had brought The Message: You have a visitor.

  Was it Corbal? ESComm? Other Aristos? He clenched his fist and stared at the garden. He would rather die than return to the interrogation room.

  When the door of his suite opened, he didn’t move. Steps sounded in the hallway, muffled on the carpet. Even when his visitors entered the living room, he remained at the window. The gardens beckoned with their unattainable freedom.

  A woman’s voice came to him in a stunned whisper.

  “Eldrin.”

  No. No. Of all the torments they could have inflicted, this was the cruelest. He turned slowly, unwilling to see her but unable to stop himself.

  She stood across the room, surrounded by officers, both Allied and Skolian. Small and slender, she resembled a waif more than an interstellar potentate. Her glossy black hair hung down her back, thick and healthy, streaked with gray. Her eyes, a clear green, seemed too big for her face. They had more lines at the corners than before, and he didn’t remember those dark circles under them.

  This impostor isn’t a true match. She had to be an impostor. He couldn’t believe otherwise. She couldn’t be a prisoner, too. It couldn’t be her.

  It couldn’t be his wife.

  “Eldrin?” Her husky voice was painfully familiar. “Don’t you recognize me?”

  Unable to bear her presence, Eldrin turned back to the window, knowing if he looked at her any longer, he would shatter. The Traders had captured him when their commandos broke through to the habitat where he lived with Dehya. Eldrin and Dehya had fled with their son while their bodyguards fought the intruders. In the end, Eldrin had sacrificed himself, blocking the commandos so Dehya and their son could escape. But he had never known if those two people he loved most had made it away.

  The Traders had claimed his family died.

  As much as Eldrin had denied their words, pain had shredded his heart. He couldn’t bear this hope. It was killing him.

  She came to stand with him. Together, they gazed out the window. Blue-tinged light slanted across the gardens outside.

  His mind refused to absorb her presence. She spoke and he answered, their words constrained, but he couldn’t hear. Hope was jagged glass that gouged his heart.

  Gradually he became aware of a change. It spread over his mind. Warmth.

  No.

  An impostor could falsify a great deal—face, build, voice, mannerisms—but nothing could counterfeit what he felt now from the woman at his side. He had shared his mind with her for most of his life, through decades of marriage. She was dropping her defenses, leaving her mind vulnerable. His thoughts blended with hers, responding by instinct before he could stop himself.

  He could take it no longer. He turned and spoke hoarsely. “Dehya?”

  Her voice caught. “Welcome home, Dryni.”

  Moisture gathered in his eyes. “It was for nothing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought—I thought you and Taquinil escaped.”

  “We did.” She said more, but he couldn’t hear. Her mind overwhelmed everything else. The Traders had raised falsehood to a fine art, but he could feel the lies in their minds. Dehya had none: she spoke the truth. It filled his thoughts and flowed into his heart.

  Eldrin embraced her then, holding her as if she would break. She slid her arms around him, her cheek against his chest. As he bent his head over hers, a tear slid down his face and dropped onto her hair.

  Finally he let himself hope.

  Seated behind his desk, Corbal peered at Jai over his spectacles. “Normally you wouldn’t be asked to deal with such a matter. But this case is unusual.”

  Jai didn’t believe for one instant that Corbal needed reading glasses. His cousin undoubtedly had perfect vision. By easing his mental barriers, Jai picked up enough from Corbal to know the spectacles were supposed to create a scholarly aspect that would inspire Jai to trust his cousin. It didn’t work. Everything about Corbal made Jai tense, including this office, with its steel-diamond desk, silver walls, and steel-hued carpet.

  Jai crossed the room and sat in a chair near the desk. “Tell me more about the case.”

  Corbal paused at the blunt question. Jai was beginning to realize that in many situations, direct speech between Aristos was considered an insult. He wondered how his advisers expected him to benefit from their advice when he couldn’t figure out what the blazes they were saying.

  Corbal, however, could use more direct speech without giving offense because he and Jai were kin. “The problem,” Corbal said, “concerns two of your more vital people. The man is Azar Taratus, an admiral and also the younger brother of Kryx Taratus, one of the Joint Commanders of ESComm. The woman is Tarquine Iquar, the Finance Minister. Her niece was your grandmother.”

  Jai stared at him. “Vital” hardly began to describe them. Tarquine Iquar had formidable authority among his advisers, and she used her power like a honed knife. Few dared cross her. Azar Taratus was one of ESComm’s renowned war leaders, or perhaps notorious was a better word. He had survived the Radiance War by breaking just about every law in the Halstaad Code, which was meant to define civilized behavior during wartime.

  With foreboding, Jai said, “Go on.”

  Corbal removed his glasses. “Minister Iquar claims Admiral Taratus cheated her.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Surely they didn’t expect the emperor to settle private arguments. “Why bring it to me?”

  “An apt question, Your Highness.”

  Jai waited. Then, exasperated, he said, “Perhaps you have an apt answer.”

  Corbal could have taken offense, but he chose otherwise. “Admiral Taratus sold Minister Iquar a provider. She paid fourteen million for the man.”

  Jai barely kept from choking. Fourteen million? That could feed the entire population of some plan
ets.

  Watching him, Corbal added, “A large amount indeed.”

  Jai flushed. He had to learn better control over his face. “It sounds like a matter for the insurance bureaus.” He couldn’t believe the Aristos had an entire industry devoted to insuring providers.

  “Minister Iquar has contacted them,” Corbal said.

  “And?”

  Corbal’s eyes glinted. “Apparently Taratus neglected to tell her this provider was dying.”

  “What, he didn’t think she would notice?”

  Corbal rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. “He probably expected her to make a deal with him. If she lied to the bureaus about how much she paid for the provider, reporting a much lower price, she wouldn’t have to pay much for the insurance.”

  Jai had seen the criminally exorbitant fee scale used by the insurance bureaus. “I understand the advantage to her if she lies. But why would Taratus?”

  “Then he wouldn’t have to pay much tax on the sale.”

  Jai could see where this was going. “So when she found out Taratus cheated her, she would have no recourse, because she had claimed she paid almost nothing for the provider. If she admitted she lied, she could be convicted of fraud.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But it didn’t work?”

  Amusement showed on Corbal’s face. “Minister Iquar reported the full fourteen million to the insurance bureau. Then she sued the holy hell out of Taratus.”

  Jai frowned. “And just when, in all this, did someone send the fellow to the doctor?”

  “I’m afraid that wasn’t possible.” Beneath his reserve, Corbal was positively gleeful.

  “Why not? Doesn’t Minister Iquar have doctors?”

  “Certainly.”

  “But?”

  “Well, you see, it seems the provider escaped.”

  Good for him. Jai didn’t see how the blazes the man had managed it, though. “Did Minister Iquar let him go?”

  “Of course not. He managed on his own.”

  “How?”

  “Apparently he was a Jagernaut.”