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

by Catherine Asaro

  Calope was already in the small antechamber. She bowed to Jai. “My honor at your presence, Your Esteemed Highness.”

  Relieved to escape the pressure of the Hightons in the courtroom, he gave a friendlier nod than usual. “It pleases me to meet you, Cousin.”

  Her smile was reserved, but he sensed no hostility. He spoke briefly with her, and was surprised to enjoy the moment. It wasn’t until he had taken his leave that he realized why her presence hadn’t bothered him.

  Her mind exerted no mental pressure against his.

  Jai stood in his darkened study watching the holostage, where a recording of the hearings was playing. It was hard to believe they had begun only this morning; he felt as drained as if they had been going for weeks. He couldn’t stop staring at Tarquine Iquar. All that power and menace. She was like a black puma, smooth and muscled, sleek and deadly. He ran his finger around the collar of his high-necked tunic, wiping the sweat from his neck.

  Pah. Jai tried to clear his mind. He jumped ahead to another section of the recording where Tarquine was only in the background. During the hearing, the speeches had seemed tangled in snarls, but now that he could concentrate, he realized they had a surprising coherence. The Iquar legal team was inexorable; Taratus’s people were brazenly confident; ESComm put on a virtuoso display of misdirection; and the insurance bureaus were geniuses at obfuscation.

  Jai was beginning to understand their speech. He had thought he was fluent in Highton, but he realized now that his knowledge only skimmed its surface. Hightons spoke in more than one dimension; the structure, cadence, and tangents conveyed as much as the words themselves. Gestures and posture were integral to the language, and Hightons also said a great deal with what they left unspoken. Ironically, the very thing that made it hard for him to bear the presence of Aristos—his telepath’s mind—also gave him some facility in Highton, letting him discern hidden meanings he wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.

  Calope Muze surprised him. Beyond her cool reserve, he saw wisdom. Perhaps that shouldn’t surprise him; Eube would never have thrived so well if Aristos weren’t so thoroughly adept at running their empire. He had seen brutality and vicious pride among them, but also intelligence, artistic genius, and insight. Yet that only made him feel worse. He had assumed their cruelty was instinctual, a genetic trait they could no more change than they could stop breathing. If they could choose otherwise, it made their brutality that much harder to bear.

  The wall comm next to him buzzed. Jai flicked his finger through the receive holo. “Yes?”

  Tomjolt, his personal EI, answered. “Your Highness, Azile Xir requests permission to speak with you.”

  “Put him on audio.” Jai knew his facial expressions and body language gave away clues about his thoughts. He tried to mask his reactions, but he had little experience guarding himself that way, whereas Hightons had raised the process to an art form, both in hiding the hints their own behavior gave about their thoughts and in reading those clues in others.

  Azile’s deep voice came out of the comm. “I most humbly thank Your Esteemed Highness for granting this audience to the Ministry of Intelligence.”

  When Jai had first come to Glory, a few weeks ago, he would have assumed the greeting was meant only to stroke his ego. He still thought it had a measure of that, but he realized now the phrasing was itself a message. What it meant, he wasn’t sure, but the reference to the Intelligence Ministry implied a problem had come up with security.

  “The Line of Qox appreciates your ministry,” Jai said.

  “I thank you,” Azile said. “Your office is known for its generosity.”

  Generosity? Hardly. Maybe he ought to speak to Azile on a comm channel that couldn’t be monitored. Unfortunately, that eliminated every channel in the Eubian Concord. But Jai thought his private study, in his own palace, was probably more secure than a comm line.

  “Have you ever tasted Taimarsian wine, Minister Xir?” he asked. “I’ve a fine vintage here. Perhaps you might attend me this afternoon, at sixth hour.” The hearings wouldn’t resume again until tomorrow. In this season, nights in the Jaizire Mountains lasted six hours, which meant daylight lasted ten. The people on Glory counted hours from sunrise; today, sixth hour came in early afternoon. Jai thought it made timekeeping absurdly confused, given that they had to recalculate the time every day. Then again, maybe that was why Aristos liked it.

  “Your Highness is most gracious,” Azile said. “It would be my great honor to attend you.”

  “Very well.” Jai thought Azile sounded wary, but he couldn’t be sure. As much as it relieved him to be isolated from other Aristos, it limited his ability to discern their thoughts—and his well-being, freedom, even his life, depended on how well he could gauge their intent.

  Azile barely touched his wine. The minister’s agitation was strong enough for Jai to sense even through his barriers.

  “ESComm is admirable in their attention to detail,” Azile said. He was standing by a window, facing Jai, his glass in his hand. Beyond him, in the bleached evening sky, the crescents of several moons glowed. “My father has always commented on their steadfast dedication to their work.”

  To our misfortune, Jai thought. Right now Azile’s father was the object that dedication. “Your father has always been a man of great intelligence.” He hoped Azile understood his question: Had ESComm’s intelligence people found any evidence linking Corbal to the security break at Kaliga’s home?

  “He has long valued persistence,” Azile said. “It was a trait witnessed by every dawn.”

  The dawn. Azile had to mean Sunrise. His use of the past tense made Jai think they hadn’t found any leads in her disappearance. Mercifully, he found no indication of her death in Azile’s mind. He couldn’t lower his barriers around Azile, but surely if she had died, the minister would be grieving deeply enough that Jai would feel it through his defenses. Azile liked Sunrise, maybe even more than he liked his own Highton mother. Jai didn’t know if Aristos could love, but if they did, he thought Corbal and Azile both loved Sunrise, each in his own way.

  It had to be maddening for Corbal, unable to help in the search. Technically, ESComm hadn’t imprisoned him; incarcerating a Highton was almost never done. They detained him in an opulent mansion owned by the military while they investigated the situation. Corbal could neither leave nor have visitors, except ESComm officers, but he otherwise lived in luxury. Jai could have seen him if he wanted, but it was impractical to the point of impossibility; ESComm had taken him to another planet and Jai had far more duties here on Glory than he could handle.

  Jai didn’t understand what Azile meant by every dawn having witnessed Corbal’s persistence. Perhaps Sunrise had mentioned his tenacity, or maybe she had seen something she shouldn’t have. How that connected to her abduction, he had no idea, but he could tell Azile feared for her life. Jai couldn’t bear to think of her being hurt, and he wanted Azile to know the investigation would remain a top priority.

  “Minister Xir,” he said. “Please be assured we will do our best to ensure that the joy of the new day isn’t lost. I will see to it myself.”

  Azile studied him, so closely that Jai wondered if he had said more than he intended. Then the minister bowed. “You are most wise and generous, Your Esteemed Highness.”

  Most wise? If there was any adjective Aristos didn’t associate with him, it was wisdom. Jai hoped he hadn’t just promised more than he could deliver. Perhaps he ought to quit trying to talk like a Highton, before he landed himself in trouble. He wished he could consult Corbal, the only Aristo who would speak with him in a comprehensible manner. Not that he trusted Corbal either, but at least they had the same goal: Jai’s survival.

  Corbal, however, could no longer help him.

  The pressure felt as if it were driving broken glass into his temples. It was the only way Jai could describe the minds of the Aristos in the courtroom. They felt even worse than yesterday, when the hearings had begun. His mental defenses were w
eakening under the strain.

  He vehemently wished he had followed through on his idea to attend the hearings using a VR set up in his private rooms. He had returned here because the insights he gained as a psion could prove invaluable, and he only sensed the moods or thoughts of people when he was near them, unblocked by walls or other barriers. But now his decision seemed crazy. Nothing was worth this misery.

  Jai struggled to concentrate. The insurance bureaus were arguing that they owed Tarquine Iquar nothing. To an extent, they had a point; if she won against Taratus, he would owe her the balance between the true worth of the provider and the fourteen million. Given that Kelric had been dying, his price should have been a small fraction of what Tarquine paid.

  However, the bureaus also claimed Tarquine had lost her provider due to negligence, besides which, she had sued Taratus for punitive damages. If she won, she would end up with far more than the fourteen million renormalized credits she paid in the first place, so they insisted they shouldn’t even have to refund her insurance fees.

  Their blithe refusal to acknowledge any responsibility amazed Jai. He also wanted to laugh every time he heard “renormalized.” The word came from quantum field theory. Basically it meant turning an infinite quantity into a finite one. It said a great deal about economic inflation in the Eubian Concord, that they had to “renormalize” their money.

  Tarquine’s legal team claimed the bureaus had violated her rights by forcing her to pay their fees before she could verify the health of her provider. Even worse, they said, she had lost an immense amount of interest while the bureaus kept her credits, and continued to do so as long as they refused to honor their contract. For good measure, they even accused the bureaus of setting criminally high fees and exhorted the High Judge to investigate them.

  Objections multiplied. Taratus’s people weighed in, declaring he had been convicted of no crime. ESComm objected to the demand made by the bureaus that Tarquine turn over details of her security system, which had been designed by the military. Calope Muze reminded everyone that the fee schedule of the bureaus was not on trial.

  The debate dragged on. ESComm made veiled threats at every turn. The bureaus threw every metaphorical wrench imaginable into proceedings. If it was this bad now, Jai dreaded the chaos that would explode when they discovered the truth about Kelric.

  The main players, Tarquine Iquar and Azar Taratus, rarely spoke. The few times Tarquine addressed the court, she was terrifyingly articulate. Jai hoped he never faced her in any proceeding. She would shred him. He tried to stop noticing her: he didn’t see her hawk-like beauty; he wasn’t aware of her lean body; he didn’t find her mesmerizing. He noticed none of it, none at all.

  His head hurt so damn much. The onslaught of their Aristo minds came with so much force, he caught valuable impressions even without lowering his barriers. Taratus expected to lose on the fraud charge. Despite his outward nonchalance, he feared ESComm would strip him of his rank. ESComm was irate, at the bureaus for trying to compromise military security and at Taratus for getting caught. The bureaus were determined to do whatever necessary, no matter how sleazy, to avoid paying Tarquine.

  Jai’s mind reeled. Pressing the heels of his hands against his temples, he groaned. He could no longer hear the speakers in the courtroom.

  “Your Highness?” Azile’s voice pierced the roar in his ears—no, in his mind—so much pain—

  Jai stood up, knocking over his chair. The colonel giving testimony stopped and turned with a start. Everyone else in the room rose, including the High Judge. Jai stared at them. He caught an image of himself in Tarquine’s mind, a tall youth with his eyes wild, his body tensed and partially bent over. He looked half-crazed.

  Jai could endure no more. With excruciating care, he walked off the dais and went to the private exit behind Calope’s bench.

  Then he escaped the courtroom.

  The stone bench where Jai sat curved around the secluded antechamber behind the courtroom. With his feet planted wide, he rested his elbows on his knees and put his forehead on the heels of his hands. He didn’t see whoever opened and then closed the door, but he heard breathing. It couldn’t be Azile; Jai would have recognized his mind. His Razers affected him, too, though they were only half Aristo, so the effect wasn’t as pronounced. He felt nothing now.

  Jai raised his head and saw Calope Muze standing by the door. She bowed to him. “Please accept my apologies for disturbing your contemplation, Your Highness.”

  Contemplation. That was certainly a polite way to put it. He indicated the bench against the opposite wall, a few paces away. “Join me, please.” He wanted to send her away, but isolating himself now would only worsen his reputation for bizarre behavior.

  Calope settled on the bench. “I am amazed at the variety of atmospheric conditions humans can tolerate on different worlds.”

  Jai knew she was trying to offer him an excuse for his “attack.” The atmosphere on Glory wasn’t unusual, given that the world had been terraformed for humans, but a difficulty in breathing was the best excuse for his behavior he could think of right now.

  “Your Highness impresses with his ability to adapt to our world,” she added.

  “Thank you.” Jai’s head was clearing now that the pressure from the Hightons had receded, muted by distance and the marble walls. He focused on Calope and even relaxed his barriers, but he still felt no pressure. Just like Corbal. Jai wished he knew why they didn’t affect him. Calope and Corbal had three attributes in common: white hair, advanced age, and Qox heredity.

  “Your handling of the hearings invites respect,” he said.

  Calope inclined her head. “You honor me.”

  Jai hesitated to say more. He suspected he had stumbled in his talk with Azile about Sunrise. The Intelligence Minister remained maddeningly vague on the subject. Jai didn’t even want to imagine what he could end up saying if he conversed with the judge.

  With his barriers relaxed, he felt Calope’s curiosity: he intrigued her. She thought of him as a beautiful enigma begging to be solved. Jai winced. The only person who truly saw him as an emperor was Silver. He wished he could go home to her at night, but Kaliga had turned down his offers for the girl. Although the admiral used great courtesy, he showed no sign of relenting. Jai didn’t blame him. Silver was a miracle. As much as Kaliga didn’t deserve her, Jai couldn’t imagine anyone in his right mind giving her up.

  More impressions came to him from Calope; she liked him despite his oddities, but she expected him to retreat into seclusion, as his father had before him. She wondered if inbreeding had made the Qox Line mentally fragile.

  Inbreeding. He wanted to laugh. If only you knew. Aloud he said, “You bring a mark of distinction to these difficult proceedings.” It was the closest he could come to saying what he really meant: It’s a wretched muddle in there.

  Calope smiled dryly. “I’m afraid any mark would be distinct within such confusion.”

  Gods. Was that a Highton joke? Startled, Jai smiled.

  Calope blinked, her emotions clear; she found his smile guileless, a quality she had never expected to associate with a Qox emperor. Jai inwardly groaned. No one took him seriously. He stood up slowly. His headache had receded enough that he thought he could return to the hearings.

  Calope rose as well and opened the door, then followed him into the courtroom. The legal teams were all conferring, each group using sound-shrouds to keep their adversaries from eavesdropping. Everyone stopped and stood when Jai entered. As he sat at the table on the dais, Calope took her chair behind her bench. Jai offered no explanation for his departure and no one dared ask.

  After the usual formalities, Calope resumed the hearing. As Taratus’s people wound up to their previous argumentative pitch, Azile spoke to Jai in a low voice. “It is gratifying to see Your Highness in good health.”

  Jai wanted to say, I feel like someone hit me in the head with a stardock crane. But he nodded and kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he could make Imperi
al Silence a new fad.

  The legal counsels continued to perform remarkable feats of indecipherable verbosity. At one point, someone actually said, “It is our contention that the contrary prediction of safeguards as established by the forward-leaning claims in document four-seven-three-nine-two, presented by my most honored colleagues in EFC, pursuant to the final decision of the back stripes did in fact alter.” Jai hadn’t a clue what the fellow meant.

  Why anyone would aspire to imperial sovereignty, Jai couldn’t imagine. If this was typical of a day on the job, his relatives could have it. Pleasure girls excepted, it was a singularly unpleasant occupation.

  He could see why Kaliga and his cronies assumed it would be easy to distract him with providers, drugs, and other numbing pursuits, while his elders ran his empire. He longed for Silver. He could have any of the providers he had inherited, and he had no doubt they were just as beautiful. But he didn’t want some other woman. He wanted her. Unlike the Aristos, he couldn’t switch his affections as casually as he changed clothes.

  “So it is with great expectation,” Taratus’s counsel continued, “that we come before you, most esteemed High Judge Muze, to partake of your wisdom in this matter of spurious accusations.”

  Jai blinked. Were they finally going to stop talking and partake of some wisdom? It was about time.

  Calope nodded. Her hair glittered like white crystals in the diffuse light. “Counsels please stand.”

  Relief swept over Jai. Not only had they quit pontificating, but Calope had spoken a sentence he could understand. Curious, he waited to see what came next.

  Everyone at the tables below rose to their feet. Calope spoke to the Hightons arrayed before her. “The Court of Qox accepts your words. The record is complete.” Now she rose, too, and turned to Jai. “It is with the utmost reverence that we honor your decision, Most Sagacious Majesty.”