Fortunes of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Jil?” I murmured.

  She burst out of her cocoon and threw her arms around me.

  “Thomas! Oh, Thomas, get me out of here!”

  “Of course I will,” I promised. “But what happened?”

  “It’s him!” she cried. “He is here!”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Nile Bertu! The man I slapped on Sparrow Island!”

  I felt as though I had been slapped, too. I drew back so I could see her face.

  “He is on Memepocotel? Are you sure it was he?”

  “Yes! I never expected to see him again in my life, and suddenly he bumped into me. I . . . well, he recognized me.”

  “Naturally,” I said. “You make an indelible impression.”

  “Oh, Thomas!” Jil said in exasperation. “Well, he demanded an apology. I was so startled to see him that I . . .” She hesitated, her face red with shame.

  “Yes?” I urged her.

  “I slapped him again.”

  “Oh, Jil,” I said. “And you think I am the impulsive one.”

  “That is because you are!”

  I heard voices nearby, angry ones arguing.

  “Shh!” I said. Jil grabbed my arm.

  “He’s coming back! What will I do? He must not find me. Oh, help me!”

  “Hold still,” I said, pulling her onto the dais and squaring her shoulders. “Be as motionless as a statue, as if your life depended on it.”

  I took a bolt of fabric from a display to my right and propped it against her legs to approximate an Uctu tail. Then I stripped the swathe of red cloth off the mannequin and wound it around her, careful to envelop her head.

  I backed away again, and began to browse the sewing notions along the shelves in the wall.

  Footsteps erupted behind me and chattered over the tiled floor. I used my viewpad to spy behind me. I beheld two humans and a Croctoid charging into the room. I kept my back turned to the entrance to the department. The humans were speaking Imperium Standard, arguing at the top of their lungs.

  “I saw her come in here,” the woman said.

  “Where?” the man demanded. “There’s only one woman in here.”

  They eyed Hopeli up and down.

  “Miss, excuse me. Have you seen a pretty human lady in a green outfit? Long hair, a lot of jewelry?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Hopeli said, her face innocent. She was an admirable liar.

  They looked around the room, but found no other way out. Jil stood on her dais, though I knew she longed to flee.

  The Bertus glanced my way, but as I was a man in uniform, not an attractive woman wearing a few wisps of green cloth, they kept looking. Their search proving fruitless, they hurried out of the chamber.

  As soon as I was certain they were gone, I unwrapped Jil’s disguise. She fell into my arms, trembling. Hopeli patted her on the shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. Jil brushed errant strands of hair out of her eyes.

  “Yes! That was unexpectedly . . . quick-thinking of you.”

  Wounded, I put a hand to my chest.

  “How can you say that? Am I not the reigning king of Sardines at home? Who has never been found in over fifteen years of playing every year at the feast of the Imperial Union? Who always has the greatest number of fellow sardines at the end of every game? Do you not remember sitting down on the couch in the Blue Parlor? There were four of us concealed in it. I was disguised as the back cushion. You never twigged at all.”

  “Oh, well, you needn’t rub it in,” Jil said crossly. The rest of her retinue came into the room. They surrounded Jil, reassuring themselves that she was all right. “But it was clever. I don’t feel like shopping any longer. Take me back to the hotel,” she said to the ladies. “Are you coming, too, Thomas?”

  “No,” I said. “I want to give that wretch a piece of my mind. How dare he demand an apology from you, then pursue you like a cat after a mouse?”

  “That is a very good idea, my lady,” Banitra said.

  She and the others bracketed Jil like battlements about a castle keep, and hustled her outside to the Autocrat’s vehicle. I caught the attention of a passing clerk.

  “Have you seen a pair of humans around here?” I asked. “A man and a woman, with a Croctoid?”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” she said, pointing down a long corridor toward a glass door bursting with sunlight. “They asked me how to get a hire car to take them back to their hotel.”

  I strode as swiftly as I could and pushed my way out of the door. I was just in time to see a hovercar lift off and pass out from under the canvas awning and into the brilliant sunshine of the street. I made a note of the number and ran back to my conveyance. The Autocrat’s car was gone.

  “Are you in touch with a central computer?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the vehicle said.

  “I must find hire car number 871. Can you find where it is going and follow it? Please, it is a matter of importance.”

  “Yes, sir. It shall be done.”

  I hopped into the passenger compartment, and the car lifted off.

  My curiosity radiated in waves like the heat bubbling off the pavement. Why would any man, in a fit of whatever desire, ever wish to come as far as this to demand an apology of my cousin? I would not cross the street if Jil had offended me, but I had been brought up with her, and we had quarreled more times than we had had hot dinners. Perhaps to a stranger the offense would rankle deeply enough to go to such lengths—but I recalled that this man was not a stranger, he was an Imperium citizen, and as such was personally inclined to affection toward the noble class. He must be extraordinary in some fashion to have retained resentful feelings regarding Jil. More logically, he ought to have had a kind of crush on her. All the same, he could have approached her in a more respectful fashion, and for that he deserved a dressing down.

  My conveyance must have connected with the central traffic computer and received information, for we turned immediately right and began to follow a major thoroughfare. It was crowded with all manner of covered vehicles, most of them goods carriers. As I had noted on our first visit to the palace, most people enjoyed walking in the shade under the canvas drapes. They would certainly reach their destination sooner than I would.

  “Are we close to them?” I asked the vehicle.

  “They are ninety-seven meters ahead of us, sir,” it replied. The information screen before me, which up until then had been airing cheerful public service digitavids about the scenes to see in Memepocotel, changed to a heads up display of the street, with arrows indicating blips in the traffic pattern that represented me and my quarry. On my right, the hire car passed the Raffles. For a horrible moment, I thought it might stop there. Did they know where we were staying? The man had seemed surprised to encounter Jil. Or, even more terrible yet, were they resident in the same place? But no, the taxi went beyond the entrance. I hoped we might catch up before they got too much further.

  To my annoyance, it negotiated a tight squeeze in between two larger vehicles and made it to the nearest intersection. It turned to the right. I waited, almost bouncing up and down with impatience, until we reached the same intersection. My body surged forward as though urging my vehicle to greater speed.

  Around the corner, the neighborhood changed rapidly. From the elegant shopping district studded with expensive hotels, it became more modest, then almost run-down in character. The stone walls that had been so lovingly painted in bright pigments on the main thoroughfare were peeling here. The Uctus walking underneath the cool arcades wore fewer high-fashion items and more utilitarian garb. This must be the district where those lived who worked in the elegant shopping district.

  A six-story building heaved up on my left. I read the name across its brow: the Home of Deep Welcome. Its façade bravely resisted the decay of its fellows. Carvings on the corners and the doorposts were just as beautiful as those on the palace. I suspected this area long predated the neighborhood in which I was staying. It m
ight even have been a contemporary of Visoltia’s home.

  Hire car number 187 pulled away from the steps of the tall building. I all but drummed my heels on the floor until my conveyance pulled up to the entrance. I prepared to emerge, when my viewpad hummed in my pocket. I pulled it up and thumbed the screen. It was Parsons.

  “Where are you, my lord? Lady Jil has just returned in a disturbed state.”

  “Yes, the fellow whom she assaulted on Starling Island is here. He must have followed her from the Imperium. The nerve of the man is overwhelming! I am about to alight and tell him what I think of his behavior.”

  The voice in my ear was as soothing as a lullaby.

  “He could not have followed Lady Jil. He arrived before us, my lord. It is possible that he anticipated your plans, but the chances are greater that he has a different purpose for his presence on Nacer.”

  “What?” I demanded, not believing my ears. “You know Nile Bertu is here?”

  Parsons’s countenance might as well have been a still picture as a tri-dee transmission, so little did it move.

  “Naturally. I have the records of every ship that passed through Way Station 46 up to six months before the regrettable incident on Starling Island.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

  “It was not important enough to tell you, sir.”

  “Important?” I echoed explosively. “My cousin is terrified! I am going to demand satisfaction for her.”

  Parsons’s voice became preternaturally calm. “Where are you, my lord? Precisely.”

  I sent him the coordinates from my viewpad.

  “Dismal location,” I added, turning the video pickup of my viewpad toward the hostelry. “We have by far the better view, and a much nicer neighborhood. Tell Plet to bring the crew here. I will summon local law enforcement!”

  “You cannot, my lord.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because as distressed Lady Jil is at his presence, he has not done anything yet to require the presence of the authorities. Do not invade the premises.”

  I was frustrated. My soul demanded I rush into the building and turf out the ruffian for the honor of my cousin. How dare he frighten her while she was innocently shopping?

  “Then what should I do?” I demanded.

  “For now, my lord, I think it would be politic to withdraw.”

  “But he is here, now!”

  “For now, my lord,” Parsons repeated, with emphasis. “Later, it might become useful for you to strike up an acquaintance with the Bertus. As fellow humans in a foreign locale, you may have an opportunity to befriend them. Offer to tell their fortunes, perhaps. But not at this moment, while your mind is not in a fit state.”

  I could not express the outrage I felt, nor the idea that I was battling through webs and swags of impenetrable obscurity that would have put the Room of Trust to shame.

  “Parsons,” I said, with ineffable calm that belied the turmoil underneath, “it is not lost on me that I spent some time in the Bonchance pokey because you asked me to tell the fortune of a crewmember whose intentions you doubted. I found that she was more harm to herself than to others, but the captain obviously did not know of your kind intent toward her, whatever that may have been. In other words, I believe that you set me up. Would it serve any purpose for me to ask you why?”

  “None at all, my lord. At this time.”

  “As I thought. In the way of what manner of harm am I placing myself by communing with these common criminals?”

  “For information and a personal connection. Does it seem reasonable to you that they have come all this way merely to interfere with your cousin? It required of us six jumps plus the combined efforts of the Imperium Navy and various resources to come here, and our mission is on the emperor’s behalf.”

  It made sense. I ordered my car to retreat to a point out of sight of the hotel windows.

  “When you put it that way, I suppose not, though a close cousin of the Emperor is a valuable prize. But all he had to do was wait for Jil to make an appearance at a public event, which she is prone to do. Jil, as they say, would attend the opening of an envelope. But what would be gained by having me lower myself to offer them a peek at the infinite?”

  “This would give us a means to discern the direction of their efforts here. Your reading of them would provide valuable information. Should the opportunity avail itself, of course.”

  I knew my eyes shone. “When you put it that way, it is hard to refuse.”

  “I thought so, my lord.”

  “But it would seem too obvious to approach them with that offer.”

  “Leave that to fate, my lord.”

  “Fate?” I asked, astonished to hear the word from his lips. “You believe in fate?”

  “I believe in inevitability. There are few humans in the city. An opportunity will surely arise when you will be thrown together. At that time you can make use of your unique talents to allow us to interview them.”

  “And why would we want to do that?” I asked.

  “Do you recall what the crew of the Moskowitz said to us?”

  “In great and memorable detail. Why . . . ? Ah,” I said, as enlightenment dawned. “The Bertus are responsible for that unusual shipment of food concentrate that was installed in the dispensers on Way Station 46. This can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Quite right, my lord. I believe in light of the Bertus’ presence here that the sample merits further investigation. It would be illogical not to assume there is a connection.”

  “Shouldn’t we keep a closer eye on them?”

  “That matter is under control, sir. We do not have the power to investigate in this venue.”

  “Have you not called in the local constabulary? Is there an Uctu equivalent of Mr. Frank?”

  “Not precisely, sir, but I have informed Lord Rimbalius as to the Bertus’ presence. The Autocrat is not in any immediate danger that he knows of. His agents will study our dossiers upon them and any contacts that they have made while they are here. Action on our part requires more evidence. But you have been active as well. May I ask, how did your meetings go?”

  I described the meeting with the High Protector, and the conclusions I had come to regarding that conversation.

  “. . . Therefore, somehow I have to convince the Autocrat to loosen up the regulations, Parsons. I believe that by making use of our shared enthusiasm I may help her to let go of her many superstitions. She is afraid, Parsons. She is so young to be a ruler. She needs a mentor, and is frightened of trusting anyone, so, I believe, she trusts everyone. I believe I can be that mentor.”

  A tiny wrinkle appeared on Parsons’s brow, which for him meant deep concentration.

  “Parsons?” I asked. “You have the air of someone who is listening to more than one conversation at the same time. Is someone else there? I can return and speak with you in person.”

  “No, sir. It is not that. A thought has struck me, though. I wished to inform you that the lucky circuits were well received by the prisoners . . .”

  “Were they?” I felt a warm glow in my heart. “I am glad.”

  “. . . Though not so well as the beer and other offerings.”

  “Well, that’s to be expected,” I said. “The circuits’ beneficial working grows upon one. They will come to love them in time. In the meantime, beer and other more ordinary comforts will have a salutary effect. I will visit the prisoners again to ascertain other needs. But back to the Autocrat and . . . my other conversation, I believe that I can come to influence her toward what it is everyone needs.”

  The gimlet eye fixed upon mine.

  “Do you not believe that behaving in such a manner is just as bad as what she has experienced?”

  I smote my forehead in contrition.

  “You are right, as always. In that case, I will use my specialized knowledge to try and help her see reality on her own. But she doesn’t want to, yet.”

  “Few like to release the comfort of pre
conceived notions, my lord.”

  At that moment, I received a ping on my viewpad. The seal of the Autocrat herself opened in a corner of my screen.

  “Will you hold a moment, Parsons? The Autocrat is summoning me.”

  Parsons nodded.

  “Of course, sir.”

  I switched over to the message. The pleasant, ridged face of Ema looked up at me. She crossed her palms under her chin.

  “Lord Thomas, Her Serenity requests your presence. Will you join her at the Second Levee and stay for dinner?”

  “It would be my greatest honor,” I said, returning the gesture. “Will I be required to change?”

  “No. Please come as you are.”

  “I will be there as soon as my conveyance can bring me,” I said. “Please give Her Serenity my compliments.”

  Ema dropped her jaw. “Of course.”

  I switched back to Parsons.

  “I must go, Parsons. The Autocrat commands my presence once more.”

  “All else is well, sir. I will speak to you later, sir. Her Excellence must not be made to wait.”

  “I agree. Be seeing you.” The epicene image vanished behind the disconnection graphic. I put my viewpad away.

  “Very well, then,” I said. “Driver, please take me to the palace. The kitchen entrance, if you please.”

  “Yes, sir. It shall be done.”

  The car lifted and smoothly moved into a gap in the traffic.

  With regret, I watched the House of Deep Welcome recede over my shoulder.

  CHAPTER 40

  Skana heard the squeak of the window frame. She glanced up from the fruits of her shopping spread all over the broad green divan just in time to see a band of Uctus in dull brown robes and trousers leaping into the hotel suite one by one. They spotted her and strode toward her, hands out. She leaped to her feet.

  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.

  When they didn’t answer, Skana reached into her shoulder bag and came up with the pulse pistol she never traveled without. She let off two bolts. One took the leader right in the forehead. His face collapsed inward. The second bolt missed and burned a hole in the window frame. She rolled over the couch and came up running.