"Lay it on the doorstep of Thomas Marik. Or threaten to. At the very least you could force the issue of your wedding to Isis."
Naomi stiffened involuntarily. She knew that Sun-Tzu's engagement shouldn't mean anything to her personally, and it suddenly worried her that it did.
"Word of Blake certainly knows how to find advantage in events, don't they?" Sun-Tzu asked. "Even their failures."
Demona seemed to read some degree of acceptance in Sun-Tzu's voice and relaxed marginally. When she spoke, it was with great conviction. "We are great survivors, Sun-Tzu Liao. The Word of Blake could serve you well."
Before Naomi could react, Sun-Tzu Liao pulled a needler pistol from the wide sleeves of his red robes of office and leveled it at Demona Aziz. The first wave of needles shredded her shoulder and cut into her neck. He pulled the trigger twice more, sending further bursts directly into her chest. She fell heavily to the floor as Sun-Tzu handed the pistol to a nearby Death Commando. "This is how you will serve me best," he said, looking down at her corpse.
The blood-spattered face of Demona Aziz stared up at Naomi Centrella. Naomi had never seen death so up close and personal before. She was shocked and baffled, for it had come when the precentor had virtually capitulated to Sun-Tzu. "I don't understand," she said.
Sun-Tzu Liao placed a gentle hand on her arm and turned her from the sight. "You will," he said softly, leading her from the room. "I will teach you."
Epilogue
Word of Blake Central Chambers
Geneva
New Switzerland, Terra
27 August 3058
The boardroom of what had once been the flag building for a multiplanetary corporation was well-lit and comfortable. Word of Blake had renovated it, removing the old conference table and installing a full circle of translucent podiums. Missing were the slightly raised podium at which the Primus would stand and the soft spotlights that should fall over each podium. In fact, to demi-Precentor Cameron St. Jamais, the room's sole occupant at the moment, the chamber reminded him of a cheap copy of the old Hilton Head First Circuit Compound. But that, of course, had been nearly destroyed in Operation Odysseus.
If it were me, I would build completely from scratch and raise a magnificent cathedral-style compound. Our strength should come from our history, and this room reminds me too much of ComStar's secular philosophies.
Cameron had always seen the split between ComStar and Word of Blake as an almost personal affront. He was one of the divine instruments of Jerome Blake's will. The sword of righteousness. He glanced down at the floor in front of the podium where he stood, studying the broadsword-insignia of the Word of Blake. My idea, Demona—which you stole quick enough. But that doesn't matter because you are finally gone and out of my way.
Word of Precentor Aziz' death had preceded his arrival, reaching Terra by hyperpulse communication over a week ago. Sun-Tzu made good his threat then. At the moment, all anyone on Terra really knew was that Demona's death was somehow connected to reports of a Liao-Canopus task force entering Marik space. Details were sketchy, and Cameron St. Jamais knew more than anyone else ever would. Not for the first time he gave thanks to the Blessed Blake that he had held fast against the strong desire to return to Campoleone despite the Liao's warning. Had he not, it might have been his head up on a pole.
Doors off to the right swung open and Precentor Blane walked into the room, the elder man's gold-embroidered robes and the thin gold torque and headpiece he wore pronouncing his status as Primus. St. Jamais wondered at how a man with such a plain face could ever hope to inspire the Word of Blake to anything. You are a great arbitrator, Blane, and little else. And now I will rely on your mediating nature to help achieve my own ends.
"Demi-Precentor," Blane said, once the outside guards had closed the doors behind him. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."
St. Jamais nodded solemnly. "Precentor Blane."
The precentor stepped up to the next podium over from Cameron's. Not his normal position, but with just the two of them the formalities didn't matter so much. "I wanted to talk with you before the formal meeting of our First Circuit. I have read your report of the situation and admit to being distressed."
Our First Circuit? St. Jamais bit his lip to keep from uttering a sharp response. In his opinion, it should be The First Circuit. But apparently Blane still considered ComStar to be misguided rather than the heretics they were. We will never reconcile with them, but Blane refuses to see that. "Yes, Precentor, it is unfortunate. I had hoped to present you with greater evidence of Demona Aziz' treachery, but she cunningly kept me between her and any official tie to the operation. Now it appears my efforts are in vain. Precentor Aziz had been murdered, the Toyama is without leadership, and I will bear the brunt of the criticism by the First Circuit." St. Jamais frowned in a perfect display of dismay and then waited for Blane's reaction. It was not what he expected.
"You misunderstand, Cameron. I am distressed because the plan fell apart when it had every possibility of succeeding."
St. Jamais did not need to fake his surprise at Blane's words. "But, Demona worked to undermine you." Then he quickly added a, "Sir." St. Jamais watched as a tight smile turned up one corner of Blane's mouth. A cold empty feeling rose inside him. "You knew? All this time, you knew?"
The amusement in Blane's voice was evident. "Did you actually believe I would allow Precentor Aziz such room for potential gain, without having a way to keep an eye on her?"
"Then why didn't you stop her?" St. Jamais forced himself to calm down, placing his hands flat on the podium to keep them still. He had almost said us instead of her. "With support I could have ended the operation smoothly." Then the light dawned and St. Jamais felt suddenly out of his league for the first time in years. Blane had known and silently approved! "You used her. Used all of us." He was shocked, yet he couldn't keep a trace of admiration from his own voice.
Precentor Blane smiled fully and in apparent good humor. "Demona Aziz was a brilliant woman, but too impatient. Too fanatical. I allowed her to play her game. Had it succeeded, I would have hailed it as a great victory to the others, an example of my own ability to assign the right person to the task, then given her another assignment to keep her occupied. I think you know as well as I that she would not have had the temperament to maintain good relations with Canopus for long."
Actually I know she could be very patient, Blane. When she had to be. St. Jamais' discomfort was quickly dissipating. "And if she had failed?"
"Then I would have publicly condemned her and used the excuse to break up the Toyama. Classic double-blind strategy, Precentor St. Jamais. Demona Aziz was my safeguard, the more so since she never realized it." Blane tugged at the collar of his white and gold robes, adjusting the high-built shoulders.
No-lose scenario. Blane rose another notch in St. Jamais' opinion. Very neat and—had he said Precentor?
Blane apparently read the question in his eyes. "Demona failed and now she's gone. Because of Sun-Tzu Liao's involvement, the whole affair is being swept under the rug so I will not have the public outcry that will demand sacrifice. And as you pointed out, the Toyama is without a leader."
St. Jamais wanted to shout for joy, but he kept his face like stone. "What do you wish of me, Precentor Blane?"
Serious now, Blane folded his arms across his chest and studied St. Jamais as he spoke. "You will support my policies so long as they do not conflict directly with the Toyama faction. Step out of line, and I will bury you." He paused, as if to make sure the warning sank in. "The first order of the day is that you personally clean up the mess you left behind in the Periphery."
"And what has happened since my departure?"
"Well, Sun-Tzu Liao is on his way to Atreus and then on to the big summit on Tharkad. I imagine you've heard about the Jade Falcon attack on Coventry by now. He'll have his hands full playing politician, but I imagine we shall hear of his demands soon enough. However, Naomi Centrella, who is still traveling with the Liao, is alr
eady demanding large concessions on behalf of the Magistracy."
"Naomi? Not Emma Centrella?" Curious.
Blane nodded solemnly. "I estimate we have less than two weeks before Danai returns to Canopus with the full report and the Magestrix is in position to make the demands herself. You will make reparations to the Magistracy of Canopus before then, through Naomi. That will place her on our side before Emma Centrella announces us persona non grata. You will make the reparations from Toyama resources, and lay all blame at Demona's feet."
Blane fell silent, and Cameron considered everything being offered. So I rise to the next step, but with Blane's assistance, rather than in spite of him. And I am to accept a weakening of the Toyama as we make full reparations. But what is lost can always be regained. "Accepted, Precentor Blane." As if there was ever any choice.
St. Jamais returned Blane's parting nod and then stood there as the Primus walked silently from the room. He then moved around to the podium's front, over to the insignia on the floor, and walked a slow circuit of the rings and then down the length of the blade. At its tip, he stared back up along its length.
Precentor St. Jamais. The entire Toyama was his to control, and with that the 6th of June movement would rise to greater influence than ever before. Fledgling plans on how to deal with first the Magistracy and then later the Capellan Confederation were already forming. And somewhere along his rise to greater power, Cameron St. Jamais promised himself to take care of one other small matter still left unfinished from the Periphery.
Someday I will find Avanti's Angels again. And when I do, they all will fall, burning star by burning star.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Loren L. Coleman has lived most of his life in the Pacific Northwest, an on-again off-again resident of Longview, Washington. He started writing as a hobby in his high school days, but it was during his five years as a member of the United States Navy, nuclear power field, that he began to write seriously.
His first year out of the military, Loren joined the Eugene Professional Writer's Workshop, and within a few months sold his first fiction story to Pulphouse, A Fiction Magazine. He was then introduced to the game-writing field, where he spent the next two years as a professional freelancer, writing source material for game companies such as FASA, TSR, and Mayfair Games. For FAS A, he has written material for both the BattleTech® and Earthdawn® games. When the opportunity arose to write a novel set in the BattleTech® universe, he eagerly accepted. Double-Blind is Loren's first novel. His second BattleTech® novel, Binding Force, will soon follow.
Loren L. Coleman is currently back in Longview, Washington. He has a wife, Heather Joy, and two sons, Talon LaRon and Conner Rhys Monroe.
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