The Hidden World

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Ay, Dios mío!” Mercedes exclaimed. “It’s Christmas Eve. Don’t they have something better to do? Like be home with their families?”

  Captain Lord Ian Rogers, another of her lovesick factotums, glanced back at her. “They’ve no doubt been paid by the del Campos, Highness. I wouldn’t let it worry you. It means nothing.”

  “Then you’re a bloody fool, Rogers,” Boho growled. Rogers stiffened. “These images are going to be viewed millions of times on Ouranos and then spread out across the League like fungi. Paid or not, real or not, it creates the impression of resistance to the Arango rule.”

  “Hush, Boho. I apologize for my husband, Ian. We’ve all been under a great deal of strain.”

  “No, Majesty, I should be apologizing. I should have anticipated this and had troops ready to handle the situation—”

  “If I were you I’d shut up now, Captain,” Boho said. “Lest you solidify my opinion.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the flitter. The crowd was swiftly left behind. At the palace the two security flitters peeled away, and they landed in the gardens of the Phantasiestück. The trees just beyond the walls bent in the fierce winter winds. Waiting to meet them was Jaakon, the other lovesick fool, Anselmo, and Mercedes’ youngest half-sister, Carisa. Jaakon was clearly desperate to get to Mercedes’ side, but he deferred to Carisa. The sisters hugged each other tightly. They could not have been more different. Carisa thin and barely five feet one, Mercedes at almost six feet and lush-figured. Anselmo came to Boho’s side.

  “Sorry about the spontaneous—” his tone formed quote marks “—protest. The request for a permit slipped past me.”

  “Does the Emperor know about it?”

  “I think Lord Kemel kept it from him.”

  “Thank God for small mercies.”

  “I wanted to see my father first,” Boho heard Mercedes say. The women had their arms around each other’s waists and the lovesick palace factotums were flanking them.

  “We thought you might want to freshen up and change before you called on him, ma’am,” Jaakon said.

  For an instant it seemed like she would argue, then she nodded and they entered the small palace that was their personal residence. The staff was lined up to greet them. There were tears in a few eyes. Joy over the return of their mistress or sorrow over the death of Tako? They went to their respective rooms. Boho showered, and had Ivoga give him a shave and dress him in civilian attire but with a discreet row of ribbons and his Distinguido Servicio Cruzar.

  Mercedes and Carisa met him in the sitting room. With her hair cut short the curls were less manageable. They tumbled around Mercedes’ face and made her seem younger and more vulnerable. She wore a soft green dress that complemented her cocoa skin. She was also wearing the emerald necklace. For a long moment they studied each other, then Mercedes nodded.

  Forgiveness. And perhaps a new start.

  * * *

  They took a flitter for the short hop from the Phantasiestück to the main palace. Mercedes would have preferred to walk, but she was no longer a person. She was a vessel, an incubator. She had waited so long for a child, longed for a child. What she had not anticipated was becoming a prisoner in service only to this small, new life. Just another duty, she reminded herself, and I was bred and trained to perform. She glanced over at her sister. At least Carisa seemed pleased for her. She did a mental review of the other sisters. She knew Estella would be thrilled for her, Beatrisa relieved that no one would expect her to breed, while Tanis would not. The others? Who could say? Did some of them have dreams of a throne for their children? Her ring tapped her finger and she glanced down at the holo. Kemel had sent a text—Fernán doesn’t know about ships. Go straight to your news. Deflect. Distract. He doesn’t handle bad news well anymore.

  After landing they were taken immediately to her father’s study. The palace was decked out for Christmas and smelled of bayberry, evergreen, and cinnamon. She knew her father didn’t actually do all that much work any longer, but the routine was calming to him as his mental faculties failed, and his long-serving and loyal assistant worked closely with Kemel and Jaakon to decide which information was provided to the now volatile ruler. As they approached the door Carisa whispered to her, “Maybe your news will get him to stop dangling me like bait in front of various noble houses.”

  Mercedes stopped and looked down at the youngest of the imperial daughters. “What is it you would like to do?”

  “I’m not sure, but sitting around the palace is not it.”

  “Now that I’m back we’ll work on it. I promise.”

  The doors opened and they entered. The privacy shutters were up, which made the room dim, and the security field engaged, which made Mercedes’ back teeth ache slightly. Kemel was already in the office. Her father lunged out of his chair, hustled around the desk, and enfolded her in his arms. The scent of aftershave and tobacco filled her nose. She could hear his heart beating as she rested her head against his chest.

  “Daddy,” she whispered.

  “My girl.” His voice was husky. She looked up and saw that his eyes were moist with unshed tears.

  “It’s all right. I’m all right. In fact, I have wonderful news. I’m going to have a baby, Daddy.” Over her father’s shoulder she saw Kemel give a nod of approval.

  His arms tightened around her, a frenzied hug, and then he held her at arm’s length, his eyes scanning her body. “How do you feel? I’ll send my personal physician. You must take care.” The words tumbled out of him.

  Mercedes found herself laughing. “Daddy, it’s all right. I’m all right, and Dr. Mueller is a very fine doctor and I’m comfortable with her.”

  “This might be the happiest day of my life,” the Emperor said. Mercedes felt a momentary flare of pity for all his other grandchildren. Five out of the nine sisters had children, twenty-two of them, but there had been no transports of joy over those births. Only this child mattered. And her father underlined the point by adding, “Please, God, let it be a boy.”

  “We could find out—maybe you should have all the tests, just to make sure everything is fine,” Kemel suggested.

  “No, no,” Mercedes hurried to say. “I’ll agree to an ultrasound, but I don’t want anything more invasive. This baby is very precious.” It was possible to determine paternity while also testing for abnormalities, and that had to be avoided at all costs. “It also smacks of the Cara’ot should it ever get out.” She swept them all with a bright smile. “An ultrasound will tell us the sex, but we should keep the public in suspense.”

  “Smart,” Boho murmured.

  “We’ll have the palace prepare an announcement,” the Emperor said.

  Kemel bowed. “Very good, sir.” He walked to the door, pausing to pat Mercedes on the arm. “Congratulations, Highness.”

  Her father called for his assistant to work on the announcement, and Boho, Mercedes, and Carisa followed Kemel into the corridor. Once the door had closed, Boho said quietly, “Kemel, stall this announcement for at least a few days.” Mercedes gave him a startled look.

  “Why?” Kemel asked.

  “Not here. Let’s go to your office.”

  The security chief gave Boho a long look then led them to the office he maintained at the palace. Once the security measures were in place he collapsed into a chair. Mercedes, studying the net of wrinkles around his eyes and the white hair, realized Kemel was old. She was going to have to think about who would replace him. If anyone could.

  “Talk,” Kemel ordered her husband.

  “You know how you’ve had me cultivating the del Campos, gaining their trust.”

  There was a flicker of some emotion across the old man’s face, but it was gone before Mercedes could interpret it. “Yes, you’ve done amazing things.”

  “Let me take this information to the del Campos.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Carisa blurted. “They’ll try to hurt Mercedes and the baby!”

  He rounded on Carisa. “Exa
ctly. They’ll have no choice but to act and then we’ll have them.” Mercedes wasn’t sure how she felt about his casual agreement about her imminent demise. Boho turned back to Kemel. “But we’ve got to delay the official announcement so they’ll have time to put their coup into motion. If we can manipulate them, force them to show their hand, the del Campos will look like monsters and renegades. This will also have the added benefit of taking the attention off the disaster at Kusatsu-Shirane.” He shot Mercedes an apologetic look. “Sorry, my love.”

  “It’s all right. It was a disaster and I was in charge.” Carisa gave her a hug.

  “I planted the story that it was an undiscovered corsario base that destroyed your ships back on Kusatsu-Shirane, so it doesn’t look like you flew blindly into an ambush,” Boho said.

  “And what became of these mythical corsarios?” Kemel asked sweetly.

  “I’m sure we can come up with some explanation,” Boho said, and then added airily, “Perhaps I destroyed them when I arrived with my ships.”

  The flicker of emotion was back. Kemel said, “How appropriately heroic of you.”

  “Your crews know there was no pitched battle. They’ll talk,” Mercedes objected.

  “And who will listen to a few hombres over the megaphone of the League press and the consort? We can buy off the FFH officers, and the ones who aren’t amenable will be cowed when they see what happens to the del Campos. And believe me, that news will get buried once the del Campos make their move.”

  Kemel was nodding, stroking his chin and looking thoughtful. “I do see a major problem. Musa, Mihalis, and Arturo aren’t fools. They will wonder why you are throwing in with them when you’ve managed to secure an heir. Why would you endanger your position now?”

  Boho took on a faraway look. He then studied Mercedes’ midriff. “I’ll tell them I suspect the baby isn’t mine.” Icy terror clawed at Mercedes’ belly and her throat constricted. She stared wildly at him. He chuckled. “There, there, love, don’t look so hurt. Musa already thinks you’re unnatural. He will happily believe that you’re a whore as well.”

  Mercedes’ muscles had turned to water. She groped her way to a chair and collapsed. She covered her face with a hand and fought to regain her composure. She hoped that Kemel’s far too piercing eyes weren’t on her.

  Kemel nodded. “All right, if you’re willing to wear the horns, we’ll attempt it.” Then he added, “For this to work, for it to be believable, you’re going to have to stay away from Mercedes and the palace.”

  “I’ll move back to the family mansion.”

  “Good. We’ll stay in touch through Paloma,” Kemel said.

  For a brief moment Mercedes wondered who Paloma might be, though the name was vaguely familiar. She also noted her husband’s reaction. Boho didn’t look all that happy at the prospect. She then decided she didn’t care. And at least I won’t have to lie next to him for a few days, she thought, while the men shook hands and engaged in self-congratulation.

  * * *

  “The Pope’s holy fucking wickerbill,” Luis breathed.

  “A woman of her word,” Jax said with less profanity and more prosaically.

  “Yeah, well, she owed us,” remarked Jahan.

  “I’ll miss her,” was Graarack’s contribution to the conversation.

  “I think she will be a good ruler,” Dalea said.

  Tracy remained silent, just stared at the numbers in their bank account. They had made a previous stop at Wasua to sell the farming equipment, at a sizable loss, then made their way to the San Pedro cosmódromo. As soon as they had come out of Fold, Tracy had received notice of a change to the bank account. Along with the bank’s message there had been another from the League’s Franchise Tax Board stating that this reward was not subject to League taxes or any planetary taxes. It was enough to pay off the ship. Enough to upgrade her engines. Enough to buy cargo designed to appeal to the FFH. Enough to put away for a rainy day.

  After docking they began to gather their things for a shore leave. Luis was proposing a truly epic dinner to celebrate. “You can bring your nephew and his family,” he said to Jahan. “I’ll bring Josephina and you can bring Lisbet,” he said to Tracy. Tracy just shook his head and remained silent. “Why not?” Luis demanded.

  Jahan jumped in. “Luis, mi hijo, shut up.” The young man looked confused, then mulish, then shrugged and turned back to his station to finish shutting down. “You will see her to say goodbye,” Jahan asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Tracy said.

  There was a hail over the radio. Luis swirled in his chair, his eyes wide with alarm. “There’s a security officer requesting permission to come aboard.” They all exchanged panicked glances. “What if they changed their minds and they want the money back?” Luis whispered.

  “It’s probably just some bookkeeping that needs to be tied up,” Jax said placidly.

  The officer came aboard. He was carrying a large cream-colored envelope. A red wax seal, stamped with a crown, a cross, and a circle of stars, held it closed. He snapped off a salute and handed the envelope to Tracy. “With the compliments of the crown.” It weighed heavy in his hand.

  “Thank you,” Tracy said.

  The officer left. Tracy bounced the envelope gently on his palm then put it down on the arm of his chair. He stared at it.

  “So, are you gonna open it?” Luis finally said.

  Tracy nodded, and pulled the knife out of his boot and slit the creamy material. It was a very official-looking document. It had the royal seal in gold and ribbons hung off the bottom. It was an imperial notice that Captain Oliver Randall was henceforth to be known as Caballero Oliver Randall, bearer of a hereditary knighthood that would devise upon his heirs and assigns. He silently handed it to Jahan whose wide eyes had become even wider. The document made the rounds of his crew.

  “Well…” said Dalea, and seemed to run out of words.

  “Useful,” Jax remarked.

  “Deserved,” Graarack said.

  “Wow, now you really are one of the FFH assholes,” was Luis’ contribution.

  Jahan pinned Tracy with a stern look. “You are not going to refuse this.”

  “It’s not real. Any more than Randall is real,” he grated.

  “Captain,” Dalea said softly. “We all play our roles.”

  25

  ROLLING THE DICE

  “We’ll need you to back Arturo in parliament,” Musa was saying.

  It was delivered with the tone and air of a man addressing a servant. Boho struggled not to take offense. He supposed that a man who saw himself on the cusp of becoming emperor would speak to any and all as if they were lackeys, but it didn’t mean Boho had to like it. He was the Duque de Argento y Pepco. When he thought about it, the disrespect seemed to date from the moment he had told the four del Campo men that he doubted the paternity of the child. At that moment he became the fool wearing the cuckold’s horns, and was therefore diminished in their eyes. Male apes, he decided, had nothing on their more evolved cousins.

  They were gathered in the sacristy of the cathedral. The smell of incense and the heavy scent of wax and smoke from the candles clogged the nose. Embroidered vestments hung in an armoire, the gold, silver, and copper threads catching the light. Far overhead and muted by the marble walls he heard the bells chiming the quarter hour. It all felt faintly sacrilegious to Boho and he murmured a prayer for forgiveness. Perhaps God would understand he was on the side of the angels.

  Musa sat in a large high-backed chair, his cane resting against one arm. He seemed shrunken against the carved wood and elaborate upholstery. Boho remembered the man was older than Fernán, so he had to be well into his seventies, if not early eighties. Mihalis, elegant in his uniform, stood at his father’s right shoulder. Jose was seated. He held a missal in his hands. Boho wondered if it was a prop or if the man really was pious. Probably not if he was plotting a revolution. Arturo was at the sideboard pouring himself a brandy. Boho wanted to ask for one.

&n
bsp; “And what will Mihalis and Jose be doing?” he asked.

  “You don’t need to know that,” Jose said.

  “We will need you to keep us appraised of the location of Mercedes and the Emperor when the balloon goes up,” Mihalis said.

  “So, you plan to seize and hold the palace,” Boho said.

  “And parliament,” Arturo added.

  Boho turned to the priest. “I presume you won’t be humping a rifle, Jose.”

  The prelate smiled; his hands stroked the leather and gold embossed cover of the missal. “I’m there to calm the troubled waters. Many of the church fathers back us. They haven’t been happy with the degradation of our most sacred institutions of home and family. Once we take control, I’ll be making a public announcement urging any resisters to lay down their arms.”

  “And what happens if Fernán and Mercedes elude you? They’ll run for the fleet, you know, and you can’t have suborned all of them,” Boho said.

  “We’ve got that covered too,” Mihalis said, but he didn’t elaborate. “And it’s not like the average hombre loves her after the loss of the squadron.”

  A silence fell over the room. Boho broke it. “Look, you… we need to move before the palace makes an official announcement about the pregnancy. If you take action after that you’ll look like monsters.”

  “Thank you, but we understand the ramifications,” Musa said. “You’ll be informed when it’s time to act.”

  Boho bowed to the old man as if he were already emperor. He sensed it would go over well, and indeed the withered lips pulled into a small smile. “As you command, sir.” He gave a small cough. “If I might inquire… what are your plans as regards Fernán and… and Mercedes?”

  “Fernán will be executed,” Musa said, his voice harsh.

  “And Mercedes?” Boho nudged.

  “She may have to die as well,” Mihalis said.

  “Especially with that baby in her belly,” Jose added.

  You bastards. That’s my child. I’ll see you in Hell before I let you harm him. It was a struggle not to allow his true thoughts to be read on his face, and to keep from leaping across the room and choking Musa as he sat on his fake throne.