The Hidden World

by Melinda Snodgrass

  His father laughed. “Okay, you got me. Come, come into the workroom. I know Bajit will want to see you.”

  “Do you still have Nika?” Tracy asked.

  “No, she left a few years back. Opened her own shop catering to the Isanjo.”

  Tracy balked at the door. “If you have new people we should probably talk elsewhere. I’m here as Oliver Randall.”

  “Oh, right. And I do have new help. A human apprentice, Caleb, sent over by the trade school and a new Isanjo, Selcuk—he’s one of Nika’s nephews.”

  “They are big on finding jobs for relatives,” Tracy said, thinking about Jahan.

  “We’ll go over to the apartment and I’ll send for Bajit.”

  Tracy hadn’t been in the apartment for years. Unlike the shop his father’s living space had a sad and shabby quality. A layer of dust clouded the surface of the tables and the upholstery was worn. Tracy helped his father set the kettle on for tea. Alexander set out cheese and some fruit.

  They settled at the small kitchen table. The warmth of the tea cup felt good against Tracy’s palms. “So, tell me everything,” his father ordered.

  “Well, everything would be a lot, and Luis and I do need to get fitted for our formal wear.” He answered Alexander’s look of inquiry. “Caballero Oliver Randall has been summoned to attend the coronation.”

  “How did…?”

  “I get a title? I rescued the Infanta… I mean, the Empress.”

  Alexander fell back against his chair, hand pressed to his chest. “Did she… recognize you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And kept your secret. God be praised.” Alexander crossed himself. “She’s a good woman.” He took a large slurp of his tea.

  Fortunately Bajit arrived before Tracy had to respond to that. His feelings for Mercedes were so tangled and confused that he doubted he would ever find peace.

  The old Hajin’s mane and tail had gone as white as his employer’s hair, and the large eyes were occluded by cataracts and magnified by the lenses of a pair of glasses. He swept Tracy a low bow, the pursed mouth stretching into a smile. “The young master. How well you look. And what a joyful day for your father.”

  Tracy stood. “Not so young anymore. It is so good to see you, Bajit.” He hugged the old alien who reacted with delighted confusion.

  A cup was procured for the Hajin and they spent the next hour with Tracy trying to find stories to tell that didn’t reveal his illegal activities. He had thought to bring along the Proclamation of Ennoblement and that kept them distracted for a long while. Alexander got a call on his ScoopRing. It was Caleb reporting they had customers.

  “Probably my crew,” Tracy said, pushing back his chair. “This is going to make Luis’ day. He’s never had a bespoke suit before. Just don’t let him go with crushed velvet or want it in purple or some other godawful color.”

  The dishes were placed in the sink and they headed for the front door. “I… I suppose you can’t stay here,” Alexander said.

  “I’m afraid not. It was probably a risk coming here even briefly. I’m paying too much for a hotel. But you can come there for more fittings and to deliver my tuxedo.”

  As they waited for the elevator Alexander casually asked, “So when do I get to be a doting grandfather?”

  “Still looking for the right girl,” Tracy answered lightly.

  30

  WILL YOU TO YOUR POWER CAUSE LAW AND JUSTICE, IN MERCY, TO BE EXECUTED IN ALL YOUR JUDGMENTS?

  They were checked in by security, their names ticked off on a list, and escorted to their seats in the viewing stand. Tracy studied the crowd. There were a lot of people already in their seats even though the procession would not start for another two hours. It was mostly families and as two males without female company Tracy, and particularly Luis, were subjected to some appraising looks by matrons with marriageable-aged daughters. With his now dark hair and beard Tracy realized he was probably being mistaken for Luis’ father. The thought both amused and saddened him. If he had married in his twenties he would have a son about Luis’ age by now.

  Dalea and Jahan accompanied them. It embarrassed Tracy that they were playing the part of servants, but Dalea had just smiled and said, “But, Captain, we’ll have a much better view if we’re with you and Luis. Poor Jax and Graarack won’t have any place half so nice.” So Dalea carried the picnic basket and Jahan the cushions and blankets.

  This particular viewing stand was a full mile away from the cathedral where the actual investiture would occur, but large screens had been set up so those outside the church would be able to watch the events inside. Flags were snapping in the brisk December breeze. The air was filled with the smell of roasting chestnuts, the sharp scent of chili from the taco trucks, and the scent of funnel cakes cooking in hot oil. Tracy unlimbered a flask and took a sip of brandy. The day was quite cold for Hissilek.

  Tracy passed the time reading news reports. Luis smiled at the girls, and struck up a conversation with the family immediately to their right. Tracy kept part of his attention focused on the young man to make sure he didn’t say anything too revelatory, but Luis surprised him and stuck to bland topics. The boy’s cheerful and outgoing nature was still on display, but he did seem a bit subdued and awed at being in the company of even low-ranked members of the FFH.

  Eventually the faint blare of distant trumpets floated down to them from the crest of the Palacio Colina. Twenty minutes later and the sharp clip and clop of hooves was heard and around the corner came a horse guard all mounted on palomino horses. The sunlight sparkled on the burnished gold bodies of the equines, and glittered on the blades of the riders’ swords, which they held stiffly upright in right hands, while with their left hands they grasped the reins and controlled their prancing mounts.

  Next there was a military band throwing notes against the cold blue of the sky. The sound rained down around them, and Tracy found his foot tapping in time to the jaunty march. The colors followed, the flags of every League world floating over the heads of the palace guards who carried them. Another band and then the flags of the Solar League and the Orden de la Estrella. More hoofbeats and then Mercedes herself appeared riding a jet-black horse. The roar of approval rolled down the street, gathering power and volume as it went. Behind her was the royal guard all mounted on white horses.

  She wore her dress uniform, but instead of the normal ankle boots she wore tall, highly polished black boots that extended above her knee. She swayed gracefully in the saddle, a hand upraised, waving to the cheering crowds. There was a sword at her side, the ornate hilt adorned with gemstones. On her other hip she wore a pistol. A simple diadem circled her brow, the gems bright against her dark hair.

  Luis leaned in and whispered in Tracy’s ear. “I watched a video of her dad’s coronation. He was on a horse too, and wore a uniform, but I thought she’d be in a flitter or a carriage in a pretty dress since she’s a girl.”

  “Solar League rulers have to be a military leader. Since she’s the first female they’re probably making it up as they go,” Tracy whispered back. “She’ll probably change at the cathedral.”

  Mercedes rode past their stand. Tracy hunched deeper in his chair then felt foolish. It wasn’t like she would recognize him, much less pick him out of the crowd. Behind her escort there was another mounted brigade, this one led by Boho. All of the horses were blood bays.

  An open carriage rolled past. Tracy recognized Mercedes’ real mother and stepfather seated inside. More carriages filled with Mercedes’ sisters, their spouses, and children. The dowager empress, still dressed in mourning black, was like a crow among birds of paradise. There was no sign of an infant among the royal relations. Tracy concluded that the prince had been left at the palace. Probably a wise choice given the cold and the crowds. And really this was Mercedes’ day. The future ruler didn’t need to pull the attention away from her.

  The last of the horses passed by and then came representatives of the armed forces marching in perfect order,
rifles shouldered, the sound of boots on pavement like the beat of a massive metronome. There was the wet-foot navy in their green uniforms, the fusileros, and finally O-Trell. Arms swung in time to the “Stars and Glory March.” Seven Infiernos screamed past overhead. Their spinning slug ports had been filled with glitter that fell like perfumed jeweled snow onto the crowd below.

  A tightness invaded Tracy’s throat. In another life he might have been one of the officers leading his men. Instead he was a disgraced officer, a man living under an alias, a criminal, a fake. He lunged out of his chair, muttered an apology to the people next to them, and hurried out of the stand and went to pace up and down in front of the line of portable toilets that had been set up along the route.

  It somehow seemed appropriate that that was where he would find himself.

  * * *

  At the cathedral Mercedes slid from the saddle. She hadn’t done any serious riding in six months and her legs were commenting on that fact. She gave Donhador a pat on his glossy neck, and was then surrounded by Jeanine’s staff who whisked her into the sacristy where she could change into her coronation gown. They had rehearsed the change so it was accomplished well within the four minutes that had been allotted. The immensely long and heavy train was pinned at the shoulders, and she slid her feet into high heels.

  Through the doors the massive pipe organ could be heard playing the opening hymn. Her hair was retouched, the diadem removed and a tiara put in its place. The six sisters who had remained loyal entered. They would carry her train. They were all dressed in white apart from Beatrisa, who wore her dress uniform. There had been much gobbling and hand-waving from the palace historian and the protocol officer, but Mercedes had pointed out that if she had a brother who was still on active duty in O-Trell he would have been in uniform. Beatrisa hugged her when she found out. Her sister hated skirts and fripperies, and it also suited Mercedes’ purposes to remind the League that women could and did serve in the armed forces. Five little nieces were racing around while their nannies tried to restrain them and get them to focus on their upcoming tasks.

  Estella embraced her. “Nervous?”

  “A little, but all the rehearsals have reduced that to a low buzz,” Mercedes replied.

  Estella moved off to a mirror to check her lipstick. Beatrisa and Carisa came over. “So how is Boho handling playing second fiddle?” Beatrisa asked.

  “He seems fine.”

  “Seems,” Beatrisa said in ominous tones. “Men always seem fine.”

  “He’s understood for twenty-four years that he’s the consort. He will always be the consort,” Mercedes said calmly. Inwardly she was thinking, And Boho thinks I can’t act. He doesn’t know Kemel showed me the reports of his activities with the del Campos. But the League can’t take any more shocks to the system, and a royal divorce would certainly constitute a shock. And I suppose in the end he did do the right thing.

  “Boho gets a starring role. He gets to bring the scepter, sword, and crown to the Pope. All the cameras will be on him for that,” Carisa said.

  “Okay, children,” Izzara sang out while clapping her hands. “Let’s get your flower baskets and take your places.”

  The five little girls ran over. They ranged in age from thirteen to three. Mercedes was worried about the inclusion of the smallest princess, Delia’s daughter, Sansa. But Sansa had a comically serious expression on her round face, and a ferocious frown between her brows. She even gave her giggling older sister a disapproving look as they arranged themselves in front of Mercedes.

  The hymn ended and the processional music began, organ and orchestra. The soldiers stationed just outside the sacristy pulled open the doors and they began their slow walk to the cathedral’s central aisle. They made the turn and started toward the apse. Her father’s throne had been brought from the palace and now rested at the bottom of the steps leading up to the altar. Camerabots circled overhead, their metal bodies catching the rainbow light from the stained-glass windows. The strings, brass, and woodwind of the orchestra danced on top of the deep bellow of the organ, and the voices of the choir echoed off the vaulted ceiling far overhead.

  Mercedes knew she ought to be thinking of God and the awesome authority about to be conferred upon her, but it all felt like an elaborate play. She had already assumed the awesome authority nearly a year before, and from conversations with her Chancellor of the Exchequer she knew just how much this particular pageant was costing the League. Still, Boho and his toady, Anselmo, were right. This was for the people. Or as she had overhead Anselmo say as she was entering Boho’s office one day, “Providing pan y circos to entertain the rubes.”

  They reached the throne, and she carefully maneuvered so the long cape was arranged gracefully around her feet. Her sisters and nieces were whisked away to their seats. During the year the elderly pope who had been so outraged over Jose’s arrest had been carried to the bosom of his maker and a new, surprisingly young man had been elevated to the See of Peter. He was tall, slender, and his white robes and miter glistened against his ebony skin. His upswept eyebrows and the deep epicanthic folds gave him a merry roguish look even when he wasn’t smiling. And he smiled a lot. Mercedes had found him charming and she had enjoyed their conversations they had had prior to the coronation. The words of the opening prayer rolled out. Pope Honorius V had a deep resonant baritone voice that seemed to caress the words.

  And then they were into it. Boho, his expression solemn, brought the scepter and orb to Pope Honorius and they were placed in her hands. The weight of the cape dragged at her shoulders, and she gripped the staff of the long scepter tightly, afraid it might slip or tremble. Boho returned with the long sword and laid it across her lap.

  “Is Her Majesty willing to take the Oath?” Honorius intoned.

  “I am willing.”

  The words washed over her. “Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

  Judgments rose up to haunt her. A screaming child on Sinope. Covering up the massacre of children. A man falsely accused. A mass suicide. Distantly, she heard herself say, “I will.”

  At last they reached the finale. The Bible was brought to her, and she kissed it. Boho brought the tall, impossibly heavy crown to the Pope. The music soared as he held it high and intoned, “I hereby crown you Empress Mercedes Adalina Saturnina Inez de Arango, first of her name. All hail!”

  The attendees shouted out, “All hail!”

  A smaller throne was brought forward and Boho was crowned as Imperial Consort. They exchanged a long look. Boho reached out and lightly touched her gloved hand. His look of love and adoration was clearly visible to the camerabot. Mercedes wondered what Tracy’s expression would have held if he had been seated beside her. She could picture his uncomfortable frown. She released the image and returned to reality.

  A final trumpet fanfare and it was done. Mercedes rose carefully to her feet and began the long walk back down the aisle. The double doors were thrown open and she emerged to the evident delight of the cheering crowds. Women were crying; even a few men wiped at their eyes. Flowers arched through the air to fall all around her. The carriage arrived. Mercedes handed the scepter and orb to the crown jeweler. He would see they were returned to the imperial treasury. She wished she could have exchanged the imperial state crown for one of her tiaras, but she had to endure the weight until they reached the palace. There she could shed the crown and the robe. The gates would be thrown open so the human citizens of the League could enter and cheer their new monarch.

  Boho assisted her up the steps into the open carriage and took his seat next to her. Outriders surrounded them, soldiers marched on all sides. They began the slow procession back to the palace, both of them waving to the cheering throngs.

  He took her free hand, lifted it to his lips. “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine. I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”

  “Just a few more hours, the state banquet and you can rest.”
r />   She smiled at him. “At least I don’t have to wear the crown for that.”

  “We have to go see our pretty boy and tell him his mama is officially empress now,” Boho said.

  “Somehow I don’t think he’ll be impressed,” Mercedes chuckled.

  * * *

  The crew spent Christmas and Boxing Day on Ouranos with Tracy concocting elaborate ruses to see his father. He bought a new wardrobe and overpaid for everything as a way to give some of his newfound wealth to Alexander. On the final day his father came to the Selkie to deliver the last of the outfits. They had the ship to themselves as the crew were off buying the last of the supplies, and Luis was saying farewell to the girl he had met at a tango party.

  Tracy and Alexander were in the galley sharing a plate of cookies and sipping port. “You should retire, Dad.”

  “And what would I do with myself? I enjoy my work, and it would leave Bajit, Selcuk, and Caleb without jobs. Oh, Selcuk and Caleb would probably be all right, but poor old Bajit?” Alexander shook his head. “No, I couldn’t do that to him.”

  “All right, but at some point I’m going to have a real home, and you’re going to come live with me,” Tracy said.

  “A home is more than just a house, Trace. You need a wife, children.” Tracy looked away. “Is there no one?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “So the Belmanor line ends with you.”

  “Dad, I’d have to marry this mythical woman under the name Randall. The line is ending no matter what.”

  “Yes. I suppose that’s true. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  Tracy laid a hand over his father’s, felt the knotted veins and paper-thin skin. “I’m sorry I messed everything up. You gave me the opportunity and I threw it away. I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t apologize. I’m proud of you. You did what was right.”

  “Why does doing the right thing always have such dire consequences?” Tracy asked and he tossed back his port.