By Honor Betray'd: Mageworlds #3

by Doyle, Debra; Macdonald, James D.

  “Then strap me again in my cockpit

  And toast me in faraway bars.

  Just let me fire off into hyper,

  I’ll make my own way to the stars.”

  Gil supposed that he would be telling his hypothetical grandchildren about what everything had been like when peace broke out. He’d found Doctor Inesi syn-Tavaite among the crew of Warhammer, looking about her as if she had similar plans for the future and wanted to make certain she had the details properly fixed in her memory. He didn’t blame her; in fact, he’d spent the last hour or so soaking up impressions himself, especially the conversations going on in corners between people who under normal circumstances might never have spoken at all.

  There was someone who looked like Perada Rosselin in deep incognito, for example, sharing a carafe of red wine with Mid-Commander Mael Taleion and discussing, with a frankness that would have appalled the diplomats, future relations between the Mageworlds and the Republic:

  “Nobody’s going to give anything away officially at first,” Perada had said. “But there will have to be peace negotiations—your fleet is still strong enough that everybody will agree to that.”

  “I am not sure that negotiations will satisfy some of our people, my lady. They are bitter, still.”

  Perada laughed and poured him some more wine. “As are some of ours, no doubt. Put all the bitter ones on the negotiating teams and send them to Khesat. Wonderful place to hold diplomatic conferences, Khesat. In my grandmother’s day, there was a two-week war in the Wrysten system that took thirty-five years on Khesat to arrive at a settlement. The ambassadors kept breaking off the talks for more study—most of their study, it turned out later, was being done at the pleasure establishments and opera houses.”

  Taleion smiled in turn. “I begin to understand, my lady. And if your Space Force doesn’t bother to enforce the ban at the Gap Between while the negotiations are going on—”

  “They won’t,” said Perada. “They’ll be too busy putting themselves back together after some major embarrassments. They’ve got Captain Faramon and the other mutinous officers to deal with, for example. Besides, the Net costs money, and the money will have more important places to go for quite a while. As for your Mage-Circles … I think that the new Master of the Adepts’ Guild sees matters differently from the way the old one did. Having the First of all your Circles for a sister-in-law seems to have changed his mind.”

  “All will be well, then, I think,” Taleion said. “The blockade in the Gap Between was futile anyway—space is big and ships are small. We were able to move single cargoes through the Gap whenever we wished once we began to have ships. Give us leave to follow our own ways, and to trade openly with your worlds, and the rest will follow. My lord sus-Airaalin would have been content.”

  “Then I’ve kept my word to him,” Perada said, “and so am I. Let’s drink to his memory, Mael—after all, this is a night for toasting absent friends.”

  They’d drunk the toast in more of the strong red wine; and Gil, observing, had turned his attention to another corner of the room, where Beka Rosselin-Metadi and Nyls Jessan were drinking beer with her brother Ari and Mistress Llannat Hyfid. The young Domina appeared to be teasing her brother about the joys of married life.

  “So how are you going to arrange things, big brother, if the Space Force sends you to the back of beyond somewhere and the Mage-Circles call for Llannat on Eraasi or Ninglin? I know that Adepts and Mages are supposed to be good at doing things long distance, but not even they can—”

  “Shut up, Bee,” Ari said. His ears were bright red. “We’ll think of something.”

  “I already have thought of something,” Llannat said. “I’m leaving the Space Force. Having the First of the Mages be a Space Force officer is an embarrassment to both sides. I’m going home to Maraghai. If the Mage-Circles need me they’ll know how to find me.”

  Ari took her hand. “If you put in your papers, I might as well do it too. I’ll talk to Ferrdacorr about setting up a clinic somewhere in the High Ridges—they need medics up there.” He looked at his sister. “What about you, Bee? I can’t exactly see you settling down into dirtside domesticity.”

  “Hell, no,” she said. “As soon as the ’Hammer’s fixed, Nyls and I are going back to running cargo through what used to be the Net. It ought to be fun—the outplanets are going to be full of pirates and outlaws and menaces to society.”

  “You should fit right in,” Ari had said.

  Gil had been forced to agree. It was just as well, he thought, that Domina Beka Rosselin-Metadi had already announced her intention to dissolve the government of Entibor-in-Exile and let the royal title lapse into oblivion. Perada Rosselin had concurred—there were a number of advantages, or so she claimed, to being officially dead, and she planned to enjoy all of them for some time to come.

  Now, with Inesi syn-Tavaite on his arm, Gil made his way through the crush to the back of the pub, where the General was holding forth. Perada, her private talk with Mael Taleion safely concluded, was occupying the seat next to him, and looking smug about it.

  “What are my plans for the future?” the General asked rhetorically. He had an interested audience of Space Force officers and merchant-captains, all of them pretending they didn’t recognize the blonde, blue-eyed woman beside him. “I’m going to retire from the Space Force and spend my free time touring the galaxy and checking up on old friends.” He caught Gil’s eye. “And you, Commodore, are as far as I can tell the senior surviving officer in the late fiasco. If you aren’t the senior survivor now, you will be by the time I’m done. You’re going to take over my job.”

  Gil shook his head. “Oh, no, General. Not until I’ve used up my accumulated leave. I promised Inesi—Doctor syn-Tavaite, I mean—that I’d take her back home to Eraasi after the war was over, and I intend to keep my promise.”

  “Do it,” said Metadi. “You can relieve me when you get back. Rosel’s tour of duty isn’t up for another year and a half, so she can show you the ropes.”

  Gil was beginning to feel trapped. “But didn’t you get my message, sir? Commander Quetaya is dead—your aide is a Magebuilt replicant.”

  The General shook his head. “The Mages tried, but I’m afraid they missed.”

  “Sir?”

  “The last time I saw that replicant, I’d just stuffed her into a garbage hopper at Galcen Prime.” Metadi looked regretful. “She’d been well briefed, but not quite well enough, so I managed to get her before she could remove the original and take her place.

  “I was right about the replicant,” the General continued, “but wrong about who was responsible. I thought it was the start of a coup by a faction inside the Space Force—I knew there was something funny going on there; I just didn’t know what. And I knew that if there was one replicant there might be others, so I decided to keep quiet and take care of the problem myself.”

  “It worked out,” Gil said, “and it put you in position to deal with Vallant.”

  “No, you dealt with Vallant—not to mention the Mage flagship.”

  “It was pure luck that got my missiles through to Sword-of-the-Dawn ,” Gil protested. “That’s all.”

  “You had luck when you needed it. Those missiles hit at exactly the right time and the right place—and believe me, Commodore, I’m grateful.”

  “So am I,” said Perada. “So am I.”

  “Under the circumstances,” said Gil, “I suppose I should be grateful too.” He turned to syn-Tavaite. “The evening is growing late. I think it’s time for us to get back.”

  *Wait just a minute, Baronet!*

  It was Merrolakk the Selvaur, resplendent in a celebratory coat of gold and silver body-paint.

  “Ah, yes, Captain?” Gil said. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Metadi watching him with amusement. “You have a problem?”

  *They say you’re going to take her—* Merrolakk nodded at syn-Tavaite. *—back home to Eraasi.*

  “Well, yes,” sai
d Gil. “I did promise, after all.”

  *You made me a promise too,* Merro said. *When I turned her over, you said that if she had any ransom value, it was mine.*

  “Yes. And?”

  *Seven ships, Commodore. You traded her for seven ships. So the way I figure it, that’s what she’s worth. Pay up.*

  Gil drew a deep breath. “I won’t deny that Inesi syn-Tavaite is worth the ransom under discussion—”

  *Damned good thing, too.*

  “—but I will point out that I don’t have the price of seven ships at the moment.”

  Merro grunted. *Not my problem. If you can’t pay, I’ll take my prisoner back.*

  “Like hell you will,” said Gil. “I’ll just give you the ships, instead.” He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a notepad and stylus.

  Merro hooted at him with Selvauran laughter. *You’re a pleasure to deal with, for a thin-skin.*

  “There,” said Gil, handing over the slip of flimsy. “Orders assigning seven vessels from the Net Patrol Fleet to you for administrative and tactical control. My aide will see to the details. Done?”

  *Done,* said the Selvaur, and preferred a green-scaled hand.

  They shook hands on the deal. Then, with a sigh of relief, Gil was finally able to start making his way back through the crowded pub toward the door. Beside him, Inesi syn-Tavaite was looking worried.

  “Will you get in trouble for giving ships away like that?” she asked. “They belong to the Republic, don’t they?”

  “They used to,” he said. “With the Net being dismantled they wouldn’t have a lot to do, anyway. But that isn’t my problem. I’m taking you home before I do anything else. If the Space Force is angry with me for giving away those ships, they can cashier me. If I’m lucky, some job for a penniless baronet is bound to turn up.”

  “My people say, ‘Luck belongs to the people who make it,’” syn-Tavaite said.

  “I’m planning to make myself quite a lot of it,” Gil said. He offered her his arm. “Starting now, I think. My lady, will you do me the honor of traveling aboard my flagship?”

  syn-Tavaite took his arm and smiled. “With pleasure, my lord baronet.”

  Tor Books by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald

  The Price of the Stars

  Starpilot’s Grave

  By Honor Betray’d

  EMERGENCY LIFTOFF!

  “Portmaster, this is Warhammer. Request permission to lift ship.”

  “Negative, Warhammer. Permission to lift denied. Report with your entire crew to the Portmaster’s office.”

  “Unable to comply. Request permis—”

  The sudden tug of a tractor beam cut him off midword. The ‘Hammer began to lurch and sway as the beam kept on pulling the ship downward.

  LeSoit could feel the strength members of the ’Hammer’s frame vibrating. He reached for the console and pulled on the forward nullgravs. Nothing happened—only the steady throb of overstressed metal.

  LeSoit hit the console again. With a tremendous deep-throated roar, the heavy realspace engines came on. Power that should have driven Warhammer’s mass up to near-lightspeed poured out of the ship’s engines, turning the deckplates of the bay to slag beneath them. All over the console, warning lights burned red. “This is it—either we shake apart fighting their beam, or we burn it out and break free … .”

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  BY HONOR BETRAY’D

  Copyright © 1994 by Debra Doyle & James D. Macdonald

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, N.Y 10010

  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

  Cover art by Romas

  eISBN 9781466802087

  First eBook Edition : September 2011

  First edition: July 1994

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PROLOGUE - GALCEN NEARSPACE: SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN

  PART ONE

  I. GYFFERAN FARSPACE: NIGHT’S-BEAUTIFUL-DAUGHTER

  II. GALCEN NEARSPACE: SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN

  III. INFABEDE SECTOR: RSF SELSYN-BILAI; UDC VERATINA

  IV. INFABEDE SECTOR: UDC VERATINA

  V. SUIVI POINT: MAIN DETENTION GYFFER: PORT OF TELABRYK

  VI. INNISH-KYL: WAYCROSS

  VII. INNISH-KYL: WAYCROSS

  PART TWO

  I. REPUBLIC SPACE: ERAASIAN BASE

  II. GYFFER: TELABRYK LOCAL DEFENSE BASE; SPACE FORCE HQ BUILDING

  III. RSF KARIPAVO : MAGEWORLDS SPACE

  IV. WARHAMMER: SUIVI NEARSPACE; SUIVI MAIN

  V. SUIVI POINT: PORTSIDE WARRENS

  VI. WARHAMMER : SUIVI POINT

  VII. GIFFER: LOCAL DEFENSE BASE, TELABRYK FIELD

  PART THREE

  I. INNISH-KYL: WARHAMMER ; RSF KARIPAVO GYFFERAN SECTOR: LDF CRUISER #97; SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN ; RSF VERATINA

  II. INNISH-KYL: RSF KARIPAVO; WARHAMMER GYFFER: LOCAL DEFENSE FORCE HEADQUARTERS

  III. INNISH-KYL: COUNTRY HOUSE OF ADELFE ANEVERIAN

  IV. INNISH-KYL: COUNTRY HOUSE OF ADELFE

  V. INNISH-KYL: COUNTRY ESTATE OF ADELFE ANEVERIAN

  VI. GYFFERAN FARSPACE: LDF #97

  VII. WARHAMMER: HYPERSPACE TRANSIT ASTEROID BASE

  VIII. ASTEROID BASE

  PART FOUR

  I. GYFFERAN SYSTEM SPACE: RFS VERATINA; UDC FEZRISOND; RSF KARIPAVO

  II. DEEP SPACE: WARHAMMER; SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN

  III. GYFFERAN SYSTEM SPACE: RSF KARIPAVO DEEP SPACE: SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN

  IV. WARHAMMER : CAPTURED

  V. GYFFERAN SPACE: SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN ; RSF KARIPAVO

  VI. GYFFERAN SYSTEM SPACE: RSF KARIPAVO; SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN

  VII. THE VOID

  Epilogue - TELABRYK: THE SEVEN ORBS

  Tor Books by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald

  EMERGENCY LIFTOFF!

  Copyright Page