For the moment, though, Lanyan kept puzzling over the Adar’s reply. “If the Ildirans would send seven hundred warships to help us against the drogues, why be paranoid about letting us go aboard? Is he hiding something?”
The exec was equally troubled. “And I’m wondering how in the world Ildirans know the schedule of a hydrogue assault fleet. What sort of intelligence and espionage techniques do they have?”
Lanyan heaved a long sigh. “We’ll leave it for now. The last thing in the world I want to do is stir up trouble with our new best friends.”
109
CHAIRMAN BASIL WENCESLAS
Basil stood with his face close to the angled glass and looked out into the falling night. He stared at the firefly lights of small commercial transport vehicles racing across the dark skies. Seen from atop the Hansa HQ, the Palace District was a magnificent sight. Though the Ildiran Solar Navy had come through with their promises, Basil was too preoccupied to feel any great relief.
Peter tried to kill me!
Orange flames curled from the cupolas and towers of the Whisper Palace, each torch symbolizing a world that had once signed the Hansa charter. It was all a sham. After the withdrawal of EDF protection, how many of those planets still felt any loyalty to Earth? The hydrogues would no doubt come and extinguish the rest of the torches. Peter had caused this all to spin out of control.
The self-important bastard tried to kill me!
Reflected against the darkening window, Basil’s face looked gaunt and drawn. He had been endlessly weary and agitated, struggling with so many burdens, trying to solve each crisis faster than a new one could occur. He would have to order his medical specialists to give him better stimulants. Though he wasn’t yet scheduled for another rejuvenation treatment, he would feel more alert, refreshed, and competent if he underwent the procedure. He couldn’t recall the last time he had even allowed himself the release of sex with Sarein. Now he had assigned her a much more difficult task—dealing with her sister the Queen. . . .
They tried to poison me, and now Pellidor is dead!
Deputy Cain seemed anxious. “Nahton insists he has an important report for King Peter. He’s been trying to deliver an urgent message since yesterday. Maybe we should hear what he has to say.”
“He was already informed to give his message to me, or give it to no one. The green priest needs to be reminded who’s in charge.”
Cain looked deeply displeased. “That’s exactly it, sir. He’s decided to say nothing. We’re in the dark. I feel strongly that it’s a tactical error to cut ourselves off from vital intelligence. We should make an exception in this case.”
“That green priest can communicate everywhere, instantly, via telink. Should I give Peter a chance to secretly slip a message to the whole Spiral Arm? I don’t think so.” Basil fumed. “We cannot allow Nahton to keep his delusions that the King actually matters. Peter’s reign is finished. Permanently.” Basil turned from the window to stare at the pale deputy. “He tried to assassinate me, Mr. Cain. Prepare for an immediate transition of power.”
A servant compy delivered a fresh pot of cardamom coffee, but Basil ignored it. Not surprisingly, he had lost his taste for the beverage.
The deputy was being deliberately obtuse. “Do you have proof the King was behind this? I have seen no results of the investigation. Mr. Pellidor appeared to be the man responsible.”
Basil’s scowl turned into an outright sneer. “And we must continue to let media reports reflect that. Damn Peter!” Thanks to the way the King had worked his twisted plan, and Sarein’s misguided method of protecting Basil, the newsnet crews had all the proof they needed. Franz Pellidor had served him well for many years as a useful and committed expediter and a man who knew how to keep secrets. But even though he was obviously uninvolved with the poisoning attempt, Pellidor had already been convicted by the public.
Basil had to endorse that popular perception and tar the reputation of his friend and ally. He had no choice but to make Pellidor look like a corrupt, evil conspirator. He could never let the King, even a miserable disappointment like Peter, seem to be at fault. If word got out that the King had actually attempted to murder the Chairman, the scandal would rock the already terrified and confused populace.
But Peter and his pregnant Queen would pay the price. Oh, yes. Sarein had already been given her instructions. It was time for Basil to see who his allies were . . . if he had any left.
With a wave of intense weariness, he sat behind his cluttered deskscreen. “Raymond Aguerra looked like such an exceptional candidate, on paper. Our watchers, including Mr. Pellidor, observed him for more than a year. He had a terrible life, no future, very little potential. And we gave him everything. Why would he fight us?” He pounded a fist on his desktop, and the pot of coffee clinked against its tray. “I should have eliminated him at the first sign of trouble and started fresh, like we did with Prince Adam.”
“Adam? I am not aware of—”
“No one is. He was to have been Frederick’s successor, but we realized our mistake in time. The matter was resolved cleanly and quietly. But with Peter it’s too late. We’ll have to do a great deal of damage control.” Basil knotted his fingers together. “Of course, if the damned hydrogues come, there won’t be much of human history left to rewrite.”
He sighed. “Maybe we have a chance, thanks to the Ildiran warliners. At least somebody proved to be reliable and did what he promised to do. Once we get rid of the King and Queen, we can start over again with a clean slate.”
“Forgive me for speaking frankly, Mr. Chairman, but are you convinced Prince Daniel is truly our best alternative?”
“No, I am not. However, Daniel is all we have left.”
“Would you like me to talk to King Peter about his resignation? I can find an appropriate political excuse and send him and his Queen into quiet exile. At least Peter would still be available if Daniel turns out to be . . . even worse.”
“That is not an option! Peter has shown his true colors again and again.” Basil glared at his deputy. “Why are you getting squeamish, Cain?”
“I’m offering rational alternatives, Mr. Chairman. That is the job for which you appointed me.”
Even Cain sounded on the verge of insubordination! “There are no alternatives, rational or otherwise.” It was difficult to hide his disappointment in his chosen deputy. Basil rubbed his itchy eyes. He wanted to be alone. “You’re dismissed. You have your instructions. I’ll take care of the . . . messier details personally, if you are incapable of doing so.” Damn, I could really use Pellidor now.
Basil watched him go, considering. Maybe it’s time for me to seek another heir apparent as well as a new King.
110
QUEEN ESTARRA
The next morning when Sarein came to take her, Estarra knew something was very wrong. “Chairman Wenceslas asked me to do this. He . . . gave me clear instructions. I’m sorry, Estarra.” A deeply troubled expression crossed her sister’s face, and she quickly turned away to hide it.
Estarra’s suspicions screamed silently inside her head. Is this it? She said bitterly, “I never thought it would be you, Sarein.”
She responded with a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“I half expected the royal guards to come in and gun us down, like the last Russian tsar and his family. But not my own sister.” On the other hand, Estarra had grown to trust Captain McCammon, to a certain extent.
“Don’t be melodramatic—I’m not going to hurt you, but I do need to show you something. Basil calls it your punishment.” Her dark eyes flashed quickly. “And how can I blame him?”
Estarra regarded her coolly. “So, did you verify any of the things I told you about? The attempts on our lives?”
Sarein’s voice grew very small. “Yes, I did. Now come with me, so we can get this over with.”
The Queen’s feet felt leaden, and the air was heavy with the smell of danger. The royal guards let them out of the normally blocked
door, and Sarein led her down the bright corridor to the private gardens in the glassed-in royal conservatory.
When the two of them stepped inside, the smell hit her like a slap. She detected the odors of dirt and chemicals with a sour undertone of soot. This place had been a sanctuary for her, a beautiful room of peace that held reminders of her Theron home. Now the stench made her gag.
What has he done?
The once-lovely greenhouse was barren and brown. Plants had been poisoned and burned. Some were completely uprooted, others scraped away, leaving only empty soil. All the carefully cultivated specimens from Theroc were gone . . . especially the fauldur berries.
Sarein took three steps through the doorway and turned toward Estarra, her face stricken as she stared at her sister with wide and glistening eyes. “He did this just to hurt you. I could see it in his face. He knows you and Peter were involved in the poisoning plot. He can’t prove it, but that doesn’t matter.”
Estarra’s breath hitched. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the mangled plants, the brown and dying leaves. Just like the dolphins. He finds something I love, and destroys it. “This is just the start of it.”
Sarein stepped closer to wrap her arms around Estarra. Estarra could feel her sister trembling. Sarein whispered in her ear, making sure no one could overhear her. “I was skeptical of your story before, but now I know you were telling the truth. Basil isn’t the man I thought he was—not anymore—and I’m very, very afraid of what he might do next.”
Estarra said, “I told you, the Chairman means to get rid of Peter and me.”
After a long pause, Sarein said, “I’m afraid you’re right.” Still hugging Estarra and shielding them from the always hovering royal guards outside the ruined conservatory, Sarein whispered, “As far as I can see, your only alternative is to get away from here, somehow.”
Estarra was careful not to answer. Could they slip out of the Whisper Palace? Yes, it was possible—Prince Daniel had done it. Once they got away, she and Peter could wear nondescript clothes and just vanish into the city.
Peter had told her about his younger years as a street kid. She was sure the two of them could survive out there, find little jobs, obtain food. Peter had provided for his mother and brothers enough times in the past. They might be safe. They could never expect to live like a King and Queen, of course, but Estarra was not a pampered child and could endure whatever she had to. A twinge in her abdomen reminded her that she also had the baby to worry about. Would the Queen of the Hansa have to give birth in a dark alley?
Quickly and guardedly, Sarein said, “If you make any plans, don’t tell me. I can’t betray what I don’t know.”
Estarra looked at her sister. “If we do try to disappear, you know the Chairman will use every resource available to track us down. He hates loose ends. Where on Earth will we be safe?”
“You can’t be safe on Earth. But maybe on Theroc.”
“Then, Sarein—come with us. We can all go back home together.”
“I can’t do that!”
“How can you stay with him? You know what sort of man he is!”
“And I also know what sort of man he was.” Sarein continued in a rush, laying out her excuses as if they were bullet points in a trade presentation. “Besides, I am more useful staying here as a voice of reason. I can talk to Basil. I can act as an intermediary in difficult situations.”
Estarra could not argue with her sister. She found she could not walk any farther into the devastated conservatory. In a low voice, she said, “I’m never sure which side you’re on, Sarein. I thought you loved the Chairman.”
“I do—at least, I did. Or maybe I just thought I did. But you’re my sister. That will never change.”
111
KOLKER
To Kolker’s astonishment, he learned there was another green priest inside the Prism Palace. She came to see him. “We have a common bond. My name is Nira.”
He got to his feet quickly from the bench where he sat bathed in multicolored light from a prismatic window. Kolker looked at her smooth green skin and identified her as a storyteller and a traveler by the tattoos on her face. “How did you get here? Are you a prisoner as well?”
“Not a prisoner—not anymore. And neither are you.”
“I’ll be a prisoner until I can touch a worldtree again, until I can feel telink. It’s been so long.”
She reached out a callused hand. “Then come with me.”
In recent days, though Sullivan and the Hansa skyminers had finished their frantic work for the Solar Navy, Kolker had been spending a surprising amount of time with Tery’l. He had come to enjoy the company of the old lens kithman, and now he was actually interested in learning about the thism, about their belief in the soul-threads that bound all Ildirans together. It intrigued him to think that every member of this race was linked in a way that no humans, not even green priests, could be. The realization made him somewhat sad.
What he longed for most was to taste the buzz and flurry of the worldforest again, to reconnect with his friend Yarrod, to talk with all the other green priests. He had felt so lonely. But he knew the only treeling here had been destroyed. He thought, however, that maybe Nira could fill some of his emptiness, perhaps ease the pain of his isolation. He wondered where she was taking him.
“I disappeared a long time ago, but I’m here with the Mage-Imperator of my own free will.” Nira sketched out the basics of her story. Kolker already knew that Ildirans did many unbelievable things. When he heard what had happened to her, though, the shock was almost unbearable.
“Not all Ildirans are treacherous like that,” she assured him. “Let me show you.”
He followed her through winding bright corridors toward the glassed-in rooftops of the highest towers. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, and Kolker didn’t ask questions. There was so much he didn’t understand anymore.
Finally they emerged onto a rooftop where gardens had been planted. A maze of colorful shrubs and blooming flowers flourished in the bright sunlight. “I placed it up here, where it could spread its fronds under the open sky.”
When Kolker saw the tiny worldtree growing out of a lump of burned wood, his pulse began to pound. His hands reached out as if he were a drowning man grasping a lifeline. “Where—where did this come from?”
Tenderly, Nira bent over the charred wood from which fronds extended like sprouts from a redwood burl. “I was able to find life within this shard. By connecting through telink, and using the Mage-Imperator’s thism as a catalyst, I guided the forest mind back. The sap flowed, and the wood came alive again.”
Kolker had been starving for this connection ever since his own treeling had tumbled from the cloud harvester on Qronha 3. He remembered clinging to the potted plant, trying to remain in contact, but he had tripped. Even now he winced at the memory. His fragile treeling had spilled into the clouds.
Reverently yet ravenously, Kolker touched the thin, supple frond, and with a mighty rush his thoughts connected like a completed electrical circuit. Ever since he’d been cut off, he had imagined this euphoric moment.
In a flood that took both forever and merely an instant, Kolker learned everything, communicated everything. He traversed the thick forests of thoughts and memories, reconnecting with many of his comrades. Yes, Yarrod was there, and overjoyed to learn that his friend still lived. He sought but could not find Rossia, Clydia, or many other green priests he had known, but they were dead, fallen either in the second hydrogue attack or during the Soldier compy revolt.
The worldforest and his green priest friends now knew what had happened to him, what the Mage-Imperator had done to the well-meaning Hansa skyminers. But Nira had already told them other threads of the story, how Sullivan’s crew had been working frantically to assist the Solar Navy.
Kolker did not release the lump of wood, but continued to send and receive thoughts. He had tried to describe this sensation to the old lens kithman, but he hadn’t been able
to convey the depth of the experience to Tery’l. He looked up at Nira with eyes full of gratitude. When he finally released his grasp, Kolker felt the residual tingle of what he had experienced. And yet . . .
Nira was smiling at him. “Now you have rejoined the worldforest. Isn’t that what you were waiting for?”
“Yes!” But inside he felt oddly empty. Blinded and starving, he had longed for this for so many months. So many months. He should have been overjoyed. To his surprise, though, it hadn’t been as magnificent as what he had described to Tery’l. Had he forgotten? Or had he himself changed?
After releasing the treeling, Kolker felt utterly disconnected again. Not like the thism bonds that the lens kithman described. Kolker found his return to the worldforest mind mysteriously dissatisfying, and he didn’t know what to think.
112
KING PETER
Both the King and Queen knew they were in the path of an oncoming storm. Estarra had been sickened by what happened to her lovely conservatory, and the malicious pleasure the Chairman obviously took in having Sarein show it to her, but they knew it was only an opening salvo. The destruction of the greenhouse was barely even a warm-up for what was going to happen to them.
Isolated in the royal apartments—though not as isolated as Basil assumed—Peter pored over the details of the Chairman’s latest daily summary briefing, which he wasn’t supposed to have. Captain McCammon had been forbidden to forward those reports to him anymore, but the summary had appeared on his screen unexpectedly that morning. Peter assumed Deputy Cain was the anonymous sender.
He drank in details about the defensive deployment of the EDF ships and Ildiran warliners, as well as the preparations being made on Earth for the imminent hydrogue attack. Chairman Wenceslas had figuratively tied the King’s hands, but as Peter flexed and twisted, he felt the invisible bonds begin to loosen. He and the Queen would have to do something drastic, and soon.
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