"I see what you mean," remarked Hathaway at length. He stuffed the coins back into the pouch. "Sir," he said hesitantly, "everything is all right? I mean, with the mission and all?"
"Why do you ask, Warren?" Haruko, very much aware of the Kelts a few paces behind them, was praying that their Englic was on a par with the Terrans' skill-sketchy Gaeloch.
"I don't know," said Hathaway after a troubled pause. "Just this--this feeling I have."
"Only what we all feel," said Haruko, unknowingly echoing Gwyneira's reassurances to Aeron. "That it's all so new, so unexpected... It'll get better." His voice trailed off into uncertain silence as they passed through the gate-arch of the palace, and he glanced up, almost guiltily, to where he knew the royal apartments to be located. He wasn't about to admit to his officer that he felt every bit as unsure as Hathaway did; but he wondered suddenly if, just possibly, the Queen of Kelts felt the tiniest bit the same.
Chapter Ten
Sunlight streaming through the round windows made white glowing pools on the walls of the Painted Chamber. In the Imperial capital of Escal-dun, the day promised to be exquisitely hot, more so even than usual, all under a cloudless sky as blue as milk.
Around the long stone table in the cool center of the room were assembled perhaps forty people, men and women of a dozen different races from a score of different stars. All had made the long journey to Alphor and the Painted Chamber at the behest of the Cabiri Emperor.
To some, Strephon's invitation was an order, and they had had neither choice nor inclination to do anything but obey. To others, it was a suggestion carrying all the force of command, and to others still, a courteously worded request sent through proper diplomatic channels. But all Strephon's guests shared without reservation a consuming curiosity as to the message they had been summoned to hear.
Most of them, however, had a pretty shrewd idea of the nature of what was afoot, if not the identity of the target, and that went far toward explaining the presence of so many out-of-uniform generals and starfleet commanders--though their untranslatable military bearing gave the game away.
Whatever Jaun Akhera thought, it did not show on his face as he entered the room. He was immaculate in white linen, intricately pleated and belted at the waist; a flat wide collar of beaten gold partly covered his chest, half-bared by the open jacket, and his black hair was held off his face by a thin gold band.
A very gratifying turnout, he thought, however wary its constituents...At one and the same table sat, among others, the kings of Shoke, Felire, Dhanas and Thelen; the queens of Bor and Jalchi; and, surprisingly, the war-leader of the Yamazai, that matriarchy of warrior-women that held half a galactic sector under its sway. The remaining seats at the table were occupied by minor kings, Imperial and Phalanx vassal lords, and Jaun Akhera's own people, including his brother Sanchoniathon and his captain-general Hanno.
But best of all was the presence, at the opposite end of the table, of the newly elected Archon of the Phalanx worlds: Bres, King of Fomor. He was flanked by his heir, the Crown Prince Elathan, and Talorcan, his firstborn by his legal concubine, and he looked to be in no mood for social backchat.
It was Jaun Akhera's moment, and he savored it to the fullest; then he seated himself in the white marble chair with the eagle's-head arms and turned a dazzling smile on his guests.
"Princes all," he began in an easy voice, "doubtless your various spies have already given you a good idea as to why this council has been summoned. Therefore I shall waste neither your time nor my own. His Imperial Majesty the Cabiri Emperor, long may he reign, has seen fit to initiate a state of war against the kingdom of Keltia. My beloved grandsire sees fit, further, to make me his general-in-chief against the Kelts. I assure you my plans are well under way for the commencement of hostilities, and I invite you now to join with me in this endeavor."
He allowed the murmur of comment, astonished or knowing as was the case, to continue a while, calculating from under half-hooded lids the true level of consternation. It was like watching a riverhawk in a school of sunmice, he thought, amused, even while another part of his brain was busily assessing the room: who stood with him, who against; who could be swayed and who would remain aloof to the end; all the eddies of power and fortune, the undercurrents and overtones of the prospect of war.
"An invasion of Keltia," the king of Felire mused aloud, stroking the beard that came, four-forked and plaited, to the center of his chest. "That one will be a hard seed to crack."
"I agree," said Jaun Akhera evenly. "That is why I have arranged that the main cracking shall be done from within." Swiftly he outlined the plans that had been made with Arianeira and Kynon, though the Princess's identity was not disclosed: Not even Strephon yet knew who the high-placed Keltic traitor was to be...
His revelations changed some minds, but not enough, and not the one mind Jaun Akhera most wanted changed: Down the length of the stone table, Bres remained silent and would not even lift his eyes to meet Jaun Akhera's.
But it was Bres's own heir who, all unwitting, gave the Emperor's grandson the opening he needed.
"We have lived in a state of armed truce with Keltia for many years," began the Fomorian prince. "Or, at least, we have done so for the most part," he corrected himself, flushing and glancing at his father. "Why now does the Cabiri Emperor choose war?"
"The Queen of Kelts is on the point of making alliance with Terra," replied Jaun Akhera in a matter-of-fact tone. "I need not describe to this company how extremely undesirable such an alliance would be from our point of view. It was the Emperor's perception that now, before they are joined together and so grow too strong for any of us, now is the time to strike--at Keltia first, then, if necessary, at Terra also. The Keltic Protectorates, too, give us good reason to attack: Over the past hundred years they have grown from nine star systems outside the Keltic Curtain Wall to forty-two. Not many, you may think. But in the three years of Aeron Aoibhell's reign, the status of protectorate has been granted to nearly as many systems again, bringing the total to seventy-eight--some with many planets and settled moons, some critically important in trade, or of military value because of their galactic locations."
The queen of Bor let out a long impressed breath. "If they continue to expand at such a rate--"
Jaun Akhera smiled. "Exactly, madam. The Emperor, as I have said, perceives this danger, and I have been ordered to act on it. Keltia--"
"A kingdom of vipers ruled by a headstrong child!" The outburst came from Bres.
Jaun Akhera raised an eyebrow, but said merely, "Aeron Aoibhell is hardly a child. Though she is also not, it would appear, the sweetest-tempered monarch in the galaxy. No doubt you would know that far better than I."
A sudden intake of breath went round the table at this unsubtle reminder of Bres's ambush at Bellator and its aftermath. But Bres was hot on his own trail and did not appear to take Jaun Akhera's meaning.
"A willful obstreperous brat! When Fionnbarr died she was only just old enough to hold her throne unregented. But they're all children! That damned logician Morwen Douglas, and that thrice-damned sorcerer Gwydion--and they're all related to each other!" He stood up, face black with rage. "If we do not get the life of these worms chirted out of them, the reproach of it will stick upon us forever. No more! Emperor's heir, Fomor stands with you in this quarrel."
Jaun Akhera's face reflected only sober approval, but he was screaming with laughter within. Aeron Aoibhell! So that red-haired harpy was the pin to winkle Bres out of his obdurate isolationism; even if the rest of the Phalanx refused to follow its Archon into vendetta, Fomor alone could shoulder a good part of the military burden--and expense--of the coming campaign. I must remember to thank you, Aeron, when we meet, he thought, for you have done what I could not have done without your help...
"The Imperium thanks the King of Fomor for such a promise," he said. "But what do the others say? Panthissera, War Leader of the Yamazai, what is your people's will?"
A few seats away
on Jaun Akhera's right, the black-haired woman with the slanting eyes and the crescent-moon tattoo upon her forehead looked up. Her dark eyes were cold with contempt.
"We fight as pleases us best, and when," said Panthissera. "Neither to Bres's grudge nor Strephon's order; but three times never so against any woman. No, lord, we will draw no sword against Aeron Aoibhell."
"But you will not hinder us who do?" That was Talorcan, leaning forward intent on her answer.
"No," said the Yamazai heavily. "We do not approve, and we will not help; but neither will we hinder, and that word I shall take back with me to Aojun."
After several hours' discussion, the patterns were clearly set, and Jaun Akhera called for a final tally. One by one, those at the table rose and avowed their support, or else respectfully gave their reasons for refusing. In the end, Jaun Akhera came off not so badly: He had had no real expectations of the Phalanx lords, save for Bres, and so he could not be disappointed by their all but universal declining of his invitation. After all the hours of talk, still only Bres had declared for the Imperium; and he could only try to persuade his fellow monarchs, not command them. But several of the small independent allies were swayed by Fomor's public espousal of the Imperial cause, and sided with Jaun Akhera, motivated chiefly, for all their rhetoric, by the hope of picking up a few of the Keltic protectorate worlds, once Keltia was no more.
*
"But why, in the name of all the gods, do you insist on involving the Terrans?" Kynon was angry, and his anger was rooted in fear. If he could not argue Arianeira out of this--"You seem to be as eager as Aeron, lady, to throw yourself into the Terrans' embrace."
They were in Arianeira's grianan at Llys Don, he standing by the hearth, she stretched indolently on a cushioned longchair near the windows. Rain was beating against the glass.
"I insist, as you put it, on involving them because it will be to our advantage if we do. You were lamenting only the other day the necessity for using relay ships to communicate with Jaun Akhera. The Terrans have goleor of combanks aboard their ship; if we could use those to make our next contact, it would be both easier and safer for us. Their booster gear can hide all trace of any signal we send, which your equipment, good as it is, cannot. Also, if by some ill chance the signal is intercepted, we shall have someone else upon whom the blame would fall."
Kynon scowled. That was clever thinking on Arianeira's part, and perhaps that was not such a good thing--though certainly she had a point. But this sudden, and alarming, taste for initiative could well bode trouble for the future. Still, her reasons made good sense, and also made life considerably easier for him...
"Have you decided on the Terran who might most easily be persuaded?"
Arianeira nodded, twirling the stem of the golden goblet she held. "There are two possibilities, so if we fail in our first attempt we have yet another string to our bow. I have decided to try first with Athwenna." That was Mikhailova; so the Kelts turned her name Athenee.
"Why her?"
"Various reasons. Chiefest for that she is the Terrans' technical officer; very suitable to our purposes. And she is shy, as the others are not, and so would be perhaps the more grateful for the friendship of a princess--and the attentions of a Keltic warrior."
Kynon cast his eyes up in exasperation. He had suspected that was coming--Arianeira's finicking distaste for doing any of the spadework herself--and seducing Mikhailova, literally or figuratively, did not accord with the plan he himself had in mind. And doubtless Arianeira knew about that too.
"It is possible," he said at last. "But if she does not prove so grateful as we might wish?"
She shrugged. "Then we try with Tindal," she said. "His skills lie in science and enginery, I am told, and he would be equally useful."
"And, presumably, equally grateful for the attentions of a princess?"
Anger flared on Arianeira's face, then she laughed unwillingly and drank off her wine.
"Aye so... if there is need. Did I not say there was little I would not do to rid myself of Aeron Aoibhell?"
"That you did, lady. But how do you plan to start with Athwenna?"
"I do not plan. You will--and you will also do the starting."
*
The white sun-pools had left the walls and crept down onto the tiled floors by the time Jaun Akhera's business was concluded to his satisfaction and the visitors dismissed with his thanks. Quitting the Painted Chamber, he paced thoughtfully down the gallery to the Imperial family's private quarters, and entered the white-columned stoa.
Strephon seemed not to have stirred from his longchair beside the pool since his grandson had last seen him there--as perhaps he had not. But he greeted Jaun Akhera warmly, gesturing him to sit upon cushions beside the jewel-encrusted chair.
"Went it well?"
"Very well, lord." He explained at length and in detail.
Strephon sighed when his heir had finished, and tossed a breadcrust to the goggling carp in the pool.
"It is done, then. Well, and a good thing too, before Keltia becomes too strong altogether. We have delayed our enterprise nearly a month as it is. As for Fomor, I am not at all surprised that he was so swift to join our venture. He has no moderation, and has long felt the Keltic thorn in his side. He would be easy to sway as a sandwillow."
"The rest of the Phalanx stood like oaks, not willows, and not to our cause."
"No great matter. If we are victorious against the Kelts, we may deal with the Phalanx at our leisure. If we are defeated, it will matter still less, for they shall then deal with us at theirs... Though, naturally, I prefer that if anyone is to pick up the shards of an empire, it be my own hand that does the gathering. Keltia itself, and all its Protectorates--now, that would be a gratifying handful."
"I will do what I can, or may, to give it you, lord."
Strephon's water-pale eyes gleamed in the light. "I know that." He dropped a bejeweled hand on his grandson's shoulder, an almost casual touch that could have been either approval or dismissal.
Jaun Akhera chose to take it as both.
*
Another nightmeal over; at the high table in Mi-Cuarta, where she and the other Terrans now had their regular seats at the high table, not many places away from the Ard-rian, Mikhailova stood up with the rest as Aeron left the table, then sat down again to enjoy the music and dancing that invariably followed the meal.
She wished she were a little bolder, a little less constrained by shyness--it looked like such fun, that dancing, and there were O'Reilly and Hathaway right in the middle of it. But she had always been shy, diffident of putting herself forward; it was one of the reasons she'd gone into the Navy. A certain reserve was a very good thing on a small ship, and she had been able to make a solid asset of a trait that might otherwise have proved a grave disadvantage. It was only at times like this that she wished-- Again she looked at the laughing dancers on the floor, and her hand kept time on the table.
"Would you care to join the dance, lady?" said a voice from behind her. "My honor if you would partner me."
She felt the familiar hot and cold rush, then looked up and over her shoulder. "I'm sorry--were you talking to me?"
The man's easy smile flashed down at her. "So I thought! I am called Kynon ap Accolon."
"A pleasure to meet you, my lord. I am Athenee Mikhailova."
"I know... doubtless you remember it not, but we met briefly at the Queen's ceili, the night of your arrival. And I am no lord, but only a retainer of the Princess Arianeira of Gwynedd. So, since I am no stranger, Athwenna, will you not dance with me?"
She looked her question.
"'Athwenna'--you do not care for it? It is but your own name, more or less, in our own tongue. It comes easier to our lips than 'Athenee,' and I think--yes, I think it suits you better."
Mikhailova blushed, and he led her out onto the floor.
*
Turusachan was not all buildings. Round about three sides of the royal palace spilled a large and lovely park
. Formal gardens occupied one end; along the seaward front was a magical garden of herbs and the thirteen types of trees held sacred by the Kelts; and, at the end nearest the royal family's quarters, a ragged and charming little wood that stretched up the side of Eagle, mostly birches and oaks below, pines farther up. Aeron loved the peace and tranquillity of the place, and escaped into it whenever she could, to refresh her mind and ease her soul--though not for long and not often, for she had many more pressing calls upon her time.
O'Reilly had discovered the wood the first week of her residence in the palace, and made frequent use of it for reasons much the same as the Queen's. Like the rest of the Sword's crew, she was finding things a little daunting, being no more accustomed than they to seeing the likenesses of people she knew on coins and seals and scrolls, in the journals and on the farviewers, displayed reverentially in public places and lovingly in private ones. But she had been in Keltia three weeks now, and the strangeness, for her not great to begin with, was wearing off almost by the hour.
Aeron herself was largely to thank for that, O'Reilly acknowledged with grateful wonder, as she sat leaning comfortably against a giant oak-trunk silvery with age and moss. She had given them more of her time and attention and, yes, friendship than anyone had any right to expect; even Theo was surprised, and he was an ambassador, entitled to expect courtesies from queens...
"May we join you, or is this private?"
O'Reilly jumped--she had heard no one approach--then looked up to see Melangell smiling down at her. The Princess was accompanied by another young woman, brown-haired, blue-eyed, with fine sharp features and an elegant carriage.
"Of course--have a seat. Both of you."
Melangell settled herself comfortably against the oak, and, after a moment, so did the other newcomer.
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