“Then you know quite well,” Peter said leaning forward in his chair, “why that child should never be Emperor.”
“In point of fact,” Urquart said punctiliously, “Princess Vinitra is no longer carrying a child. Her pregnancy was terminated this morning.”
Peter leaned back in surprise and thought this over. He suppressed a surge of revulsion at the idea that Urquart hadn’t asked Vinitra’s permission. But in the end, surely this was the lesser evil? “I suppose that was necessary.”
“Extremely necessary. Believe me I didn’t take such a step lightly.”
Peter frowned. “Then what is this conversation about, Baron?”
“As I said before,” Urquart said patiently, “it’s about Princess Vinitra’s child—and yours.”
Peter’s head jerked up as he absorbed the implications of this statement. He jumped to his feet. “I have no intention of going along with any such plan. I would no more subject Princess Vinitra to what you’re proposing than I’d allow someone else to do the same thing to my own sister!”
“Will you please calm down, Count. Now, sit! Sit and listen, for all our sakes!”
Peter sat down and waited. Urquart reached into his desk drawer and brought out a small round container, about seven or eight centimeters tall. It was opaque and had a tight fitting lid. He set it on his desk.
“What I’m proposing,” Urquart said evenly, “is that you take this receptacle and go into the private bathroom next door. I’ll wait here as long as is necessary. Once you come out and hand me the container, I will guarantee that Princess Vinitra will be pregnant with your child within three days.”
Peter clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping. It took only a second to figure out what the man meant, but longer to decide how he felt about it. “It’s one step up from rape, perhaps, but I don’t see it as an honorable action—nor desirable, if it comes to that.”
“I should explain that the Princess still believes she’s pregnant.”
Peter shuddered. “You didn’t even tell her what you were doing?”
“No. By the time I learned the truth about Antonio and Vinitra du Plessis, I had already come up with a plan. I simply adjusted it for the added complication. The Princess has been sedated since early this morning, and she’ll never know that the child is truly yours, Count—assuming she’s eventually coherent enough to take an interest in him, I mean.”
Peter cocked his head at the pronoun. “Him?”
“Certainly.” Urquart smiled blandly. “There’s no point in the exercise unless we ensure that the resulting child could inherit the Imperium without opposition.”
The manager in Peter couldn’t stop himself from dealing with the problems in such a plan. “The timing would be off. Vinitra has been pregnant for several weeks, now.”
“We can safely speed things along a little,” Urquart said, “enough to avoid suspicion.”
Peter tried to recall what he had learned in school. He had always been more worried about not getting someone pregnant. “How can you do it in two days? If Vinitra was already pregnant, surely she can’t get pregnant again so quickly?”
A shadow seemed to cross Urquart’s face. “As it happens, it seems the late Emperor Lothar invested in advancing Gaulle’s level of science and technology in ways never reveled to the public. The results of some of the more terrible experiments are—were—still in evidence until just recently.”
Peter had heard rumors of strange creatures, part human and part beast. They had seemed too horrific to be true, but perhaps nothing was too horrific for the du Plessis.
Urquart set his jaw. “In any event, I’ve spoken to the Emperor’s medical staff. It’s quite feasible to assume that the Princess could become pregnant again with the right combination of drugs and surgical intervention.”
Peter shook his head. There was no point in humoring the Baron, no matter how much he had worked out the scientific details. “Maybe it’s feasible, but I don’t want a child of mine to become Emperor of Gaulle. It’s no accident that the du Plessis were so much of an affliction on this world. Power corrupts, and theirs had no check.”
“How about if a child of yours became the first Emperor to rule as a constitutional monarch?”
This time Peter’s jaw did drop. “What?”
“This is a great opportunity for Gaulle, Count,” Urquart said, as earnestly as if he were trying to sell Peter life insurance. “Ever since the first du Plessis set himself up as our ruler, we’ve been under their heel. We’ve gotten so used to the idea of an emperor ruling us that many of us would resist doing away with the empire entirely. But there are shades of empire. So far, we’ve had only the darkest form. I propose we lighten it considerably.”
“A lighter empire?” It sounded ridiculous to Peter, almost an oxymoron.
The Baron’s face lit with eagerness, his eyes burning with a passion Peter had never seen in any of his public utterances. “This is our chance to promote change, to introduce checks on the emperor’s power, to make him only one leg of the stool of government, with the people and the nobility making up the other legs.”
The idea left Peter stunned. “The people? How do you mean?”
Urquart held his hands out eloquently. “We already have a parliament, but it’s made up only of nobles. With the right support—a regent who believes in democracy—we could create a second house in Parliament, a house made up of representatives of ordinary people. Parliament would govern with the advice and consent of the Emperor. No one part of government could usurp the others’ powers.”
“I suppose it has a chance.” Peter had loathed the du Plessis for so long, he hated to admit that it could be a good idea to keep them around.
“I think so, too. And it would avoid the tragedy of unrest and rebellion—civil war, in effect.”
“It all depends on the regent. Whom are you going to choose?”
Urquart smiled. “I’ve already chosen him. In point of fact, I’m looking at him right now.”
Peter shot him a suspicious glance. Was the man joking? “Me? I have no experience of politics.”
“Considering our past history,” Urquart said dryly, “that counts as a plus.”
“But I don’t want it,” Peter said. If he wasn’t joking, then Urquart must be crazy. “I don’t want to be regent. I just want to run my business and get on with my life.”
“Oh, stop it!” Urquart almost shouted, his eyes blazing angrily as he sat up straight in his chair. “I offer you the chance to change our world for the better—radically for the better—and you snivel about your business and your life as if you were the first person to be asked to make a sacrifice.” He slammed one hand down on the desk. “You make me sick, Count! I shall gag in a moment.”
Peter bit back a retort as he considered this charge. Having seen men die in combat, he knew what it was to give one’s life for a cause. “All right,” he said levelly. “I admit it’s not too much to ask. But I’m not qualified. I’ve never done anything like run a government.”
“Actually,” Urquart said, leaning back in his chair. His tone had grown milder in a suspiciously short time. “I plan on running the government, at least initially. What I propose is that you come up with a plan to migrate the army and the other elements of the military from authoritarian to humane management. Aside from that, your chief duties would be to back me in my efforts in dealing with the nobles and to serve as a symbol of the best of the Imperium. I should think you could manage that.”
It all sounded suspiciously reasonable. “I suppose I could. Why should I?”
“Because you’re an honorable man,” Urquart said, staring him in the eye. “Because you hate cruelty and injustice. Because if you don’t, I’ll raise charges against you for the murder of Antonio du Plessis.”
The abrupt threat took Peter completely by surprise. He drew in his breath sharply and then let it out. “That’s a pretty state of affairs,” he said, with an artificial calm. “If I don’t g
o along with your plans, you’re going to trump up a murder charge against me.”
Urquart smiled and tapped his lips with one finger. “I don’t need to trump up anything, Count, and we both know it. I can order that Lady Cassandra Paznowski undergo interrogation under nempathenol if you insist, but here in this room, let’s just both admit that you killed Antonio du Plessis. It would make everything much simpler.”
“Would it?”
“Oh, yes.” Urquart held out his hands, palm up. “I want you to understand, Count, that I have no complaint to make with your actions. From what I’ve discovered in my investigations, you did Gaulle a favor—not to mention Lady Cassandra—and even Vinitra du Plessis, although I doubt she would ever agree.”
Peter was suddenly very tired. The last three days of enforced inactivity, coming on top of weeks of subterfuge and tension, had worn him down. “What gave me away?”
Urquart’s eyes lit in appreciation. “Mostly, it was Dreyfuss. When Sergeant Merot entered the palace the night before the Emperor’s death, he was accompanied by a man he called Dreyfuss. Two other guardsmen saw this man, but now no one can say who he was, even after viewing the security tapes. Once I connected that with Merot’s own death—especially the circumstances of his death—I began to see that there was more at work here than murder and suicide from unrequited love.”
“I don’t think it was unrequited,” Peter said. “I think Antonio du Plessis subsumed Sergei Paznowski in the same way he manipulated his sister Vinitra. He used him physically and emotionally to satisfy his own appetites and his own ego. If you really want to know, order an extensive autopsy of Paznowski’s body. There should still be traces.”
“As it happens,” Urquart said, with an eloquent lift of his brows, “Paznowski has already been cremated. It seemed best, under the circumstances.”
Apparently, Urquart had thought of everything. “I see. All right, I’ll admit you were right about Dreyfuss. There was someone else involved, but I can’t name him. Still, how did you connect that to me?”
“It was easy. At the point in time when I ordered the palace sealed, both your personal footman and your valet were out of the grounds. They both attempted to return shortly after I gave that order, and they were both subjected to interrogation as to why they were away from the palace during working hours. Both of them gave the same excuse, helping a sick friend, but like Dreyfuss, the sick friend couldn’t be found. It occurred to me that Dreyfuss and the sick friend might well be the same man. Based on that hunch, I ordered that both men should receive a dose of nempathenol, but I took the precaution of questioning them by myself.”
Peter struggled to keep his face completely neutral. It was hopeless, and the best he could hope for was to save his accomplices. “And where are Hubert and Gregorio now?”
“Why, they’re still in custody at the moment.”
“They did nothing except obey my orders,” Peter said, trying not to sound desperate. “You have no cause to hold them. They didn’t know who the man they helped was.”
“Or who Thad is?”
Peter said nothing. This was going very badly. He had thought that Paznowski’s suicide could cover any loose ends, but now it seemed that his plan had frayed around the edges.
“Quite frankly,” Urquart said, “I don’t care about the mysterious Thad. He could be the head of the combined rebel forces for all I care. Nor do I care about a valet and a footman. I don’t even care about Dreyfuss—or Alexander Napier, to use his real name.”
Peter’s jaw dropped again. Really, he needed to be more in control.
Urquart lifted one hand in a professorial gesture. “He had a guardsman’s tattoo, and you called him Alex in front of your henchmen, don’t forget.”
Peter had to give the man credit for putting it all together. There was only one thing he hadn’t explained. “How did you know that it was I who killed Antonio, and not Alex?”
Urquart smiled broadly. “I didn’t, Count—not until you admitted it just now.”
Peter smiled back but his smile had a sharp edge to it. “You have the morals of a thief and the conscience of a used skimmer salesman.”
Urquart inclined his head modestly, not at all perturbed. “Thank you. I would have thought you’d call me much worse names than that.”
Peter shifted his position in his chair. He didn’t know whether to feel hopeful or not. “What happens now, Baron?”
“Now,” Urquart said, pushing the container across the surface of his desk, “you do what has to be done.”
Peter stared at the cylinder for a moment but shook his head. “No. Charge me if you like. I still won’t do it.”
Urquart frowned. “You’re being very stubborn, Count. Is this the proud aristocrat speaking? Are you too haughty to lend your name to this scheme?”
Peter looked pointedly at the receptacle on Urquart’s desk. “It’s not just my name you’re asking for. Even if I were willing to serve as regent until a new emperor obtained his majority, I’m not comfortable with breeding a child to a purpose, as if he were a head of cattle. Nor would I allow him to be raised to some arcane standard of behavior.”
Urquart nodded approval. “You’re perfect for the job. You don’t want it—which is the primary requirement—and yet you’ll do it well.”
“No.”
“You have a young brother, I believe, in addition to your sister?”
Peter’s swelled with anger, but before he could speak, Urquart held up a hand.
“Please, Count. I’m neither threatening your brother nor making any suggestions about him. I simply want to ask you what you think he’ll be doing in five years, or ten? What will happen to young men like Ricardo Barranca if there’s no emperor to retain the people’s loyalty and hold lawlessness in check—no single center of government that’s recognized by all?”
Peter thought about it for a moment. It was true that Ricardo was already restless. Like his friends, he chafed at the future years of his education. He was eager to grow up, eager to be doing something. If Urquart had no Emperor to prop up, that something might well be supporting the cause of a du Plessis cousin. Peter leaned over and put his head in his hands.
“You’re talking as if it were all a game,” he said. “As if this child you discuss so blithely were a game piece on a board that you could move about at will. He won’t be. He’ll be a person in his own right—my son. What do I say to him when he asks me why I married his mother? When he wants to know why he was born?”
A look of suppressed triumph crossed Urquart’s face. “I don’t know, Count. But you’ll have several years to come up with an answer. Most parents manage to have one by the time they need it.”
Peter got to his feet abruptly and paced the room. If he had to do this, then he would get the best deal he could. “What about my sister? What happens to her?”
Urquart’s expression was carefully neutral. “I’m afraid we can’t let Lady Helena out immediately. If nothing else, her revolutionary ideas may make her too impatient for the pace of change as we try to make progress without bloodshed. However, I give you my word that she’ll be free within five years, providing you’re serving as regent for your son at that time.”
“And Hubert and Gregorio?”
“They’ll be released immediately with no charges filed.”
“This plan you spoke of,” Peter said, still pacing, “humane management, you said?”
“Yes.”
This sounded promising. “I can get rid of the press gangs and forced prostitution?”
“Certainly. Conscription can’t stop overnight, of course. It may never stop completely, but it should certainly be less drastic. As far as abducting young women, I see no reason for that to continue one minute longer than it has—that, or any more . . . experiments.”
Peter ran one hand through his hair and turned his back to Urquart. He had done what he could for everyone—almost everyone. “There’s one more thing. Antonio’s women. They have to be free�
��free to leave here and live where they choose, and not be shut up like nuns in some remote village.”
Urquart’s smile was positively benevolent. “Of course, Count. Was there anyone in particular you were concerned about?”
The deliberate indifference in the older man’s voice told Peter that he must know about Marie. “Yes.” He turned to face the other man. “I don’t know her last name but her first name is Marie.”
“Marie is a common name,” Urquart said, his voice still bland. “There might be more than one concubine named Marie. What does she look like?”
Peter straightened to his full height. “I haven’t the faintest idea—except that she has red hair and a mole behind her left ear.”
“Ah! Perhaps you can fantasize about her, um, features for the next few minutes,” Urquart pushed the container to the edge of his desk, “while you do your duty to the empire?”
Peter stared at it a moment longer and then he picked up the container with a sigh. There was no point in putting it off.
Baron Urquart leaned back in his chair. “I’ll wait here for you, Count,” he said, sounding almost jovial. “Do you need anything?”
“No.” Peter started for the bathroom door but his sense of humor overcame him as the absurdity of the situation hit home. A world hung in the balance, and here he was locking himself in a bathroom like a randy adolescent. “You may have a long wait. I didn’t come here in a romantic mood.”
Urquart didn’t look worried. “I have every confidence in your abilities, Count.”
Peter couldn’t hold back a laugh at this comment. “As if it were all going to be as easy as this is!”
Urquart smiled broadly back at him. “You may not think this is so easy in twenty years.”
Peter returned a mild countenance. “Oh, it won’t take me that long,” he said as he went through the door.
• • •
Madeline was in her cabin on the Queen Bee when Niels called her to tell her there was another news bulletin coming in on the com. Madeline switched it on at once.
She listened carefully, and tried to digest the news from Gaulle. Emperor Antonio du Plessis’ death was officially pronounced a murder at the hands of his senior adviser Baron Sergei Paznowski, who had then died by his own hand. The news announcer hinted tactfully at Paznowski’s motives, suggesting rather than stating that the newly created Baron hadn’t been happy in his recent marriage, as his affections were engaged elsewhere. Louis Merot’s death was also attributed to Paznowski, with even more subtle insinuations that the reason for the killing hinged on Paznowski’s emotional state.
Shades of Empire (ThreeCon) Page 38