Abendau's Heir (The Inheritance Trilogy Book 1) (16 page)

Lichio caught his arm. “Well?”

“Nothing,” he said.
Everything.
“Are we nearly there?”

“Another couple of corridors.”

They walked in silence, Kare’s hand clasping the tracker. This was what his mother was capable of: finding him, hunting him, removing anything that stood in the way of getting him.

Lichio stopped and knocked on a door. He stood back and fiddled with his sleeve, and Kare’s stomach jumped. When a calm voice told them to come in, he hung back, letting Lichio go first.

He followed, stopping in front of Colonel Rjala’s desk. What was she was thinking when she looked at him? Did she see the boy she knew, or his dad? He hardly knew what his own thoughts were, flitting from the hideous day she’d forced him from the base to the day he’d returned, when she’d given him a chance. She was glad someone had survived, she’d said, but did she mean it? He could read nothing from her.

“At ease,” she told them and nodded to the seats opposite. “Did you bring the tracker?”

Kare set it on her desk. She picked it up, looked closely at it, and then turned to Lichio. “Lieutenant, what do you make of this?”

“It had to be planted at the base,” Lichio said. “There’s no way they could have tracked Kare, otherwise. The platoon was isolated and I saw no evidence, at any time, of his identity becoming known.”

“The attack, are you sure it was targeted?”

Lichio paused. “I don’t see how else to view it, ma’am.”

She nodded and turned her attention to Kare. “You agree?”

“Yes.” He could barely meet her eyes, ashamed at having cost so many lives.

“What do we do with you?” she asked, and he lifted his head. “You warned us she would try to find you; perhaps it’s time for you to suggest what happens next.”

“I think you should keep me on the base,” he croaked. Her eyes remained steady and he blurted out, his voice bitter, “Either that, or hand me over and get what you can for me.”

Lichio looked at Kare, his mouth open, but Rjala didn’t show any surprise. He kept his gaze on her, telling himself it wasn’t a betrayal of Ealyn and Karia to be sitting with her. Except…she’d sent them to their deaths and he wanted her to know that. He clenched his fists, digging the nails into his hand, and told himself to calm down.

“The Empress might want you, but that won’t make us give you to her. Quite the opposite, actually– we’ll do what we can to keep you from her,” Rjala said.

They hadn’t when he was a child.
The Empress had
always
wanted them. It was just now he was old enough to be useful to the Banned. His anger faded away, replaced by a dull ache. He was an outsider here, just as much as he had been on Dignad. The last months with the platoon, he had believed he fitted in, that going to the gym and the games room, even out to the bar to drink the local piss that passed for beer, made him normal.

“Keep me here,” he said. “Have me scanned every week– I didn’t expect a tracker, not in the short time she had. Be ready. I think she’ll try to take me, rather than the base– she won’t risk losing me. I’ll be the shield you need to keep your people safe.”

His voice was dull, his thoughts equally so– it was as if he was talking about a stranger.

“You expect her to try again, then?”

“Yes, sometime. She’ll be patient, though. She’ll wait for an opportunity, not rush it. She knew I was on Corun, must have known the whole time, but waited until I made a move. Just like on Dignad– she didn’t assume I was dead, she waited. I can assure you that in the ten years I was there she did not know of me: I barely stepped out of the house; I was on no databases; I was invisible.”

“I believe you.”

“She’ll know the tracker’s been found, and she’ll expect security to be increased. It won’t be now she attacks; it’ll be when you– and I– least expect it.”

He fell silent. It was all so bloody unfair; he hadn’t asked for this and didn’t want it. If he could, he’d hand his power back and walk away, useless to anyone. Except– he turned his hands over and looked at the thin ribbon of blue on his wrist– they’d have to take his blood, too.

“A security detail?” Rjala asked.

Anything but that. He shook his head. “No. A security detail can be infiltrated, or swayed.”

“We can assign good people– they’d be vetted.”

They’d be dead.
“No.”

Even after Corun, they didn’t get how remorseless she was. He thought about trying to tell Rjala again, and stopped. What was the point?

“Ma’am, what she offers will be enough to sway anyone,” he said.

She tapped her fingers on the desk and finally nodded. “I’ll put you in the tech division; your sergeant says you have an aptitude for it,” she said. “They’re a small team; it’s easy to increase its general security.”

He sat forward; this was his chance to prove he had more to offer than his blood and his powers. That he could be valuable for himself, not his heritage.

“Ma’am, you know I was helping to improve the comms systems on Corun? Some of what I did could extend out, make a difference to our inter-space time delay. I’d really love to take that further– ”

“You misunderstand me,” she said, her voice cutting across his words. “I don’t intend for you to tell me what you’re going to work at.”

Disappointment filled him but he tried to bite it back. “Yes, ma’am.”

She must have noticed because she smiled, a slightly warmer smile. “I’m not dismissing your ideas, but if it’s good it’ll be good in a year’s time– better, in fact, more thought out.”

It was good now
. “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded. “As well as the tech team, we’ll be introducing you to some of the work Michael does.”

He tensed. “No, I’m not doing that.”

She frowned. “It’s not your choice.”

“Ma’am, I’m happy to do whatever you like in the army, anything at all, but I will
not
be trained up to be a political tool…. I’ve had all my life to think about this.” Years, cooped in the house, studying the great families, their liege planets, devouring every filche and book Marine brought home to him. “I’m not prepared to fill that role. With respect, ma’am.”

Rjala leaned forward, across the desk. “Then you’re a fool.” He pushed his chair back, and her voice whipped across to him. “Sit there; you haven’t been dismissed.” She looked at Lichio, who’d been so quiet Kare had almost forgotten he was there.

“You are dismissed, Lieutenant– you did well on Corun,” said Rjala.

Lichio stood, his eyes wide, surprised at either the dismissal or the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am.”

There was silence until he left the room and then she turned her attention back to Kare. He tried to read her, but couldn’t. He blinked: it was rare for someone to stay so hidden from him.

“Do you think it’s just the Empress who wants you?” she asked.

“Of course not; most of the great families do as well. Do you want me to list them, tell you which will want to keep me alive and which will want to kill me? I
know
all this, Colonel.”

She paused for a moment. “I think you’ve decided that if you say no, and say it loudly enough, that’s it. That if you keep refusing, no one can force you to it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He kept his voice bland, uncomfortable at how close she was coming to his thoughts.

“I suspect you’re feeling sorry for yourself, wishing it wasn’t like this.”

He swallowed and ducked his eyes from her scrutiny.

“All you’re doing is making yourself the weakest person in the game,” she said. “With only one card to play. And if that card gets taken from you, you have
nowhere
to go.” She paused. “If you choose to stay here, there will come a time when your mother may change her ambitions for you. She needs a blood heir– you don’t have to be it.”

“I’m her only– ”

“She captured your father, tortured him and destroyed his mind. She took his sperm and made you. It was, I think we’d agree, a calculating way to go about it.”

“Yes.” Their father hadn’t quite put it as bluntly as that, but he’d known his mother had created them for their power; that they weren’t born from love. It didn’t matter, though, it never had– his dad had his faults, but lack of love hadn’t been one of them. He leaned back in his chair, trying to find a way to ease the tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe properly, but nothing had felt as raw as this for years, not since he’d first reached Marine and told her what had happened.

“Then you understand you as her heir is only one option. Draining what you have and killing you is another.” He winced. “You have a choice, Kare, you can sit here like a lamb and wait for someone to use you, or you can learn how to do the using.”

“I don’t want it,” he muttered. He couldn’t face the idea that they might have died for nothing. If he played his mother’s game and stepped up to being a true heir to the empire, he may as well have been raised in the palace, Karia with him. Her death, his dad’s death, would have been for nothing.

“I didn’t want to lose my home planet and be taken in by the Banned,” said Rjala, and he sensed her anger, quickly smothered. “I didn’t especially want the Empress’ heir turning up in my army. I got it; I’ll use it. You have your name, your blood, your psyche– you need to learn what you can do with them, and stop behaving like a child.” She smiled, and it was the smile of a cat about to pounce. “Darwin le Payne was an excellent political operator– he took this group from nothing to a credible opposition. Sonly learned from him– he spent years teaching her, wanting her to follow him– and you could learn a lot from her. Michael is prepared to release her for a few hours a week to give you a share of that knowledge.”

“Why should I?”

“Because
I’d
hate to see your father’s death wasted.” He drew in a sharp breath and she must have noticed, because she nodded and went on, “Ealyn and I, we didn’t like each other; I guess you know that.”

“Yes.” It was, he reckoned, the understatement of the year.

“He thought I was obsessed with protocol; I felt he didn’t put the group first.” She waited until Kare nodded. “But I respected him. When Ferran Five– that’s where I’m from, the fire-forests– was liberated, he led the squadron that broke past the Empress’ fleet. He brought down their last cruiser but took a bad hit, defending the transporter. When they lifted him from his ship, he was half dead.”

Kare leaned forward, fascinated. His dad had never told them much about his past, only the future.

“There were only three hundred of us left by then. Out of half a million. Another day– perhaps a week– and we’d have been wiped out. The fire sprites stole heat from the people in the forests, sucked them dry in the night. We were being picked off one by one, taken from the stockades to feed their need. The army didn’t bother to chase us; they just left us in the forest to die. And we would have, except for the squadron your dad led. So, I respected your dad as a pilot. I have never met a better one, or a braver one.”

That, at least, was true. “Yes.”

“He took you so you’d have a choice, not have your mother’s will imposed on you, and you’re
wasting
that opportunity. You're alive because of the Banned support– we provided the only safety your father had for years. But the base wasn’t secure then. We were being evacuated all the time. All it would have taken was one agent getting lucky and finding out you were there, the wrong word back, and you’d have been targeted. That you are here vindicates our sending you away."

"Dad wasn't well when he left, and you knew it. He should have been supported."

"Your father refused to take anyone on that flight with him. Darwin himself offered to go but your father said if anyone was going to abandon his kids, it would be him." It sounded like his dad, all right. Her eyes softened, just a fraction. "I am sorry about what happened, just as I was then. But faced with the same choice again, I'd take it. It was the only way to ensure your safety. Anyone else on the base could have been replaced– but not you and Karia. That blood you hate is important." She leaned forward. "Being passive won’t win you anything, and it’s not what he’d have wanted. Ealyn Varnon was never passive in his life.”

Also true. There was a silence and Kare realised she was waiting for his response. “And if I don’t want to be Emperor? Do I get to refuse?”

“That’s a much smarter question,” she said. “If you don’t want to be Emperor, then you need to find a way to be something else. And you
won’t
do that by refusing to discuss it.”

Could she be right? He’d studied what he could– self-taught, in the attic of his aunt’s house, while Silom went about his normal life–
and knew at least some of what she was saying was true.

“So,” he said, looking up at her, meeting her eyes. Try being the user, that’s what she’d said. “My idea– I’d like to explore it, ma’am. If I agreed to meet up with Sonly…”

He stopped at that thought, remembering the waves of emotions Sonly sent, the connection they made with him, like they were a dart targeted at the very centre of him. Part of him wanted that connection to another so badly, he’
d risk anything. Another part of him knew it was a terrible idea, that he needed to stay distant. But, still, the memory of her touching him, her blue eyes…

“No,” Rjala said, mercifully taking his attention. “Your meeting with Sonly is for your benefit, not the group’s. Take your idea to your officer when you get to the tech squad.”

He paused, knowing– as she must– that no officer was going to look at it, not from a private who had so little experience.

“Ma’am, if I agree to meet Sonly, please let me outline it to you.”

“No, Private. It goes through the official channels.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for further protests.

“Yes, ma’am.” Her pale eyes still watched him and he found himself nodding. “I’ll meet with her. If you think it will help.”

“I think it will. We’ll take it slow,” she said. “I’ll release you for an hour a day.”

An
hour
a day. He gulped. “Yes, ma
’am.”

Taran Phelps watched out of the window of the war room, scanning over Abendau city far below. The desert air dragged at his throat, making him cough. He doubted he’d ever get used to it. He’d been based on Belaudii for five years, yet still yearned to escape the incessant heat.