Of Fire and Night (18 page)

43

ANTON COLICOS

A
nton looked up from his scrutiny of dusty diamondfilm sheets in the vaults beneath the Prism Palace. “These stories are so vague! I wouldn’t put much credence in old folktales.”

Vao’sh would not be swayed. “The Mage-Imperator gave me an assignment to find any information about the ancient war with the hydrogues, especially tales of a supposed alliance between Ildirans and faeros. This is where we must look.” The expressive lobes on his face flushed with color. “There will be more in the stockpile of ancient records on Hyrillka. I hope they were not damaged in the recent revolt—I wish you could go with me.”

“Me too, but nobody will let me out of Mijistra.” He still didn’t have any explanations.

Flanked by her Isix cats, Yazra’h approached the two storytellers deep in the subterranean tunnels. Recently, she’d been childishly entertained by Anton’s traditional Earth stories, though she often asked odd questions. “If Little Red Riding Hood was going through dark and dangerous woods, why did she not carry a weapon in her basket?” Or, “If Goldilocks knew she was trespassing in the home of the three bears, should she not have remained more alert when she chose to sleep in their beds? Should she not have set a guard to watch over her?” When Yazra’h complained about so many weak female children, Anton finally delighted her with stories of Amazon warrior women, Queen Boudicca, and even the historical comic book character Wonder Woman.

When the three Isix cats glided forward to sniff Anton’s fingers, he absently scratched the head of the nearest cat, and the other two came forward for their share of attention. Yazra’h was always astonished by her deadly pets’ behavior around him, though Anton wasn’t. “A cat is a scholar’s best friend. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent translating epics with a cat curled on my lap. It helps concentration, you know.”

Yazra’h frowned at her Isix cats as if disappointed in them. The animals blinked up at her, but did not move away from Anton’s scratching fingers. “It seems they approve of you. We should spend more time together.”

Anton suddenly felt intimidated by Yazra’h’s lithe beauty, her strength, her confidence. “Uh, normally I only talk with shy academics.”

She flexed her arms. “You have shown me your stories. I invite you now to exercise with me on a combat field.” She cocked her eyebrows. “It is my way of returning the favor.”

He laughed. “I prefer enjoying great battles vicariously. I already did my heroic deed on Maratha. That’s quite enough for a simple historian.”

“As you wish,” she said. “Then you can come and watch me.”

As she led him through the training grounds, the clamor was deafening. Anton stuck close beside the bronzed woman, who seemed anything but threatened by the howling, bone-jarring crashes. Instead, Yazra’h reveled in the sights, the sweat, the excitement. Her cats prowled along beside them, ranging afield, sniffing at the muscular fighters, but always coming back to her.

“I love to watch combat.” Her voice was warm with approval. “Each soldier has the same training but slightly different skills. Thus, each match is unpredictable.”

Two heavily armored guards clashed crystal katanas against each other. They moved in a choreographed dance, parrying edges with edges, straining, grunting. Blood splattered from a thousand shallow cuts and injuries, but the fighters hardly seemed to notice.

Anton winced. “And you . . . spend your free time training here?”

“I have defeated many of these men myself, though only half of my blood comes from the soldier kith.”

“I hope you don’t ever want to fight with me! I’ve got nothing to prove. You’d defeat me—and that’s an understatement.”

She smiled down at him with genuine amusement. “That would be a most unfair match, Rememberer Anton. If we should encounter great peril, I would use my strength to defend
you
.” Her lips quirked upward. “Afterward, you could use your talents to tell tales of my prowess. That would please me.”

“It’s a deal.”

Out in the open field, Ildirans hurled themselves against each other with great gusto. They let out bestial howls as they fought with sheer fury, hammering at each other with heavy clubs and slender, mirrored blades.

Anton wondered why the Ildiran military spent so much time preparing for ground combat. A standing army? Were these soldiers anticipating a fight that Anton didn’t know about? Against whom? Even these armored warriors could not possibly stand against
hydrogues
. Who else might they be pitted against? Klikiss robots? He hoped they’d go after some payback, considering what the black monstrosities had done to his companions on Maratha.

In a packed-clay arena, movable mirrors were set up against the low walls. Riders in polished armor sat astride lizardlike creatures, carrying laser lances that they fired at their opponents’ half-reflective shields.

“One day I will take you to an Ildiran jousting match,” Yazra’h said. “It is our greatest sport. You will enjoy it.”

Anton watched the sluggish beasts, saw the riders jabbing their lances in a confusing play of mirrors and shields. “I’ve never been much of a sports fan.”

“Nevertheless, you will enjoy Ildiran jousting.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re giving me any choice in the matter.”

“I am not.”

As the two of them walked among the combatants, he wondered if Yazra’h was walking with him because she enjoyed his company, or if she had been ordered to keep an eye on him. The Ildirans still pretended he was a welcome guest in the Prism Palace, but the atmosphere was much different from when he had first arrived to study the
Saga
. Now he held plenty of suspicions that something unpleasant was going on, something they did not want him to know.

On impulse he looked at Yazra’h’s exotic face as she led him from the jousting arena. “Would you like to hear a story?”

“Is it a dramatic one with brave heroes and many fallen enemies?”

“No. It’s one about ambition and consequences, the cautionary tale of a man named Faust.” He described, as best he remembered, Goethe’s epic tale of a man’s downfall, how Faust had agreed to sacrifice his soul to the devil in exchange for perfect happiness, and even then had spent his life searching for what he desired. Faust had gotten exactly what he wanted, only to discover that his wants had changed. The price of his bargain had nearly destroyed him.

Yazra’h appeared troubled. “I did not care for that story. The man Faust made a poor choice and then complained about the terms he had accepted. He was without honor.”

“Sometimes the bargain itself is without honor,” Anton pointed out. “Faust was damned from the moment he was
offered
the choice. From that point on, given who he was, he had no option.”

“He should never have asked for the choice to begin with.” For Yazra’h, every decision was clear-cut, black and white. She turned her attention to a particularly furious battle between two huge soldiers. Like giant fighting machines, they pounded each other, barely bothering to parry or dodge, each simply trying to overwhelm his opponent with brute strength and persistence.

“Yazra’h,” Anton finally asked, “all those hydrogue warglobes that came to Ildira. They left without firing a single shot. What’s going on?” She fixed her gaze on the two dueling soldiers, no longer the least bit flirtatious. “Are you just going to give me the silent treatment? If I’m stuck here, don’t I have the right to know?”

“The Mage-Imperator decides what we should know. It is not for me to say.” Then, as the interminable clash continued, she tried to discuss the nuances of fighting technique, as if she thought he could be distracted so easily. She never answered his question, which in itself was enough of an answer.

44

MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H

W
hen Yazra’h found him on the high, glittering rooftop of the Prism Palace, Jora’h thought his daughter intended to scold him for standing in the open unguarded. But he was confident the hydrogues wouldn’t come back to destroy him—not yet. The deep-core aliens had far more insidious plans.

He gestured her forward as he stared at the sweeping geometric skyline of his grand city. “I came up here to be by myself because I am troubled.”

He glanced over the edge to the drop far, far below to the spot where the potted treeling had shattered on the interlocked paving stones. Scurrying servant kithmen had scoured away every last speck so no one could see the mark, but for Jora’h the stain was still there. It would always be there. The very thought of what he had done filled Jora’h with revulsion. He knew what Nira would think, if he ever did manage to bring her back to the Prism Palace.
The things I have done . . . and the things I may still have to do
.

Yazra’h came to stand beside him. When he saw her expression, he knew that she had different concerns. “Father—Liege—I must speak with you. I need to make a request.” He could not remember when she had ever asked anything of him. “I do not question the wisdom of keeping certain information from the human government, but neither can I forget that their skyminers helped so many Ildirans. I was there. I was proud of them.”

Jora’h nodded. “Sullivan Gold and his companions do not deserve what we have done to them. We should be allies. We should trust them.” A stern frown crossed his face. “However, we cannot. They have seen things the rest of humanity cannot know.” He thought of the Dobro breeding program and the long-imprisoned descendants of the
Burton
. “And there are other secrets that would make the humans turn their military might against us.”

She stiffened, automatically on guard and full of bravado. “We could still defeat them, Liege.”

“I do not wish to fight them at all!”

“Then what are we to do with the humans you keep here? Blindfold them and lock them up? Kill them?”

“No!”

Her eyes were golden and intense, her face strong with determination. “Or tell them the truth?”

He lowered his voice, though no one else was near them. “If my experts do not find a way to fight the hydrogues, I may have no choice but to betray the humans, Yazra’h. Do I explain that to them and still hope they understand?”

Her brow furrowed. “Father, if you let the humans help you, they may improve our chances of winning against the hydrogues.”

He had not considered that. She continued in a rush. “For instance, the human rememberer Anton Colicos came here as a scholar. He is only interested in the
Saga of Seven Suns
. I have never seen a man so oblivious to politics. Yet even
he
suspects something bad is going to happen here. He has asked me troubling questions.”

Jora’h’s expression softened. He had seen his fearless daughter’s unexpected flicker of affection for the bookish human. “And what would you ask me to do, daughter?”

“Give him something else to see. On your orders, Rememberer Vao’sh faces the enormous task of studying the apocryphal archives for clues. Why not let the human scholar assist him on Hyrillka? Send Anton Colicos with him far from here, where he will not observe what you wish to keep hidden!”

“Yes, that is a very good idea.” Jora’h sighed with genuine relief. This was a decision he could make without losing more honor. “I made plans and promises when I departed Hyrillka in the aftermath of Rusa’h’s rebellion. Tal O’nh is leading the rescue and rebuilding mission, and young Designate Ridek’h needs to be about his duties at last.”

Yazra’h stood at attention. “Ridek’h is still only a boy, but even a boy Designate is better than none at all. The people of Hyrillka are guilt-ridden and wounded. They need him there.”

Knowing it was not logical, but certain this was what he wished to do, Jora’h said, “And Ridek’h needs
you,
Yazra’h. As my daughter, you will never be a Designate, but you have the knowledge and strength of character. Go with the boy as adviser, protector, and mentor—and also watch this human rememberer to keep him out of trouble.”

“But my place is at the Mage-Imperator’s side, to protect you!”

“You cannot protect me against the dangers I face.”

She looked extremely uncomfortable. “Cannot Tal O’nh be Ridek’h’s teacher and guide?”

He shook his head. “The tal is a military commander and can offer his strength, but a Designate needs more than that. Ridek’h is the son of Pery’h. He has enough potential.”

Yazra’h left, troubled but not quite successful in hiding her smile. The Mage-Imperator remained on the rooftop, deep in thought, knowing the hydrogues would come back before long to deliver their commands. He could only hope that before then, Adar Zan’nh and Ildira’s best minds could solve the much greater challenge.

45

ADAR ZAN’NH

T
he Ildiran technical teams did not lack for manpower or resources. Every possible laboratory facility was made available to them, and they conducted experiments, refined calculations, and improved their traditional weapons. Unfortunately, after ten thousand years of malaise and stagnation, the scientist and engineer kithmen were no longer capable of true innovation.

“We have increased our destructive power by nearly five percent, Adar.” Klie’f and Shir’of seemed pleased with the result.

Zan’nh scowled. “Five percent? The Mage-Imperator demanded breakthroughs, not more of the same thing we have used for centuries. You need
new
thoughts, not better versions of old ones.”

Klie’f raised his hands helplessly. “We do not understand, Adar.”

“It is clear you do not. Five percent, against an extermination force of diamond warglobes? The hydrogues will not even notice the difference.”

As a young tal, Zan’nh had been promoted by Adar Kori’nh because he solved crises in ways that other Ildirans could not imagine. He had won simulated battles with tricky maneuvers and unconventional tactics, no matter how much he incensed the older officers.

Zan’nh turned away in disappointment. The Solar Navy needed something entirely unexpected, and for that he could not look to unimaginative researchers.

Finally, he pushed aside his reluctance. The Mage-Imperator had told him to try anything, and Zan’nh would solicit ideas from an unlikely source.

The balding administrator of the Hansa cloud harvester faced him indignantly. “You’ve got to be kidding. After all
this,
you want us to help you?” He rolled his eyes, looking at his sharp-featured engineering chief, Tabitha Huck.

“That’s a switch!” she said. “I’ve been bored silly.”

Zan’nh had first met Sullivan Gold when his warliners encountered the trespassing cloud harvester at Qronha 3. Typically oblivious, the Hansa manager had been surprised that Ildirans would take offense just because humans had placed an industrial facility on a planet that did not belong to them.

He crossed his arms and regarded them both. “Like your Terran Hanseatic League, our Ildiran Empire faces imminent destruction from the hydrogues. The Mage-Imperator has commanded our Solar Navy to develop innovative weapons against them. We have made only minor progress, and time is running out. Therefore, I request your assistance. My people cannot do this alone.”

“The terms ‘Ildiran’ and ‘innovation’ aren’t usually used in the same sentence.” Tabitha’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Zan’nh allowed a small smile. “That is exactly the point. Our civilization reached the pinnacle of achievement centuries ago. Our people no longer develop radical new concepts. Culturally, such things are frowned upon.”

Tabitha clearly had little respect for her Ildiran counterparts. “And now that you need a new idea, nobody can come up with one to save his life.”

“To save all our lives,” Zan’nh pointed out. “My people have never been
trained
to think along unorthodox lines. Humans, however, are well versed in this.”

“Damn right,” Tabitha said.

Sullivan’s voice was like iron. “Before we do anything for you, I need you to tell us what’s going on. What was your mysterious mission to Qronha 3 with that little girl and her diving bell chamber? What’s the real story behind all those warglobes that appeared over Ildira?”

The Adar considered his instructions and the new leeway the Mage-Imperator had given him. No more secrets! Conceding, Zan’nh explained the situation, including the looming hydrogue threat and why Jora’h had needed to keep the humans isolated.

“What the hell!” Tabitha cried. Sullivan looked dizzy.

“Unless you help us find a way to defeat the hydrogues, we will have no choice but to give in to their ultimatum. We have no wish to see humans exterminated. Therefore, it is in your best interests to help us. I want—” He caught himself. “Sullivan Gold, I would very much appreciate it if you and your human workers assisted us.”

Sullivan’s anguish was clear. “Why didn’t you just ask in the first place?”

Zan’nh lowered his head. “Previously, our priorities were . . . incorrect.”

Tabitha’s eyes went wide. “Did you just admit you were
wrong
?” She tossed her light brown hair. “You don’t have to twist my arm to cause heartburn for the drogues. I’m tired of staring out the windows all day long. Remember, I used to be an EDF weapons designer before I came to work on the cloud harvester. I helped create the initial fraks and carbon-carbon slammers. I still have a lot of basic designs in my head, but our weapons weren’t terribly effective against the warglobes either.” She paced restlessly. “The question is, what can I do that hasn’t been done before?”

“Precisely,” Zan’nh said. “We are searching for innovation.”

Sullivan laced his big-knuckled fingers together and faced the Adar. “If we agree to help you, there’s got to be some measure of trust. And afterward, you have to let us go home.”

“Sullivan Gold, if we do not defeat the hydrogues now, none of us will have a home to return to.”