Prince of Storms (15 page)

When Quinn stepped back, he had to avoid a body. A knife in his chest. The ship keeper.

“I killed him,” the guard said. “He released the funnel, hoping to kill Ji Anzi. But he only killed his navitar.”

Quinn was supporting Anzi. She stood swaying, looking dazed. He took her in his arms.

Zhiya was at the port side of the ship, gazing down where the small vortex still drilled into the river.

Anzi whispered, “Why would the navitar kill Jin Yi? She was his friend.”

“They would have killed us all. It was a trap.” Thinking how he had almost lost her, he trembled.

She pulled back, nodding. “The boy navitar. His doing.”

There was no pushing this truth away. Not any longer. “I am woven,” he said, the words bitter in his mouth.

“Best that we know,” she whispered.

“But which things are from him and which from me?”

“When I am gone, you must always ask Zhiya. Trust her judgment, my love.”

“Gone?”

“I have to go. You must know.”

He shook his head. “No. I don't know. You don't have to go.” By her expression, she was unmoved. “Have I driven you away?”

“No. But if you're woven, how can we hope to overcome him? We need
to bring the Jinda ceb Horat to our side. I am the only one who can talk to them.”

Too many blows. Quinn could not begin to think of her leaving.

“The army,” Anzi went on. “It must stay at Ahnenhoon.”

By the Miserable God, had he ordered otherwise?

A vessel rose off the port bow, streaming river matter. Ghoris had come to take them home. That was well. They were on a navitar vessel without a navitar. He took Anzi's hand, trying to hold on to her in any way that he could. For a fleeting moment he wondered if Geng De had woven this separation, too.

He wondered if he would ever again be certain one way or the other.

TO
S
TEFAN
P
OLICH'S GREAT SURPRISE
, Caitlin answered the door. The gates on her property had swung open when his driver announced him—Stefan hadn't called ahead—but he didn't expect her to answer her own front door.

“Stefan,” she said. After a brief pause, she swung wide the door, gesturing him in.

He hadn't seen her since the mess at Hanford, but they'd left each other that night on better terms than they'd been on in the past. Before that holocaust night, she'd tried to tell him that people in his company were part of an unthinkable plot. He hadn't believed her. Not until he'd seen the compound in eastern Washington where a cabal of savvies planned to cross over to the Entire and slam shut the door behind them.

They didn't want anyone following them, and to ensure this, they would have…Christ, even now, he couldn't think it. Ended the world. What they called
the transform
. Their sanitary-sounding code word for erasing the human species—or at least the less-than-savvy ones.

Caitlin led him to a study, her office at home, littered with research volumes, papers, and view screens.

Once seated, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the letter. Fingering it, he hesitated. “We've heard from Titus. You knew?”

The gravity wave message had been picked up at detectors all over the world. None of the scientific stations would know who the “Caitlin” referred to in the salutation was. But the World Alliance knew exactly who she was.

Her voice was very small. “No, I didn't know.”

“I'm sorry. I would have come earlier…” It was a delicate move, giving her the letter, a top-secret piece of intelligence—intelligence that was already
compromised, however. The World Alliance was hustling to assemble a position before word leaked out sideways that a new universe had been found, and that certain things regarding it had been under way for some time. But locked in bureaucratic impotence, the Alliance had done nothing over the last weeks. He was willing to incur some frowns to get Caitlin the letter addressed to her.

“It came by gravity wave. Apparently the best way for information transfer. So it was picked up at monitoring stations around the world. My people snatched it, of course. But if the Alliance gets around to sharing this with you, I'd appreciate it if you'd pretend you haven't seen it.”

It wasn't a condition; he just hoped she'd act surprised when the time came. He gave her the hard copy.

She read it once, quickly. Then again. The second time through, tears coursed down her cheeks.

“Are you…?” He didn't want to say all right. She wasn't all right. Her husband was dead, murdered by Lamar Gelde. She'd been in a firefight at the crossover vault at Hanford. And she had known—for about twelve hours—that she and everyone else on the planet was going to die.

“Titus is still alive,” she whispered. She gazed at the letter as though trying to see beyond the words. It was a short letter and told very little when you got right down to it. It was typical Titus Quinn—keeping the Entire to himself. Maybe the man didn't trust Earth anymore. It was difficult to find fault with that, Stefan had to admit.

After Caitlin collected herself, she said, “What are you going to do now?”

Indeed. What happened next? The baton had passed to the World Alliance. Stephan was resigned to that, even though his firm was the one that had discovered the Entire and perfected the crossover technology. He'd come to an understanding with the Alliance. It was a bit awkward that from the beginning Minerva Corporation hadn't shared its discovery, but Stefan had broken no laws. Now he'd been negotiating with EoSap and the other firms for mutually agreeable positions on sharing the new transport possibilities— if the Entire allowed it, which was still by no means certain, even though ostensibly Titus Quinn's job had been to ensure it.

Caitlin scanned the letter again. “He says the Tarig have left the Entire. Wasn't that who we would have been up against?”

“If they've abandoned the place, I take that for a good sign.”

“Will Titus come home, then?”

“I don't know. What's likely is that at least someone will go over
there
. Sooner or later the World Alliance or a rogue government of some sort will send someone over. They won't leave this in Titus's hands.”

She chewed on that for a while. “He's telling us not to send anyone. I don't suppose people will listen.”

Stefan shrugged. “Problem is, any expedition that goes over may arrive years too late to influence events as they are now. And when they come back to report, no telling what decade or century it'll be. So the time discontinuity…” He spread his hands.

She smiled, a small, wise smile. “I think that may be for the best.”

He watched her for a moment, still incredulous that she—or he himself, for that matter—had come to be in the center of this world-altering event. “You always did think that Titus could accomplish miracles.”

“He just does what he has to do.”

“Duty,” Stefan mused. “Honor. That sort of thing.”

“Yes. That sort.” She folded the paper in her lap. “Can we send messages back?”

“That's for the World Alliance to say. Don't hold your breath for action. They have no idea how to handle this. They should have left it up to us....” He snorted. “Except we did manage to botch things a bit.” He looked at her with an apology forming in his mind.

She saved him the trouble. “Stefan. You came through. At the end, you brought in help at Hanford. That was a good thing.”

“Well.” He felt a smile kink into the side of his face. “End of the world and all that.” He paused, needing like hell to make one thing clear, if it wasn't already. “I never knew about Helice's plot.”

Caitlin nodded. “I believe you.”

She glanced up as the study door opened, and Emily peeked in. Caitlin beckoned her. Behind her came Mateo, both of them somber, but looking reasonable considering what they'd been through.

“Kids, you remember your father's boss, Stefan Polich.”

They nodded politely. Emily was what? About eight, and Mateo looked
well into adolescence, standing a bit protectively by his mother. She slipped her arm around his waist.

“Are you sure you can't accept Lamar's bequest, Caitlin?” He had been a very wealthy man, but Caitlin wouldn't accept his money. Of course she had wealth of her own, including Titus's fortune, transferred to her and the children.

To his surprise her face softened at the prickly topic. “I've decided to. I'll form a trust to cover expenses of whoever comes…” She paused for the children's sake. “…comes over.”

“You think someone's coming?”

“Yes, isn't that likely? They must be curious. When Titus comes home, he won't be alone. In any case, if people come, I don't want them beholden to anyone. Not politicians, not even you, Stefan.”

He could accept that. Fair enough.

She held up the paper.

“Keep it, Caitlin.”

He had accomplished what he'd come for. All things considered, it had gone well, and he was mightily relieved. She walked him to the front door, where he turned to her.

“I've been a total son-of-a-bitch for most of my life, Caitlin. You don't get to be in my position without being one. But I'm sorry for dragging you into things.” He glanced at the study door behind which Mateo and Emily waited for their mother. “I hope you can forgive me. Someday.”

“I think I can, Stefan. In time.”

He nodded and walked down the path to the car, feeling like some of that forgiveness had already been granted.

“A 
TRIUMPH
,” C
IXI
C
ROWED
as she helped Sen Ni out of her ceremonial robes. “They adore you.”

Sen Ni slipped into a loose tunic, thrilled to have the first assembly done and successful. Each sway had sent a speaker. The Entirety was politics at a large scale, but it wasn't all new to her: Hadn't she and Riod united the fractious bands of the Inyx?

“They will be a nice, obedient council,” Cixi murmured.

Sen Ni would not argue with Cixi's cynicism just now. The success was too fresh, and amid her worries, she wanted to savor it. This Early Day the representatives of the sways had heard in detail how Titus Quinn was not the great redeemer some had hoped for. They heard, their faces darkening, how his defeat of the Tarig had only made things worse for them all.

“The master of the Ysli sway,” Cixi went on, “he in particular is ours.” She folded Sen Ni's brocaded jacket away in a chest, unaware in her excitement that she was performing a servant's task.

Sen Ni clapped. “Oh! And did you see how the mistress of Gond made furious notes in her scroll? I thought she might storm the Ascendancy that moment!”

Cixi allowed herself a tight smile. “They love you, dear girl.”

“They love the Entire.”

“Don't contradict me.”

She followed Sen Ni out onto the great veranda, joining her at the rail. “The common sort need a figurehead. You represent the Entire to them. Your loyalties are unquestioned. You gave up the Rose for them, a fine story.”

“Will they fight?”

Cixi sucked on her teeth. “If asked. If led. But let Geng De weave well, and the Roseling will destroy himself. It will be a war in the Nigh, invisible. So much more…” Her voice trailed away as she stared into the sky.

Sen Ni glanced up, seeing a dot moving high against the bright. “It's the prison ship.”

“No, a brightship,” Cixi said. “John Hastings has returned.”

Sen Ni narrowed her eyes, watching as the dot merged with the bright city. “So Titus has a brightship now.”

Cixi turned her back to the view. “He has a brightship, yes. But we have Geng De. Don't distress yourself, dear girl.”

“How many Tarig are left?”

“My spies cannot tell. Fourteen. Perhaps fewer.” Cixi murmured, “By the Miserable God, they are burning the lords. I never thought I would regret such a thing. But if the Jinda ceb refuse to take a stand, we must turn to the solitaires.”

“I can't bear them. I won't.”

“You will if there is no one else.”

Sen Ni held her gaze. “That's why the Jinda ceb Horat must come to our side.”

“If they would. But even Geng De has said the Tarig are the key.”

“I don't always agree with him, Mother.”

Cixi cocked her head. “Well, this is new.”

“I trust no one completely. I've learned that's best.”

The high prefect nodded approvingly. “You
are
my daughter.”

In the end, despite John Hastings's excessive worry about landing in the hangar, the brightship swept in as gentle and precise as a swan. And despite Quinn knowing what the ships were capable of, he was vastly relieved.

John had been shaken by the experience, walking across the hangar with a wobble in his step. But when he shook hands with Quinn, he knew he'd earned something of his honor back.

Even Tindivir was impressed. Quinn had decided that Tindivir was trying hard to conceal his own opinions; he took his role as representative very seriously, but Quinn thought he was pleased by the successful retrieval. “The brightships have no armaments,” Tindivir noted with his usual reserve.

But as both he and Quinn knew, rapid transport was itself a weapon.

In Tindivir's hut, Quinn looked into the prison ship replica. Breund and Inweer were in the prison ship—Inweer reclining in the pilot's chair, Breund attending to his altar.

After receiving the report about Inweer's pursuit of the brightship and the murders in the forest, Quinn decided to come more often to the hut to view the replica. Besides that, at the moment Anzi was packing, and he didn't want to watch.

It had been four days since Jin Yi's death, since the surreal happenings in the binds. But the images remained vivid: Geng De reaching up, working the strands hanging from Quinn's feet. The navitar Panard laying Jin Yi's distorted body on the mercurial waters. It was a display of Geng De's power that he could compel that murder, if he did. Quinn stepped uneasily through this new terrain of woven actions, distorted motivations. He himself could be compelled. It stained him, distorted his thinking. He had to learn to navigate the territory.

Looking at the replica he watched Lord Inweer, in apparent command of a tidy little fortress, with freedom to go almost anywhere. Quinn had allowed this, arranged this. But now that Inweer had not moved toward Ahnenhoon nor shed himself of his chaperone, Zhiya and Anzi thought it would be a mistake to demand that Inweer come back. It might force him to make his move if he was going to make one.

Quinn had a list in his mind of things he'd done under Geng De's influence. Among these: accepting the gift of the view spray of Johanna from Lord
Inweer. It had been a small wedge of distrust between him and Anzi. There were bound to be other things—besides the army, besides Inweer.

Zhiya argued for action against Geng De. It would mean an assault on Sydney's compound. He was torn about this. Would the Jinda ceb remain neutral if it came to force of arms? Against the day when it came to that, he had ordered Ci Dehai to assign a force of one hundred soldiers—those whose reliability was most certain—to join him at the Ascendancy.

He felt himself split down the middle—half of him unreliable, half of him true. And now Anzi, his surest test against corruption, was leaving.

Tindivir folded the replica and with a little push sent it up the wall to the forma cluster.

Quinn watched Tindivir, wondering for the first time if the Jinda ceb might not be a focus of Geng De's control. He could understand their desire to remain aloof; but perhaps they were subject to a push here or there. Rising to leave, he said, “Do you ever think, Tindivir, that Manifest is acting strangely?”

After a long pause, Tindivir said, “To one such as myself, that is a most curious question.”

Well, everyone denied that they were coerced. The one influenced was the last one to know. “Never mind, Tindivir. My thoughts wander.”

“Watch over him, Suzong,” Anzi said, bowing a last time to the high prefect. “He needs all his friends close about him now.”

“I could wish that he watched over
me
.” Suzong swept her gaze around the audience chamber, where servants and legates lurked on the sidelines. She kept her voice low. “I sit at the top of the Magisterium, but under me, the ants tunnel. I would not last a day without Titus Quinn.”

“They are loyal to him, you think?”

“He is a great immortal to them. Sen Ni may have the right on her side, but it is Titus who thrills the imagination.” She saw Anzi's doubt. “You are too close to him, my dear. He sent the Tarig home. That alone makes him a god. They are in awe of him, and the sooner he starts using that power, the better.”

“How, Aunt?”

She snorted. “I have told him so many times. Arrest Geng De. Go down there and pull him off his ship, and the daughter, as well. The Entire cannot have two monarchs.”

“He will not move against his daughter.”

Suzong half smiled, half sneered. “Indeed not.”

Titus would use force against Sen Ni only as a last resort. Though he acknowledged Geng De's mental incursions, at the same time they were unreal to him. It would take a mighty provocation for him to launch an assault against Sen Ni. And then, it would break his heart.

Anzi bowed to take her leave.

Suzong stood up from her chair of office. “Go, and may God not notice you. The Jinda ceb will succumb to your charm. Everyone does.”

As Anzi exited the great doors of the chamber, a delegation passed her on its way to the Dragon Court. She paused, letting them pass. Anzi saw on the back of a rich gown the icon of the mythical, many-legged river walker. The subprefect.

Mei Ing turned to her. She smiled sweetly and gave a graceful tilt of her head to show respect to the regent's wife. The moment's eye contact electrified Anzi. Mei Ing's eyes, astonishing. Her face, striking and lovely. Mei Ing disappeared through the doors.

Anzi wished she had worn something other than her plain black silks to the audience. Mei Ing was famous for her beauty, of course, but such things had never mattered to Anzi. She wondered greatly that it seemed to now.

She stood in their quarters by her satchel, packed with the few clothes she would need.