The Far Shores (The Central Series) (4 page)

“I have no plans to
depend on barriers or secrecy,” Gaul said frankly, allowing a little of his dislike
for the fastidious man to come through in his voice. “I plan on negating
threats proactively, before they can approach Central. I plan on disposing of our
enemies entirely, before they can commit any actual harm.”

That caused a stir. He
pressed his advantage.

“We will need new
Auditors, of course. The original complement and more, to do what needs to be
done, to provide the effort with sufficient soldiers.”

“You intend to create a
private army!”

Miss Luna, of the Oaxaca
Cartel. Shrill as always.

“Recruitment powers will
be transferred from the Board directly to the Chief Auditor, to avoid any
possibility of outside interference in the selection. Also, the ban on cartel members
serving as Auditors will be removed, to further negate the possibility of
bias.”

“Your emergency
powers...will they extend to intercartel conflict?”

Anastasia Martynova’s
question sounded innocent enough. It was hard to find her menacing, perched
beside her father like an attentive schoolgirl, but Gaul knew the truth. If he
failed to convince the younger Martynova, the entire effort was doomed.

Which is why he had met with
her earlier, and acceded to a variety of demands in order to secure her support.
One of two very risky steps Gaul had taken to ensure the passage of the act. He
tried not to focus on the potential cost of these actions.

“Unfortunately, no.” Gaul
shook his head sadly at the concession. “The purview of the expanded powers
pertains to matters related to the Anathema only.”

“This is too much power
for any man,” North objected. Gaul wondered cynically if he would say the same,
if the powers were intended for his use. “I share Miss Luna’s apprehension.”

“The Chief Auditor’s purview
will be expanded,” Gaul said heavily, knowing the awful potential futures he had
created, simply by saying the words, “to include any and all matters regarding
Central. Including the Director’s. An Audit will be undertaken,” he said,
speaking over the sudden muttering that filled the room, “of the fitness of my
actions to this point. It will continue as the situation progresses. If, at any
time, the Chief Auditor requests it, I will step down.”

No one, it appeared, had
anything to say to that.

“Naturally,” Gaul added
pleasantly, “I will need an expanded budget...”

“The Academy,” Miss Luna
said, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t intend to continue to militarize a school
after the loss of so many students?”

Her criticism was valid,
and that stung. Of all the morally dubious steps he had taken, putting the
students in harm’s way had been the most regrettable necessity.

“Arrangements have been
made,” Gaul said reassuringly. “The Audits department, along with all students
currently enrolled in advanced combat training, will be removed to a separate
and secure facility.”

“An intriguing
proposal,” Lord North allowed. “Pending further review, sir, I believe...”

“...that you have
thought of everything, Director,” Anastasia Martynova said smoothly. “What more
is there to consider? The Black Sun is ready to vote, per my father’s wishes.”

Josef Martynova looked
as surprised as anyone to discover that information, but he confirmed it with a
grudging nod nonetheless.

“Very well. We have
received a
motion from Josef Martynova to bring the Emergency
Powers Act to a vote. Is there a second?”

Rebecca Levy could have
spoken here, using the seat she held in the Committee, a relic from the
otherwise exterminated cartel who had adopted her before she joined Audits –
but Gaul preferred not to second his own motions. Particularly not when he
could see the disarray and blatant distress on the Hegemony side of the aisle,
as room was reluctantly created for a very unexpected group of late arrivals.

Well, unexpected by most.
Gaul had signed the pardons himself the previous day, so it hardly came as a
surprise to him.

“The Thule Cartel will
second the motion,” Lóa Thule stated firmly, still waiting for the Milla Cartel
to cede enough chairs for her to take a seat. It had been four years since he
had seen her last, but the time had done nothing to diminish her beauty, amber-toned
hair in tight curls bordered by the Weir-fur fringe of her coat. “Gladly.”

Brennan Thule, standing
beside her with an overcoat draped across his arm, confirmed it with a curt nod
and the ghost of a smile.

Lord North was turned
all the way around in his chair, mouth slightly ajar in what was probably, for
him, an expression of utter shock.

“Impossible,” Lord Cartier
sputtered, his broad face reddening with outrage. “The Thule Cartel’s voting
privileges were stripped when they were expelled from Central…”

“A situation always
intended to be temporary. A learning experience, as it were,” Gaul said grimly.
Allowing the return of the Thule Cartel was a trump card that he would rather
not have played. While it might carry him through this encounter, his
precognition also warned him of the consequences of their return – not to
mention the personal implications. Another worry, grist for the marvelous
multitasking engine that was his nanite-engineered mind. “The Audit regarding
the actions of the Thule Cartel was completed last month. Chief Auditor Gallow
gave their return her seal of approval. I reinstated their cartel into the Committee-at-Large,
along with full voting privileges, earlier today.”

“This is outrageous!” Lord
Cartier bellowed. “A blatant manipulation of our system of governance!”

“Indeed,” Miss Luna
agreed, pausing to glare at Lóa Thule before shrugging her elegant shoulders.
“It makes no difference, though, Director. Hold your vote. I believe that the
results may surprise you.”

One precognitive to
another. Normally Gaul would have heeded a warning like that, particularly after
she snuck an unsubtle glance in Josef Martynova’s direction. But Gaul wasn’t
entirely out of cards.

“Very well. Will those
who are in favor of the adoption of the Emergency Powers Act, along with all that
it entails, please register their support?”

A flickering of hands
throughout the Hegemony section, pockets of debt and resistance. The core of
which, of course, formed around the newly returned Thule Cartel, immediately
attracting the support of erstwhile allies. It was far from enough – no more
than one in eight. Gaul saw satisfaction in North and Luna’s faces as he turned
to the Black Sun half of the room.

He knew that Lord North
had cut a deal with Josef Martynova to withhold further support to the
administration, without significant concessions of authority from the Director
and the Board to the Committee-at-Large. Gaul was aware of the resentment that
the elder Martynova held toward him, not to mention their mutual personal
animosity. Despite his daughter’s long shadow, Josef Martynova still held sway
over a significant minority of the Black Sun, those subsidiary cartels fearful
of Anastasia Martynova’s unprecedented rise to power. Combined with the
loyalist faction of the Hegemony, they would constitute a safe majority. But
the Hegemony didn’t understand the Black Sun the way Gaul did.

When they wanted favors
from their enemies, the Hegemony went straight to the top. Gaul, on the other
hand, had gone looking for a cunning little girl in an expensive Victorian-era
reproduction dress.

Anastasia Martynova
stood casually behind her father, one hand resting affectionately on his
shoulder, the other raised to indicate her support. Around her, hands from the
Black Sun rose in rapidly increasing circles around the girl in black lace and
ribbons, until the vote on their side of the aisle was near unanimous.

Josef Martynova’s hand
was among the last to go up. He did an admirable job of hiding his bitterness.

“Fifty-eight percent for
the motion,” Gaul said, relaying the total his implant had calculated. “Now, for
the vote opposing…”

“No need, sir,” Lord North
said airily, dismissing Gaul’s motion with a wave of his hand. “You have your
war powers, Director. I hope that they prove worth the price we have paid.”

On that much, both of
them could agree.

***

He opened the door, and then stood
there, struck dumb, holding his breath without even realizing it. The room
smelled of the ocean, and the interior was cooler than the air outside by small
but noticeable measure. Water ran down the sheets in rivulets, pooling beside
the bed on the floor around her bare feet. A faint green phosphorescence hung
in the air around Emily, clinging to her damp skin like the clothes she was not
wearing. She had drawn a blanket across her lap to cover the most pertinent
areas.

Vivik held on to the
door frame until he was certain that he wouldn’t fall over, then he closed it
quietly behind him. Locking a door was a meaningless gesture in the Academy,
but he did it anyway.

Then he crossed the
space between them and found himself wrapped around her waist, his head in her
lap. She gently removed his turban, her hands stroking his exposed hair.

“I like being able to
see your hair,” Emily whispered, her eyes a disconcerting sea-green. “I never
knew it was so long.”

“I don’t cut it. It’s a
religious thing.”

“I know,” she affirmed,
saltwater dripping from her fingertips. “You have really amazing hair, Vivik.
It’s a waste to keep it hidden.”

Vivik sat up suddenly
and grabbed Emily by her bare, wet shoulders. Then, to his utter astonishment,
he kissed her, brushing her cold lips momentarily with his own. The gesture was
brief and chaste, but Vivik was still overcome with immediate embarrassment.
Emily didn’t seem upset, though, her fingers running thoughtfully across her
moist lips, behind that a playful smile.

“I got your note,” Vivik
managed, unable to face the smile on the bluish lips he had just kissed. “I
wasn’t sure it was actually from you. I wasn’t sure you’d really come.”

“I was surprised that
you still wanted to talk to me,” Emily said, putting her hand on his cheek. Her
nails, she noticed, were painted the same green hue as the phosphorescence that
surrounded her. “I was worried that you might see me as an enemy…”

Vivik tried to pull
himself away, the pain obvious in his eyes, but Emily held on to him with a
gentle persistence that won out. As she ran her damp fingers along his forehead
and through his hair, his concerns began to dissipate.

“I’m not betraying him,
and I’m not betraying Central, so don’t even bother asking,” Vivik said, sounding
very tired. “I won’t be a tool the Anathema use to hurt my friends.”

Emily maneuvered his
head back into her lap. Her thigh beneath the blanket he lay on was tanned and
warm, and when his lips brushed against her skin, he tasted salt. He closed his
eyes while she rubbed her thumbs patiently against the base of his neck until
he lay, utterly peaceful and unselfconscious, thinking about nothing but the
benign face of the girl above him.

“That’s okay,” Emily
said simply, patting his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything like that,
anyway. But you don’t need to worry. I have no sinister intentions toward you,
Alex, or the Academy. It is however you say it is. But, Vivik dear, why did you
help me to come back, if you do not trust my intentions?”

“I had to,” Vivik said
miserably. “Otherwise, I would have never seen you again.”

***

Anastasia dismissed her staff one at
a time, dispatching them on errands or allowing them to return home after a
long day. Patience was key, but it was more difficult than she had expected to
sit at the desk in the office maintained for her at the Great Hall in the heart
of Central, watching the evening become night. The ancient building slowly grew
quiet around her. The rest of the Committee-at-Large had long departed before
she considered leaving her desk.

She invented a sudden
need for information on current events near the covert shipping lanes in the Gulf
of Mexico around eight in the evening that sent the last of her secretaries
scurrying for the archives. When she finally announced her intention to return
home, only Timor and Svetlana remained to hear her say it.

There were few people
left in the Great Hall to watch them depart, but she was certain that the
proper individuals were still present to bear witness.

Anastasia waited until
they had made it to the sidewalk, an armored Mercedes purring quietly in the
street beside them, crediting herself with remarkable patience. Then she pushed
Timor gently into the door he was holding open for her.

“You two take the car,”
she commanded, doing her best to look the childish tyrant she had never been.
“The night is nice. I believe that I will walk.”

Timor’s eyes widened in
practiced shock. It looked laughable to her, but it would probably fool a
distant observer.

“But, Ana...surely, you can’t...”

“I can,” Anastasia
confirmed, urging Svetlana into the car behind him. “I am perfectly safe in
Central without a bodyguard, Timor, don’t you think? After all,” she said,
almost cracking a smile, “we are among friends. And I have much to consider.”