The Final Key: Part Two of Triad (27 page)

The web was losing stability. The lines had become ragged and frayed, but still they came to Soz and still she held them, her arms stretched. The meshes wound and tangled around her, all blue and gold and white—and shrinking as the darkness expanded.

/ never flew a Jag starfighter.
The thought was soft, just for herself here in the blue, not for the Chair.
/ never visited Earth, the birthplace of my ancestors. I never loved a man.
Her life had only started. She had so much to do. She couldn't bear to die this way.

The darkness continued to expand. Black spaces were filling Kyle space. Holding the lines, she stood in an isolated bubble of light that slowly and inexorably contracted around her.

The War Room was located in the spherical hull that enclosed the Orbiter biosphere. Consoles and equipment filled its amphitheater, one of several ISC nerve centers scattered across the Imperialate. In the twenty-six years of his marriage to Roca, the Bard had come here only a few times. As he and Taquinil entered with their guards, he looked up and around. Far overhead, a command chair was suspended under a holodome like a great throne silhouetted against a star field. He knew the stars were only holos, but the panoramic view took his breath away. He felt insignificant here, in this nerve center of a military that went so far beyond the army he had commanded that he couldn't even encompass the idea of it with his mind.

People filled the amphitheater, officers working at consoles and pages hurrying on errands. Robot arms swung above the scene with console cups at their terminuses and

telops working within the cups. At the far end of the amphitheater, a dais supported an oval table large enough to seat twenty people. Officers from the Pharaoh's Army, the Imperial Fleet, and the Advance Services Corps sat there, deep in conference.

Beyond the dais, the Lock Corridor reached to infinity.

The corridor began on the far edge of the dais, flush with the raised disk. Pillars rather than walls delineated it, each column constructed from a transparent but virtually indestructible composite, as was the archway that framed the entrance. Ancient mechanisms gleamed within the pillars, moving gears and levers that flashed with lights, yet were eerily silent. The corridor stretched away from the dais until it dwindled to a point, as if it went on forever. It was part of the original station that modern Skolians had found derelict in space, a relic of the ancient Ruby Empire that had survived for five thousand years while humanity struggled out of its Dark Age.

At the table on the dais, Jazida Majda, the acting Imperator, was standing up now with her top officers, all of them facing the archway where Eldrinson was entering with Taquinil. The Bard recognized none of them, but the insignia on their uniforms marked them as generals and admirals. He and Taquinil climbed the steps to the dais. As they reached the table, everyone bowed—twenty of the most powerful war leaders in an empire honoring an illiterate farmer and a frightened seven-year-old boy.

Eldrinson kept Taquinil's hand in his, as much for his own reassurance as for his grandson, and inclined his head to the intimidating array of brass. The boy watched him, then inclined his head to the officers in the exact same manner.

Majda spoke. "You honor us with your esteemed presence, Your Majesty and Your Highness."

A ripple of amusement came from Taquinil's mind. He found the tides funny. His grip on his grandfather's hand eased. Eldrinson shielded his mind and hoped his grandson wouldn't sense how much this terrified him. He had no idea why these war leaders had summoned them, but he doubted it was anything good.

One of the admirals stepped back, a tall man with black

hair and a blue uniform. He pulled out the two chairs closest to General Majda. Eldrinson nodded formally to him, then paused for Taquinil. In the convoluted hierarchies of Skolian nobility, Eldrinson was "Majesty" because they considered him a king in his own right, try though he might to tell them otherwise. Taquinil was a "Highness" because he was a prince rather man sovereign. However, the boy was heir to the Ruby Throne, the highest tide in Skolia, so he outranked Eldrinson—and everyone else alive except the pharaoh. The First Councilor of the Assembly ruled Skolia, but even she bowed to Taquinil.

As soon as the boy sat in his chair, Eldrinson settled into the one next to him, with the boy between himself and Imperator Majda. The Imperator sat next, followed by the other officers. The Abaj took up positions around them like dark statues. Eldrinson's unease was building. What did these people want? He concentrated on Majda, but she had shielded her mind and face, and he could read neither her dark eyes nor her emotions.

"What has happened?" Eldrinson asked.

Majda answered with an eerie calm. "We have a problem."

Nausea surged within Eldrinson. "What kind of problem?"

"With the Kyle meshes." She glanced from him to Taquinil. "Can either of you sense it?"

"It is collapsing," Eldrinson said.

Taquinil spoke in a low voice. "Coming apart."

"I'm sorry." Majda sounded heavy. More lines creased her face than Eldrinson remembered, and her eyes had a parched look, as if she hadn't slept in days. "We have no functioning Kyle links here. We've sent racers to rendezvous with our forces, but communicating by starship is a slower process. We've only a diffuse sense of what is happening out there."

"Do you mean with the war?" Eldrinson asked.

A Fleet general with bronzed hair was sitting on Majda's other side. "How can you know?" he asked. "No one else does except the people on the world affected."

The world? Eldrinson rose out of his chair, his bad leg stiff under him. "ESComm attacked Lyshriol?"

"Not Lyshriol." Majda paused.

Eldrinson was suddenly aware of everyone watching bim. He took a breath to calm himself. Then he sat down. "Where?"

She spoke grimly. "Parthonia."

"My Hoshpa!" Taquinil cried. "Hoshma!"

Eldrinson laid his hand on his grandson's arm, and Taquinil looked up at him, his eyes wide.

Majda spoke to the boy as if she were treading a field of plasma mines. "We've had no reports of any harm come to either Pharaoh Dyhianna or Prince Eldrin."

Her carefully chosen words didn't fool Taquinil. "Because you have no reports at all," he said.

She answered as gentiy as was possible for the iron-willed general. "We've an idea what is happening, but nothing specific. We isolated your mother before the Kyle space meshes started to disintegrate, and we hope the failure didn't affect her. We know her ship took off in time."

"And my father?" Taquinil's gold eyes seemed huge.

"We think he is all right," Majda said.

His voice quavered. "But you don't know. For either of them."

She spoke softly. "I'm sorry. Terribly sorry."

Eldrinson gripped the arms of his chair. "What about the Assembly? They were in session."

"We had enough warning to evacuate the amphitheater," Majda said. "Our forces have destroyed the ESComm ships and secured Selei City."

Taquinil spoke in a monotone. "But not before thousands died."

Majda said, "Your Highness—"

"It's true, isn't it?" His voice broke. "They died. The beams came from the sky and annihilated them."

Eldrinson wondered if the boy's phenomenal intelligence was as much a curse as a gift. Taquinil understood only too well the meaning of his nightmares and the fragments of thought his painfully sensitive mind picked up from the people around him.

He laid his palm on the boy's arm. "It will be all right"

"No, it won't," Taquinil whispered.

Eldrinson took his hand. "I'm here."

Taquinil looked up at him, his face drawn, his eyes haunted. He managed a nod.

"I'm sorry," Majda said. "I wish I had better news."

Eldrinson regarded her. "Is the attack over?"

"At Parthonia, yes." She set her palms on the table as if to brace herself. "Their force was small, which helped them infiltrate our defenses, but it also meant they were too few to survive. It was a suicide mission. They intended to cripple the Kyle web no matter what the cost." She leaned forward. "We believe they intend to launch a larger invasion. Without the web, we may not prevail. ESComm is stronger and harsher, and now they're faster, too."

Eldrinson didn't want to believe it. "Dehya can repair the meshes. She can use the Dyad Chair at Safelanding."

Majda started to speak, then glanced at Taquinil and stopped.

"What is it?" Taquinil asked. ' The general answered with difficulty. "As far as we know, Pharaoh Dyhianna never arrived at Safelanding." She quickly added, "She might still make it. Or perhaps she is there but for some reason can't use the Dyad Chair."

"We must help her!" Taquinil said.

"Yes." Majda exhaled. "For some reason, the web is holding together. We don't know why, but we don't think it can last. We need to send a Dyad Key to fix the system, and we have to act now, while we still can. Otherwise, we will lose what remains." Grimly she added, "If that happens, we're dead."

Eldrinson understood immediately. "You need a new Key."

"Yes," Majda said. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't the one they needed to apologize to. They weren't asking him to kill his own son. "How does Roca feel about it?"

Silence. All the officers just looked at him and Taquinil. "What?" Eldrinson asked.

Majda took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "We can't put Councilor Roca into the Dyad."

The apprehension that had plagued Eldrinson for days surged. He felt clammy, then chilled inside. "Why not? She is the logical choice." The only choice.

"We believe it would kill Imperator Skolia."

That wasn't the reason. He saw it in the way they all averted their eyes, heard it in her drained voice, suspected it from the heavy shields guarding her mind. Yes, they feared Kurj would die. But in a choice between saving Kurj or the imperialate, they would choose the Imperialate.

Somehow he kept his voice calm. 'Tell me the truth."

Majda met his gaze with tired eyes. "We've lost touch with your wife's escort. They disappeared."

No. No. His nightmares couldn't be real. He had to deny the words. Refuse them. Banish them. "It can't be true."

"I'm sorry," Majda said.

Sorry. Sorry? He wanted to shout at her. Sorry didn't tell him what had happened. If the Traders had Roca, he would know. He would feel the tortures they inflicted on this woman who was the other half of his soul. If she had died, he would know. A ragged cavity would have opened in his heart

But he felt... nothing. Nothing.

He couldn't voice his fears. They went too deep, too far. It would tear apart his precarious calm. Eldrin, Dehya, and Roca had vanished, Althor and Kurj existed in a living death, and his other children were on Lyshriol, vulnerable and alone.

He struggled for composure. "Who will you put in the Dyad?"

"Who?" Taquinil echoed.

Majda regarded the boy with a look of apology. "We have a—a less prepared candidate."

The Bard couldn't believe they meant Taquinil. Less prepared was an understatement. No seven-year-old, no matter how intelligent, could operate as an effective member of the Dyad.

Then he suddenly understood. They were training another candidate. "No! Soz is too young. Too much like Dehya." Putting her in the link would kill one of them. Dehya had decades more experience, but he suspected Soz had the stronger mind. He stopped, aware of Taquinil at his side, but he saw the knowledge reflected in the boy's face. He knew what it would mean if Soz entered the powerlink. No wonder Majda wanted to apologize to him.

"We cannot put Cadet Valdoria into the Dyad." Majda had

an odd expression, as if she were on a runaway maglev train hurtling off its rail. "The cruiser where she is assigned has no access to a Lock."

"Lock?" Eldrinson had never sorted out the differences among Locks, Keys, and Dyad Chairs. Dyad members were human beings known as Keys. They used one of the three Locks to join the Dyad, and they used the seven Dyad Chairs to work with the Kyle web. But he had no real sense of what that all meant.

The man with tawny hair spoke. "What we call a 'Lock' is an anomaly where a singularity in Kyle space pierces space-time."

"My wife has told me," Eldrinson said. "One used to orbit Parthonia."

"It still does," Majda said. "It was the first installation ESComm went after when they attacked. They didn't destroy the Lock, but they severely damaged its space station. We can't use that Lock until we repair the supporting structure."

Eldrinson saw their dilemma. "And the Lock on Raylicon is too far." It would take days to reach, far too long in this crisis. Given Roca's disappearance, it could also be dangerous right now to send Rhon psions anywhere.

He tilted his head toward the Lock corridor. "You must use this one."

"So you see." Majda glanced at Taquinil, then turned back to Eldrinson. "We don't have time to bring anyone else in your family here."

Yes, he saw. Eldrinson didn't want to, but it was clear. He put his arm around Taquinil's shoulders. "The boy is too young." Surely they realized that with Taquinil's mental sensitivity, he might not survive. And if Soz's mind was too much like Dehya's, what about Taquinill Both he and his mother were geniuses with similar minds. Either Dehya would be responsible for her son's death or he would kill his own mother. No matter what happened, it would leave the survivor too shattered even to save themselves, let alone Skolia. Eldrinson shook his head. "You cannot put a child in a Dyad powerlink with his parent."

Majda's gaze never wavered. "We weren't thinking of the boy."

Her answer slid over him like water running off the table. His voice cracked. "You have no one else."

They all continued to watch him.

"No," Eldrinson rasped. "/ cannot."

"We see no other choice." The general sounded exhausted. "I am sorry, truly sorry. We don't know if you will survive. But you have a better chance than Prince Taquinil."

His pulse was racing. "If I do this and live, it will kill Dehya or Kurj." He couldn't look at Taquinil. "That would destroy our family just as thoroughly as if the Lock killed me."