The Moon's Shadow (33 page)

Robert felt as if he were prey being stalked by a sleek, deadly gemcat. “Your dedication to your work blesses the empire.”

“Well, yes, it does, doesn’t it?” She scrutinized him. “As does yours.”

“You are most generous.”

“I am indeed.” She took another swallow of wine. “Your father has talent.”

“It is kind of you to say so.”

She paused. “Perhaps a public exhibit could be arranged for him in the gallery.”

Even knowing she was softening him up for whatever she wanted, Robert couldn’t help his surge of excitement. A public exhibit at the Qox imperial palace—the number of artists offered that honor was astronomically small. Even if his father had realized a successful career on Earth, he could never have hoped for such an achievement. Word of his brilliance would spread everywhere, even among the Skolians and Allieds.

With a mental wrench, Robert halted his wild imaginings. If he angered the emperor by letting the empress talk him into some ill-advised scheme, it would backfire on his father, who was here only on the good graces of Jaibriol III.

Good graces.
It was true. Jaibriol III had a grace of heart. Years ago Robert had begun his job at the palace determined to avoid mistakes and advance himself, and he had never lost sight of that purpose, but since the ascension of Jaibriol III to the throne, Robert’s dedication had grown into more. He gave his fealty to Jaibriol for more reason than because it was expected. The young emperor had a goodness Robert had never associated with Hightons, for all that he acknowledged their power.

“You are indeed generous.” This time, Robert put only enough warmth into his tone to express gratitude without appearing eager.

“Perhaps I speak too soon.” Tarquine held up her goblet to the sun, making the wine sparkle. “If the emperor dies, my interest in art will likely vanish.”

Gods. Where had that come from? “His Exalted Highness will live a long and glorious life.”

“Yes, well, we all hope so.” She lowered her glass. “If my exalted husband isn’t careful, he won’t survive the year.”

Robert felt as if he were walking through a minefield. “Your Most Glorious Highness, please be assured that the well-being of your husband is my highest concern. I will do my utmost to make certain it continues.”

She spoke dryly. “I wish the same could be said of him.”

Robert had to admit she had a point. Jaibriol III, in the uncommon decency that motivated his life, rarely operated in his own best interest. “His Highness sets a high standard for himself.”

“His Highness is woefully idealistic.” Tarquine put her goblet on the table. “Have you sent the order he gave you yesterday evening, refusing the pardon for Lord Raziquon?”

“It is in process.” Robert set down the wine he hadn’t touched. He knew now what the empress wanted. He even knew it would be better for Jaibriol. But he couldn’t “forget” to send the order rescinding Raziquon’s pardon. It would be a betrayal of the emperor.

Tarquine rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, her posture a study in regal carriage. “We both want what is best for His Highness.”

“More than anything else.”

“Reason exists to believe the Line of Raziquon was involved with the first assassination attempt.”

“I hadn’t realized new evidence had come to light.”

Tarquine waved her hand, dismissing his words.

Robert didn’t doubt she had good sources or that they gave her reason to believe Raziquon’s kin had plotted to kill Jaibriol. But if her evidence could have held up in court, an accusation would have been made. He hated the position she was putting him in. If the emperor rescinded Raziquon’s pardon, he would further incite the Line of Raziquon and aggravate the crumbling relations between ESComm and the palace. Jaibriol had already released Jafe Maccar, the Skolian captain, and now he intended to return Jacques Ardoise to Earth. Refusing to free Lord Raziquon would be the final outrage.

Robert knew if he “mislaid” the order rescinding the pardon, allowing Raziquon to go free, it would be nearly impossible for Jaibriol to put the Highton lord back in prison. The emperor would lose face if he declared he had made a mistake by freeing Raziquon. It would be a debacle. But if Robert did what the empress wanted, he would incur the wrath of the person he most respected. Jaibriol wasn’t likely to put him to death, and if Tarquine intervened Robert might not even suffer consequences. But Jaibriol would never trust him again. Robert valued that trust, deeply, even more than he had realized until now, when he contemplated its loss.

He spoke wearily. “The decision of what is best for those that we love is not ours to make.”

“Sometimes we make it ours,” Tarquine said.

Robert knew what he had to do. He hated it, but he knew. “It is odd,” he said, his voice low. “I thought I had new orders regarding the pardon of Raziquon, but apparently not.”

She said simply, “Thank you.”

Don’t thank me.
He would have to live knowing he had betrayed the one emperor who actually deserved his loyalty.

C
orbal found Sunrise curled in a fetal position, buried in the cushions on the floor of her favorite room. Seeing her shoulders shaking, he crouched next to her. “Suni? Why do you cry?”

She raised her face, her cheeks wet. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to sadden you.”

He took her hand. “You must forget Raziquon.”

She clung to his fingers. “I had to remember.”

He tried to read her face. It was
too
lovely, sculpted to his specifications, forever set in beauty, which made it hard to discern her true expressions. “What do you mean?”

“What Raziquon ‘thought,’ about his platinum mines—I—it was all there, I just—” Her voice caught. “I didn’t want to remember.”

He settled next to her, rubbing his hand along her arm. “Then don’t.”

“I already did.”

Then she told him what she had learned—and destroyed his carefully planned revenge.

The second time Kaliga awoke, he was less disoriented. Stronger now, he sat up slowly, looking around. This was a room for an honored guest, blue and white, with gilt trim. Again, Tarquine Iquar was seated beside his bed, with a holobook in her lap.

The empress set down her book. “My greetings, Admiral.”

“You honor me, Your Highness.” His voice was less hoarse now. “It isn’t often an empress sits vigil on a patient.”

She inclined her head. “The Line of Qox deeply regrets your injury in the assassination attempt.”

Assassination again. She could be implying a great deal with that word. He personally knew of no attempts planned for the night of the emperor’s celebration. Perhaps the Intelligence Ministry had uncovered clues of his involvement in previous attempts. No matter what they suspected, they would never find proof. He looked her in the eye. “It is always the honor of ESComm to protect and venerate the emperor.” He even said it with a straight face.

Tarquine gave him a perfect Highton smile. “The Line of Kaliga has always provided exemplary military commanders.”

True. It would continue to do so, in spite of Jaibriol III. “You honor my Line.” He had to admit, she made an impressive empress. Deadly and extraordinary. She was wasted on Jaibriol.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “The emperor also wishes to esteem the Line of Kaliga.”

Kaliga held back his snort. “It is fortunate His Highness happened to leave the room prior to the attack.” For all he knew, the odious emperor had gassed them himself.

Tarquine’s gaze darkened. “Fortune can be capricious.” She touched a button on the nightstand by his bed. Kaliga said nothing, guarding his responses as always.

Across the room, an entrance flickered open. Kaliga glimpsed several Razers outside, and then a woman entered, a lieutenant colonel in the medical corps. She wore her hair in a roll, the blond streaked with gray. With grace, she knelt to the empress.

“You may rise.” Tarquine sounded bored. As the medic stood, Tarquine turned to Kaliga. “Dr. Qoxdaughter can answer any questions you have about what happened.”

Qoxdaughter bowed to him, her manner polished with impeccable courtesy. She was probably the daughter of Ur Qox, grandfather of the current emperor; Ur had always given his taskmaker children the best educations and positions that decorum would allow.

“It would be my privilege to answer any questions,” she told him.

Kaliga scrutinized her. “I understand you treated me after I was caught in an attempt on the life of the emperor.”

“Yes, I did.” She looked exceedingly contrite. “We are terribly sorry. Security released the gas. They had to act fast, before either you or General Taratus suffered worse injury.”

Kaliga raised his eyebrow. “Palace security knocked out the general and myself?”

The doctor reddened. “Yes, sir. I truly am sorry. The poison in your bodies was set to activate when your pulse and breathing rate went above a certain level. It had nearly reached that point.”

“What poison?”

“In your drink.”

Tarquine spoke. “It would appear we were all poisoned that night.” Although she addressed the doctor, she obviously meant her comment for Kaliga.

Following her lead, Kaliga also addressed the doctor. “Poisoned how?” It allowed him to be more direct without insulting the empress.

“We are investigating,” Qoxdaughter said. “We found the poison in the wine.”

Kaliga didn’t believe it. He recalled how his provider, Silver, had forgotten to test the emperor’s drink at that long ago dinner. Was this some sort of strange payback? Jaibriol would have to be even more unstable than he had thought, to risk his deteriorating relations with ESComm for such a petty revenge, especially given how he had taken Silver that night, asserting his rights as emperor and Kaliga’s guest. It was foolish enough to make Kaliga wonder if the assassination story actually had some truth to it. He wouldn’t be surprised if other parties wanted Jaibriol dead. He would have to investigate.

To the doctor, he said only, “I have protections against poisons.”

She nodded. “Molecular sheaths hid this one. The chemicals passed even the emperor’s safeguards.”

It sounded unlikely. “I would like to see the design.”

Qoxdaughter didn’t blink. “Of course, sir.”

“Who planned the assassination?” he asked.

“We aren’t sure yet. Security is investigating.”

It was a stock answer. Kaliga didn’t bother to respond.

Tarquine spoke in her cultured voice. “To express his apology, the emperor has speeded up the release of Lord Raziquon. The pardon became effective today.”

That fit more with Jaibriol’s behavior prior to the gassing. Perhaps the boy might develop some sense yet, though whether it would be in time to save his reign, Kaliga had his doubts. “It pleases the Line of Kaliga to know the Hightons are once again coming into balance.” Putting an Aristo in prison had been an abomination. “The Line of Kaliga and the Line of Raziquon have many kin in common.”

Tarquine’s lips curved in an icy smile. “We will see that Lord Raziquon receives a proper escort home.”

Kaliga had no doubt she intended to question Raziquon, discreetly of course. The faster he removed Raziquon from Glory, the better. He had a great deal to discuss with the lord, and he preferred to do away from the emperor’s intelligence systems, which networked the entire planet.

“The arrangements made at the Qoxire starport for my private yacht were impeccable,” he said.

“It pleases me to hear.” Tarquine was regal in her aloof demeanor.

“The Lines of Kaliga and Raziquon have long traveled together.” Actually, that wasn’t true; their Lines had battled more often than cooperated. But the statement would serve his purposes now. He had no doubt that Tarquine understood he was offering to escort Raziquon home. She wouldn’t like it, but she had no good reason to refuse.

The barest hint of displeasure escaped the empress. Had Kaliga been any less adept at reading nuances of posture, he would have missed it. But her response was above reproach. “It would be fortuitous indeed if Kaliga could provide Raziquon the worthy escort its lord deserves.”

He gave her his predator’s smile. “Fortuitous indeed.”

Releasing Raziquon was a start, but it wasn’t enough, especially after this gassing incident. Jaibriol had to cancel the talks with the Skolians.

If the emperor persisted with this treason, Kaliga knew exactly how he could stop it.

In the night sky, six moons cast light across the palace gardens, all of them different shades of violet, amber, and blue. Corbal stood within a gazebo, hidden in shadow. Night-blooming ice blossoms twined around its lattice walls and up the posts to the roof.

“My greetings, Lord Xir,” a throaty voice said.

Corbal turned, startled, though he had expected company. Tarquine was standing on the other side of the gazebo.

He inclined his head. “My greetings, Your Highness.”

“A lovely night.”

“So it is.”

Her voice hardened. “A good night for freedom.”

“I imagine Lord Raziquon thinks so.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. For all that it would have been political suicide to keep Raziquon in prison, Corbal would have gladly let him rot there.

“So he must,” Tarquine said. “As does Admiral Kaliga.”

“Kaliga?”

Her stiff, straight posture indicated anger. “He generously offered to take Raziquon home on his yacht.”

Damnation. The last thing they needed was a stronger alliance between Kaliga and Raziquon. “May they both live in all the glory and esteem they deserve.” Corbal gritted his teeth.

Tarquine joined him and gazed out at the distant palace. To the north, on a plateau, the needled spires of the emperor’s starport rose into the sky. Her voice sounded shadowed. “Raziquon knows a great deal.”

Too much.
“He seems to have ties to ESComm.”

“And to platinum mines. Illegal mines.”

His hand tightened on the rail of the gazebo.

“Ghost mines,” he said.

She turned to him. “Ghost?”

“False. He planted false information in Sunrise’s mind. Had he remained in prison, he couldn’t have defended himself against the claim that he owns those mines. But now—” He made himself release the rail. “Were some misguided Hightons to make such an accusation against Raziquon, it would cause them far more trouble than him.” It astonished him that Sunrise had gone so deeply into her mind, enduring the pain of her memories, doing it for him, Corbal Xir, to stop him from making that false accusation. It made him want vengeance more now than ever.

“Mines can take new owners,” Tarquine said. Dryly she added, “I have plenty to spare.”

Corbal restrained the urge to remind her that those wretched mines of hers had helped cause this problem. Although they could forge documents making Raziquon the owner, it was too easy to disprove such evidence.

“Neural scans are almost impossible to forge,” he said. “The falsely accused can use them to prove they are telling the truth when they claim their innocence.” In prison, Raziquon wouldn’t have had recourse to such tests, but he had plenty now.

Tarquine blew out a gust of air. “So.”

As she and Corbal watched the starport, a ship lifted off in a dazzling display of fire and exhaust that seemed to mock them with its fiery show.

So Admiral Kaliga left Glory, taking Raziquon with him.

In the early morning light, Tarquine stood at her window above the moss-draped forest east of the palace. Beyond it, the Jaizire Mountains rose against the sky. On a distant balcony in an adjacent wing, she could see Jaibriol. Sunlight slanted across his face and wind ruffled his hair. She was too far away to make out details, but she knew his expression. She had seen his pensive gaze more and more lately, as he sought solitude on that isolated balcony.

The body sculptors had done a superb job on his face. The differences were almost invisible; even someone who knew him well would have difficulty noting any change, except that he had a more regal aspect now. Far more important were the subtle changes he would never acknowledge: with a few well-chosen alterations, he had lessened his resemblance to the late Skolian Imperator, Sauscony Valdoria.

His guards stood back against the walls of the palace, far enough away to accommodate his need for space. Tarquine knew now that he couldn’t bear their half-Aristo minds. She also knew another truth. He was mourning. She felt it every time he looked at her, every time he held her at night. It was more than his conviction that his Joint Commanders would soon succeed in killing him. He mourned the failure he feared for the peace talks.

He mourned his parents.

Watching Jaibriol, she knew he condemned himself with his own purity of soul. He had too much goodness to do what was necessary to ensure his survival.

He was too decent.

But she wasn’t.