A Confusion of Princes (12 page)

‘He’s going to be really cross when he gets reborn. . . ’

I stopped as I caught a very faint change of expression in Haddad’s normal eye. Just the flicker of something that I probably wouldn’t have noticed save that I was watching him so closely.

‘
If
he comes back,’ I said slowly. ‘You think he won’t be found worthy by the Discerning Hand?’

‘I do not wish to speculate, Highness,’ said Haddad. ‘In any case, we already know that Admiral Elrokhi is on the way here, and so she will conduct the inquiry. It would be wise to stay in your quarters until she has arrived, and admit no visitors. Also, do not tell anyone what has occurred. It may appear that Huzand has simply vanished.’

‘But his priests, his Master of Assassins, they must know,’ I said.

‘They will not speak of an unofficial attempt at murder, coupled with an illegal order to block witnessing by the Imperial Mind,’ said Haddad. ‘Besides, they will have already been reassigned—’ ‘What?’ I asked. ‘You mean you
know
he’s not going to be reborn?’

I queried the Mind on Huzand’s status.

:Prince Huzand <> lost in action against Sad-Eye incursion. Insufficient connection for rebirth permanent honourable death:

‘But that’s not what happened!’ I protested. ‘Everyone knows he survived the Sad-Eye attack!’

‘Some Princes will know he wasn’t killed in the incursion,’ replied Haddad. ‘But they will not inquire further, because they will not want to know that Huzand came here secretly to kill a cadet. Even if someone from his House does suspect some strange occurrence, they will know it is better to leave him dead with honour.’

‘I didn’t know the Imperial Mind could lie to us,’ I said sombrely.

‘There are levels of information veracity, Highness,’ Haddad replied. ‘In a sense, Huzand
was
killed by the Sad-Eye intervention. I doubt he would have determined on this crazed course of action if you had not distinguished yourself and been noted by higher authority.’

‘The Sad-Eye incursion . . . that reminds me. How did you come to warn me a minute or more before the base alarms?’

‘I have various sources here and in the wider system, Highness,’ replied Haddad. ‘As should a good Master of Assassins.’

‘And how did they get here, anyway, from the wormhole, past the guard there?’

‘That is under investigation, Highness,’ replied Haddad gravely.

He wasn’t telling me everything, I knew, but I also knew that I wouldn’t get anything else out of him. At least on that subject.

‘What was Huzand on about with that stuff about me replacing Prince Atalin?’

Haddad became very still.

‘Have you looked at Prince Atalin’s visual reference from the Imperial Mind?’

I shook my head and called it up.

Prince Atalin was three years older than I, not that I could tell from the image. She had brown skin like mine; a slightly hooked nose like mine; almost-black hair like mine; almond-shaped eyes with dark-brown, almost-black irises like mine. . .

‘We look very similar,’ I said slowly. ‘She could be my sister, if that were possible. . . ’

Princes don’t have siblings. Or parents. At least not ones they know about. So it was very weird for me to be looking at someone who really could be a physical relation, sharing the same genetic heritage.

I felt decidedly strange. If she was my sister . . . what did that mean? How would we behave if we were to meet again?

‘It is not impossible, Highness,’ said Haddad. ‘It could occur if your birth parents chose erasure when Atalin was selected, resettled elsewhere, and had you.’

‘But what are the chances of that?’ I asked. ‘I mean, surely they would have been resettled somewhere that wasn’t on a candidate-seeking list for decades?’

‘They could have moved again, through choice or circumstance,’ said Haddad. ‘Though you are correct that it is highly improbable.’

‘But I still don’t understand Huzand,’ I said. ‘I mean, sure, I look like Atalin. Maybe she even is my sister, not that it means anything. But I couldn’t replace her! I wouldn’t even know how to start to act like “most successful cadet ever” Atalin. And the Imperial Mind would know, for a start.’

‘Indeed, Highness,’ said Haddad. ‘I fear Prince Huzand was suffering some form of delusion and found your physical similarity to a favoured cadet as an unfortunate focus.’

‘Yeah, unfortunate all around,’ I snapped. ‘I guess I’m going to be a big fat target for all those Jerrazis out there. Huzand must have recruited ninety per cent of the Academy by himself.’

‘If they find out what happened,’ Haddad reminded me.

:Priests of the Aspect of the Emperor’s Discerning Hand <> present for collection of deceased Prince:

One of my apprentice assassins held up the viewing screen. There were four priests outside the door, dressed in their normal day-to-day robes, so it was impossible to tell what Aspect they belonged to. They could even be assassins. Maybe Huzand’s Master had stayed loyal to him after death . . . if that was possible. As per usual, I didn’t know.

‘Retire to your chambers, Highness,’ said Haddad. ‘I will deal with the Discerning Hand.’

‘Are you sure that’s who they are?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ said Haddad. ‘No one would dare use their identifier in mindspeech with you witnessing for the Mind. But it is best you retire for now.’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘What do they do with the body?’

On the screen, I saw one of the priests take out something that resembled a small energy saw, and the one next to him was unfolding a Bitek bag of the kind used to contain and preserve organics.

‘I’ll retire,’ I said hastily.

‘Do you still wish your feast to go on as ordered, Highness?’ asked Haddad.

‘No . . . uh . . . I mean, yes,’ I said, just before I slipped through the doorway.

After all, it might be my last opportunity to enjoy myself for a very long time. Though Haddad seemed confident, I couldn’t believe that I really would go unpunished for killing the Commandant of the Academy. Even if he’d come to kill me, I was sure that I was going to cop something from someone higher up, whether it was official punishment or private retribution.

8

B
UT I DECIDED not to worry about the things I couldn’t change, so the next few days were among the most enjoyable I had ever experienced. I finally got to sample all the delights of my private apartment and household, for the first time feeling like I actually was a Prince of the Empire. Particularly as I had adopted the ancient motto ‘Party like there is no tomorrow’ and had tried to indulge in every possible stimulant, relaxant, intoxicant, hallucinogen, and sexual experience that was available, permissible, and that could be recovered from in time without major intervention from my priests or the temple.

This brief but very pleasurable interlude came to an end with a summons to the Commandant’s office to report to Vice Admiral Elrokhi. That was when I really did feel like there might not be a tomorrow. I had been detoxed by my own priests with Bitek nanocleansing and was entirely sober, but I felt washed out and uncomfortable in my own skin. Part of that was probably nervousness about what was going to happen rather than a classic hangover, which Uncle Hormidh assured me was not possible after the recovery procedure I’d been through.

I expected trouble, but when I fronted up in my full ceremonial uniform, complete with the stupid one-and-a-half-metre-high fur busby, I had a pleasant surprise. Vice Admiral Elrokhi V was nothing like Huzand. She welcomed me as one Prince to another, not from on high, and congratulated me on my defence against the Sad-Eye attack. Then she placed the Hero of the Empire order over my head herself and pinned a Scarlet wound badge to my chest. Apparently you don’t get a wound badge for being killed, but since my arm had been cut off before my death, I did qualify for the lowest level. Now that I knew how much it had felt strange and horrible, if not exactly painful, I didn’t want to qualify for the higher levels, like the Sable wound badge, mark of more than fifty individual wounds.

Since we were alone, not counting the various priests about the place, when I’d finished stepping back and saluting and doing all the things I had now been trained to do, I stammered out something about an inquiry.

‘Inquiry?’ asked Elrokhi. ‘Into what?’

‘Uh, the events after the incursion,’ I said. ‘Concerning the former Comm—’

‘Oh, that inquiry! It’s been done, all has been signed off,’ said Elrokhi. ‘I don’t think there’s any point revisiting that, do you?’

‘Not if you say so, sir,’ I replied.

‘I do say so. Now, why don’t we take tea while we wait for the new Commandant, Captain Kothrez, to finish up some of her administrative . . . ah . . . reforms. I’d like you to meet her before you return to duty.’

I called up the new Commandant’s details as Prince Elrokhi poured the tea, which was brought in by a programmed servant of some nonhuman species, whose broad back doubled as a tea tray while its multijointed arms laid out the crockery. The tea service, I noticed, was translucent china decorated with pale-blue flowers. It was very old and beautiful, and possibly even from ancient Earth, or was some ultra-high-quality Bitek reproduction. As I fumbled my cup slightly and saw Elrokhi’s brow tighten, I realised that dropping one of those cups would be a great sin in the Vice Admiral’s eyes, even though killing the former Commandant hardly rated her raising an eyebrow.

I held on to my cup very carefully as I went through the information from the Imperial Mind on Prince Kothrez XXII. Like Huzand, she held the rank of captain in the Imperial Navy, but she had clearly seen much more combat service, having been awarded the Imperial Star of Valour; Hero of the Empire First, Second, and Third Classes; and a Conspicuous Gallantry Medal. And she was a Grand Adept of War (Sensors) and a whole lot more. But the most relevant part as far as I was concerned was her House affiliation.

Kothrez belonged to House Tivand. Not Jerrazis. I hoped that could only be good for me.

When Kothrez showed up, I was instantly impressed. She definitely had more immediate presence than most of the officers I’d met, something greater than the natural arrogance of a Prince. Some of this was probably due to the tattoos on her shaved head, marking service in Imperial Survey, each tattoo commemorating a new and viable wormhole discovered by her, something few Princes could boast of. Otherwise she looked unremarkable, and unlike Huzand (who had had far less to boast about), she wasn’t wearing powered versions of her medals, just the cloth ribbons in the smallest size issued, on a plain service shipsuit with the coiled gold epaulettes of her rank. Also unlike Huzand, the only visible weapons she wore were twin energy lances mounted under her wrists, excellent modern personal armament, instead of some affected antique awarded for duelling.

I resolved that now that I also had medals, I would follow Kothrez’s example rather than Huzand’s and make as little show of them as possible. I also thought I’d like to get the same kind of wrist-mounted energy lances, and learn how to use them properly.

Kothrez wasn’t friendly like the Vice Admiral, but she wasn’t unfriendly like Huzand, either. She was just all business. She congratulated me on my award, asked me a few details about the Sad-Eye incursion, looked into my teacup to see if it was empty, and promptly sent me on my way.

‘Back to duty, Cadet Khemri. You’ve done well. But don’t let the excitement distract you. Your job is to study hard and equip yourself to serve the Empire. Dismissed.’

I put the cup down very carefully, stepped back to salute, spun on my heel, and left. Back to my duty barracks, that hellhole from which I had had only the briefest escape, and most of that time I’d been dead. Or wherever it is Princes are before they are reborn.

I didn’t have high expectations of my classmates, so I entered the barracks very carefully, looking out for traps or tricks, with my connection to the Imperial Mind up and witnessing.

A few steps inside the barracks, I stopped. Not because of a sudden trap or attack, but because apart from Tyrtho, Aliadh, and Calzik, I didn’t recognise any of the other Princes. For a moment I thought I’d wandered into the barracks of another class group that Tyrtho and the others were coincidentally visiting. But that wasn’t possible. This was the right room. There was my bed and locker.

‘All hail the conquering hero,’ said Tyrtho with a cheery wave. ‘Welcome back.’

The others all saluted in welcome. Or saluted my medal, or maybe even the wound badge.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Uh, what happened to Charoz and his mighty legions?’

‘Reassigned,’ said Tyrtho. ‘All the class groups have been split up and changed. Let me introduce you.’

I checked them out with the Imperial Mind as they came over. None were from House Jerrazis.

Even our cadet officer was different. Instead of the surly Jesmur, we had the very tall and very composed Prince Hocozhem, who came in to gravely congratulate me on holding up the honour of Class 2645 and to let us know that we had seventeen minutes to don flight-rigged shipsuits for our next lesson, a practical session flying some of the Academy’s antiquated singleships that had been reconfigured as trainers with two pilot seats.

Later, as we lined up to be assigned to individual craft and our instructor copilots, I asked Tyrtho what had happened while I was dead.

‘Not a lot,’ she answered. ‘No lessons. We were on cleanup duty mostly, tidying up after the Sad-Eyes trashed the place. Make and mend. Just to keep us out of the way and busy, I guess, while heads rolled in the background.’

‘Heads rolled?’ I asked casually. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on! The Academy attacked out of the blue by a Sad-Eye raid, with almost every cadet officer off duty, the long-range sensors unmonitored, no patrols up, and the autoweapons down for maintenance? No wonder Huzand got himself killed without the option of rebirth.’

‘What?’

Tyrtho gave me a considering look. Some of the other cadets were listening, so she either took pity on me and played along or she really thought I didn’t know.

‘Yeah, Huzand got it in the raid and was “out of communication with the Mind”. No loss to the Navy. Liked duelling but not much good at anything else. I don’t know how he got the commandant job here. Jerrazis looking after its own, I guess.’