Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (26 page)

She took another sip of the pink liquid. It was delicious, whatever it was.

::Delicious.::

The mind voice, same as earlier, came from nowhere, hitting her in the chest like a blow.

Vayne.

It
felt
like him. The slip of the word against her mind had his imprint, his scent almost, but the voice was wrong.

She studied those nearest to her. Who was it? A man and a woman approached from her right, the regents of Bostra come to discuss a border dispute, no doubt. Her gaze spread wider. Who?

She saw Vid resting against a pillar, a smile on his face while Trinan leaned toward him sharing a jest, hand braced on the pillar near Vid’s head. They looked so comfortable, so at ease. Then Vid glanced at her, the merest brush of an eyeball in her direction, but she knew. Guards.

::A woman like you, Princess, should not be alone.::

She turned a slow circle, searching the sea of strangers for a sign, an intentness that would give the Wyrd away. One of the Ilmenans? No, they weren’t here tonight.

::Look at this crowd. Who are you to these people but a symbol? A tool of power, a chance to climb.::

An invisible hand stroked a finger down her cheek, raising a shiver. The caress was familiar and foreign.

::I know you as they do not. Will you
speak
with me?::

Tears stung, taking her by surprise.
Why do you feel like my Vayne?
she asked in a voice no one could hear. The person must be nearby. Their mental presence hung in the air beside her, radiating expectancy and want. Vayne had never felt interested in her this way, but his essence imprinted itself on her. Weakly. A stamp made in ash instead of ink.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her lips barely shaping the words. She wanted him, this person who was almost her twin yet so far from him.

The regents of Bostra arrived and the stranger melted away.

* * *

Malkor crossed under the delicate glass arch that marked the entrance to the Yerlany Gardens a little after 19:00. The courtiers and councilors milling inside the entrance spared him a glance as he passed the twisted metal columns that outlined an open-form entranceway of sorts. Beyond that the greenery took over, covering the ground like a carpet and rising toward the sky. On his left, spindly ornamental trees hinted at a loose network of paths. They created a trail through the horticultural symphony, allowing visitors to stroll through the most diverse garden in the empire. Malkor had no interest in the display this evening, and headed instead to the right.

Here the garden opened into a large pavilion, complete with fountains, refreshments, music and a wild array of blossoms. Flowers, some the size of dinner plates or larger, bloomed in clusters around the edge of the paved pavilion, sprang from the dozens of sculpted metal and glass planters set throughout the open space and floated amid the showering falls of the fountains. Paths lined in pebbled stone meandered off from the center and led guests to quieter, secluded areas that offered privacy and intrigue aplenty. How would he ever track down Dolan in the maze of secret ways that spread out from the pavilion?

An unnecessary worry. A somber group clustered near a fountain. A bank of open space surrounded them and no one crossed the invisible barrier. Alone amid a crowd of milling guests, the Wyrds made for a striking quartet.

They were each dressed in various tones of blue. The younger of the two men, and also the shortest of the group, wore trousers of the darkest shade paired with a form-fitting vest of the same color over a white blouse with loose sleeves. His chin-length lavender hair looked casual and artfully precise at the same time. His elder wore a similar outfit, only his shirt was silver with a flare at the cuff and his pants were tucked into short boots. The tallest of their group, a woman, looked less formal than the two men in a lighter colored bodysuit and wide silver sash. Light rippled across the fabric’s sheen when she turned to silently scan the crowd.

Among them, only Princess Tia’tan smiled. She was dressed almost flamboyantly compared to the others in a floor-length gown of midnight blue. The neckline of the gown spread wide to her shoulders, barely hanging on, leaving her back bare. Her skirts flared in layer after layer of fabric. Silver edging lined the bottom, and mid-length sleeves left her muscled forearms on display.

Out of nowhere came a laugh from Tia’tan. She chuckled, purple eyes dancing as she bent to scoop a handful of pebbles from the fountain in front of her. No one else’s lips moved and none of the Wyrds spoke aloud, but she laughed again after a second, and the younger male grinned.

Looking completely unamused, Master Dolan stood beside the elder Wyrd male with his hands clasped behind him. He let the merriment die down, then continued the conversation he’d apparently been having with the Wyrd. Princess Tia’tan ignored him, idly tossing the pebbles to land one after the other in the fountain. The taller female angled away from the group, eyes never resting in one place.

Before Malkor could decide if he should approach Dolan now or later, their attention shifted to him. Tia’tan’s smile dimmed, then vanished, painted lips coming together in a neutral line as she glanced in his direction. The other Wyrds looked to be a mix of vaguely curious and disinterested. The bodyguard sized Malkor up with her piercing stare.

Now it was, then.

The Wyrds gave no indication of welcome when he approached, merely held their silence and looked at him in a way that had him attempting to reinforce his mental shields.

Dolan arched a brow, the permanent half-smirk present on one side of his mouth. “IDC afoot in the gardens, how unexpected.”

Malkor tried not to stare at the blank red orb of the man’s ruined eye or the web of scars that started at his temple and spidered out across his right brow and cheek.

“We have been known to take the odd hour or two off,” Malkor said.

“So this is a social inquiry, then?” Dolan waited for the lie.

“A not-so-chance meeting, perhaps.” He nodded to the Wyrds, who had yet to do more than look at him.

Dolan gestured with an elegant hand. “Have you the pleasure of my guests’ acquaintance?”

“Not yet,” he replied, though he knew every one of them. Noar, the youngest male, accompanied Tia’tan to the pit. Joffar, the elder male, and Luliana, the female bodyguard, spent every series just above the pit in the stands, their intent stares following the Game’s progress. Dolan made the introductions and the Wyrds unbent enough to incline their heads when named. Tia’tan opened her hand in the stilted silence that followed and a stream of pebbles splashed into the fountain with a loud
sploosh
. She dusted her palms with her fingertips, first one then the other, while watching him. Her gaze traced his uniform, touching briefly on the pin he wore to signify his rank as an octet leader—the outlines of eight overlapping silver rectangles fanning out to form a ninety degree arc.

Tia’tan didn’t say a thing, but Luliana cracked a smile, Noar ducked his head with a slight cough and Joffar tried not to look amused. A glance at Dolan’s face showed he felt as much frustration as Malkor at not hearing the silent exchange, though he quickly hid it.

“Could you leave your charming guests to their amusements for a few moments?” Malkor asked him.

“Of course. I find I am quite ready for a diversion.”

Malkor headed toward an unattended fountain across the way. From there he’d spot anyone who approached to eavesdrop, and the waterfall would provide white-noise cover from any listening devices.

He stopped a meter from the fountain. Hopefully the polite mask he wore hid his distaste, not only for the
kin’shaa
, but for the whole situation he found himself in. It should—he’d been perfecting it for years.

There were a dozen ways he could hint at his true reason for being here, things he could say whose double-meanings would lead to a conversation within a conversation that might, just maybe, save him from an admission of guilt. He ignored them all. The fact that he met with Dolan by choice said they were past that.

“I received your message.”

“Excellent.” Dolan inclined his head. “I’m glad you decided to seek me out.”

“It was thought-provoking, if ambiguous.” Malkor studied the man’s scarred face, judging intent.

“One can’t be too careful, given the situation.”

“And just what situation is that, exactly?”

Dolan chuckled. “Surely you’re aware of your own predicament, Senior Agent.”

Malkor forced a smile in response. “Humor me.”

“You have friends in high places. Good friends. That’s well-known, but what isn’t as clear is how far you might go for them.” Dolan clasped his hands behind his back, looking perfectly at ease in lavender robes, despite his shorter stature. “You, I and your friends know exactly how far. Far enough to see a woman you once coveted married to another man, far enough to compromise your career in the IDC and, in fact, risk your very life. It’s because of those friends that you find yourself here, fixing the Game you were meant to police.”

There was no point in denying it.

Dolan continued. “Your plan is sound, I’ll give you that. With your means and resources it might almost have succeeded.”

“Almost?” Surely the man didn’t discount Kayla’s skill and her ability to win the Empress Game.

“You have two problems, the first being that your plan relies too heavily on people whose loyalty you misjudged.”

Janeen. How had he known? Suspicion bloomed in his mind. Dolan
could
have been involved, could have helped Janeen secure the toxin, or might be hiding her even now. “And the second?”

“The second is, of course, my guests. Not your fault, though, you couldn’t have predicted the allies I would bring to bear at the Game.” Dolan looked a touch too satisfied for his liking.

“Isonde can defeat Princess Tia’tan.”

The
kin’shaa
surprised him by chuckling. “It’s charming that you refer to her as ‘Isonde.’”

“Should I not?”

“Call her what you like, I only find it amusing that when you and I know the truth, you still act as though nothing untoward is occurring.”

“Your Wyrd princess is talented,” Malkor said, “but not unbeatable.”

“You are discounting her unique set of assets, I think. And those of her companions.”

So they did intend to cheat. Understandable. They wouldn’t have come all this way to lose. Then again, neither had Kayla and Corinth.

“It might be too much to automatically assume their psi powers will tip the balance in Tia’tan’s favor,” Malkor said. It was nearly a certainty and he knew it. Still, he went on. “You yourself taught the IDC that some individuals have inborn defenses, and others can be instructed to develop them.” A junior IDC agent crossing the pavilion caught his eye, and Malkor forced himself to smile in a friendly fashion and offer a nod of hello to her, silently wishing the young woman on her way. Dolan had the good sense to keep quiet until the agent passed out of earshot.

“That is true, but how effective do you think those defenses will be against four expertly trained psionics?”

How effective could Kayla be? She was a Wyrd princess, surely as well-trained as the Ilmenan bunch, with well-established shields. Could she withstand any pressure they might put on her? For that matter, how many Wyrds would she have to worry about? Tia’tan wouldn’t be doing anything more than fighting, but Noar was in the pit with her, more than ready to attack Kayla with his mind. And the others? How far could a Wyrd extend his influence? He was overdue for a long talk with Kayla about the nature of her psi powers.

Malkor forced himself to maintain his polite tone. “I appreciate the enormity of the advantage your people seem to have. It can’t be that easy, though. If their combined psi powers could win Tia’tan the crown and a seat on the imperial Council of Seven, you wouldn’t have requested a meeting with me.”

“It is that easy, I assure you. However, my friends are coming to understand the nature of the political system in the empire. While they could use their skills to win the Game and the throne, they’re beginning to question whether that is the best outcome they can achieve.”

Malkor arched a brow. “They have loftier goals?”

Dolan smiled privately at the thought. “Perhaps, but in this instance I believe they are looking for a more effective outcome than putting Tia’tan on the throne.”

“Such as?”

“The real power of having a seat on the Council of Seven comes from being the deciding vote that controls which way the Council goes on any major issue. Without the influence to sway half of the other votes, the Empress becomes less effective.” Dolan made a vague motion with one hand, delicately emphasizing the point. “My people lack allies.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Malkor said. “It’s not as if they refuse to help us while millions of our people are consumed alive by the Tetratock Nanovirus.”

“We are not your enemy, Agent. Ilmena was not consulted by the empire about designing a cure. In any case, that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

It might as well be. The entire Game, as far as he was concerned, was a battle for control over the empire’s next move with regard to the Ordochians and a cure for the TNV. A battle he, Ardin and Isonde couldn’t bear to lose. He took a deep breath, unseating the tension that had grown between his shoulder blades.

Dolan continued. “Princess Isonde is a formidable and growing force in the empire, with strong allies in the Protectorate and Sovereign Councils—not to mention she all but owns Ardin’s vote in the Council of Seven. She has the political cachet to see her agendas progress. If her agendas allied with those of my guests, they
might
consider aiding, rather than defeating her in the Game.”

Malkor blinked, uncertain what he’d heard. “Did you just offer to help put Isonde on the throne?”

Dolan inclined his head. “Possibly. They are considering it. Though it is hard to ignore the fact that they would still have much power if Tia’tan won.”

The water splashing in the fountain filled the silence. Could it be that simple? With the Wyrds’ aid Isonde was all but assured the crown. Their logic was reasonable—Isonde would fight for Ordoch’s freedom, and could accomplish ten times the amount the Wyrds would be able to in the Councils. The councilors would oppose Tia’tan’s agendas every time. She’d have a hard time accomplishing anything more important than a lunch order.