Rift in the Races (99 page)

With everyone seated as they were, he let go the seeing spell and wasted no time casting the teleport. He’d taken the time to transmute himself a crude silver ring for the green sphere Blue Fire had given him. He buried the stone in silver, covering it almost completely, all but a part of it that would press against his finger, in contact with his skin but hidden from curious eyes. He hated to conceal its beauty like that, but he also didn’t want anyone else to know. He shaped the ring as best he could, not bad considering he had little skill for such things, and etched Orli’s name on the flattened bit of silver that would be the ostensible purpose for the ring. It was large and gaudy, but it would suffice. And having the stone with him made casting spells something beyond anything he’d ever done before.

He no longer had to shape the magic so meticulously. It no longer had to be wound; it no longer had to be threaded, weaved or thrown. He merely had to think the shapes he sought and, in the luminosity that the stone made of the mana, the everywhere it had become, all shapes existed. All shapes and none. So he need only consider the coil he wanted, picture the path, think of the link, and there it was, complete, made, ready, already there amongst the infinite other forms. Casting had become unimaginably simple.

In a heartbeat he was upon the bridge of Orli’s ship. It felt like
déjà vu
, him suddenly appearing as he did. He half expected the woman in the captain’s chair to turn and fire on him as he stepped to the side and raised his arms in a gesture of harmlessness. “Ahem,” he said. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

The bridge crew spun as one, but no one drew a blaster, which made Altin much more comfortable.

“Altin,” Orli gasped. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was full of genuine surprise, but not joy. Or at least, only a little joy. He deflated a little upon hearing the absence of it. But then, what had he expected? That she would leap from her chair and throw herself into his arms? Oh, she was glad to see him; he could see it in her eyes. But not like she would have been only a few months ago.

He bit back a bitter remark. “I’ve come to tell you that I found Blue Fire. That I have spoken to her.”

He realized as he finished that he was pressing rudely upon the acting-captain’s grace. “I am Sir Altin Meade,” he announced, reaching out a hand to the woman who was perhaps twenty years his superior in age.

“Commander Jackson,” said the dark-eyed officer. “I know who you are. I have to tell you, your arrival is against regulations.” Altin sensed that the commander had almost added an “I think” to the end of that.

Orli jumped up and gave Altin a hug. A friendly one. One for the news, not for his arrival. It came too late to be that. But Altin could feel every curve of her in that moment. Could smell her hair and the particular perfume that came naturally from her skin. How he missed it. It filled him with want so vast that even Blue Fire’s swollen dreams did little to compare.

He pushed her away. Holding her was agony.

“Commander,” he said, turning to the powerfully built woman to prevent himself from losing focus on the task at hand. “I have investigated Miss Pewter’s claims regarding the nature of the Hostiles and their world. It seems she is correct and, in fact, the entire planet
is
alive—alive and intelligent. She—the planet is female, or presents herself as such—is also horrified at the magnitude of the accidents that have occurred, beginning with Andalia, and including the many deaths of your people … and hers. It’s all true, and we must call off the attack.” He added the bit about Blue Fire’s
people
, thinking of the orbs, which Blue Fire had described through imagery as eggs, but he felt that, rhetorically, giving them some degree of consideration as beings of a sort would not be considered a
truth that was not
.

The commander didn’t look convinced, but unlike what Altin would have expected from Captain Asad, she also didn’t sneer and make some insulting remark.

“I’m afraid that’s above my pay grade,” she said. “But I’ll be honest with you. Anything capable of accidents on that scale is better off dead.”

“You must reconsider that position,” Altin said, trying very hard to remain calm. “She did not understand what she was doing.”

“My mama used to read us a story growing up,” said the commander. “It was an old story, about this dog named Old Yeller. He was a sweet dog, good with kids, everybody loved him. Even saved a boy’s life once. But when he got rabies, they shot him. That’s just how it was. And that’s how it still is.”

Altin shook his head. He’d known convincing these people to call off the attack was going to be hard, but somehow, with that comment, he realized it was going to be impossible. There was already too much spilled blood on their side. What passed for reason was revenge. It boiled hot in their veins, their very purpose for being here, the sacrifice of twelve long years and so many lives. He might as well have tried to call off a pack of wolves with a whistle and a stick.

He could try with the admiral next, but he knew it was pointless. He’d known it would come down to the Queen before he came. Perhaps he really should go to her before the priests showed up. At the very least, he could pad the visit some, provide some preparation for whatever “meal” High Priestess Maul had in mind to serve.

Orli looked up at him with round, sorrow-filled eyes, her expression vacant, though misted some by the hurt she’d felt when he’d pushed her away. Her cheeks were gaunt, and he could tell she wasn’t eating. It was not the absentminded diet of someone in love. He knew that well enough because he’d seen it before, watched it as he’d lived it himself in those first few months after Orli had come to Prosperion. Holding hands, staring joyfully into one another’s eyes. Raw and all-consuming passion made up for any calories that might be missed.

But Orli was wasting away. Again.

He knew why too. He knew it was because Thadius’ love was a lie. A deception. A magical intrusion that was beyond the realms of legality and deeply rooted in a base morality more vile than any selfishness Altin could confess to on his most candidly introspective day. Thadius had taken her. Forced himself upon her. Crept inside of her mind with stealth and deceit, with poison. He’d tricked his way into her and taken her. The rage born of that violation filled Altin so full he found himself again thinking in the framework of a Blue Fire dream. So fully focused on the emotions. No qualifications, no mitigating thoughts. Hatred rose, began to consume him like fire, but he caught it, pushed it back down, swallowed it back like a draught of broken glass. Or he tried to.

He wanted to tell her what had been done to her, but he knew there would be no point. She would never believe him. She couldn’t. That was the evil of Thadius’ poison. The evil for which Thadius must pay.

“Where is Lord Thoroughgood?” he forced himself to say, the courtesy heavy like lead upon his tongue. “I have information that he needs.”

Orli looked doubtful. She knew Altin far too well to be so easily fooled as that.

“Altin, you’re angry, I can tell. Please don’t do it.” She turned to the commander. “He’ll try to hurt Thad if he can.”

Thad
. Altin wanted to spit at the sound of it.

“Sir Altin,” said the commander. “Do I have to put you under guard?”

Altin calmed himself outwardly. “No.”

“We’re too close now to cast spells anyway,” Orli told him. “We’re only two days away. And I don’t want you to get—just don’t.”

Altin’s eyes flared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She looked away. She looked like she didn’t even want to say it, like her words tasted of bile.

“Tell me!” He took her by the shoulders and spun her to face him. “What did you mean?” He could feel the fury boiling in him again. The rage.

Betrayal
, came the thought. It wasn’t his. Blue Fire was watching him. With him.

“You’re hurting me,” Orli said, reaching for his hands.

“Just tell me.” He relaxed his grip. “Please.”

She looked into his eyes and saw the anguish. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore. She knew she’d hurt him beyond any measure she could ever have dreamed. She didn’t want to say it. But she did. It just came out. “You can’t cast spells now, Altin, that’s all. Not here. And Thad is much better than you are in a fight. He’s stronger. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

That did it. Something snapped.

He let her go. He closed his eyes and, as it had before, channeling came so much easier now. Even here. Especially here. He summoned a seeing spell and pushed it through the ship. He pushed it through every bulkhead and every deck. He was dimly aware of the sound of their voices, Orli’s and the commander’s, but he ignored them. He found Thadius standing before a mirror, brushing out the waves of his long dark hair.

Altin was able to release the seeing spell and start the teleport without even stopping for a breath.

Betrayal. Hate. Poison
. In came the feelings from Blue Fire. They mixed with his own, enflaming them as oil thrown into a fire.
Betrayal. Hate
.

The hiss of air announcing Altin’s arrival turned Thadius around from where he stood before the mirror function of a wall monitor. His eyes narrowed as he saw Altin standing there, but he quickly constructed an imperious façade for himself as he set the brush aside. “Why, Sir Altin, old man, what brings you here? You’re not still mad that I’ve … how do these Earth people say it … been banging your girl?” He grinned, smug in his victory.

“Rot in hell,” Altin spat, and in the breadth of a thought, he’d teleported across the room and appeared before Thadius, his hand already in place, gripping the wide-eyed nobleman by the face. Thadius reached up and grabbed Altin’s wrist with one hand as his other went for a dagger in his boot. Not fast enough. The enraged sorcerer filled Thadius’ body with lightning, more of it than he had summoned in the totality of his life, and Thadius erupted in a spray of fine, wet particles.

Altin was gone long before anyone discovered what had become of the young lord. Cleaning the mess would be the work of three full days. Even the vents and ductwork had to be scoured and sterilized.

Chapter 80

A
ltin sat with Aderbury in the burly mage’s quarters on
Citadel
when the message from High Priestess Maul came trickling into his mind. His visit with the admiral had gone exactly as he’d thought, as had his brief visit with the Queen. No one was bending, not one tiny degree. So it all came down to this.

The good news was that Blue Fire had found them, the Maul and several of the lesser priests in the hkalamate dream. The Maul’s telepathic message made that clear. Altin’s left hand moved reflexively to the silver ring on his right as he listened to what the high priestess had to say. He stroked the ring defensively. He wondered if they’d been given bits of the green stone too.

No Love
.

The thought startled him. It wasn’t his. He was becoming aware of the fact that Blue Fire was with him constantly now. He wondered if that might be something that had come with the ring.

Aderbury saw him wince. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just heard from the Maul in Leekant. They’ve spoken with Blue Fire finally.”

“Has she talked to the Queen?”

“No, but they’re on their way to Her Majesty now to try and arrange for it.”

“So they believe you. That’s good. Hopefully we can stop this, then, before it all goes to the last layer of hell.” Aderbury had believed him immediately. Such was the way with the truest friends.

“Yes, let’s hope. Do you want to come?”

“Count me out. You know I hate politics,” Aderbury said, making a face.

“No you don’t.
I
hate politics.”

“No, you are horrible at politics. That’s different. Most of the time, you are about as diplomatic as a trident to the face.”

“All the more reason you should come.”

“I have orders to be here in case one of the Earth ships returns in need of aid, whether medical or evacuation.” He looked up at the enormous water clock on the mantle across the room. Visible through the crystal vessel, the silver cup had just sunk again. The brief glow of the enchantment at the bottom sent the cup back to the top of the bowl, empty, and a bead slid across the hour band at the top of the clock’s frame as if invisible fingers were keeping tally on an abacus. “They’ll be in position to attack in less than three hours. You’d better make it quick.”

Altin stood and straightened his robes with the flat of his hands. They shook, a condition of which Aderbury took note.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was right before the ball, waiting for Orli to arrive.”

Altin let his friend mistakenly assume his condition was one of nerves. The assumption wasn’t completely inaccurate. Part of him struggled with what he had done to Thadius. He knew it had been what that degree of villainy deserved. What Thadius had done was unconscionable, a violation so unspeakable Altin could hardly force himself to think of it. He knew that there would have been no more justice coming from the Queen. Thadius had already had his trial and had been banished for a thousand years. He was outside the Queen’s law now. And his crime was a Prosperion one. The Earth people would never have tried him for it anyway. They had no magic-related laws. So justice had fallen to him. It was him or no one. Although there was Blue Fire. She filled him with the certainty of how right his action was. She, the obliterator of worlds. He felt it. She was jubilant.