"Can you zoom on the Aristo man?" I asked.
"Will do, ma'am," the lieutenant said.
The Aristo grew to life size, filling the image. His face was the epitome of Highton reserve and arrogance, his classic features so perfect they looked sculpted from snow-marble. He wore black trousers and a black shirt, conservative, with an elegant cut. His hair glittered like black diamond, with no trace of any other color. His eyes were as red as blood rubies. Just seeing him made me queasy.
"Gods almighty." Eldrin looked from the icy Aristo to the laughing Jay Rockworth. "It's the
same
person."
A shudder ran through me. Even knowing both holos showed Jay, I had trouble absorbing it. But more shattering than the difference between the two was a likeness— the youth in those images had an unmistakable resemblance to Jaibriol II, the late Trader emperor.
I picked up nothing from the others in the room to indicate they had made the connection. "Can't you all see who he is?" I asked, incredulous.
"An Aristo." Yamada grimaced. "That kid was here for
days.
We had no idea. He sure as hell didn't look like an Aristo then."
Eldrin was scrutinizing me now. "You see more?"
I rubbed my arms, though nothing would ever warm this cold. "He's the living image of Jaibriol the Second."
A long silence followed my words.
Finally Yamada said, "Jaibriol Two had no heir."
"Neither did his father," I said. "Supposedly. It didn't stop one from showing up."
"Oh hell," Vazar said. "Now we're dead."
16
Dyad
Morale is a chameleon, shifting its purchase on our hearts according to our inconstant moods rather than any absolute truth. Wear down the human soul and the will to live falters. Reality makes no difference; when hearts lose hope, they crumble. But give back that hope, even if reality denies it, and our souls rejoice even when logic gives no cause for optimism.
Eldrin's appearance on the battle cruiser sent spirits soaring. In just a matter of days, two of Skolia's lost symbols had returned. The mood throughout the ship lightened. The long road to renewal had begun.
Then the Traders slammed us again.
An unknown starship hurtled out of inversion with no warning, a Skolian craft, civilian, a small scout vessel. It was broadcasting even as it burst into normal space, blasting its message to any ship within receiving distance. Bound straight for the history texts, its recording came from the Trader capital world.
Eldrin and I stood with Jon Casestar on the observation deck above the spacious bay where I had first greeted the crew. The holo played out on the far wall, its giant figures dominating the room, larger than life. Like the broadcast about Eldrin's capture, this one had been recorded in the Hall of Circles in the Qox palace. Again Corbal Xir stood on the glittering dais surrounded by glittering Aristos, all with perfect bloodless skin, their clothes like woven black crystal, their red eyes the only color in the snow-marble Hall, except for the Carnelian Throne.
At first we didn't understand why the ship had hurled its news so frantically at us. It showed only the memorial service for Jaibriol II, his mother Viquara, and her consort Kryx Quaelen. But after it finished, Xir's voice rumbled through the hall. "Many of you have heard rumors of negotiations between my office and the Allieds." He gave a dramatic pause in the Aristo's overly theatrical style. Then he said, "Those rumors are true."
The Aristos brushed their finger cymbals together, a custom our peoples had once shared, long ago when we and the Traders had been one. Only they had kept the custom. After the susurrations quieted, Xir continued. "The Allieds had in their custody a man. A Highton man. A trade was arranged, this man for a prisoner in my possession." As the cymbals whispered again, he held up his hand. "Eube had triumphed."
Next to me, Eldrin had gone as rigid as steel. He was clenching the rail that bordered the deck so hard, the veins stood out in the back of his hand. The diamond wrist guards Xir had put on him glittered below Eldrin's shirt cuffs. He stared at Xir as if mesmerized by a monster he thought he had conquered, only to find it grown larger than ever. His jagged emotions surged: fear, aversion, anger, shame, self-disgust, echoes of pain, and—
Gratitude?
Yes. Gratitude.
Xir continued. "And so it was agreed between the Allied Worlds and Eube. Our Skolian captive for their Highton captive." His gaze raked the assembled Aristos. "That Skolian was Eldrin Valdoria."
"We
know
that," Eldrin muttered. "Who is the Highton?"
An angry discord of cymbals filled the Aristo hall. Xir remained silent until the tumult quieted. The Aristos watched him with icy faces, waiting to hear what he could possibly offer to atone for his unthinkable misdeed— giving away the Key to their newly gained Lock. Tall and powerfully built, Xir raised his arm to the great arched entrance of the Hall of Circles. He spoke in a deep, rolling voice. "I present to you His Honor, Jaibriol Qox the Third, Emperor of Eube."
Damn.
Jaibriol III entered the Hall. Jay Rockworth. He radiated energy. Even by the Aristo's narcissistic standards, he was handsome. He strode down the aisle with a confidence remarkable in one so young. He was the image of his father, but he stood even taller, with none of the brooding darkness that had accompanied his father's rare broadcasts. If Jaibriol III had been any more radiant, he would have caused a fire.
"For saints' sake," Eldrin said. "Not another Jaibriol Qox. Don't they ever die off?"
"Maybe they cloned Jaibriol Two," Jon Casestar said.
I kept my mind shielded, even from Eldrin. This secret I would hold for as long as it took to unravel Jaibriol III's intentions. I needed to talk with Eldrinson, my father-in-law, to uncover the secrets he had carried all these years. Gods forbid he should take that knowledge to his grave, which was what would happen if the Allieds kept him and Roca in permanent custody.
Jaibriol III spoke with extraordinary self-possession. Seventeen years old. He should have been in school instead of conquering empires. He had a magnificent voice, the kind that could sway hearts with its resonant beauty. The cosmos should have had a law that forbade one human being from possessing so many advantages. Was he enemy or friend? My head throbbed with the many possible conflicting futures.
"I don't understand," Eldrin said. "Why did he set me free?"
"The Allieds claim they set up the trade to rescue you," Jon said.
I spoke dryly. "They could hardly tell the universe, 'So sorry, we had Jaibriol Three all along and we didn't know.' "
Jon shot me a glance. "He was one of those children you wanted to get from Earth, wasn't he?"
"Yes. Seth's foster son." No point existed in hiding that any longer; it was public record. I doubted the Allied authorities were happy with Seth right now.
Jon studied me. " 'Seth' as in Admiral William Seth Rockworth, your former consort?"
Eldrin stiffened.
"Yes." I shifted my weight, uncomfortable. Although Seth had left me years before Eldrin and I married, the Iceland Treaty remained in effect, so neither Seth's government nor mine recognized the divorce. It was awkward.
Jon gave me an incredulous look. "Why would Admiral Rockworth harbor the future Trader emperor?"
"He probably had no idea." I almost meant it; even if Seth knew the truth, I doubt he had expected this. Eldrin continued to stare at the holoscreen, for all appearances not listening to us. But I knew he heard.
Jon was scrutinizing me. "You knew Jay Rockworth's identity. That's why you wanted to get him off Earth."
"I didn't know for certain. But I suspected."
"How? None of us had even an inkling."
Eldrin sighed, turning to us. "Don't ask how, Admiral. She can never explain."
That surprised me. "I talk about my models all the time."
"You talk in equations." Eldrin smiled slightly. "No one understands what you're saying but you. The rest of us only know that it works."
"It didn't with Kelric," I grumbled.
A shadow of old grief crossed Eldrin's face. "You mean my brother?"
"She thinks he is still alive," Jon said.
I hesitated. "Eldrin, I expected to meet Kelric in the embassy."
A surge of hope came from his mind, one he quickly damped. I understood why. It was dangerous to hope. You could be torn apart when fate crushed that dream. But not always; I had feared to hope I would see Eldrin again, yet he had, incredibly, come home.
"You think Kelric has been a Trader prisoner?" Eldrin asked.
"It's possible." But whoever had touched my mind in Kyle space hadn't spent eighteen agonizing years as a provider. His mind had been strong, healthy, vibrant.
Like Eldrin.
My insight came softly, like the wary step of a deer in an open forest clearing. Eldrin was in shock, yes. His time with the Traders had hurt him. But it could have been far worse. Incredibly, he had come back to us whole. Months of providing for an Aristo could have torn him apart, even made him catatonic. If Xir had protected him from the worst of that, I too felt gratitude.
But
why
would Xir make such a choice? The Aristos had never hidden their conviction that they had an exalted right to take pleasure by hurting their providers. They considered empaths a lower form of life, one that supposedly could achieve "elevation" only by providing for Aristos. To them, showing compassion toward a provider was the sign of an abnormal personality.
In the holo, Jaibriol III was turning toward the camera, obviously aware that recordings of his speech would be seen in far more than the Hall of Circles. He spoke with strength. "We have suffered the ravages of our conflicts. Let us now seek to heal. To the people of the Skolian Imperialate and the Allied Worlds, I say this: Meet me at the peace table. Let us lay to rest the hatreds that have sundered our common humanity."
All right, Jaibriol the Third,
I thought.
You keep that promise and I will keep your secret.
* * *
I slept alone. Each night Eldrin withdrew into his own suite with no more than the brush of his lips across mine. I caught traces of his emotions: he didn't want me to see him in slave restraints, didn't want to be touched, didn't want to touch. Our nights passed in lonely solitude…
I bolted upright in the night. Sweat soaked the billowy air-quilts on my bed. The images from my nightmare remained vivid.
A triangle. Three Triad names.
A line. Two names.
"Stop it," I whispered.
"Dehya?"
I almost gasped. The voice came out of the darkness somewhere near the bed. Inside the ship, with no light-bars active, the darkness was total. No stray luminance let me see the man who spoke. But it had to be Eldrin; the EI wouldn't let anyone else inside my room without asking me first.
"Dryni? Is that you."
"I had a dream." He sounded strained.
"Laplace, give me night-level lumes," I said.
The room lightened enough so I could see Eldrin standing by the bed, his arms folded around his torso. He had on blue sleep trousers and a loose shirt. The slave collar glinted around his neck, as did the cuffs on his wrists. His ankle cuffs glittered against blue cloth, half covered by his trousers. It gave me an idea of just how much the nightmare had unsettled him, that he came here even though I would see the indications of Corbal Xir's ownership on him.
Doctors had been mapping out the biothreads extended by the restraints into Eldrin's body. They were preparing to untangle the threads from his neural system. Eldrin loathed the restraints, but he hated even more the idea that these reminders of his Trader captivity might leave him with neural damage if they weren't removed properly. So he schooled himself in patience while the doctors worked, day after day, tracing the intruding threads that networked his body, carefully preparing a map of connections that the surgeons could then use to free his body from the web of restraint.
