The Moon's Shadow (32 page)

But a conqueror needn’t be cruel.

His could be a benevolent reign.

Power corrupts.

No. That was a stupid cliché. Reality was far more complex, an interplay of truth and deception. He had grown up with that knowledge, listening to his parents, learning why they had gone into exile, seeing them make interstellar history during the Radiance War. They had given their lives because their power hadn’t twisted them. He could use his to protect his people. It wouldn’t corrupt him, either.

The way it hadn’t corrupted the Aristos?

Every Eubian and Skolian knew the truth, regardless of whether they acknowledged it: they had originally been one people, all descended from the Ruby Empire. As emperor, Jai had access to records no one outside Eube had seen, indeed, hardly any Eubians either. When Eube Qox established his empire, he hadn’t envisioned slavery and brutality. In his writings, he had spoken much the way Jai thought now, envisioning a concord of peoples and culture, their great civilization guided by a benevolent race of Hightons.

Eube Qox had never transcended. Historians claimed it was discretion that kept him from indicating any familiarity with the experience Aristos now considered a gods-given right. In public, Aristos would no more talk about transcendence than they would about intimacy. But Jai could see what the historians refused to acknowledge: Eube Qox had come from the same people that birthed Skolia, a culture where the brutality practiced by Hightons was a crime, immoral, cruel. Those beliefs had been part of him.

Jai looked at his cousin. Corbal wasn’t a gentle man, but neither was he the monster Jai had expected. Nor was Tarquine. Jai had surrounded himself with the few Hightons he could endure. Tonight Kaliga and Taratus had forced him to face the truths he had tried to deny. Whatever nobility the first Qox emperor had possessed, and whatever decency might be buried within some Aristos, their empire had warped beyond repair. Jai could no more control what happened after his reign than Eube had been able to prevent the cruelty that had twisted his empire after he died.

Standing up, Jai spoke tiredly, knowing he might be sealing his coffin. “The peace talks go forward.”

Corbal closed his eyes. Then he opened them again. “Don’t do this.”

Jai touched a panel on the desk. “Robert.”

His aide’s voice came out of the comm. “Here, sir.”

“Prepare a statement for me.” Jai continued to look at Corbal. “We are returning Jacques Ardoise to Earth.”

To Robert’s credit, he only paused a moment. “What would you like the statement to say, sir?”

“I’m not sure.” Watching Corbal, who was shaking his head, Jai said, “Research the procedures and write a draft.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

“Good. And Robert?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Has Lord Raziquon left the prison yet?”

“We sent the pardon back to High Judge Muze with your signature. He should be free in a few days, as soon as the documents are processed.”

Jai took a weary breath. “Notify High Judge Muze that I am rescinding my agreement. Raziquon stays in prison.”

Robert spoke slowly. “Yes, sir.”

Corbal waited until Jai signed off. Then he said, “You will live to regret these decisions.”

Jai swallowed. “If I live.”

T
arquine stood in an alcove high in the east tower. With one knee on a cushioned bench that bordered the enclosure, she gazed out at the city of Qoxire. It spread below the palace, a jumble of white buildings spilling down the hills, gilded in the evening sun. Only an hour had passed since Jaibriol had destroyed his relations with ESComm, but she imagined the city already knew somehow, and had become wild. Beyond it, the ocean crashed against glittering black beaches. The moon Viquara and several others shone in the sky, testament to the forces that drove the violent tides.

The door of the outer chamber whispered open behind Tarquine. She had no spy monitor running, but she knew who entered. He was the only other person her security systems allowed access to this tower.

She continued to watch the ocean batter the shore. The tread of feet sounded behind her. Then Jaibriol joined her at the window.

Tarquine glanced at him. “My greetings, Husband.”

He didn’t answer, only watched the ocean. Sun rays slanted over him, giving his face that antiqued look only late-afternoon sunlight could create.

Tarquine turned back to the city. She could smell the soap Jaibriol had used to wash, and a masculine scent that was his alone. It made her think of the nights he came to her in the brooding darkness, burning with his need. She found him often in her thoughts now. She didn’t want him there. She tried to push him out, but he returned, undeniable.

In the mornings, she always woke while he still slept. He required the greater rest of youth, ten hours, almost twice what she needed. Sometimes she found herself breaking her rule of immediately rising, a habit that had been inviolate for most of her life. Instead she lay next to him, enjoying his slumbering warmth.

Jaibriol spoke. “You will attend me on Earth.”

Earth. That could mean only one unwelcome, foolhardy thing. “You intend to go ahead with the talks.”

“Yes.”

So. She was empress. Of course she would be expected to attend the talks, even if they ended up killing her husband. She let her tone convey her displeasure. “Very well.”

Jaibriol wouldn’t look at her. “He will be there.”

“He?”

Her husband finally turned to her. “Kelric Valdoria.”

A familiar anger surged in Tarquine. Kelric’s escape violated her sense of rightness at a deep level.

And yet…

The edge of that memory had dulled. It would always rankle that he had outwitted her. Only Kelric could have made that escape; no one else had the skills, talents, and mental ability. But oddly enough, she no longer experienced the fierce yet indefinable pain that had plagued her after he vanished. She sorted through her emotions, including those she had shut away so their intensity wouldn’t interfere with her life. The pain had gone. She no longer felt a driving need to have Kelric back.

He had never touched her emotions like Jaibriol.

Outside, tempestuous waves tipped with blue-green froth shot up against rocks along the shore. Her husband was like that, wild and turbulent. He turned her life inside out. She had tried to lock thoughts of him in the hidden place of her mind that protected her from stark emotions, but it couldn’t contain this response. If she had a sore tooth, she could have it fixed with hardly a thought. If she became sick, the nanomeds in her body would make her better. If signs of age showed, she had the doctors make her perfect again. But nothing could cure her of Jaibriol.

She couldn’t let him know how he weakened her. So she misdirected his attention. “Kelric Valdoria owes me a great deal of money.”

Jaibriol blinked. “What?”

“He stole a fourteen-million-credit property of mine.”

“He can’t steal himself.”

“He’s the one who took my property.”

He spoke dryly. “Both Azar Taratus and the insurance bureaus paid you for your ‘loss.’”

She snorted.

“Tarquine—”

“Yes?”

“About the bureaus and Taratus.”

She crossed her arms. “What about them?”

“You have to give one of them the money back.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You forget, esteemed Husband. Those payments were mandated by your decree.”

“You
can’t
have it both ways.” He glared at her. “Either Taratus cheated you or he didn’t. If the bureaus had to pay you that exorbitant amount, then Taratus didn’t cheat you. If Taratus didn’t cheat you, then he shouldn’t have had to give you back your credits. So you must repay him.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Taratus meant to cheat me. He owes me punitive damages.”

“I want you to return the credits.”

She considered him for a long moment. “Giving money to the little brother of General Taratus won’t appease ESComm.”

He stiffened. “This isn’t about ESComm.”

“No? It never occurred to you that making Azar Taratus happy might dissuade his boorish older brother, otherwise known as one of your Joint Commanders, from plotting against your appealing but woefully unsophisticated self?”

Jaibriol scowled. “You will give back the money. It isn’t open to discussion.”

“Very well,” she lied. “I will give it back.”

He shot her a look of alarm.

“What?” Tarquine asked. Honestly, he was moodier than a malfunctioning AI.

“You never give in that easily.”

“It isn’t worth arguing about.” Time to deflect him. “Your Joint Commanders concern me more.”

Like a restless beast unable to stay still, he paced out of the alcove into the tower chamber, his black garb stark against the pale marble walls. “It seems they have trouble holding their secrets.”

Did he mean he knew their minds? “You have succeeded?”

He was standing with his back to her. “If you can call it success.”

She spoke quietly. “Success would be discovering whether or not they have decided their ‘duties’ to the emperor include his assassination.”

He took an audible breath. “Then yes, I have succeeded.”

Tarquine waited.

Jaibriol turned to face her. “Taratus helped Raziquon’s kin on the first attempt, with Kaliga’s blessing.” He sounded much too quiet, as if he were holding in a turmoil of emotions. “Both of them masterminded the second attempt. They intended to implicate you and Corbal. The Diamond Coalition had nothing to do with it.”

Tarquine spoke with a deadly calm. “I see.”

“I have no proof.”

“This is enough for me.”

“No one will consider you an impartial judge.”

She met his gaze. “I’m not.”

“Tarquine—” He lifted his hand as if to reach toward her, then dropped it. “The peace talks start in a ten day, if they go forward.” Bitterly he added, “If I live that long.”

She came forward and put her hands on his shoulders. “Give up this idea of talks.”

He laid his hands over hers. “I cannot.”

“If you die, you will achieve nothing.”

“I can’t give up.”

She wanted to shake him, hold him back, lock him up, whatever it took to protect him from himself. Damn his integrity, his honesty, his gods-forsaken purity. “No one is worth these sacrifices.” She clenched her hands on his shoulders. “Not even your parents.”

He stared at her, his face pale. But he didn’t deny her implication. “I won’t let them have died in vain.”

“You cannot take the problems of all humanity onto your shoulders.” Her voice caught. “You will break.”

He took her hands and brought them together in front of him. “We all do what we must.”

Tarquine had no answer, for she was certain Eube would never accept his desperate peace.

The empress found the man she sought in a studio with many windows. Sunshine streamed into the high-ceilinged room. Actually, she found two people. The older man sat on a stool in front of an easel, working with holographic paints. The younger had settled in an armchair and was reading a holobook. It was a tranquil scene, domestic and cozy, or at least it was until she arrived with her bodyguards.

Robert jumped to his feet, tossing his holobook on a table. His father looked up from his easel like a diver surfacing in a lake. Then he saw Tarquine and dropped his paintbrush.

For an instant father and son remained frozen. In the same moment that Robert’s father jumped off his stool, Robert stepped forward as if to protect him. Then they both knelt, averting their gazes.

Tarquine considered their bowed heads. “You may rise.”

As they stood, she got a better look at the older man. Good gods. No wonder the pirates had taken him. Even with his auburn hair graying at the temples and lines showing around his eyes, the fellow was breathtaking. His maturity made him even more appealing, at least to Tarquine. Yet for all his striking looks, he left her unmoved in a way that would never have happened before her marriage. Her mind was muddled with thoughts of her husband, a most unacceptable situation, but one that seemed unlikely to go away.

The father, however, wasn’t the one she had come for. Although she recalled seeing the younger man attending Jaibriol, she had never paid much attention to him. He resembled the older man in his auburn hair and brown eyes, and he was reasonably pleasing to look upon, as expected for a member of the palace staff. But his appearance was more subdued than his father’s; he was professional rather than sensual, proficient rather than devastating. In short, he looked like a palace aide with unusually high rank.

Tarquine nodded to Robert. “You will come with me.”

To her surprise, he didn’t move.

She spoke coldly. “I assume it is unnecessary for me to repeat myself.”

Robert’s face had turned ashen. “Please accept my worthless apologies, Your Most Glorious Highness, but I am only allowed to serve the emperor.”

Skolia be damned. The fellow had refused her. She would have ordered him flayed and hung out a tower window by his toes, except Aristos didn’t do that to their taskmakers anymore, besides which, as the emperor’s private aide, he
was
only allowed to serve Jaibriol, on penalty of death in fact, though she knew perfectly well Jaibriol would never hurt him. In any case, she needed Robert predisposed toward her wishes, which he would hardly be if she had him hoisted out the window by his feet.

“Robert.” She put her hands on her hips. “It would please me to have your company in my sitting room to share a glass of Taimarsian wine.”

He spoke carefully. “You honor me, Your Highness.”

“Well, yes, I do.” Remembering that she was softening him up, she added, “The pleasure is mine.”

He was no fool. “It would be a great privilege to accept your generous invitation, Most Esteemed Highness.”

“Very well.” She nodded to him. “You may arrive at the Ivory Sitting Room at sixth hour this evening.”

Both father and son bowed to her. Then Tarquine took her leave, striding out of the studio with her Razers. They headed for a staircase that swept down to more populated levels of the palace. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the captain until he cleared his throat.

Tarquine frowned at him. “Eh?”

“Would you like me to have some Taimarsian wine sent to the sitting room, Your Highness?”

“You mean we actually have some in the palace?”

“I believe so, ma’am.”

“Oh. Well, good. Yes, send it down.”

Then she took off for the palace hospital.

Xirad Kaliga awoke to the knowledge that enemies surrounded him. He remained motionless as the biomech web in his body analyzed his situation and sent him data. He was lying in a room, in a bed. Traces of gas remained in his bloodstream, a sedative that left his mind groggy and his throat raw. Three medbots moved in the room, tending medical equipment. A woman sat nearby. The rate of her breathing suggested she was awake but relaxed.

Kaliga opened his eyes. None other than the empress herself sat at his bedside. He spoke in a rasp. “My greetings, Your Highness.”

She inclined her head. “Admiral.”

“Please accept my apologies. I’m afraid my condition prevents me from greeting you properly.” She wouldn’t miss his implication: he shouldn’t be here in this condition.

Tarquine stood regally. “It is most gratifying to see you awake, Admiral. We deeply regret that you were caught in the assassination attempt.”

“Indeed.” Assassination? Kaliga waited.

Tarquine waited.

Kaliga closed his eyes. He had no energy for this.

Several moments passed. His internal sensors indicated Tarquine had settled into her chair again. Kaliga resisted his fatigue, but he hadn’t yet recovered from the gas. Putting his biomech web on alert, to awake him if necessary, he allowed the healing sleep to take him…

Robert didn’t recognize the woman who ushered him into the Ivory Sitting Room; she was one of the aides Tarquine Iquar had brought with her when she moved into the palace. The empress was standing by a window, her Highton profile limned with light from the setting sun. In her black-diamond trousers and tunic, she looked like a dark gem. The ceiling shed a warmer light than the sun, giving her an unreal look, as if she were a portrait rather than a person.

Turning, she spoke in the husky voice that had unsettled generations of Eubian men. “Come in, Robert.” She indicated a table near the window. A black tray with two goblets and a decanter of wine sat there. “Please be seated.”

“You are most kind, Your Highness.” Robert went to the chair, then hesitated. He couldn’t sit while she stood, but she had bid him to sit and he could hardly refuse.

Tarquine sighed, taking a last look out of the window. Then she came to the table. After she seated herself, he settled into his chair, relieved but alert, taking no liberties, not even sitting back. She had couched her summons as an invitation involving no formal work, so it didn’t violate his responsibilities to the emperor, but Robert was neither naive nor arrogant enough to believe the empress had any wish to entertain him socially.

After Tarquine dismissed her bodyguards and aide, she poured the wine and gave a glass to Robert. Then she sat back. “It pleases me to chat with you. I haven’t had sufficient time to meet my husband’s staff.”