Blood of the Cosmos (14 page)

After Fennis delivered the new distillations to the chemistry lab, misbreed helpers removed the vials and catalogued them, separating them by plankton type, kelp strains, and concentration levels. They all held out cautious hope.

When Har'lc looked up at her, his lumpy lips were twisted in a smile as he made a suggestion. “We can also run tests to see if any of these substances might help Prince Reynald of Theroc. We shouldn't think only of ourselves. We have all studied his medical records.”

Tamo'l was surprised. “Many teams are studying his illness already.”

“But they asked for our help,” said Har'lc. “Reyn might be dying as well, and if we have information, then we should share it.”

Tamo'l's heart swelled with pride to hear this. “Of course we should. And Prince Reyn is my sister's close friend. Osira'h would be very happy if we could help.”

“We will test all the samples,” said Gor'ka.

Shawn Fennis was smiling. “If the misbreeds are looking for something important to do, this could be it.”

Tamo'l had happily shared all of her information on Ildiran genetic deficiencies with a man named Tom Rom, whose employer also worked on high-end medical research. She had given him her entire database, believing that such knowledge was a resource to benefit all Ildirans—and humans.

Just like these misbreeds, Tamo'l knew she was trying to clarify her purpose in life, and now a smile crept across her narrow face. If she and her team could find a way to help Prince Reyn, it would be an accomplishment to be proud of indeed.

Tamo'l raised one of the murky vials of kelp extract, tilted it up to the harsh light of the laboratory blazers. “Let's get to work.”

 

CHAPTER

19

ROD'H

Dressed in the court clothes of a noble kithman, since his father had been the Dobro Designate, after all, Rod'h entered the skysphere audience chamber in the Prism Palace. He worked hard to exude an aura of calm respect to make certain that Prime Designate Daro'h would take him seriously.

Now that the Mage-Imperator and his entourage had departed for Theroc, Daro'h stood beside the chrysalis chair, looking lost. Even though the Prime Designate would make no major decisions that affected the Ildiran Empire, not yet, Rod'h felt it important to build his own political alliances. With Jora'h gone, this might be his chance.

When Rod'h and his halfbreed siblings were just young boys and girls, they had been the hope of the Ildiran Empire, raised on Dobro and trained to fulfill a crucial destiny. Other than Osira'h, he had been the strongest of Nira's children.

And now that they had served their race, the five halfbreeds were oddities, and their special potential was not needed during normal, peaceful times. Oh, Osira'h had saved the Ildiran race, and the people were in awe of her abilities, but they were intimidated by
her
. They looked at Rod'h with similar uneasiness, and he didn't even have that triumph to fall back on. After the end of the Elemental War, history had bypassed Nira's children, like a river cutting a new channel and leaving only a stagnant oxbow bend.

But Rod'h wanted to make something of himself, regardless of his special genetics, with or without a “destiny.” That didn't depend on special genetics, but on his own abilities. He had studied politics, history, diplomacy. He scrutinized the ebb and flow of interactions among all the splinter colonies in the Ildiran Empire, and he familiarized himself with the long traditions of the Solar Navy. One way or another, he wanted to make himself
useful
—and he felt that the Prime Designate might need his advice. They had certain things in common, even if the young man did not realize it.

And Daro'h would become Mage-Imperator one day. Rod'h had much to offer the Prime Designate, and he thought the young man might be a more receptive audience than Nira or the Mage-Imperator. He was up to the task.

The Prism Palace's central dome was large and full of rainbows. Hanging gardens drooped from ledges, and mister nozzles filled the upper levels with wispy artificial clouds. Colorful birds and flying insects swooped about like scattered jewels.

Bureaucratic functionaries moved around the skysphere audience chamber, while busy attender kith hovered about, waiting for Daro'h to need them. Workers hung from harnesses, polishing the curved crystalline panels in the dome and upper walls.

But the business of the Ildiran Empire had dwindled with the Mage-Imperator gone, and the skysphere was much quieter than usual. Yes, the Prime Designate still had his scheduled mating appointments with a range of females from the kith index, but right now Daro'h paced nervously beside the reclining chrysalis chair. He seemed reluctant to sit in the place that belonged to the Mage-Imperator. The Prime Designate did not dream about when he would one day rule the Empire and control all the strands of the
thism
 … in fact, Daro'h actually seemed intimidated by the idea.

Rod'h reminded himself of his abilities, his political knowledge and unique insights. He would be a worthy adviser to the Prime Designate, no matter what his mother or the Mage-Imperator thought of him. It was time to stop complaining to himself about imagined slights and the opportunities he
didn't
have. While Jora'h was gone, he could show Daro'h that he would be a valuable sounding board.

By rights, Rod'h should have been an adviser to the current Mage-Imperator as well, because he could offer Jora'h a unique perspective … but he had never been invited to do so. Because Rod'h's father had forced her into the Dobro breeding program, Nira seemed to resent her older son, even though she claimed to accept and love all her halfbreed children, not just Osira'h. His mother was always cool toward him, or maybe he was just cool toward her.…

Rod'h stepped up on the dais and presented himself to Daro'h, respectfully and with a sharp optimism, but he did not abase himself as some kiths did. He acknowledged the Prime Designate as a superior, yes, but he hoped that they could one day be friends.

“Prime Designate, I have come to offer my advice, my counsel, or just my conversation.” He forced a smile. “If you'd like the company.”

Daro'h brightened. “Yes, I would.” He looked around the skysphere and lowered his voice. “I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. The Empire is quiet, and I have no emergency decisions to make.”

Rod'h took a position on the opposite side of the chrysalis chair. “Be thankful for that.”

Daro'h ran his fingers along the jewel-encrusted lip of the throne. “I have so much to understand before I am fit to rule. My brother Thor'h trained all his life to become Mage-Imperator, but he failed us. I am in this position only by accident. I was never meant to be Prime Designate.”

Rod'h gave a solemn nod. “I understand what you are feeling. Neither of us has the role we expected to have. We are both …
second choices
. I was supposed to be next in line to save the Empire in case Osira'h failed, but since she succeeded I was not needed after all. At least
you
are fulfilling your role.”

Daro'h gave a quiet laugh. “Do not envy me! I would much prefer that Thor'h had
not
been corrupted by mad Designate Rusa'h.”

Rod'h nodded. “And I am glad that my sister achieved her destiny so that I was not needed after all … but still, I want to be relevant. I want to contribute, not just be obsolete.” He leaned closer to the chrysalis chair. “You will be the next Mage-Imperator, Daro'h. You must accept your role, not regret it.

“Some are called to have great tales written about them in the Saga of Seven Suns, but most people are just forgotten characters.” He walked around the dais to stand beside the dubious Prime Designate. “More great events are in store for us—I know it. With the return of the Shana Rei, we may face a more dangerous threat to our existence than even the hydrogues or the faeros.”

When Daro'h blanched, the burn scar on his face became more prominent. Rod'h tried to calm him. “We have much in common, Prime Designate. I offer you my assistance and my friendship, if you will take them.”

Daro'h seemed relieved. “That's an interesting idea … and a good one.”

“You should have someone to rely on, if a crisis were to occur. With my genetics, I have powers that extend beyond the
thism
strands. I know how to open myself, and I may be able to communicate with the faeros as Osira'h did.” He looked at the scarred face. “I know that you have experience with the faeros yourself.”

The Prime Designate swallowed visibly. “The faeros nearly obliterated Ildira, killed hundreds of thousands, tried to kill
me!
If they are our only defense against the Shana Rei, then the solution may be as terrible as the enemy itself.”

Rod'h did not press the matter. “Let us hope it does not come to that choice.”

“The Mage-Imperator will return soon. I am just…” Daro'h raised his hands to indicate the nearly empty audience chamber. “I am just here.”

“And so am I.” Rod'h would revisit the conversation later, but he had begun the process of building a relationship. It might take time. “Just remember, Daro'h”—he used the familiar term on purpose—“no matter what the circumstances, you will be Mage-Imperator.” He patted the chrysalis chair.

Then he thought, but did not say aloud,
And I will be something, too.

 

CHAPTER

20

MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA'H

Despite all the pageantry as the Solar Navy warliners arrived at Theroc, Jora'h felt both somber and tense. He knew King Peter and Queen Estarra well enough, but humans were always a mystery to him—except for Nira.

“I do not intend to make excuses for what happened to the human enclave,” he said to her as the cutter took them down to the surface of the worldforest planet. “We all know that our strength lies in alliance.”

Nira peered through the windowport at the expansive worldforest below. “The trees will help us too, if they can.”

Riding with them, Yazra'h and Muree'n were resplendent in their supple body armor, looking even more dangerous than the guard kithmen. Yazra'h said, “When Osira'h returns to the Prism Palace, we will keep her safe. I advise that we bring Rememberer Anton home as well. He belongs with us.”

Jora'h was amenable to the suggestion, considering all that Anton Colicos had done for Ildiran society. “I cannot command the human historian, but if he wishes to come back with us, he is certainly welcome to do so.”

“He will definitely wish to come back with us,” Yazra'h said without a glimmer of doubt. “I will keep him safe.”

Muree'n added, “
We
will keep him safe.”

The cutter landed on the dense canopy, and the guard kithmen spread out as an armed escort. Jora'h held himself proudly as he looked out at the hazy jungle sunshine. The female green priest stood at his side like a queen, and she inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of the worldforest!”

He took her hand and they went to meet the King and Queen.

*   *   *

Inside the throne chamber of the fungus-reef city, the Mage-Imperator faced Peter and Estarra as an equal. He lowered his head, but did not bow.

“I have something important to say. When we allowed an enclave of human expatriates to settle in Mijistra, I promised them safety. I said that the Ildiran people would welcome them. I failed to protect them from the shadows, and they were massacred by my own people. Those Ildirans were possessed, but I still accept the responsibility.” Now he raised his eyes to look directly at Peter and Estarra. “I sincerely hope you will not let this damage the alliance between our races. The enemies arising now may be even greater than those we faced during the Elemental War.”

After a long, moment, Peter said, “We're just beginning to comprehend how dangerous the Shana Rei are. They nearly destroyed Theroc with their eclipse plate, but with the aid of your Solar Navy, we survived.” He glanced toward the Queen. “We have to fight together, not against each other.”

Dusky and beautiful, Estarra lifted her chin. “We know about the tragic massacre of humans, Mage-Imperator, and our hearts ache for all that innocent blood spilled. But we blame the shadows, not Ildirans.”

Peter said, “We fear that the Shana Rei also have a vendetta against the verdani mind. Even the worldforest cannot remember what happened the last time the Shana Rei appeared, but we have visitors now, the Onthos. They survived those times and the destruction of their world. Since taking refuge here they have told us some of their experiences.”

As if summoned, a dozen small gray-skinned creatures entered the throne chamber. Nira had let Jora'h know about the arrival of the Onthos, but he looked at the creatures in amazement nevertheless. “The Saga does not mention the Onthos at all.”

“Very few of us remain. Only a hundred of us came to Theroc.” The leader of the creatures took a step forward. “I am called Ohro. The King and Queen have allowed us to stay here, where we can be safe … if any place is safe from the Shana Rei.”

Ohro took a long strange sniff to inhale the Mage-Imperator's scent. Yazra'h and Muree'n both tensed, holding their sharp crystal katanas ready, but the alien made no threatening move. “The Shana Rei are subtle. One cannot always tell where they are or where they have been.”

A fiftyish man with gray-salted brown hair entered the chamber, dressed in casual clothes. He carried an armload of records, even an old-fashioned pad for taking notes. Yazra'h brightened as she saw him. “Rememberer Anton! I am glad to see you are safe and healthy.”

“And very busy. We need to piece together all information about the Shana Rei,” said Anton Colicos. “The Gardeners have added a lot of stories about their original world and their previous encounter with the shadows, but the worldforest doesn't remember the details. When all those trees died on their planet, it created a sort of amnesia in the verdani mind—which causes great consternation among the green priests.”