Deathstalker Legacy (25 page)

“You’ll never be allowed anywhere near the Maze, as things stand,” said Finn. “You might be the Empire’s official religion, but that doesn’t really mean anything where the things that matter are decided. I can change that.”

Angelo sat back in his chair, and looked thoughtfully at Finn. “If you’d betray your King, a man who was your friend and partner for ten years; what’s to stop you betraying me? Why should I trust you?”

“Because it’s in our interests to work together, to achieve what we can’t bring about separately. And Douglas was never my friend.”

“Then we’re partners,” said Angelo. “Very secretly, of course. And never make the mistake of thinking that your personal needs will be allowed to interfere with those of the Church.”

“Of course not,” said Finn.

They spoke some more, but it was just pleasantries, and soon it was time for Finn and his people to leave. Brett stuffed a last few cakes and delicacies into his pockets, but kept his hands away from the silverware and the objets d’art. He knew Finn was watching, even if Angelo wasn’t. Brett felt strangely vindicated. He’d never trusted peacekeepers, priests, or Angelo Bellini, and it seemed he’d been right about all three. Once Finn and company were safely outside, with the doors of the Church politely but firmly closed behind them, Brett looked seriously at Finn.

“So much for the Saint of Madraguda. Have you any intention of delivering what you promised him?”

“I don’t know,” said Finn. “It might be amusing . . .”

“You can con him,” said Brett, “but will he stay conned?”

“He’ll con himself,” said Finn. “He wants this so badly, he’ll talk himself into doing whatever I tell him it takes. And soon he’ll be in so deep he won’t be able to walk away . . . Come, children; we’ve made a good start today. Now Daddy has to go home and do some serious plotting.”

“When do I get to kill someone?” said Rose. She might have been inquiring about the weather.

“Soon,” said Finn. “Very soon.”

 

Backstage at Parliament, in Anne Barclay’s private security room, Douglas, Lewis, Jesamine, and Anne were winding down after a long and incident-filled first day in the House. Douglas snatched off his Crown the moment the door closed behind him, and slammed it down on the first available surface. Lewis cracked open his leather armor so his chest could get some air, and sprawled out in the nearest chair. Jesamine poured herself a large mug of coffee from the waiting pot, and drank half of it down in several quick gulps. Anne looked at them sardonically from her chair before the monitor screens.

“You’re acting like you’ve just been through a battle.”

“Bloody well feels like it,” growled Douglas, sinking slowly into a chair. “Tell me it gets easier from now on.”

“Well I will if you like, but you know I never feel comfortable lying to my friends. Settle for this; you made a good start. You established yourself as the voice of reason, showed you had a good grasp of the political process, and made it very clear you weren’t going to be intimidated by the House or the issues. Just the kind of Speaker that Parliament needs, whether they like to admit it or not. And the bomber made you look really good. You didn’t panic, put your life on the line to protect innocents, looked out for Jesamine . . . and Lewis took the little creep out like the professional he is. Nice one, Lewis.”

“Yeah,” said Douglas. “You got some action today after all, Champion.”

Lewis sniffed. “You keep on pissing off heavy-duty bastards like that, and I’m going to need better weaponry. How about a stasis field projector? Yeah, I know, they’re expensive; but it would have been just the job today. Put him on ice in a second. A transmutation bomb . . . that is playing really dirty. And how the hell did he smuggle something like that into the House anyway? Just its presence should have set off every alarm in the building!”

“Don’t I know it,” said Anne. “I can only assume it’s been so long since there’s been a serious threat to the House that certain people have got sloppy. Heads will roll over this. Actually, it’s just the excuse I need to force some high up but basically useless people to retire.”

“It was more than that,” said Lewis. “Somebody very well placed must have been paid to look the other way, shut down the relevant systems. Pure Humanity has a spy in the House.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all,” said Anne. “They’re devious bastards. Once I’ve got my own people in place, I can start putting pressure on anyone I even suspect isn’t one hundred percent behind the King.”

“Anne, dear,” said Jesamine. “You don’t actually run the House’s Security.”

“Only a matter of time,” said Anne. She looked at Lewis. “Good thinking on your feet. What exactly did you throw at the bomber?”

“This,” said Lewis. He sat forward in his chair and held out his palm, with the chunky black gold ring balanced on it. The others leaned forward to study it. Jesamine recognized it first, and shrieked out loud.

“That’s the Deathstalker ring! Owen’s ring! Sign and symbol of Clan authority. It was one of the main props in
Deathstalker’s Lament
.”

“Where did you get that?” said Douglas. “It was supposed to have disappeared with Owen two hundred years ago!”

Lewis told them about the strange little man called Vaughn. None of the others recognized the name or the description. They took it in turns to hold the ring and study it, touching it only gingerly. The ring had belonged to a legend, so that made it a legend too. They were all more than a little awed. Finally Anne gave it back to Lewis, and he slipped it back on his finger.

“I feel a bit weird,” said Douglas. “That ring saved my life. It’s as though Owen himself reached out to save me through his descendant.
Weird.
”

“The bomber really was very stupid, darling,” said Jesamine. “All he had to do was run up to Douglas and detonate his bomb, and there would have been nothing Lewis could do to prevent it. But no, he had to show off, and make his stupid speeches first. Have his moment in the spotlight. Prima donnas. They’re all the same.”

“Smart people don’t do suicide-bomb runs,” said Anne. “They convince some other stupid bastard to do it for them.”

“Pity you couldn’t take him alive, Lewis,” said Douglas. “Alive, we might have been able to get some answers out of him. I really want the people behind this.”

“You ungrateful pig!” Jesamine said immediately. “Lewis saved your life! He saved all our lives.”

“He wasn’t going to be taken alive, Douglas,” Lewis said evenly. “You heard him. And you can be sure there would have been a poison tooth or another bomb hidden in his belly. Something dramatic. There was no way his bosses would have sent him out without being sure there was no way anything could be traced back to them. We’ve dealt with this kind before, back when we were both Paragons. You know how they think.”

“Yes,” said Douglas. “Of course, Lewis; you’re quite right. Sorry. I’m . . . still a little shaken. Why don’t you work with Anne; see if the two of you can figure out exactly how he got past Security.”

Lewis nodded, got up, and moved over to join Anne before her monitors. She was already using her computers to work out possible routes the bomber could have used to end up in the alien section of the House. Douglas looked at Jesamine, and she came over and sat down beside him.

“Why did you go to him, Jes, and not to me?” Douglas said softly.

“He saved both our lives,” said Jesamine steadily. “And silly me, I was worried he might be hurt. Don’t make more of it than it was.”

“You must know it looked more than that, in front of the media cameras. It looked
bad,
Jes. Like you cared more about him than you did about me.”

“I know more about the media than you ever will, Douglas Campbell! They’ll see what’s there, and nothing else; a woman concerned over the Champion who saved her life and that of her husband-to-be. No one will say anything else; unless you make a big deal of it. Let it drop, Douglas. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” said Douglas. “It matters to me.”

 

There was a lot more for them to discuss, and it was some time before the day’s business was finally over and they were all free to go their separate ways, and consider the day’s ramifications. Lewis walked the narrow corridors alone, the heavy scowl on his ugly face enough to keep pretty much everyone at a distance. Even those who just wanted to congratulate him on the day’s heroism thought better of it, and kept on walking. Lewis didn’t notice. He never did.

And then a large and blocky figure moved deliberately out of the shadows to block his path. Lewis had to stop or walk right through him. Lewis opened his mouth, and then closed it again, as he recognized the man standing patiently before him. Michel du Bois, Member for his own home planet of Virimonde. Lewis nodded politely, and du Bois nodded politely back.

“You did well today, Deathstalker. Credit to you reflects well upon your home. And I really like the new outfit.”

“Don’t you start,” said Lewis. “What do you want, du Bois? And why do I just know I’m not going to like it?”

“We need to talk, Deathstalker,” said du Bois. “And you’ve been avoiding me ever since the Coronation.”

“That’s because I was hoping to avoid just such conversations as this,” growled Lewis. “We have talked in the past, du Bois, and neither of us enjoyed it. Nothing has changed. I am not going to trade on my friendship and position with the King to plead for special favors and attention for Virimonde.”

“Why not?” du Bois said reasonably. “Everyone trades favors here, even though we’re not supposed to. A little of this, for a little of that. Everyone makes deals. That’s how the system works. Up until now, Virimonde has been very much the poor relation at the House. We’ve never had anything or anyone to trade with. So all the best trade deals and economic grants ended up going to other worlds that needed them less than we do. When we bring our begging bowl to the House, we stand alone, with no friend or ally at our side. You could change all that. People would flock to the world that had the ear of the King. You talk to the King, he talks to the subcommittees, everyone gets something they want, everyone’s happy. What’s so bad about that? I’m not asking for anything for myself, Deathstalker; only for my world. Your world. Your home.”

“Wouldn’t do any harm to your chances for reelection, though, would it?” said Lewis. “I do know a few things about how politics work. You have to deliver, or they’ll replace you with someone else who might. Understand me very clearly, du Bois; I am not going to do anything that might compromise Douglas’s position. It’s important to him and to me that the first Imperial Champion in two hundred years is seen to be utterly impartial. Or no one will trust him or me.”

“How soon they forget,” said du Bois, and there was new iron in his voice. “How ungrateful the son can be, once he’s distanced himself from his family. Who was it that supported you all these years on Logres, added to your meager salary, so you could play the part of the honest Paragon? Your wages didn’t allow you to live as other Paragons did, and your own family couldn’t support you.”

“I never asked for that money! You came to me, said it was important that Virimonde’s Paragon didn’t appear to be a poor relation at Court!”

“You took the money,” said du Bois. “Did you never think that one day there would be a reckoning? The people of Virimonde put up a lot of money on your behalf, went without so you could live in comfort in the greatest city in the Empire. They’re entitled to get something back for that.”

“They do,” said Lewis, meeting du Bois’s angry gaze unflinchingly. “They get a Champion they can be proud of. My responsibility to them is the same now as it always was: to be the best, most honorable representative of my world that I am capable of being. To be honest and true, and incorruptible. An honorable man, from an honorable world.”

“Words,” said the Member for Virimonde. “Just words. You have a lot to learn, young Deathstalker, about how the Empire really works.”

“Oh, I’m learning,” said Lewis. “Trust me, du Bois; I’m learning. Douglas chose me to be his Champion, rather than the more obvious choice of the Durandal, because he trusted me to be my own man. And so I am. Stop my money, if you want. If you can. I will not compromise my beliefs; beliefs my Clan has held to for hundreds of years. I am a Deathstalker; and don’t you ever forget it. From now on, du Bois, I think we should meet only on public occasions. We have nothing more to say to each other in private.”

“I could raise the matter directly with the King,” said du Bois. “He might be more . . . reasonable.”

“The King is very reasonable,” said Lewis. “He’s also even more honorable than I am. He’d have you arrested for treason on the spot, just for trying to put pressure on me. So you go right ahead, if you want. I’m told Traitor’s Hall is comparatively comfortable, these days.”

He bowed briefly to du Bois and walked away, and du Bois watched him go, and thought many things.

I
t had been two weeks since Douglas’s Coronation, and everything in the garden was wonderful. The planet of Logres, and most especially that ancient and golden city, the Parade of the Endless, blossomed like a rose in summer under the rapt attention of the whole Empire. The new King’s positive attitude had caught Humanity’s mood exactly, and his unexpected political skills had delighted everyone who enjoyed seeing the established political elite embarrassed and outdone. The media followed King Douglas and his people wherever they went, and absolutely everyone was fascinated to see what he would do next. It was only another two weeks until he would be marrying the Empire’s most beloved diva, anticipation was already at fever pitch, and the media were going out of their minds. They had all made it very clear that nothing short of armed force was going to keep them out of this one, so Douglas had bowed to the inevitable, and graciously agreed to Empirewide live coverage of his marriage, to be carried on all the major channels. Jesamine had already promised that she would be singing at the ceremony; her last ever live performance. Bidding for the recording rights was fierce, bordering on vicious. Already there were newsgroups, websites, and whole vid channels devoted to nothing but gossip about the buildup to the marriage ceremony.