Rift in the Races (5 page)

Baron Thoroughgood and his son Thadius both followed the Queen’s example and went casually to the stone box. Thadius stopped when he came near Orli and offered her his arm. “Shall we, Miss Pewter?” he asked, tilting a smile down at her from his lofty six-foot-five-inch height.

“Why of course we shall, Lord Thoroughgood,” Orli replied. “I’d be delighted.” She took his arm, knowing that doing so was the best way to show the other officers that there really was nothing to fear, and she let him lead her toward the teleportation chamber on the heels of his father and the Queen. She flashed a grin back at Roberto, who, in response, mouthed her own words back at her mockingly. “Why of course,” he shaped silently. “I’d be delighted.” He even did a little half-curtsy, holding out invisible skirts at his sides.

Altin would have laughed, but the situation was too precarious for mirth. Besides, Thadius shot him a smug look as he passed by. “Nice work, old man,” the young lord said sarcastically just before he went inside.

Altin’s right eyelid quivered for a moment, but he pushed jealousy away. Now was not the time for it. And besides, Orli’s plan had worked. Or at least mostly so, for the rest of the group were making their way toward the chamber, though a few of the captains were doing so reluctantly. Altin eased their minds, saying, “You won’t even know what happened. There is truly nothing to fear.”

“It is true,” said General Darklot as he walked past the sluggish cluster of fleet officers. “Our man Sir Altin there is the most powerful teleporter on the planet. He is a Z. You could not possibly be in better hands.” He ducked inside with Lieutenant Andru right behind.

Altin couldn’t decide who looked more put out by the whole experience: Captain Asad at having to place his fate and that of his fellow fleet officers in Altin’s hands, or the marchioness who clearly felt as if she were about to be crammed into a bucket full of pig feces. He had to work pretty hard not to grin as each of them walked by.

Soon enough, however, they were all inside. The fit was cozy, made more so at the edges because nobody wanted to get too close to the Queen out of respect or to the elf out of fear, and the marchioness radiated an aura of hate that bought her a bit of extra space as well.

Given that, Altin wasted no time getting the spell underway. He closed the door behind himself and quickly made the cast that brought them into
Citadel
. It was only a matter of seconds before he opened the door again.

“We’re here,” he said as he stepped into the room beyond. He beckoned them out with a movement of his hand.

The chamber’s occupants flowed out into a large, shadowy room in which several heavy wooden desks sat unoccupied. Orli noticed that all the desks were bereft of anything that would give evidence of use. There was not a quill or parchment to be seen. The chairs were all snugly pushed up against them, uniformly so, and it seemed as if the room had never been used before. The walls were barren, and even the sconces mounted on them had no torches in them yet. The whole room was lit dimly by a pair of lamps burning on the nearest desk.

“I apologize for the bare bones of this particular area,” the Queen said. “Our people use the servants’ teleporter, and we haven’t gotten the Transportation Guild Service office fully functional yet. But, you know what they say, ‘You can’t just conjure a kingdom, you have to conquer it piece by piece.’”

Captain Asad turned to share a raised eyebrow with Captain Jefferies at that remark. Orli saw the movement and shared an eye roll with Roberto who’d seen it too.

Light spilled into the room then as Aderbury opened a door leading out into a hallway beyond. “If you’ll come with me, everyone, we can show you some of
Citadel’s
finer points.”

“Yes, please do,” said Captain Asad, welding his polite and appreciative mask back into place. He made a point of double-checking the video feed on his com badge in a way that caused a few others to follow suit.

Thadius once more proffered his arm to Orli, and reluctantly she took it again. She saw from the look on Altin’s face that he did not approve this time. She didn’t want to upset him, or to distract him from his duties giving the tour, but she also thought it was still a good diplomatic exercise to be polite to the dignitaries from Kurr. She might have lost any official claim to ambassador status, but she still knew that her actions had consequences, particularly on an outing such as this. She promised herself she would make it up to Altin later tonight, when they would finally be alone. It was a promise she conveyed to him with a wink and a little airborne kiss as she slipped out the door.

Altin smiled wanly back at that as he watched her pass into the hallway. He followed Roberto out, stopping long enough to close the door behind him in keeping with public teleportation rules.

“Don’t sweat it, bro,” Roberto said, lingering while Altin locked the door. He’d noticed Altin’s discomfiture regarding Orli and Thadius. “She never talks about anyone but you.”

Altin nodded. “I’m not worried about her,” he said. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

Roberto nodded back. “He’s a big fancy bastard, I’ll give him that. But Orli can handle herself.”

Altin let himself laugh, but kept it low enough that only he and Roberto heard. He clapped Roberto on the shoulder, and the two of them trotted forward to catch up with the group. When they did, Captain Asad was just asking Aderbury about access to
Citadel
.

“So,” said the captain as they navigated what seemed a maze of corridors, “am I to understand that the only way in or out of
Citadel
is by that means back there?”

“Correct,” answered the burly mage. “What better way to keep an enemy out than providing it no way in, eh? I’d love to see one of those Hostiles try to poke its pointy nose through that much enchanted armor as easily as that one did to the shield on Altin’s tower, and, as I understand it, as one did to your ship’s shielding as well, Captain.” He was clearly proud of the accomplishment, which was why the captain’s next remark caught him off guard.

“So, you’ve essentially made it impervious to … as you call them, blanks.” He used the Prosperion pejorative for people without magic intentionally, then paused briefly for effect before adding, “Like us.”

Aderbury’s mouth opened, and for a moment he looked as if he were about to speak, but he stopped and only a single note of sound escaped. Eyes wide, he snapped his mouth shut and glanced sideways to the Queen.

“Yes, Captain,” she said as she continued to walk down the corridor, not bothering to look back. “We’ve made it so that we are the only ones who have access to our ships. I’m sure your ships don’t have an open-gate policy either.”

“It seems your man Altin thinks we do.”

The Queen, consummate diplomat that she was, kept her face forward, still walking to conceal the irritation that had settled there. In Altin’s explanation of his first contact with the Earth people a year and a half ago, he made it very clear he’d done everything possible to get permission to go aboard the first Earth ship he’d ever seen. He’d tried to communicate, realized his efforts weren’t working and, in the end, decided to take the chance and just teleport straight to the bridge. While that made perfect sense to her, she could understand how Captain Asad had interpreted Altin’s actions as a violation of etiquette and even as an act of aggression. Frankly, in the same situation she might have shot Altin too, just as the captain had.

“Yes, Captain,” she said when her expression could be called passive again. This time she stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to face him squarely. “He and I have had words about that incident.” Which was true; they had discussed it, though the “words” were not punitive in any way. Still, her response was technically true, if not directly to the captain’s point, and that subtlety was often at the heart of diplomacy. “First encounters with new friends from across the galaxy seem to require a bit more flexibility than we might otherwise prefer. Fortunately, we’re all good natured about such things.”

“How will your people escape in an emergency?” Orli asked, jumping in before Captain Asad could say something snide about good-natured encounters with newly made enemies. “What if something happens and there are no teleporters around?”

Aderbury, looking relieved, reached into the collar of his robes and pulled out a cluster of amulets. He untangled a silver chain from the bunch and presented it to the group. A thumbnail-sized amethyst hung from it. “We use these,” he said. “They are fast-cast amulets. Everyone on
Citadel
is required to wear one. They can get themselves back to Prosperion in an instant if needs be. We’ll keep the mana in them regularly augmented for distances as we move along. Sir Altin has warned us about just how far away we might get someday.”

Orli was familiar with the amulets, having seen one in action the day she thought Altin had died.

“That’s all very good,” said the Queen. “Now let’s be on with it. The first stop on the tour is just through here.” She opened a door and a moment later they stood along the top row of a huge stadium looking down into an immense, dirt-floored arena.

“My training grounds,” the Queen announced proudly. “I’ve got stables and barracks to accommodate a full five regiments of cavalry—three light and two heavy. On the next floor up,” she looked up at the ceiling which was fifty feet from the arena floor by Orli’s estimate, “is another parade ground of equal size in which my infantry and artillery can train.”

The Queen swelled with pride at these announcements, but the amused expression on Captain Asad’s face revealed that he thought it completely ridiculous. He did have the admiral’s orders in mind, however, so he converted the smirk into a smile that looked properly impressed.

From there, Aderbury led them through several floors, each housing various departments and stocked for various contingencies. All in all, there were twenty floors, complete with a central palace, an immense library—which was still being filled with books, for which Aderbury apologized and made excuses about how slow transcription could be—and a whole floor designated for
Citadel’s
hospital.

When they’d finished a brief walk through the hospital, the Queen suddenly lit up in a way she hadn’t since the captains had first arrived. Proud as she had been through this part or that of
Citadel
, suddenly she became nearly as excited as a child on Winter’s Eve holiday. She practically pushed Aderbury out of the way as she completely took over the role of tour guide at that point. “Finally,” she said. “It’s time to show you the Concert Hall. The center of
Citadel
’s power.”

Captain Asad sent Captain Jefferies a meaningful look as if to say, “Pay attention,” and the other man nodded, though Orli thought Captain Jefferies’ expression seemed more than a little impatient now. Captain Asad’s probing questions and sober glances along the way had seemed to annoy Captain Jefferies more than they were setting off any alarms in his mind. She didn’t think Jefferies was one of the officers sitting around the fire at Captain Asad’s Camp Paranoid.

They made their way up a winding stairwell that brought them to a grand gallery. It opened up on a vast garden, which was well appointed with native Prosperion plants and trees, some of them towering above and nearly touching the ceiling forty feet up. The group wanted to stop and marvel at the artificial sunlight coming from the ceiling, which was enchanted to mimic the natural light of day, but the Queen would not hear of it. The gardens were not the point. She directed them to the far end of the open space and, in particular, to a massive set of bronze doors. Twenty feet high, and arched at the top, they gleamed like mirrors, reflecting the party almost perfectly, foremost among them the Queen wearing a resplendent smile filled with anticipation and expectant glory.

A pair of rubies the size of floodlights jutted from each door, serving as doorknobs, and all around the raised edges of the great bronze slabs were more rubies, nearly half as large as the knobs and lined up like marquee lights, each glowing from within and pulsing brightly in unison as if to the beat of a single heart. As the Queen approached the opulent entryway, Orli expected her to command Aderbury or the young lieutenant to open the ponderous portals, but she didn’t. She tapped one of the shimmering knobs with a finger and stepped back, letting it swing easily outward as if it were little more than brightly painted foam board.

The Queen strode straight into the vast chamber beyond and let her gaze play up and down the spacious room, taking in its enormity with the sweep of her royal eyes. “This,” she said, “is the heart of
Citadel
.”

Orli followed with the rest and retraced the path of the Queen’s gaze with her own. For several long seconds she stood trout-like, her mouth agape as she tried to comprehend the scale of it, and the unsettling nature of its artistry.

If she had to guess, she would have said it was a hundred feet to the crest of the domed ceiling, which was covered with a rich crimson substance that had the shine of opaque glass but that gave Orli the impression of something far more opulent by the depth of its color, a quality of luminousness that was rich without being gaudy or too bright. Snaking about the surface of the crimson dome were ropes of gold. They began at the center and expanded outward like tentacles. They shaped a single vast image, an outreach or probing of sinuous aggression that made her think of a squid, though the groping limbs had no suction cups, nor did a beaked mouth wait in the midst of the writhing mass to devour anything. Yet somehow that was the effect it had on her as she looked up into it. It seemed to move, and she was fairly sure that it wasn’t just an illusion. She took the time to watch the distance between two of the tendrils where they came to rest at the top row of stadium-style seats. What was two seat-backs’ distance between them certainly became something less. Or at least she thought it did.