The Moon's Shadow (18 page)

When she looked up, Jai inclined his head. She paused and bowed, then resumed her walk to the dais where he stood. He couldn’t pull his gaze away; she mesmerized him even more now than before. He didn’t understand how she worked this madness. Part of him responded to her as a
Highton.
She was the ultimate product of their caste, which was supremely ironic given that both she and Jai lacked the main attribute that defined Hightons, an ability to transcend.

Her retinue slowed as they climbed the dais. When they reached Jai, her aides knelt to him and the Razers bowed. Tarquine also bowed, but then she stood appraising him like a hawk watching a pup in the fields. She spoke huskily. “My honor at your presence, Your Highness.”

Jai flushed. “It pleases us to see you, Minister Iquar.”

“Good,” she murmured.

Remembering himself, Jai moved his hand, palm down, permitting her aides to stand.

Protocol joined them and bowed to Tarquine. “An auspicious day, Minister Iquar. Soon all will know its splendid favor.”

Jai supposed that was Hightonese for, “We’re ready to start.” His aides went to work on Tarquine, straightening her black tunic and trousers, and fixing her hair, which she wore in an elegant roll on her head.

The Protocol Minister surveyed the Finance Minister. Then Protocol spoke to one of her aides. “Minister Iquar needs garb more befitting an empress, eh? Bring me a formal dress, black diamond cloth.”

Tarquine turned an icy gaze on the aide. “On the other hand, perhaps you value your well-being.”

The aide flushed. “Ma’am?”

“If you do value it,” Tarquine continued, “I suggest you desist with the dress.”

Protocol scowled. When Tarquine raised an eyebrow at her, Protocol started to speak, then apparently thought better of it. To her alarmed aide, she said, “Perhaps Minister Iquar’s garb will be fine after all.”

Jai blinked. He wished he knew how Tarquine did that. He had ended up wearing exactly what Protocol wanted, conservative trousers and high-necked shirt, all black, even their fastenings. But as cool as Tarquine was on the outside, he picked up unexpected emotions from her mind. She had never expected the title of empress; now, faced with its reality, she alternated among misgiving, satisfaction, ire, and incredulity.

Aides clustered around them, conferring and checking palmtops. Amid the bustle, Jai watched Tarquine and she watched him back, inscrutable. He couldn’t absorb that this woman would be his wife. It brought home the extent of his influence, that he could simply announce his intent to marry one of the most powerful human beings alive, and have it come to pass.

Right,
he thought dryly. Had Tarquine wanted to refuse him, this betrothal wouldn’t be taking place. Incredible as it seemed, she was willing to take him. Or, more realistically, she would take the title he offered.

His mood darkened. He wasn’t the one she had given up fourteen million credits for. What would she think when she learned her escaped provider was now the Imperator of Skolia? Would she crave Kelric even more?

It doesn’t matter,
Jai told himself, trying to believe it. He had her now.

The aides finally withdrew, leaving Jai and Tarquine side-by-side, facing the holocams. He knew how they looked: the same height, black hair shimmering, eyes ruby red, their faces snow-marble smooth, their clothes severe and black. A brace of perfect Hightons.

The Eubian anthem played, its haunting strains filling the Hall with a beauty so heartbreaking, it hurt to hear. Jai so wished he could see that beauty among the Hightons, instead of the cold formality that defined them. He felt as if he were facing a lifetime of starvation, but of the soul rather than the body.

The lights of holocams blinked, but he knew that right now the broadcast was showing views of the palace. After an eternity, Protocol’s voice came over the comm in his ear. “We’re ready for your part, Your Highness. Three, two, one—go.”

Jai took a deep breath. “People of Eube, I bring you joyous news.”

So Jai announced the betrothal, his speech peppered with the requisite lavish praise for the Line of Iquar, including the previous empress, his grandmother, Tarquine’s niece. If anyone objected to his kinship with Tarquine, they had the sense to keep their mouth shut. Given that Jaibriol I had married his sister because he considered no one else elevated enough for his bloodline, Jai doubted his relation to Tarquine would cause much shock. That she was his Finance Minister and so much older was far more likely to stir controversy.

After Jai finished his speech, High Judge Calope Muze officiated at the betrothal, sanctifying it for their wedding, which would take place in three months.

Then it was done. Qox and Iquar were once again united. Standing with Tarquine, Jai thought darkly of a phrase he had learned on Earth.

Until death do us part.

L
ord Raziquon hit the wall with his fist, causing a nearby table to shake. The vase on the table toppled off and shattered on the floor.

A wry voice spoke behind him. “Destroying pottery rarely accomplishes anything.”

Raziquon swung around. Xirad Kaliga, Joint Commander of ESComm, stood in the horseshoe arch of Raziquon’s office, leaning against its side, his arms crossed.

Raziquon gave him the minimalist greeting favored in their circle. “Admiral.”

Then Raziquon saw who else had entered his office, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Both Joint Commanders had come to visit. General Kryx Taratus was half-sitting on the desk across the room, facing him. A large man in both height and physique, Taratus had thick eyebrows and a blocky chin. He had also brought his younger brother, Azar Taratus, a taller, thinner man with sharply handsome features. Azar stood by a window, staring out at the gardens of Raziquon’s estate.

Kaliga smiled slightly. “It must be gratifying to have so many antiques that you need to be rid of them.”

Raziquon scowled. “What I need to be rid of is the dawn.” It enraged him that his interrogation of Sunrise had so far come to naught; he had risked his good name when he arranged her abduction.

General Taratus was watching him. “The Line of Xir continues to inquire into confidential ESComm cases.”

That was no surprise; Raziquon had no doubt Corbal’s kin were “inquiring” with great vehemence about Sunrise. At least he had succeeded in having Corbal blamed for her disappearance. “Perhaps the Line of Xir forgets it is, itself, one of those confidential cases.”

“One cannot hold a Highton indefinitely,” Kaliga said. “Proof makes the difference.”

“Holorecords offer proof,” Raziquon said. Although the holos that showed Sunrise stealing files didn’t directly implicate Xir, she couldn’t have acted without his permission.

“Records can be doctored,” General Taratus said. His posture indicated sarcasm. “Or so Security tells me.”

Raziquon didn’t like the sound of it. If Xir’s people could prove the records implicating Sunrise were false, the case against Corbal would fall apart.

“Security could be wrong,” Raziquon said.

“Perhaps.” Kaliga’s stance indicated skepticism. “But I suspect it will please Corbal Xir to attend his cousin’s nuptials.”

Raziquon’s rage deepened. If Xir’s people demonstrated that the records had been doctored, their lord could indeed be free before the wedding. Then suspicion could ricochet back to the other guests who had dined that night with the emperor, may the gods scorch his Esteemed Imperial Self. And Sunrise had revealed nothing they could use against Xir. No provider should have such strong mental protections. It wasn’t legal. It wasn’t
decent.

Kaliga spoke. “The Line of Xir gathers strength. It pleases me to see it so blessed in favor with the palace.” He was holding his thumb and forefinger together at his side, implying he intended the opposite sentiment to what his words expressed.

Azar Taratus had been staring out the window, but now he turned. His usually sardonic mien had darkened. “The Line of Iquar is likewise blessed.”

General Taratus glanced dourly at his younger brother. “With help from the Line of Taratus, eh?” When Azar scowled, the general raised an eyebrow. Raziquon supposed that the general meant Jaibriol III might not have betrothed himself so precipitously to Tarquine Iquar if not for the court case that had brought them together.

Kaliga spoke to Raziquon. “It is fortunate you have an omega clearance, my esteemed friend.”

Raziquon blinked. What did his security clearance have to do with this? He let his posture indicate wariness. “It is an honor to have the trust of ESComm.”

“So it is,” General Taratus rumbled.

“Trusted enough,” Kaliga continued, “to know that Minister Iquar gained a certain provider cheap.”

Raziquon didn’t see what they were about. “You are wealthy indeed, to consider fourteen million cheap.”

“Cheap,” Kaliga repeated. “Just ask Imperator Skolia.”

“Imperator Skolia is dead.” Raziquon had watched the holo of her shuttle exploding many times. Kaliga’s tone suggested a revealed confidence, but Raziquon saw no secrets.

“Those who die often leave heirs.” The younger Taratus spoke in a deceptively soft voice. “It seems our new Imperator enjoys remarkably good health, especially considering his supposedly dreadful state when Tarquine Iquar’s doctors examined him.”

It took a moment for his meaning to register on Raziquon. No.
Impossible.
Had Tarquine Iquar owned a member of the Ruby Dynasty—and let him
escape
? Gods, what a debacle. “Then may our dear Finance Minister rest in peace.”

“But a well-paid peace, eh?” General Taratus said.

Raziquon narrowed his gaze. Well-paid? “Your wishes for the Finance Minister are benign.” Bizarre, too, given Tarquine Iquar’s aggravating existence.

“Benign, hell.” Taratus crossed his beefy arms, left over right.

“Imperial decrees, now, they go beyond benign.” His posture, in the context of his words, implied he meant the decrees made by Jaibriol III at the insurance hearing.

“Indeed.” Raziquon still didn’t see their point.

“Hell of a thing, these imperial decrees,” Taratus continued. “Just think; if an independent evaluation of the escaped provider sets his worth higher than that determined by the bureaus, they must pay double the difference between their most recent assessment and the independent appraisal.”

Raziquon stared at him. “Skolia be damned.”

“Damned indeed,” Kaliga said. “What is an Imperator worth, eh? More than fourteen million, I’d wager.”

Hell and damnation. Raziquon wanted to punch the wall again. Tarquine Iquar was about to receive an obscene insurance settlement, and she would soon combine her odiously vast power base with the Qox Dynasty. If that wasn’t enough, Corbal Xir would go free, and suspicion would taint Kaliga’s guests from that miserable dinner. It all added up to the wrong people gaining power and the right people suffering for it, namely himself, Jaibriol Raziquon.

Something had to be done.

Sunrise ran.

The forest around Raziquon’s estate seemed endless. She recognized nothing. She didn’t think she was even still on Glory; the air smelled wrong and her body felt too heavy. The sky had no moons. Her silk pajamas offered little warmth from the night, and twigs and rocks jabbed her feet, but she didn’t care. After what she had endured from Raziquon, a few scrapes were nothing. Terror spurred her as she ran among the trees, stumbling in the unfamiliar gravity.

Days had passed since the kidnapping, she didn’t know how many. Her life had narrowed to Raziquon and the interrogation room. During every reprieve she had rationed her sanity, praying he would grow bored with his futile attempts to make her talk, and every day he had crushed her hope.

But everyone erred sooner or later. Today he had slipped, a small mistake, one that didn’t matter according to his view of reality. He hadn’t put on her ankle restraints, though he had left her locked in her suite. She was a provider; she could no more think her way out of a locked room than could an animal. Or so he thought.

Sunrise had let the Hightons misread her intelligence. Their arrogance made them careless. By closely watching her jailers, she had figured out the passwords that locked her suite, and tonight she used those codes to escape. Then she had stolen a palmtop. Such a small thing, a palmtop, but she had been forbidden to use the technology Aristos took for granted. Supposedly she was incapable of understanding it. Perhaps that was true for some providers; she didn’t know. But she had made the palmtop do what she wanted, disguising the signature emitted by her collar so she could flee the estate.

She had to leave this place fast, before her disguise failed. A provider couldn’t travel alone; if she tried, the authorities would contact her owner. That would be good, but only if their records listed Corbal. The starport was her best hope, if she could find her way without alerting Raziquon.

So she ran, desperate, fleeing from one unknown to another.

After preparing Tarquine Iquar’s financial report, the Iquar Accounting Office sent the report to the Committee on Ethics and Morals for the Ministry of Finance, which went over it in detail, making changes, and then sent it to the Protocol Office at the Qox palace, which went over it in detail, making changes, then released it to the palace Ethics and Morals Committee, which made changes and released it to the Accounting Office, which had numerous questions for the Ethics and Morals Committee, which contacted the Protocol Office, which contacted the Ethics and Morals Committee at the Finance Ministry, which contacted the Iquar accountants.

Eventually, after the palace accountants investigated, reinstated, recovered, and otherwise put back what everyone else had deleted, added, and changed, they sent the report to the emperor. When Jai opened the huge file at the console in his office, he had a complete record of where it had been and who had done what to it before the file reached him.

“Good gods,” he muttered to Robert. “This is crazy.”

“They have your best interests in mind.” Robert assured him. He was sitting next to Jai with his comp screen unrolled in his lap. “Your staff wishes to ensure you receive a full accounting of your betrothed’s assets, and that no awkward questions arise when you and Minister Iquar combine assets.”

“That they feel the need to do so many checks doesn’t exactly ease my mind.” Jai motioned at the document on his screen. “Tarquine’s accountants hid her investments in the Sapphire Sector platinum mines. Ethics and Morals at the Finance Ministry put it back in, Protocol here took it out, and our Ethics and Morals people put it back in.” He scowled at Robert. “Why the blazes would anyone care if my future wife invests in platinum?”

“Perhaps because of the shortage?”

Jai just barely restrained his groan. Apparently he was about to learn yet another fact he should have already known. “What shortage?”

When Robert hesitated, Jai understood: Aristos took exception to having a taskmaker lecture them. But they weren’t stupid; they knew they needed the expertise of their staffs. Taskmakers walked a precarious line between being invaluable and becoming a threat by knowing too much.

“Go ahead,” Jai said.

“Most platinum comes from asteroids in the Platinum Sectors,” Robert said. “The mining operations were hit hard during the war. Now we have a shortage.”

“I take it Sapphire Sector doesn’t have a shortage.”

“You are perceptive.”

Jai answered dryly. “And you’re a diplomat.” It didn’t surprise him to find Tarquine in the middle of this. Platinum had great economic value; many technologies used the metal. A shortage could provide a windfall for a financially savvy person—including one who shouldn’t be exploiting her knowledge to her own financial gain.

“Let me guess,” Jai said. “Tarquine used her connections as Finance Minister to buy up huge quantities of Sapphire Sector platinum at a price that undercut the market. Her accountants don’t want us to know, the ethics committees do want us to know, and my protocol people don’t want it to appear I’m involved in this questionable ‘little’ business.”

Robert gave a strained smile. “That about sums it up.”

Jai swore under his breath. “This could backfire on us.”

“The Protocol Office can offer guidance for dealing with political shrapnel.”

“I’d rather not be hit.” Disheartened, Jai scrolled through the immensely annotated report. If the rest of his betrothed’s finances were as bad as the bit with platinum, he was in deep, deep trouble.

He turned to Robert, and a difference registered on him. “You’ve a new collar.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Does this one fit better?”

“Much better, Your Highness.”

“Good.” It wasn’t good, it was appalling, but at least Robert would be more comfortable. “Let me know if you have any more trouble.”

“I will, sir.” Although outwardly Robert showed little emotion, surprise came from his mind. Jai’s grandfather, the last emperor Robert had known, would have never bothered to ask such a question. Jai gritted his teeth. He wondered how his purportedly esteemed predecessor would have felt if he had had to wear one of the wretched things.

A light blinked on his console. Jai tapped it with his finger. “Yes?”

“Your Highness, this is Vitar Bartholson in Security.”

Jai froze.
Vitar.
It was his younger brother’s name. Memories flooded him: Vitar laughing, running after him, or entreating his big brother for a ride. It was several moments before he could answer. “Is there a problem?”

“Not exactly,” Bartholson said. “The Domestic Affairs Office contacted us. They intercepted a message sent to the Xir estate on Glory.”

Jai sighed. Gods forbid someone should say,
Your Highness, we received a message through proper channels without spying on anyone.
“What did it say?”

Excitement leaked into Bartholson’s voice. “The authorities on Halizon Two have Xir’s provider. Sunrise.”

Jai sat up straighter. “Are they certain?”