The Ruby Dice (10 page)

Calope had let her hair go white. So had Corbal. Tarquine had a dusting of white at her temples. Jaibriol knew they allowed the color to change because it gave them an aura of authority. When everyone had beauty and youth, those who also had age found subtle ways to accent their experience. Only Jaibriol realized their hair had turned white as a side effect of changes they made to themselves. They were the only Aristos he knew who had eliminated their ability to transcend. That it had taken more than eighty years for each of them to develop compassion was sobering, but it also meant Aristos had the capacity to be other than the sadistic monsters he had thought defined their essence.

Tarquine sat at Jaibriol's left, apparently relaxed, but he wasn't fooled. Although she didn't really want a treaty either, she saw advantages to settling matters with the Skolians enough to open up trade. New markets increased the wealth of Eube, which of course included her own prodigious assets. She was already obscenely rich; she needed more money about as much as Jaibriol needed rocks in his head. But she thrived on the machinations that increased her assets. She might even be willing to establish peace with the Skolians if she thought she could exploit the treaty for financial gain.

At least, she implied such in response to veiled inquiries from other Aristos about whether or not she thought they should do business with the Skolians. Yet incredibly, deep in the night when Jaibriol held her in his arms, he glimpsed another reason his barracuda of a wife didn't oppose the negotiations. For him. In the light of day, when passion no longer clouded his mind, he suspected he only interpreted her motives in a way that made him less lonely. But whatever the truth, she didn't fight him on the treaty.

Trade Minister Sakaar loathed the negotiations. Jaibriol had hoped Sakaar would support opening trade relations because it would increase export markets for Eubian goods. But Sakaar's Ministry dealt primarily with the slave economy, and the Skolians refused to discuss any trade as long as the inventories included humans. Jaibriol agreed with the Skolians, but he could hardly tell that to his Ministers, at least not if he wanted to survive.

All the people of Eube except a few thousand Aristos were slaves. The bulk of them, nearly two trillion, were taskmakers. They led relatively normal lives, some even achieving a certain amount of authority and prosperity. But none were free and all wore collars indicating they were property. It sickened Jaibriol that he owned Robert, his bodyguards, and most everyone on this planet, as well as several hundred others, but if he ever let that sentiment slip, the Aristos would turn on him with a vengeance. It wasn't only that the economic structure of their empire depended on the trade; they also considered it their supposedly exalted right to own anyone who wasn't an Aristo.

Providers, or pleasure slaves, were at the bottom of the slave hierarchy. Only a few thousand existed. They lived in incredible luxury, but they had no power. Aristos acknowledged only one reason for a psion to exist—to provide transcendence. Their attitudes about the torture they inflicted horrified Jaibriol, especially because they would do the same to him if they ever learned the truth.

"Paris is a decadent city," Azile was saying. "I have no desire to tour France again."

Jaibriol tried to focus on the discussion. Azile's comment referred to the Paris Accord, the unfinished treaty they had hammered out with the Skolians eight years ago, before the talks stalled. They had "met" on a neutral planet, Earth, which sided with neither Skolia nor Eube. No one actually went to Paris, of course; no one would risk putting so many interstellar leaders together in one place. Rather, they convened as holographic simulations through the Kyle web.

Jaibriol wanted to rub his aching temples. Or better yet, leave. But he didn't dare show any sign they would interpret as weakness. He hid his raging headache behind an icy Highton veneer. "Paris is one of humanity's most remarkable cities."

"Of course we esteem Earth," the Trade Minister said sourly. His hand rested on the table with his thumb and forefinger together, a sign that his real opinion opposed his words.

"We should visit our birthplace of our race," Jaibriol said. It was the closest he would come to stating his intent to resume the talks.

Corbal smiled slightly. "That would be an unusual vacation party: the emperor of Eube, his empress, his ministers, the high judge, and a doddering old man."

Jaibriol almost snorted. Doddering indeed. Corbal was as hearty as they came. He considered his cousin. "We should ask my joint commanders to join us."

The Silicate Minister spoke, a stately man of about fifty. "I suspect the commanders of ESComm have more important matters to attend than jaunts to Earth."

Jaibriol regarded him with a decided lack of enthusiasm. He had never liked Highton discourse, and the Silicate Minister was less proficient at it than most Aristos, with the result that his comments grated even more than usual. He spoke coolly. "More important than attending their emperor?"

The Silicate paled, realizing the insult he had given. "One always esteems Your Glorious Highness."

Sakaar leaned forward. "The Allieds have a penchant for theft. It makes me leery of supporting their tourist economy."

Jaibriol would have laughed if they hadn't all been so serious. He could well imagine the Allied reaction if the Eubian emperor, his ministers, and his joint commanders all showed up for a vacation on Earth. Panic hardly began to describe it. But he understood Sakaar's meaning; the Allieds refused to return slaves who escaped into their territory.

"Perhaps they just need to know our position better on the matter," Jaibriol said.

Sakaar snorted. "Assuming we all agree on that position."

Tarquine spoke in her husky voice. "I'd wager that's an impossible assumption."

Iraz Gji, the Diamond Minister, gave a discreet laugh. Jaibriol wasn't certain why it surprised him that Aristos had a sense of humor; maybe because he never felt like smiling when they came near. But Gji always enjoyed a joke, especially at the expense of his foes, which seemed to include Minister Sakaar. Gji represented the Diamond Aristos, who managed the means of commerce for the empire, so he and Sakaar both dealt with trade. They often came down on different sides of an issue. Like Tarquine, Gji had no love for the Allieds or Skolians, but an avid interest in their spending power.

A buzz came from the comm button Jaibriol had set in his ear. As his ministers continued arguing, he tapped the button, appearing as if he were simply touching his ear.

Yes?
He barely moved his throat. Sensors in his body picked up the muscular changes, translated them into speech, and sent it to his comm. He said only that one word: anyone who could contact him on his private comm didn't need the usual overblown honorifics and responses.

The voice of his aide Robert came over the comm. "Sire, we have a report on the Skolian Assembly I thought you would want to know immediately."

Foreboding stirred in Jaibriol. The Skolian Assembly was always doing things he didn't want to hear about, but this sounded worse than usual.
Go ahead,
he answered.

"They introduced a measure to eliminate the votes that Roca Skolia inherited from her late husband."

Jaibriol stiffened. Roca Skolia—his grandmother—was a leading moderate in the Assembly. If her influence weakened, so did his hopes for resuming any talks. He not only had to persuade his people; he had to convince the Skolians as well.

A vote like that can't pass, can it?
he asked.

"Apparently it might." Robert sounded miserable. He was the only person Jaibriol knew who actually supported the idea of peace for altruistic reasons rather than economic gain.

It was the final blow in a miserable day. His ministers were going on about tourism and the supposed decay of Paris, and he wanted to shout in frustration. He braced his elbows on the table and pushed back his chair with an abrupt scrape of exorbitantly expensive wood against polished bronze tiles.

They all went silent. His jarring interruption wasn't technically unacceptable, since he hadn't spoken directly, but it balanced on the edge. He looked around at them. "This has been a most auspicious discussion." It hadn't, it had been an exercise in circuitous evasion, but the phrase would get him out of the meeting without irredeemably insulting anyone.

After the barest pause, while they absorbed his dismissal, they each nodded to him, some with a veiled hostility they had no idea he could detect. He rose to his feet, and with a rustle of black diamond clothes, everyone else stood around the table.

His advisors departed through the main entrance, an elegant horseshoe arch with bronze columns, leaving in groups of two or three as they continued to confer among themselves. Jaibriol headed for a hexagonal arch in the back of the room with Captain Hidaka and four of his Razer bodyguards.

Corbal was standing by the table, talking with the Protocol Minister. When he saw Jaibriol leaving, he excused himself from Protocol and started toward to the emperor. Tarquine immediately came over to Jaibriol, deftly inserting herself between him and Corbal. Hidaka didn't block her, but Jaibriol had the sense that if the captain had thought he didn't want to see his empress, the Razer would have intervened even with Tarquine. Hidaka was a remarkably courageous man.

Right now, Jaibriol didn't feel ready to deal with either Corbal or Tarquine. One he could handle, but not both. He nodded to his cousin in an accepted gesture of farewell. Corbal frowned, but he had no choice except to stay back. Tarquine walked at Jaibriol's side, her laserlike gaze smoldering at Corbal.

Within moments, Jaibriol and Tarquine were striding down a hall outside the conference room, flanked by Razers. As with everything built by Hightons, the corridor had no right angles; its walls curved into the floor and ceiling. The halls that intersected the corridor came at acute angles.

Eventually Jaibriol slowed down. "Damn tourists," he grumbled.

Tarquine gave a startled laugh. "Was that a joke?"

He slanted a look at her. "I'm allowed a sense of humor, my lovely wife."

Her lids half closed. "So you are."

He wasn't certain how to interpret her response. He had the feeling he fascinated her. Perhaps that was what kept her interested in him; she couldn't predict his behavior.

"What did you think of the meeting?" he asked.

"They will never agree to more talks."

"I could order them to do it." He didn't need all of them, just one of his joint commanders, Corbal, and the Intelligence and Foreign Affairs Ministers. And Tarquine, of course.

"Without their cooperation," she said, "the negotiations would be a disaster."

He knew it was true. "The Skolians probably won't agree anyway."

Tarquine drew him to a stop. "If you try to catch stardust, you will die from a lack of air."

"I won't give up."

"Then look to the Diamonds."

His brow furrowed. "The Aristo caste? Or the rocks?"

"Aristo." Her eyes glinted. "They failed in their attempt to dominate the Ivory export corporations, so they will be looking for new ventures. Perhaps even among the Skolians? Just think what a huge, untapped market our enemies offer."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "No doubt that market could benefit the Finance Ministry as well."

"Perhaps."

He knew she had probably figured out many paths to profit, like a fractal that became ever more intricate the more closely one looked at it. "I don't suppose you have an idea how to interest the Diamonds in supporting us."

She started walking with him again. "I'll think on it."

That certainly didn't reassure him. Whenever she turned her prodigious talents to solving a problem, he never knew whether to be grateful or terrified.

The world Metropoli boasted the largest starport in all of the Skolian Imperialate, teeming with people and vehicles. Kelric's small scout ship went unnoticed in all the tumult, especially with his stratospheric clearances, which invoked veils of security most people had no idea existed.

He dulled the metallic sheen of his skin and hair so he appeared more his age. Then he donned clothes that made him look overweight. His passenger, Jeremiah Coltman, watched him with puzzlement, but he didn't push the matter. He would figure out the truth soon enough. Kelric avoided news broadcasts when he could, but his likeness was out there on the meshes. If Jeremiah worked at it, he could identify his rescuer.

They walked to the gate where Jeremiah would board a transport to Earth. The youth was wearing a blue pullover and "jeans" interwoven with mesh threads. He had purchased them at a store that sold Allied imports. Several women gave him appreciative glances, but no one otherwise paid attention to them. It amused Kelric that he could so easily hide in plain sight.

At the gate, Jeremiah offered his hand. "Thank you for everything."

When Kelric hesitated, Bolt prompted him. Put your hand in his and move it up and down.

Oh. That's right. He clasped Jeremiah's hand and shook until Jeremiah winced. Embarrassed, Kelric let go. He sometimes forgot to moderate his strength.

"You're sure you have enough funds?" he asked.

"You've been incredibly generous," Jeremiah said. "You must let me pay you back."

"It's nothing." Kelric didn't know the value of what he had given Jeremiah. He could multiply the amount by a million and it would still be insignificant to his estate. At least, that would be true for one hundred and eight more days. He had to decide what to do, or he would soon be penniless and officially dead.

A female voice spoke from the air. "Mister Coltman, please board the shuttle. We are ready to leave."

Jeremiah swung his new smart-pack over his shoulder and smiled at Kelric. "Good-bye. And good luck."

Kelric inclined his head. "You also."

After Jeremiah boarded, Kelric stood at a window-wall and watched the shuttle take off.
Good-bye,
he thought, to Jeremiah and to Quis.