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Authors: David Weber,John Ringo

Throne of Stars (67 page)

BOOK: Throne of Stars
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It cocked its head to the side as if doing just that.

“There’s no point in lying,” Roger said. “Not with the Phaenur. I’ll admit that was a pleasant change.”

“Yet the Imperial Court is no place for a truly honest man,” the Phaenur suggested.

“Maybe I can change that.” Roger shrugged. “And if I can’t, I have some truly dishonest advisers.”

The Phaenur cocked its head to the side and then bobbed it.

“I sense that was a joke,” it said. “Human and Phaenur concepts of humor are often at odds, alas.”

“One thing I would be interested in,” Roger noted, “to try to make the Court a more . . . honest place, is some Phaenur advisers. Not immediately, but soon after we retake the Palace.”

“That could be arranged,” Sreeetoth said, “but I strongly recommend that you contract with independent counselors. We like and trust the Empire, and you like and trust us. But having representatives of our government in your highest councils would be . . . awkward.”

“I suppose.” Roger sighed. “I’d like to do as much as possible in the open, though. The Court hasn’t
been
a place for an honest man, and one way to change that might be to make sure that what’s said in Court is honest. Among other things, it would place me in a position where I could work to my strengths, not my weaknesses. I’ve never understood the importance that’s placed upon dishonesty in business and politics.”

“I do,” Despreaux said with a shrug. “I don’t like it, but I understand it.”

“Oh?” the Phaenur said. “There is a point to dishonesty?”

“Certainly. Even the Phaenurs and the Althari don’t wear their thoughts on their sleeves. For example, Roger in command of the Empire will be a very restless neighbor. You have to know that. Surely there are others you’d prefer?”

“Well, yes,” Sreeetoth admitted.

“But you don’t bring it up, don’t emphasize it. In it’s own way, that’s dishonest—or at least dissembling. And I have no doubt that you’re capable of lying by omission, Mr. Minister.” She looked directly into the Phaenur’s eyes. “That there are things you have no intention of revealing, because to do so might evoke reactions which would run counter to the outcomes you’re after.”

“No doubt,” Sreeetoth conceded, bobbing its head respectfully at her. “And you are correct. Roger’s personality, the style of rulership we anticipate out of him, will not be . . . restful under the best of circumstances.”

It made a soft sound their toots interpreted as quiet laughter.

“That may not be so bad a thing, however,” it continued. “His grandfather, for example, was quite soothing. Also an honest man, but surrounded by deceit and virtually unaware of it. His lack of competence precluded the Empire’s becoming a threat to us, which was restful, yet it also created the preconditions for the crisis we all face today.

“Still, that does not mean a restless human ruler is necessarily in our best interests. Roger’s mother, unlike her father, is a very deceitful person, but not at all, as you put it, restless. She was solely concentrated on the internal workings of the Empire and left us essentially alone. From our reports, it is unlikely she will continue very long as Empress. That will leave this . . . restless young man as Emperor. We could prefer someone
less
restless, but he is the best by far of the choices actually available to us.”

“How badly has Mother been injured?” Roger asked angrily.

“Quite badly, unfortunately,” the Phaenur replied. “Calm yourself, please. Your emotions are distressing in the extreme. It is why we have not brought up the full measure of damage before.”

“I’ll . . . try,” Roger said, as calmly as he could, and inhaled deeply. Then he looked directly at his host. “How damaged?”

“The nature of the reports on her condition we have received—their very existence—means that maintaining security to protect our source is . . . difficult,” Sreeetoth replied. “We have been able to clear only one specialist in human psychology and physiology to take a look at them, but she is among the best the Alliance can offer in her specialty, and I have read her analysis. It would appear that the . . . methods being used are likely to cause irreparable long-term damage. It will not kill her, but she will no longer be . . . at the top of her form. A form of senility is likely.”

Roger closed his eyes, and one jaw muscle worked furiously.

“I apologize for my current . . . feelings,” he said after a moment in a voice like hammered steel.

“They are quite bloody,” Sreeetoth told him.

“We’ll handle it,” Despreaux said, laying a hand on his arm. “We’ll
handle
it, Roger.”

“Yes.” Roger let out a long, hissing breath. “We’ll handle it.”

He touched the hand on his arm very lightly for just an instant, then returned his attention to Sreeetoth.

“Let’s talk about something else. I love your house. You don’t have neighbors?”

“Phaenurs tend to separate their dwellings,” his host said. “It is quite impossible to fully shield one’s feelings and thoughts. We learn, early on, to control them to a degree, but being in crowds is something like being at a large party for a human. All the thoughts of other Phaenurs are like a gabble of speech from dozens of people at once. All the emotions of others are like the constant roar of the sea.”

“Must be interesting working in customs,” Despreaux observed.

“It is one of the reasons so much of the direct contact work is handled by humans and Althari males,” Sreeetoth agreed. “Alas, that has been somewhat less successful than we had hoped. Your reports on Caravazan penetration have caused a rather unpleasant stir, with some serious political and social implications.”

“Why?” Roger asked. “I mean, you’re an honest society, but
everyone
has a few bad apples.”

“Humans have been a part of the Alphane Alliance since its inception,” Sreeetoth explained. “But they have generally been—not a lower class, but something of the sort. Few of them reach the highest levels of Alphane government, which has not sat well with many of them. They know that Altharis and Phaenurs are simply more trustworthy than their own species, but that is not a pleasant admission for them, and whatever the cause, or whatever the justification, for their exclusion, the fact remains that they do not enjoy the full range of rights and opportunity available to Altharis or Phaenurs.

“Althari males, however, most definitely
are
a lower class. Althari females, until recently, considered them almost subsentient, useful only for breeding and as servants.”

“Barefoot and . . . well, I guess not pregnant,” Despreaux said dryly, and grimaced. “Great.”

“It is humans who have pushed for more rights for Althari males, and over the last few generations they have attained most of those rights. But it was humans and Althari males, and a single Phaenur who was supposed to be keeping an eye on them, who were corrupted by the Saints. I have already seen the level of distrust of the males growing in the females who work with them, those who know of their betrayal. Such a betrayal on the part of a
female
Althari would be considered even worse, and might shake their world view . . . and their prejudices. But, alas, only males were involved. And humans.”

“So now both groups are under a cloud,” Roger said. “Yes, I can see the problem.”

“It is damaging work which has taken a generation to take hold,” Sreeetoth said. “Most distressing. Admiral Ral has reinstituted communications restrictions on the males in her household, since you are staying there. That, in itself, is a measure of the degree of distrust which has arisen. She has lost faith in the honor of the males of her own household.”

“Lots of fun,” Roger said, and grimaced. “I almost wish we hadn’t given you the information.”

“Well, I cannot wish that,” the Phaenur said. “But we have had to increase the level of counseling and increase the number of counseling inspectors. It is a difficult process, since they need to move about so that the counselors are unavailable for corruption. It is, in fact, something I had pressed for previously, but prior to your information the funds were unavailable. They are becoming available. Quickly.”

“Sorry,” Roger said with a frown.

“I am not,” Sreeetoth said. “It helps me to ensure that the affairs of my department are in order. But you do seem to bring chaos wherever you go, young Prince. It is something to beware of.”

“I don’t mean to,” Roger protested, thinking of the trail of bodies, Mardukan and human, the company had left behind on Marduk.

“You appear simply to be responding to your surroundings and the threats you encounter,” Sreeetoth said, “not
seeking
to become a force of destruction. But be careful. However justified your responses, you
thrive
on chaos. That is not an insult; I do the same. To be in customs, it is a necessity.”

“I think that was a joke,” Roger said.

“You humans would consider it so, yes—an ironic reality,” it replied. “There are those who manage chaos well. You are one; I am another. There are others who cannot handle chaos at all, and fold in its face, and they are much more numerous. The job of a ruler, or any policymaker, is to reduce the chaos in life, so that those who simply wish tomorrow to be more or less the same as today, possibly a bit better, can get on with their lives.

“The danger for those who manage chaos well, though, is that they seek what they thrive upon. And if they do not have it in their environment, they may seek to create it. I have found such tendencies in myself; they were pointed out to me early on, by one of my superiors. Since then I have striven, against my nature, to create placidness in my department. To find those who thrive on
eliminating
chaos. I have many subordinates, humans, Altharis, and Phaenurs, who also thrive on chaos—but those who cannot create order out of it, I remove. Their ability to manage the chaos is unimportant in the face of the additional chaos they create. So which will you do, young Prince? Create the chaos? Or eliminate it?”

“Hopefully eliminate it,” Roger said.

“That is to be desired.”

They ate, then, from a smorgasbordlike selection of the Phaenur foods that were consumable by humans, with several small servings of multiple dishes rather than one main entrée. Conversation concentrated on their travels on Marduk, the things they’d seen, the foods they’d eaten. Roger couldn’t entirely avoid reminiscing about the dead—there were too many of them. And whenever he had a fine repast, and this was one such, it brought back memories of Kostas and the remarkable meals he had produced from such scanty, unpromising material.

When the meal was done, they departed, walking out of the grove to the waiting shuttle. It was the Phaenur custom, not a case of “eating and running.” Phaenur dinner parties ended at the conclusion of the meal. In fact, the original Phaenur custom had been to conclude any gathering by the giving of foods to be eaten afterwards. That custom had been modified only after the Phaenur culture’s collision with human and Althari customs.

Roger thought it was rather a good custom. There was never the human problem of figuring out when the party was over.

He and Despreaux boarded the shuttle in silence, and they were halfway through the flight back to the admiral’s warren before Roger shook his head.

“Do think it’s right?” Roger asked. “Sreeetoth? That I create chaos wherever I go?”

“I think it’s hard to say,” Despreaux replied. “Certainly there
is
chaos wherever we go. But there’s usually some peace, when we’re done.”

“The peace of the grave,” Roger said somberly.

“More than just that,” Despreaux said. “Some chaos, to be sure. But an active and growing chaos, not just some sort of vortex of destruction. You . . . shake things up.”

“But Sreeetoth is right,” Roger noted. “There’s only room for a certain amount of shaking up in any society that’s going to be stable in the long-term.”

“Oh, you generally leave well enough alone, if it isn’t broken,” Despreaux argued. “You didn’t shake things up much in Ran Tai. For the rest, they were places that desperately needed some shaking. Even K’Vaern’s Cove, where you just showed them they needed to get off their butts, and how to do it. It’s not easy being around you, but it
is
interesting.”

“Interesting enough for you to stay?” Roger asked softly, looking over at her for the first time.

There was a long silence, and then she nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll stay. If it’s the right thing to do. If there’s no serious objection to it, I’ll stay even as your wife. Even as—ick!—the Empress. I do love you, and I want to be with you. Sreeetoth was right about that, too. I don’t feel . . . whole when I’m not around you. I mean, I need my space from time to time, but . . .”

“I know what you mean,” Roger said. “Thank you. But what about your absolute pronouncement that you’d never be Empress?”

“I’m a woman. I’ve got the right to change my mind. Write that on your hand.”

“Okay. Gotcha.”

“I’m not going to be quiet,” Despreaux warned him. “I’m not going to be the meek little farm girl over in the corner. If you’re going off the deep end, I’m going to make that really, really plain.”

“Good.”

“And I don’t do windows.”

“There are people for that around the Palace.”

“And I’m not going to every damned ribbon-cutting ceremony.”

“Agreed.”

“And keep the press away from me.”

“I’ll try.”

“And I want to get laid.”

“What?”

“Look, Roger, this is silly,” Despreaux said angrily. “I haven’t been in bed with a guy—or with a female, for that matter—in nearly ten months, and I have needs, too. I’ve been waiting and waiting. I’m
not
going to wait for some damned matrimonial ceremony, if and when. And it’s not healthy for you, either. Parts start to suffer.”

“Nimashet—”

“We’ve discussed this,” she said, holding up her hand. “If you’re going to have a farm-girl as your wife, then you’re going to have to be willing to have one that’s clearly no virgin, if for no other reason than that she’s been sleeping with
you
. And we’re not on Marduk anymore. Yes, I’m one of your guards, technically, but we both know that’s just a job description anymore. I guess I’m one of your staff, but mostly I’m there to keep the peace. There’s no ethical reason, or moral one, come to think of it, why we can’t have . . . relations. And we’re
going
to have relations, if for no other reason than to take the edge off
you
. You’re like a live wire all the time, and I
will
ground you.”

BOOK: Throne of Stars
6.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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