Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
“So tell me. Have you found her?” The Mage-Imperator leaned forward in his chrysalis chair. He had sent away the numerous pilgrims and visitors of all kiths. For this meeting, he and Udru’h needed privacy.
The Dobro Designate’s face looked as if it had been carved out of stone. His shaved head was still immaculately smooth, though some of the 98
other Designates had begun to let their hair grow again in the days since their father’s funeral. His outfit was workmanlike, adorned by few of the gaudy gemstones and shimmering solar-energy strips some courtiers preferred.
Udru’h raised his chin, and the glitter in his star-sapphire eyes reflected the bright light of the chamber. “Liege, I have just received the information you requested from Dobro.”
“So? Tell me about Nira. If you have harmed her—”
The Designate lowered his gaze. “I regret to inform you that the human green priest has been accidentally slain, Liege. It is unfortunate, and certainly not at my command.”
Jora’h lurched forward in the chrysalis chair, grasping the edges with his hands as if he meant to break the heavy material. “What?” Anger and sudden grief hammered through him as his renewed hopes were dashed again. “You killed her!”
“No, Liege. A terrible accident. During the turmoil of our father’s death, many Ildirans panicked at being severed from the thism. They were out of control. The green priest woman attempted to escape, and some of the Dobro guard kithmen . . . overreacted.”
Nira was gone! “Why did I not sense this? Why did I not know?”
Facing him, Udru’h remained cool and rational. “We were all detached until you ascended to become Mage-Imperator, Liege. I had no control over my own soldiers.”
But Jora’h also knew that his brother must be telling the truth. Once before, his father had lied to him about Nira’s death, but this time it could not be a fabricated story. No Designate had ever been able to hide the truth from his Mage-Imperator. A gaping emptiness like a new black hole formed in the space of his heart.
Udru’h finally had the good grace to bow his head in apparent shame.
“I apologize for the sorrow this causes you. I know the green priest was the mother of your daughter Osira’h and several other half-breed children.”
“Your schemes at Dobro have already brought me so much pain.”
Again, Jora’h crystallized his determination to find some way to stop the program, and save the Empire from the hydrogues at the same time.
“When will you be satisfied that you have done enough?”
“I will be satisfied when I have succeeded for the good of the Empire, M A G E - I M P E R A T O R J O R A ’ H
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Liege. My every effort was designed to provide us with a means to survive the hydrogue rampages. Your daughter by the green priest is quite possibly the key to this.” He was unruffled. “Even if you do not believe me, even if you somehow think that I killed the human woman out of spite—consider that I would not have intentionally wasted such an exceptional resource.
Truly, it was an accident.”
Jora’h reached along the bright mental thread that connected him to each of his subjects, especially to his brothers and his noble-born sons.
The Dobro Designate had a powerful mind and a firm grasp on the thism, and Jora’h could detect no outright deceit. Udru’h did not flinch or fidget during the drawn-out waiting game.
The grief was suffocating. Jora’h had been Mage-Imperator for only a short while, had intended to rush to Dobro and rescue his beloved Nira within days—but now it was too late. Yes, she must be dead after all. Once again, before Jora’h could manage to right a wrong, he had failed.
Shaking, the Mage-Imperator leaned forward. His voice was hoarse and sharp. “I want you to relinquish control of Dobro as soon as possible, Udru’h. Daro’h is the Designate-in-waiting, and you will teach him everything he needs to know.”
“That is tradition, Liege. I will of course do as you command.”
Jora’h thought of his son, an intelligent and cooperative young man.
He was reluctant to send Daro’h to such a hard and grim place, but Ildiran tradition had the weight of law. Because of his place in the birth order, not his aptitude, the second son had always been destined to be the Designate-in-waiting for Dobro. From now on, Jora’h was prepared to keep a closer eye on the experimental work there—until he could decide how to end it.
If he could end it.
“Even if Nira is dead, Udru’h, I still intend to go to Dobro so I can see this breeding program and learn exactly how you treat the human prisoners. I will do everything in my power to right the wrongs that have been inflicted upon them for generations.”
But there was no urgency now. Nira was gone.
What if his father was right? What if freeing the human subjects would eventually doom the Ildiran Empire? The hydrogues continued their attacks. A new alliance would need to be struck. . . .
Overhead in the skysphere, buzzing birds chittered. He glanced up at 100
the lush foliage, thinking of lovely Nira and her work as a green priest, the beautiful forests of Theroc, the sentient worldtrees. “And I also intend to meet my daughter. Finally.”
Jora’h saw a gleam of genuine pride and respect on his brother’s face.
“Yes, Liege, you must see Osira’h—and then you will realize that all of the work has been warranted. Your daughter will keep the Ildiran Empire safe in this war.”
Servant kithmen carried a restless Mage-Imperator up to a high platform on the tallest spire of the Prism Palace. Basking in the warm light from multiple suns, his brother Rusa’h stood in pale robes, his face tilted up so that pure sunshine flooded his features. He stared unblinking at the dazzling stars, as if immune to the threat of blindness. Four curious lens kithmen and two rememberers surrounded the newly awakened Hyrillka Designate, all of them eager to hear his story and his thoughts.
Rusa’h had been holding forth, attempting to find words that described what he had experienced, what revelations he’d received. The intent rememberers memorized his every word. The lens kithmen gasped at his descriptions, weighing the implications for everything that they taught and believed. They turned at the commotion of the Mage-Imperator’s arrival.
Jora’h looked at his brother, whose direct gaze remained fixed on the bright suns in the sky. “Are you making up for lost time, brother? Trying to seize all the light you missed while in your sub-thism sleep?”
Rusa’h shifted languidly to face him. “I have seen the Lightsource itself. All the suns in the Ildiran sky, or in the whole Horizon Cluster, cannot compare.” Previously, the hedonistic Rusa’h would have delighted in the crowds of people, tedious celebrations, fawning pleasure mates, musicians and performers. But now the recovering Designate seemed silent and withdrawn, preoccupied.
Rusa’h dismissed the lens kithmen and rememberers from the rooftop, then spoke to the Mage-Imperator. “I must go home to Hyrillka immediately. My people need me. They have been too long without . . . clear guidance.”
“I agree. And Pery’h must accompany you as well. It is time to send all of the Designates-in-waiting to their planets.”
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Rusa’h’s expression showed no warmth or welcome for his successor.
“Pery’h . . .” He seemed to be trying to remember who the young man was. “And Thor’h. Yes . . . Thor’h.”
“Thor’h is my Prime Designate now,” Jora’h said.
“He would be . . . very helpful to me, in a time of such great changes.”
“Designate-in-waiting Pery’h can serve in that capacity. It is his assignment.”
It was astonishing that his brother would argue with him. “Thor’h knows much about Hyrillka and how it was . . . and he knows me. Pery’h still has everything to learn.” When Rusa’h turned to him with an expression not of pleading and desperation, but of simple need, the Mage-Imperator softened. Perhaps immature Thor’h might indeed benefit from assisting with vital work such as completing the restoration of Hyrillka. He could always recall his eldest son whenever he required him, and obviously Rusa’h did need assistance.
“All right, the Prime Designate may accompany you briefly to facilitate the transition. It will make the Empire stronger.”
“Yes.” Rusa’h stared at the dazzling suns again. “Perhaps even stronger than before.”
305DOBRO DESIGNATE uDRu’H
The green priest woman had already caused him a great many problems.
Each time Udru’h thought he had found a solution for her situation, it led to another set of unintended consequences. If Nira hadn’t proved so maddeningly valuable to the breeding program, he’d have killed her years ago. But that would have been a useless gesture, a waste of the woman’s potential.
Even though the Mage-Imperator still insisted on coming to Dobro, at 102
least now Jora’h believed she was dead. Through incredible mental effort, Udru’h had managed to keep the secret from his brother. From now on, though, it would be a delicate and dangerous game, until the Designate could decide what to do with Nira. . . .
In a grand procession from Ildira, a septa of Solar Navy warliners had recently begun delivering the Designates and their young apprentices to various Ildiran worlds. Only yesterday, Udru’h and Designate-in-waiting Daro’h had arrived on Dobro. After the others in his entourage had returned to their work at the crowded breeding camps, the Designate had taken Daro’h under his wing. Together, they confirmed with the medical kithmen and administrators that all the experiments continued as expected, that the human breeding specimens had caused no trouble. Then his young nephew earnestly began to study the basics of the colony he would eventually take over.
Now the Designate had his own emergency work to do. He’d been gone for too long. He steeled himself, sought guidance from the Lightsource, then departed in a fast craft for the other side of the world. Alone.
For an Ildiran, solitude and isolation elicited as much instinctive horror as did darkness, but Udru’h had to bear this. Secrecy was more important than his own comfort. He was strong enough. He dared take no one else with him, not even his most trusted medical kithmen.
No one else knew that Nira was alive.
Udru’h had trained much, practiced his mental ability, exercised his connection to the greater network of thism. He could endure this necessary torment, for a short while at least.
He pushed the craft’s engines to their limits, roaring south across the sky, over Dobro’s equator, and into the unsettled lower continent. Spotting the expansive waters of a great shallow lake, he knew he was close to his destination. Hours had already slipped away, hours alone, but he gripped the controls and continued flying.
It wasn’t so bad. Not yet. He was strong, yes, strong enough . . . certainly stronger than Jora’h.
After the sudden death of the former Mage-Imperator, while the thism was broken and all Ildirans were scattered, confused, disconnected, the Dobro Designate had seized his chance. He had been waiting for it.
Once he’d discovered that Nira still existed, then–Prime Designate D O B R O D E S I G N A T E U D R U ’ H
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Jora’h had been foolishly willing to scrap the work on Dobro, to wreck centuries of careful experimentation, to threaten the future of the Ildiran Empire—all for the love of one woman. And not even an Ildiran woman at that, but a human, whose telepathic potential and connection with the sentient worldforest offered unsurpassed opportunities.
For years, Udru’h had listened to his best lens kithmen and mental experts while they trained Osira’h and her siblings. He would smile and observe unobtrusively, but all the while he, too, had been exercising his skills, learning mental techniques, strengthening his own abilities. Maintaining a bland expression on his face, the Dobro Designate had learned to scour his mind, erect invisible barricades around certain thoughts, and isolate some of his secrets from his comrades.
It was a game at first, then a challenge—and finally a genuine ability that his fellow Ildirans would never guess, because they had never dreamed that anyone could wish to do such a thing. Udru’h had always feared what ill-advised measures his brother might take. And while he could never speak against the rightful Mage-Imperator, never disobey Jora’h’s instructions, Udru’h could plan for certain eventualities.
After the Dobro Designate had learned how to block certain clear thoughts from the thism, he worked with meditation and deep study until he discovered a way to divert his brother’s mental threads. Unless Jora’h pried particularly hard, he would never realize the Dobro Designate was lying.
In the dark days before Jora’h was able to ascend, Udru’h had used the chaos to whisk Nira from the breeding camp. Following instructions he had left behind, his guards had beaten the green priest woman unconscious—in fact, so much more violently than he had ever intended that they had nearly killed her. But at least they had known to keep her alive, holding Nira in a drugged stupor. Then, before the thism could be reconnected, Udru’h had set up a place to keep her, hide her.
Considering Jora’h’s obsession with this woman, the Designate knew she might prove useful as a bargaining chip, if his plans fell apart.
Udru’h trusted no one—absolutely no one—to keep the secret firmly walled inside. He could not place her where she would be tended, fed, cared for by other support personnel. No, Nira had to be entirely alone and absolutely self-sufficient. By himself, he had created a perfect cage, an 104
expansive yet inescapable cell where a green priest could survive, and where no one would know where she was.
During the days of crisis before the new Mage-Imperator’s ascension, Udru’h had rushed from Ildira back to Dobro, taken the drugged and co-matose woman from where the guards kept her, and personally delivered her to the southern hemisphere, far from the breeding camp, in an entirely different climate zone. He’d found a small but lush island in the middle of a vast lake, and he had marooned her there before hastening off to Ildira for the ascension and funeral ceremonies. In the turmoil, Jora’h hadn’t even noticed his brother’s brief absence.