Michaela (27 page)

The other Kalquorian woman nodded her recognition. “He has been on the council for many years. He can afford to buy you gowns like this. You will love Wallella’s work. I have several pieces by her myself.”

The first Kalquorian tapped her handheld computer and held it out towards the blonde. “Let me transfer the contact information.”

Delighted, the Earther Matara touched her own handheld to the Kalquorian’s. As the transport opened to the gallery, most of the other women were asking for the information too, and a lively conversation about fashion ensued.

Michaela would have loved to join in. She wished to get the contact information for the designer of the flowing turquoise gown the Kalquorian wore. It was a sumptuous piece. Unfortunately, Jessica immediately steered her towards the back of the glass-enclosed gallery, hiding behind everyone else. Jessica was not one given to worry about her appearance. She hadn’t taken notice of the other women’s interest in a hot clothing tip.

“We won’t be able to see anything,” Michaela said, pouting a little over her missed opportunity.

“Sure we will. Look up.” Jessica gestured at the top of the gallery’s pane of glass, well above the heads of the Kalquorian men in front of the two women.

Vid screens lined up across the see-through wall, showing different shots of the council floor below. There were also huge screens beyond the gallery, suspended in the middle of the room and showing the whole of the chamber. Earther words in various languages scrolled along the bottom of the main vid. Michaela thought she recognized Spanish, German, and Japanese before her native English came up. The message welcomed the general population to the council meeting and asked that onlookers refrain from shouting during the session.

“I wonder if it’s always this crowded,” Michaela said as the press of bodies grew denser around them.

“Or excited,” Jessica replied, speaking louder than normal to be heard over the growing din of voices.

The people around them in the vast room did seem quite animated. From snatches of conversation that Michaela caught, they all thought the coming declaration of Jessica being the crown princes’ Matara would light some fireworks. Michaela’s nervousness edged up a notch.

There were no seats in the gallery or furnishings of any kind. It was simply a glassed-in room covering half the chamber’s upper wall. Michaela stood on tip-toe to see over the shoulders of the crowds of Kalquorian men. She caught a glimpse of red and black formsuited figures in the distance. A glance at the large vid displaying the whole of the council chamber verified what she suspected: across the council floor was a type of balcony. Armed sentries were interspersed with Royal Guards over there.

Michaela examined the view the large vid gave the attendees. Most of the chamber was taken up by a half-circle of steps, carved from the rock of the cliff itself. Blue-robed councilmen sat or stood upon the steps, most huddled in small groups. From the looks of things, intense conversations were going on.

Across from the steps was a two-tiered dais. These two platforms had also been carved from the stone. The lower tier jutted out farther than the one over it, on eye-level with the tallest step it faced. Each level held four high-backed chairs, carved and ornamented with the biggest jewels Michaela had ever seen. At least they were well upholstered as well, she thought. For all their ornate design, they looked comfortable.

Those would be the thrones for the Imperial and Crown Prince Clans,
she thought.
At least, they look fancy enough to be thrones. One day, Jessica will sit up there ... if everything goes the way it should.

Between the throne tiers and council steps was a large circular floor. The stone had been polished to a high gloss, much like marble. Michaela wondered how many of the men below had slipped on its surface and busted their asses. If she hadn’t been so worried about her and Jessica getting caught or about how the meeting would go, she would have laughed at the vision of big, bad Kalquorians slipping all over the place.

Six purple-robed figures were on the floor right now, five of them standing and one in a hover chair. Jessica’s clan and the emperors looked impressive in their formal robes, much like members of a Roman senate. An even more familiar man in a blue-trimmed black formsuit rushed here and there, now speaking briefly to Prince Clajak, now setting up computers on the podiums of the lower royal tier, now ordering other men Michaela supposed to be assistants. Michaela’s heart beat faster to see Korkla performing his duties only yards away.

He will be so pissed off if he finds out I came here with Jessica.

Her friend was just as busy looking over the situation. Her attention was claimed by the smaller vids projected from the gallery’s glass. Those vids showed close ups of the floor, throne tiers, and the steps where Michaela reasoned the councilmen would eventually sit when the meeting started.

Jessica whispered, “I wonder which one of those guys is Pwaldur.”

Michaela grumbled, “I wonder what the hell we’re doing here.” She couldn’t help but worry as she watched Korkla work.

“Maybe that’s Pwaldur talking to my clan. But they wouldn’t be so friendly if he was, would they?”

Michaela looked to see the man who Jessica was so curious about. The blue-robed councilman now speaking to Clan Clajak was dashingly handsome. The flowing robes didn’t quite disguise his well-muscled but lithe frame. His sleek black hair framed a face made for the movies, Michaela thought, if the movie called for a stunning villain. It wasn’t that the Kalquorian looked evil, but he did have a hint of danger in his elegant face. Maybe it was the trim mustache and goatee he wore. The only thing marring the man’s haughty good looks were the deep shadows under his eyes. Dashing Councilman didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep lately.

A tolling bell vibrated through the chamber. The gallery went quiet all at once, allowing Michaela to hear the rustling of the robes worn by the men down below as they went to their seats. The Imperial Clan was seated on the upper tier thrones. A throb of sadness went through Michaela to see the empty chair between Emperors Zarl and Yuder. Empress Irdis had died years ago in a terrible shuttle crash, the same accident that had made Zarl a cripple. He had told the story of his loss to Michaela and Jessica. It had been plain to see the Dramok emperor still loved and mourned his lost Matara.

It must be awful to sit next to the empty chair where she once sat.

The crown princes settled into their seats on the lower tier. There was another empty seat, this one located between Clajak and Bevau. If today’s meeting went without any major hitches, Jessica would be taking up that throne in future council meetings.

Michaela looked at her friend, wondering if Jessica looked forward to or dreaded that day. Jessica had been full tilt into learning the history and politics of the Empire on their six-week journey from Plasius under the guidance of both the emperors and her clan. More than once she’d despairingly told Michaela, “I’m no leader. Maybe I can dazzle them with bullshit?”

Looking at the sharp-eyed councilmen eyeing the royals, Michaela didn’t think there was much hope for that.

For her part, Jessica still scanned the vids showing the councilmen. Her expression seemed somewhat grim as she did so. These were the potential enemies, the men who would challenge her right to stay with Clan Clajak.

For all his body’s many infirmities, Emperor Zarl’s voice was clear and strong as he addressed those assembled. “This regular session of the Royal Council will come to order. Time and date will be noted. We have already offered our personal congratulations to Councilman Rajhir on the birth of a boy and a girl—”

The whole chamber exploded with ear-ringing cheers. Michaela had to cover her ears as the gallery went thunderous with shouted congratulations from the Kalquorians around her. Apparently, loud outbursts were okay when it came to such news. All three emperors and Clajak’s clan were grinning ear to ear as applause and yelling went on for several seconds. Michaela noted Korkla was among those cheering.

Next to Michaela, Jessica had fingers plugging her ears as well. Their eyes met as they laughed over the joy the Kalquorians took in the councilman’s fatherhood.

Little by little, the gallery and councilmen calmed down. Once he could be heard again, Zarl said, “Let us now extend our public congratulations to your clan, Rajhir.”

The handsome dangerous-looking man who had been speaking to Clan Clajak earlier rose and bowed to the two tiers. “Many thanks, my emperors and my princes. I hope we can continue to serve Kalquor so well. My clan will certainly try.”

The naughty grin on Rajhir’s face made Michaela laugh, along with most of those assembled in the gallery. More applause broke out.

Jessica did not seem quite as amused. She whispered in Michaela’s ear, “The emperors are looking tense again already. I think they’re about to make the announcement about me.”

She was right. Michaela noted how Yuder gave the Royal Guards closest to the dais a subtle nod. None of those red-formsuited men were joining in offering Rajhir spirited accolades. They were readying for trouble.

Zarl didn’t make them wait long. As the gallery and councilmen again settled down, he said, “Now on to other business. Many, if not all of you, have heard Prince Clajak’s clan has taken an Earther Matara themselves. The rumor is true.”

A new swell of sound rolled through the room: excited muttering. Michaela noticed how councilmen were peering all about themselves, as if to search someone out.

They’re looking for Pwaldur
, Michaela thought. From the confused scowls appearing on everyone’s faces, she realized the father of Clan Clajak’s would-be Matara was not present.

“He’s not here,” Jessica murmured. A mixture of disappointment and relief played over her face.

Zarl spoke over the low hum of conversation. “Not only that, but an heir is now expected. We offer our congratulations to them as well—”

“Congratulations indeed,” rumbled an angry voice.

The low muttering started again as everyone strained to see the man who had spoken. Michaela looked at the vids and focused on the one pointed at the door where the councilmen had entered the chamber. A large Kalquorian man marched in, his blue robes rustling about his strong frame.

Michaela’s brows rose as she looked the impressive man over. Big didn’t begin to describe him. He was nowhere near as muscled as Raxstad, but he looked as solid as the cliff they were inside of. His hair was jet black and the only thing about him that spoke of softness. He looked as young as Clajak at first glance, but closer examination revealed the frown lines that spoke of his true age. Pwaldur wasn’t unattractive, but with the set jaw and set look upon his face, he made Michaela think of a bulldog getting ready to bite.

Jessica snorted. “It looks like Dramok Pwaldur likes to make dramatic entrances. The weasel-y looking guy must be Wagnox.”

Pwaldur’s appearance had been so overwhelming that Michaela had missed the other blue-robed man coming into the chamber. He followed in Pwaldur’s wake, his squinty little eyes gleaming with unseemly excitement. A secretive grin lit on his thin lips when he wasn’t looking affronted. It was as if he kept having to remind himself he was supposed to be angry, Michaela thought. Wagnox looked a good deal older than Pwaldur, his short hair silver-streaked and his face heavily lined.

Pwaldur had an amazing voice, one meant to fill halls and chambers such as this one. Michaela was impressed with the ringing baritone despite herself. He used it to start an argument with Emperor Yuder right away. Michaela’s grasp of Kalquorian was still chancy enough that she couldn’t understand all that was said, but she got the drift of it. Yuder insinuated Pwaldur’s daughter Narpok was spoiled and Pwaldur took offense. Then the head councilman put forth allegations that Clan Clajak had abandoned Kalquor.

“It sounds like the festivities have begun,” she said in a dry voice to Jessica.

Her friend didn’t answer. Jessica was intent on the exchange now going on between Clajak and Pwaldur. As far as Michaela could tell, Clajak acknowledged he had been remiss in attending to his duties as heir to the throne but assured the council he was now ready to take them up. Pwaldur sneered with disbelief. The arguments became heated, though Clajak stoically maintained a hold on his infamous temper.

Jessica started edging closer to the front of the gallery, where most of the other Earther women were clustered. The men in front of her moved aside to let her through. Michaela had a mind to curse at them for being gentlemen.

She crowded close to Jessica and hissed in her ear. “Jessica, stay back. They’ll see you.”

Her friend’s face was scarlet with anger. Prudence had fled as the words kept flying back and forth below.

Between clenched teeth, Jessica said, “Did you hear what that overbearing jerk said to Egilka? The hateful bastard needs a good slap.”

She kept creeping forward, towards the great glass wall. Michaela stuck with her, praying that Jessica would calm down and keep her mouth shut.

In her worry over Jessica, Michaela lost the thread of the debate. She heard her friend’s name spoken by Pwaldur but couldn’t attend what was said. Jessica edged to the front of the gallery and peered down through the glass. Michaela grabbed hold of her arm and tried to tug her back. Jessica shook her off, her eyes never leaving the chamber floor below.