The Far Bank of the Rubicon (The Pax Imperium Wars: Volume 1) (11 page)

The King spoke slowly. His voice sounded thick—like he chewed on it before he could extract its words. “If the Unity wants you dead, and more so if what you say is true, then the Kingdom of Athena welcomes you as it does all refugees of political oppression. I will offer you royal sanctuary.” Here the king paused and recovered some of the severity and power he momentarily lost. “But I may revoke it at any time.”

Anna didn’t respond verbally to this. She merely nodded once.

The King stood and started to walk out of the room. Anna stood with him. Without looking back, he spoke. “You will give this presentation again in about forty-five minutes to my military council exactly as you gave it to me, except be prepared with more details on the ship in question. Send my compliments to Secretary Ohlson when you next speak to her. I welcome having a direct and unofficial channel between our two offices.” He stopped with his hand on the door and turned. “Alex, figure out how to get Mr. Halloway and the two children to the palace in the most discreet way possible.”

On Saturday—the day of the trade minister’s arrival—Jonas addressed the poached eggs on his plate by himself in the quiet of his room as the breeze swayed the high white curtains over his fifteen-foot windows. His room was full of dark wood, most of it ornately carved. The high ceiling had been divided into inset squares, and the walls followed long straight lines. It was Jonas’ only refuge. When dignitaries were in town, Jonas often found it easier to eat by himself than make his way to the private family dining room, which would be filled and busy.

After breakfast, he dressed, his riding gear having been laid out in the small dressing room while he slept. Stephen was also dressing.

“Morning,” was all the conversation the two bleary-eyed brothers managed. Today, Jonas wore a bright green coat with tails, cream pants, and a traditional black hat.

When dressed, he and Stephen stepped back into Jonas’ room. In a moment, they would head down to the stables where they were to entertain Sophia and Mark. The schedule called for them to ride in the morning before the imperial delegation arrived early that afternoon. A knock on the door interrupted Jonas as he finished lacing his black riding boots. Dmitri came in without waiting for Jonas to tell him to enter. “Have either of you looked outside this fine morning? The sun on the front lawn is quite amazing.”

Catching the tone in Dmitri's voice, Stephen jumped up off Jonas' bed where he had been perusing an electronic copy of the playbook for today.

Jonas gave Dmitri a quizzical look and walked toward the sheers. Pulling one aside, he looked down on a large group of hover vehicles as they emptied their contents and then drove away to the garage. He quickly identified vehicles or staff belonging to most of his father's councilors, as well as a few others.

“He's called together his military council.” Jonas turned and looked at Stephen. “What do you make of it?”

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. It isn't exactly a subtle gathering, and it strikes me as extremely odd, given what is going on this weekend.” He turned away from the curtains to face Dmitri. “It has to be something serious. What’s happening?”

Dmitri shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m not privy to discussions, unless they concern the two of you. You ought to talk to your aunt, when she isn’t cornered by the beast Malek. I think that you are right about the military nature of the gathering, which is fascinating. It looks like everybody is here. This doesn't look like a sleepy little trade dispute any more, does it?”

Jonas picked up the playbook, now lying with the remains of breakfast on the small table in front of the sheers. He scrolled to one of the indices at the back. “Well, half of these people weren't expected to show at dinner, let alone today's meetings.”

Shrugging his shoulders at a mystery which he had no time to ponder, Jonas tossed the playbook on his bed, picked up his riding hat and whip, and followed Dmitri out the door.

He quickly forgot the curiosity of the morning’s events as he walked with Sophia to the barn. They chatted amiably about small things, and Stephen led their guests on a leisurely ride through the palace gardens. The path from the stables led on to the meadows beyond.

Jonas quickly gave himself over to the ride, working with the gait of his horse. He soon found himself laughing again in Sophia's presence and strangely relaxed. He could also see that Stephen sensed the growing friendship between the four of them, something neither of the princes had ever experienced before. He wondered how Stephen would react to it.

The ride was a joy. Sophia’s abilities clearly outclassed the other three, and of the four of them, she was the only one who preferred the Samoan Camel. In form, the camel most closely resembled a giant cat from the ancient world, but it had ended up named a camel because of its water sacks, which hung down below its belly. Originally from a desert planet, Samoa 2, it had taken nicely to other climates and tended to thrive on tropical worlds such as Athena. Sophia rode a foal of the king's mount, Bright Star. Her “camel” was notoriously headstrong but gave Sophia little trouble once it tested its rider at the outset, as all Samoan Camels do. Sophia’s abilities earned its respect masterfully. Toward the end of the ride, they came to an open field. Turning to Jonas, Sophia asked with a gleam in her eye, “Would it be all right if I found out what this beast can do? He has some real power, and he’s itching for a run.”

Jonas shrugged his shoulders. “I don't see why not.”

Before he had finished speaking, she was off. Jonas spurred his horse to chase her and soon found himself following across the meadow in the wake of the camel's feline gait. Sophia brought her mount to a halt on the top of one of the rolling hills. On the next ridge over, Athenian sequoias gathered in the sunshine. Sophia stood up in her saddle and stared at the scene on the other side of the valley. The trees' photosynthesis came largely from huge sails which trailed behind them from their many limbs. The sails were most effective when a breeze fanned them out. Most of these trees had sails of green, although there were some red and blue sails mixed in as well. Triangular in shape, some of the sails grew to over thirty feet in length. Often their ends frayed, giving them a ragged look.

Jonas brought his mount to a halt next to Sophia. “Jonas, they're amazing. Those huge leaves flowing in the breeze are incredible—gorgeous.”

“It is pretty amazing to see them walk, as well. These wide open spaces are quite necessary for their habitat. They have hundreds of short, stubby feet which probe the soil underneath them for nutrients as they move toward the best places for wind and sun. Yet despite their movement, they aren't truly animals. They have very limited abilities for sensation. They are quite talented at finding ideal locations to achieve maximum effect from their sails. However, they don't run if you approach them, and they can be quite dangerous if you aren't wary in their midst. They will run you over and not even know that you are there. Movement seems to have evolved early among the photosynthesizers on Athena. Look down.”

Both Jonas and Sophia looked down from their mounts and saw that the “grass” also moved and that the little blades looked like tiny sails as well. “These are actually the same species as the large ones over there,” Jonas continued. “Their genetic code uses a different alphabet than ours, so we don’t really understand why yet, but there are a series of protein markers which control growth in most of them. In about ten percent, the markers deteriorate, and their growth never stops. They become large like ‘trees.’ There are nearly 10,000 different varieties on Athena but all of them have a sail configuration and over 7,000 of the species move with the sun. There is a local comfort food made from their sap that is one of my favorites. It’s called crettle. You might order it from the kitchen in the morning. It’s a sweet gelatin, but highly nutritious. If you have a good palate, you can taste the differences in the soils where the trees have been grazing. Quite a marvelous food.” Jonas suddenly realized he had been going on quite long. “…But I’m probably being boring.”

Sophia laughed and shook her head. “Not at all, Jonas. I love ecology. I want to study it when I go to university. I will have to request crettle. It sounds wonderful.”

Stephen called to them from the bottom of the hill. “We need to get back for lunch. It’s time we go.”

An undercurrent in Stephen’s tone caused Jonas to check the time. Stephen was right. They were running about five minutes behind and something about the morning's events told Jonas that he didn't want to be the reason the playbook got off track. He turned his mount to face downhill, and Sophia followed suit. As they trotted back to Stephen, Jonas looked at Sophia. “Someday, I will take you down among them. They are incredible up close.”

“I would like that.”

After lunch, the delegation from the empire arrived. A long line of dignitaries greeted the trade minister on the steps. Several generals were there, besides senior councilors. The press had been told that the Security Council had gathered because of an uptick in “chatter” among members of the Amsterdam Independence Committee, but Jonas knew better than to believe it. He made a mental note to watch for the follow-up subterfuge. A few choice stories would be placed on the right public news-nets which would carry them around the empire. By the time the evening had finished, they would have bounced back to the local media with enough variation to give cover to the court and keep the press from digging into the matter. During Jonas' studies last fall, Dmitri had spent several weeks demonstrating how this was accomplished.

Jonas noted a few oddities at the greeting ceremony. He caught sight of at least four sniper teams on the roof of the palace. This was an increase from the traditional two for these kinds of meetings. More odd than the number was how hard he had to search the roofs to find them. They were well hidden. There was also a heavier than usual security presence in the cars, nothing which would draw attention, just a man or two, but noticeable to Jonas who had been through this routine of greeting a hundred times or more.

When the caravan pulled away, the guards did not take their traditional at-ease posture, and the soldiers were specifically from the King's personal body guard. Just before they disappeared around the corner, Jonas swore he could see someone still in the back of the third vehicle, but he couldn’t be sure. He doubted anyone else would notice. Almost everyone was too busy watching the Trade Minister and his entourage.

With so many dignitaries present, the garden party which followed felt formal, even by court standards. The members of the cabinet seemed particularly uptight. Jonas also noted his father and aunt arrived a few minutes late.

When they entered, Jonas knew something had changed. They looked careworn. Their eyes were distant, and several times he caught Dora glancing at the King.

All of the palace regulars sensed the change. Jonas noted that even the press knew something was up. As they huddled at one end of the garden, they seemed as tense as a pointer who had spotted prey. The staff stayed on their toes, and Jonas found himself sticking to his most bland and banal topics of conversation—those rehearsed lines he kept at his disposal for such occasions. Sophia, at his side, also sensed the difference from the night before. She kept her answers brief, and asked only the questions which etiquette demanded.

Halfway through the event, after the press had been escorted from the room, the king made a short apology for having to leave but “events dictate that we have a brief cabinet meeting before the banquet begins this evening.” His councilors took their cue and departed. Dora stayed behind to represent the monarch in his absence. Such a move only added to the stiffness of the event. Jonas found the next forty-five minutes to be some of the most taxing he had ever experienced. He watched every word and found himself reading between the lines in every conversation. Malek asked Dorothea at least three times what events had precipitated the gathering of the security apparatus. She never answered him directly, and the king never returned to the party.

Once Dora finished the event, there was a chance for everyone to get a break and dress for dinner.

Jonas hoped the formality and stiffness would ease somewhat at the meal, but it continued right through. The guests preceded the king as was custom. Then he led the trade minister into the hall while all the guests stood.

The king gave all the appearances of being in good spirits, but those who knew him could see the tension. He ate quickly, forcing his guests to do the same, and his after dinner remarks were clipped short by at least three or four minutes. Of course, he came out in full support of Duke Malek's request for the empire to end the trade tariffs. There really was no question of this. The King would have to support his vassal or risk open conflict.

However, it was the way in which he supported Malek which shocked Jonas and just about everyone else in the room. He threatened open war against any state which didn’t immediately remove its tariffs on the Kingdom of Athena. Jonas realized this wasn't just support for public consumption. This was an actual change in policy on the part of the king. The threat of war would force the small neighboring states to back down. Of course, they would comply without hesitation. The tariff war with Duke Malek was over. The King had conceded.

Jonas noted the speech lacked just a little polish, and he wondered if his father had changed positions suddenly. A glance at Dora confirmed the assessment. The very impassiveness of her normally expressive face gave away her unfamiliarity with what was said. Jonas watched her exchange glances with Charles Howard. He nodded affirmatively ever so slightly. Dora's eyes quickly went to the table as she nodded back.

The trade minister's speech was also short and surprisingly conciliatory toward the request made by Duke Malek. By the end of dinner Malek was beaming. He looked like a predator who had caught prey twice his size. No other person in the room shared his enthusiasm. Jonas noted that many of those who had attended the private meeting kept strictly impassive faces.