The Moon's Shadow (14 page)

He vehemently wished he had followed through on his idea to attend the hearings using a VR set up in his private rooms. He had returned here because the insights he gained as a psion could prove invaluable, and he only sensed the moods or thoughts of people when he was near them, unblocked by walls or other barriers. But now his decision seemed crazy. Nothing was worth this misery.

Jai struggled to concentrate. The insurance bureaus were arguing that they owed Tarquine Iquar nothing. To an extent, they had a point; if she won against Taratus, he would owe her the balance between the true worth of the provider and the fourteen million. Given that Kelric had been dying, his price should have been a small fraction of what Tarquine paid.

However, the bureaus also claimed Tarquine had lost her provider due to negligence, besides which, she had sued Taratus for punitive damages. If she won, she would end up with far more than the fourteen million renormalized credits she paid in the first place, so they insisted they shouldn’t even have to refund her insurance fees.

Their blithe refusal to acknowledge any responsibility amazed Jai. He also wanted to laugh every time he heard “renormalized.” The word came from quantum field theory. Basically it meant turning an infinite quantity into a finite one. It said a great deal about economic inflation in the Eubian Concord, that they had to “renormalize” their money.

Tarquine’s legal team claimed the bureaus had violated her rights by forcing her to pay their fees before she could verify the health of her provider. Even worse, they said, she had lost an immense amount of interest while the bureaus kept her credits, and continued to do so as long as they refused to honor their contract. For good measure, they even accused the bureaus of setting criminally high fees and exhorted the High Judge to investigate them.

Objections multiplied. Taratus’s people weighed in, declaring he had been convicted of no crime. ESComm objected to the demand made by the bureaus that Tarquine turn over details of her security system, which had been designed by the military. Calope Muze reminded everyone that the fee schedule of the bureaus was not on trial.

The debate dragged on. ESComm made veiled threats at every turn. The bureaus threw every metaphorical wrench imaginable into proceedings. If it was this bad now, Jai dreaded the chaos that would explode when they discovered the truth about Kelric.

The main players, Tarquine Iquar and Azar Taratus, rarely spoke. The few times Tarquine addressed the court, she was terrifyingly articulate. Jai hoped he never faced her in any proceeding. She would shred him. He tried to stop noticing her: he didn’t see her hawk-like beauty; he wasn’t aware of her lean body; he didn’t find her mesmerizing. He noticed none of it, none at all.

His head hurt so damn much. The onslaught of their Aristo minds came with so much force, he caught valuable impressions even without lowering his barriers. Taratus expected to lose on the fraud charge. Despite his outward nonchalance, he feared ESComm would strip him of his rank. ESComm was irate, at the bureaus for trying to compromise military security and at Taratus for getting caught. The bureaus were determined to do whatever necessary, no matter how sleazy, to avoid paying Tarquine.

Jai’s mind reeled. Pressing the heels of his hands against his temples, he groaned. He could no longer hear the speakers in the courtroom.

“Your Highness?” Azile’s voice pierced the roar in his ears—no, in his mind—so much pain—

Jai stood up, knocking over his chair. The colonel giving testimony stopped and turned with a start. Everyone else in the room rose, including the High Judge. Jai stared at them. He caught an image of himself in Tarquine’s mind, a tall youth with his eyes wild, his body tensed and partially bent over. He looked half-crazed.

Jai could endure no more. With excruciating care, he walked off the dais and went to the private exit behind Calope’s bench.

Then he escaped the courtroom.

The stone bench where Jai sat curved around the secluded antechamber behind the courtroom. With his feet planted wide, he rested his elbows on his knees and put his forehead on the heels of his hands. He didn’t see whoever opened and then closed the door, but he heard breathing. It couldn’t be Azile; Jai would have recognized his mind. His Razers affected him, too, though they were only half Aristo, so the effect wasn’t as pronounced. He felt nothing now.

Jai raised his head and saw Calope Muze standing by the door. She bowed to him. “Please accept my apologies for disturbing your contemplation, Your Highness.”

Contemplation. That was certainly a polite way to put it. He indicated the bench against the opposite wall, a few paces away. “Join me, please.” He wanted to send her away, but isolating himself now would only worsen his reputation for bizarre behavior.

Calope settled on the bench. “I am amazed at the variety of atmospheric conditions humans can tolerate on different worlds.”

Jai knew she was trying to offer him an excuse for his “attack.” The atmosphere on Glory wasn’t unusual, given that the world had been terraformed for humans, but a difficulty in breathing was the best excuse for his behavior he could think of right now.

“Your Highness impresses with his ability to adapt to our world,” she added.

“Thank you.” Jai’s head was clearing now that the pressure from the Hightons had receded, muted by distance and the marble walls. He focused on Calope and even relaxed his barriers, but he still felt no pressure. Just like Corbal. Jai wished he knew why they didn’t affect him. Calope and Corbal had three attributes in common: white hair, advanced age, and Qox heredity.

“Your handling of the hearings invites respect,” he said.

Calope inclined her head. “You honor me.”

Jai hesitated to say more. He suspected he had stumbled in his talk with Azile about Sunrise. The Intelligence Minister remained maddeningly vague on the subject. Jai didn’t even want to imagine what he could end up saying if he conversed with the judge.

With his barriers relaxed, he felt Calope’s curiosity: he intrigued her. She thought of him as a beautiful enigma begging to be solved. Jai winced. The only person who truly saw him as an emperor was Silver. He wished he could go home to her at night, but Kaliga had turned down his offers for the girl. Although the admiral used great courtesy, he showed no sign of relenting. Jai didn’t blame him. Silver was a miracle. As much as Kaliga didn’t deserve her, Jai couldn’t imagine anyone in his right mind giving her up.

More impressions came to him from Calope; she liked him despite his oddities, but she expected him to retreat into seclusion, as his father had before him. She wondered if inbreeding had made the Qox Line mentally fragile.

Inbreeding. He wanted to laugh.
If only you knew.
Aloud he said, “You bring a mark of distinction to these difficult proceedings.” It was the closest he could come to saying what he really meant:
It’s a wretched muddle in there.

Calope smiled dryly. “I’m afraid any mark would be distinct within such confusion.”

Gods. Was that a Highton joke? Startled, Jai smiled.

Calope blinked, her emotions clear; she found his smile guileless, a quality she had never expected to associate with a Qox emperor. Jai inwardly groaned. No one took him seriously. He stood up slowly. His headache had receded enough that he thought he could return to the hearings.

Calope rose as well and opened the door, then followed him into the courtroom. The legal teams were all conferring, each group using sound-shrouds to keep their adversaries from eavesdropping. Everyone stopped and stood when Jai entered. As he sat at the table on the dais, Calope took her chair behind her bench. Jai offered no explanation for his departure and no one dared ask.

After the usual formalities, Calope resumed the hearing. As Taratus’s people wound up to their previous argumentative pitch, Azile spoke to Jai in a low voice. “It is gratifying to see Your Highness in good health.”

Jai wanted to say,
I feel like someone hit me in the head with a stardock crane.
But he nodded and kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he could make Imperial Silence a new fad.

The legal counsels continued to perform remarkable feats of indecipherable verbosity. At one point, someone actually said, “It is our contention that the contrary prediction of safeguards as established by the forward-leaning claims in document four-seven-three-nine-two, presented by my most honored colleagues in EFC, pursuant to the final decision of the back stripes did in fact alter.” Jai hadn’t a clue what the fellow meant.

Why anyone would aspire to imperial sovereignty, Jai couldn’t imagine. If this was typical of a day on the job, his relatives could have it. Pleasure girls excepted, it was a singularly unpleasant occupation.

He could see why Kaliga and his cronies assumed it would be easy to distract him with providers, drugs, and other numbing pursuits, while his elders ran his empire. He longed for Silver. He could have any of the providers he had inherited, and he had no doubt they were just as beautiful. But he didn’t want some other woman. He wanted her. Unlike the Aristos, he couldn’t switch his affections as casually as he changed clothes.

“So it is with great expectation,” Taratus’s counsel continued, “that we come before you, most esteemed High Judge Muze, to partake of your wisdom in this matter of spurious accusations.”

Jai blinked. Were they finally going to stop talking and partake of some wisdom? It was about time.

Calope nodded. Her hair glittered like white crystals in the diffuse light. “Counsels please stand.”

Relief swept over Jai. Not only had they quit pontificating, but Calope had spoken a sentence he could understand. Curious, he waited to see what came next.

Everyone at the tables below rose to their feet. Calope spoke to the Hightons arrayed before her. “The Court of Qox accepts your words. The record is complete.” Now she rose, too, and turned to Jai. “It is with the utmost reverence that we honor your decision, Most Sagacious Majesty.”

Jai froze.
What
decision? And since when had he become a “Sagacious Majesty”? Corbal had gone over in detail what was expected from him at the hearings. These opening arguments were only the start. Rebuttals and examinations could go on for months, even years. None of it had included Calope Muze asking his sagacious self for a decision.

Jai glanced at Azile Xir. The Intelligence Minister nodded with respect—and gratitude.

Gratitude.

Ah, hell.
Jai made himself drop his barriers, so he could verify what he feared, reading the truth from Azile. Comprehension hit him even worse than the impact of the Aristo minds. He hadn’t just blundered when he spoke with Azile about Sunrise, saying he would see to the matter himself.

He had promised that he, Jaibriol III, would render the verdict in these hearings.

I’m dead,
Jai thought.

P
anic surged in Jai and his mind reeled. They were all waiting for him to speak. What did he do now? With the perfect vision of hindsight, he realized Azile had been waiting for exactly the opening Jai had given him. The minister had deliberately chosen to interpret Jai’s comment in a broader context than Jai had intended, and Jai had been too naive to stop it from happening.

He tried to intensify his barriers, but he couldn’t do it right with so many emotions pouring in on him and so much pressure from the Hightons. He had to get out of here, talk to someone, find out how to respond. But he had no one to confide in.
No one.
If he showed any weakness, the Aristos would devour him like Earth’s legendary piranhas.

The silence stretched out like a band pulled too tight. He felt everyone’s disquiet, all wondering why their untried and perhaps unstable emperor didn’t respond.

Jai took a shaky breath. Then he rose, followed by the others at his table. He had trouble sorting out the emotions bombarding him, but Calope’s came through strongly; if he left the chamber now, it would be tantamount to dismissing the case. The result would be unmitigated disaster: Taratus would go free, the bureaus would escape paying, ESComm would be left hanging, and Tarquine Iquar would recoup none of her losses.

After the emperor, the three most powerful civilians in Eube were the Ministers of Finance, Trade, and Intelligence. With her influence, Tarquine could cause a major economic crisis if she chose to do so. Jai had no doubt she was fully capable of doing it. If he walked away from this, he would set appalling precedents in the criminal, military, and economic sectors, and possibly precipitate an interstellar catastrophe.

Jai fought down his panic. He had to say something. Although he had an idea what to do in some of the cases, he was lost for how to phrase his decisions. He had nothing resembling the fluency in Highton he needed, but if he answered plainly, it would be an insult so deep, gods only knew what would happen. Maybe someone would assassinate him and put him out of his misery.

Until now, his lack of experience had been a shield. No one had taken him seriously enough to consider him a danger. But no matter what he did now, he would make potent enemies. And whatever he decided would directly impact Corbal. Sunrise’s situation had too many similarities to what had happened with Kelric. No wonder Azile had been so grateful; Jai had practically promised to render a verdict that benefited Corbal. If he didn’t follow through with what Azile expected, he would alienate the Intelligence Ministry.

At the table below, Taratus shifted his weight. Jai felt everyone’s concern growing as their emperor’s silence continued. They had to realize his quandary. Most of them knew he didn’t speak Highton well. His strange behavior heightened their concern. Conformity meant everything to Aristos; they feared he would cause a crisis, become unhinged, even destabilize the government with his erratic behavior.

Desperate, Jai turned to his aide, Robert Muzeson, who stood at the end of the table. Beyond him, Jai could see the waiting Hightons.

Jai spoke carefully. “It is well known that as the emperor’s heir, I was in seclusion for most of my life.”

Robert stared at him with undisguised shock. That Jai addressed him now, instead of the Hightons, was so anomalous, it verged on deadly. He looked petrified.

Anger came from the Aristos—and curiosity. Jai had startled them. Still talking to Robert, Jai said, “As such, I have less facility with the perfected discourse of the Highton language than needed for a proceeding this sensitive.”

Robert’s rigid posture suddenly eased, as he understood. He met Jai’s gaze squarely so it would be obvious the emperor was speaking to him, a taskmaker. Jai could then use plain language without—he hoped—giving insult.

Here goes,
Jai thought. “I will leave my most esteemed High Judge to implement my decisions.” Given the bare bones of his decisions, she would know far better than he how to implement them. Jai had no time to weigh consequences; the best he could do was start with the easiest case, giving him space to think. “In the matter of security, Eubian Space Command shall not be required to release any confidential documents to any bureau that doesn’t have a direct need to know. I also charge ESComm with determining what caused the security lapse on Minister Iquar’s habitat and ensuring that no such lapse occurs again.”

That created no stir, except for relief from the ESComm officers. No one expected that the military would give out classified information. Had Jai commanded them to, he would have no doubt found himself mired in bureaucratic resistance. As for the investigation, they were already doing one.

Jai continued. “In the case brought by Minister Iquar against Admiral Taratus, I rule thus: Admiral Taratus will repay Minister Iquar her purchase price of the provider minus whatever the insurance bureaus estimate as his true value.”

Triumph came from Tarquine, anger from Taratus, and cautious approval from Calope Muze. Jai didn’t think he had made any drastic mistakes so far, but the punitive damages Tarquine wanted would be more difficult. Although high, the amount wasn’t unreasonable given the magnitude of Taratus’s fraud. Reasonable, yes—until it became known that the “overpriced” provider was a Ruby prince, the
Imperator,
for saints’ sake. Jai hated that Hightons so cavalierly put a price on human beings, but regardless of what he thought, the military ruler of Skolia would be well worth fourteen million to them.

Jai knew he was about to make an enemy of someone he really, really didn’t want to antagonize. But if he didn’t do this, the eventual consequences could be even worse. Steeling himself, he said, “I award no punitive damages to Minister Iquar.”

An explosion of breath came from someone. Surprise washed over Jai from the assembled Hightons, and Judge Muze frowned. Wicked glee flashed in Taratus’s eyes. Tarquine met Jai’s gaze with a hard stare, like ice, unforgiving and promising vengeance.

Damn.

Jai didn’t try to explain, afraid to tangle himself into more trouble. If Kelric’s identity became known, Minister Iquar’s case against Taratus would disintegrate. Although it would infuriate Taratus that he had been forced to repay her the fourteen million, that ruling would probably hold, given the way he had cheated her. But if Jai awarded her additional damages, it would be too much when the admiral discovered the truth about the “worthless” provider. The situation could explode.

Jai forced himself to go on, speaking to Robert, though he could see everyone in the chamber. “In regards to the insurance claims: since Minister Iquar will receive repayment from Admiral Taratus, the bureaus are responsible only for the value of the provider determined by a reevaluation based on the records of his health made available to this court.”

Someone gasped, an aide maybe, Jai wasn’t certain. If Tarquine could have killed with her laser-like stare, Jai knew he would be dead. Sweat broke out on his brow. She, more than the others, was the one he feared. And she might as well have come out and said,
You’re ashes now.

Not unexpectedly, the insurance people looked pleased, self-satisfied even. Taratus was smug, more from knowing that Tarquine, his foe, had been outmaneuvered than because he cared what the bureaus paid her.

Jai’s anger smoldered. They were too full of themselves. He spoke quietly. “I make two stipulations. The first: the insurance carrier will recalculate the fee it charged to cover the provider, setting a new fee based on the updated appraisal of his worth. They will reimburse Minister Iquar for the difference between that fee and the higher one she has already paid.” He paused. “In addition, I may, at any time, order an independent evaluation of the provider. If it proves him worth more than the lower value set by the bureaus, they will pay Minister Iquar double the difference between their assessment and the independent appraisal.”

That elicited little reaction. The fee the bureaus would have to repay Tarquine, although large, was nothing compared to the fourteen million they would have had to pay if Jai had ruled in her favor. And no one could evaluate a missing provider. Even if they found him, it was unlikely any reevaluation would place the worth of a dying man higher than that determined from his health records.

Just wait,
Jai thought.
Just wait.

Tarquine’s hostility was palpable. Jai wished he could brush the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. To Robert, he said, “In the matter of Admiral Azar Taratus—” Then he stopped, flooded with animosity from the admiral. It didn’t show on Taratus’s face; he hid his emotions behind an icy Highton veneer. Just once Jai wished he could tell them,
You can’t fool me. I know the deceptions in your minds.

Jai took a breath. “I find Admiral Azar Taratus guilty of fraud and the misuse of ESComm resources. His sentence will be—” He pulled straight from Taratus’s mind the sentence that the admiral had feared to receive. “A fine of one million credits and a suspension from ESComm for a period of time determined by Judge Muze.”

A harsh chiming filled the chamber. Struggling to handle the avalanche of emotions in the courtroom, Jai was too distracted at first to register the source of the sound. Then he remembered: Aristos made their opinions known, not with words, but with finger cymbals they wore on their thumb and index finger during formal assemblies. He wasn’t sure what they were expressing now, but it wasn’t happy. Taratus had clenched his fist at his side.

Jai felt as if a mountain were collapsing on him. Judge Muze had a strange expression, as if she saw it thundering down but didn’t know how to stop it. Her thoughts came to him: although she respected many of his decisions, she also believed he had just undermined his reign, probably beyond repair. He had no idea how many unwritten rules of custom and favor he had broken. Worse, he had made an enemy of his Finance Minister, who wielded far more influence than he, regardless of his title. Tarquine had spent decades building her power base, and now she would turn it against him.

Jai felt sick.
Corbal, I need you.
But he had no ally. He had to keep going, sinking into the hole he had dug for himself while the world buried him. He looked out over the courtroom, and Tarquine met his gaze with undisguised enmity. He stared back, taking in her terrifying and glorious fury. Again he saw the white at her temples. White hair, advanced age, and Qox heredity: after Corbal and Calope, Tarquine was the only other Aristo he knew with those three traits.

She terrified him.

She mesmerized him.

Jai turned back to Robert. “I have one more verdict.”

Everyone froze. He had ruled on all the cases; what further damage could he do now?

Even Jai didn’t know what he intended until the words came out of his mouth: “Tarquine Iquar shall become my consort—the empress of Eube.”