The Ruby Dice (12 page)

Well, that was blunt. It was one reason he liked Vazar; she didn't play at intrigue. He lowered down his barriers. It wasn't as painful out here, where distance and several walls muted the torrent from the Opera Hall. He probed at her mind.

"The drawbridge is up and the moat full of sea monsters," Vazar said. "You can't come in."

He squinted at her. "What?"

"You've a luminous, powerful mind, Kelric, but subtlety was never your strong point. Quit snooping."

He lifted his goblet to her. "I was knocking at the door."

She stood against the wall, facing him, curved and deadly in her glittering red dress. "If you want to know how I plan to vote, the answer is 'I don't know.'"

Damn.
Her Assembly seat was hereditary. How could she not know her position on a ballot that jeopardized her own votes?

"I didn't realize a question existed," he said.

"I'm not Naaj. There's a reason I'm a Technologist instead of a Royalist." She shook her head. "If anyone should wield those votes, it's Roca. But should we concentrate so much power in unelected seats? Even without them, she's one of the most influential councilors in the Assembly."

Kelric's voice cooled. "That's right. She earned it through election."

"No one elected her to your father's votes."

"Better her than anyone else."

"Why should
anyone
have them?"

He spoke quietly. "My mother lost two sons and a daughter in the Radiance War. The Traders captured and tortured her husband, several of her children, and herself. She more than any of us should hate them. And believe me, she's capable of it." He knew Roca's darker side, the anger she wrestled with, but when she walked into the Assembly Hall, she put it behind her. "Yet
she
counsels peace, now that we have a Trader emperor who claims he will negotiate with us."

"She's an invaluable voice of moderation," Vazar said. "But if we reaffirm that power for Roca, what happens when the next person wants it? And the next?" Her gaze hardened, reflecting the pilot who had become infamous in battle. "And maybe moderation is the wrong counsel."

He couldn't argue. Sometimes, when his anger or grief became too great, he wanted to launch his war fleets and destroy the Traders, even knowing his forces and theirs were too evenly matched to ensure any outcome but misery.

"If we don't negotiate peace," he said, as much to himself as to Vazar, "this hostility will never end. Do you want a thousand years of war?"

Vazar pushed back her hair. "No." She stared down at the gardens. "Have you talked to Brant?"

He followed her gaze. In the garden below, Brant Tapperhaven was walking with a woman. As head of the J-Force, Brant was another of Kelric's joint commanders, and like most Jagernauts, he had a fierce streak of independence. He also abhorred the idea of inherited votes. Kelric was glad Brant didn't hold an Assembly seat; he might have gone against Kelric tomorrow.

"We've discussed it," Kelric said, and left it at that.

"Who is that girl with him?" Vaz asked.

"I don't know." He watched the couple stroll under colored lamps strung from silver-bell willows. The woman was lovely with her dark hair and sensual grace. She reminded Kelric of Rashiva, the Manager of Haka Estate on Coba. Haka ran the prison where he had spent one of the worst years of his life, after he killed his guard trying to escape. Then Rashiva had taken him out of prison and made him her Calani and husband, under coercion. It had outraged the Minister who ruled Coba, for Haka was an antagonist of the Ministry, whereas Kelric's former Estate, Dahl, had been the Ministry's strongest ally. Within a year, the Minister had pardoned him and he had no choice but to return to Dahl.

They had never allowed him to see Rashiva again, but seven months later, she had given birth to a son. She claimed the boy was premature, the son of another man, but rumors spread about his violet eyes, a color never before seen on Coba.

The same color eyes as Kelric's father.

Something was building within Kelric, something ten years in coming. He kept hearing Jeremiah's words:
They're so peaceful here. Imagine if they let their top dice players loose on all those barbaric Imperialate warmongers.

Watching the woman in the garden, he spoke quietly. "She looks like my ex-wife." It was the first time he had mentioned anything about his life on Coba to any Skolian. It felt as if alarms should blare or bells toll.

"You think so?" Vaz peered at the woman. "Corey wasn't that pretty." She flushed and quickly added, "I mean no offense to her memory."

"I know. None taken."

She gave him an odd look. "Why would you call my cousin Corey your ex-wife? You two were married when she died."

Softly he said, "I wasn't talking about Corey."

"Who else could you mean?"

Ten years of caution, ten years of silence: he couldn't break it so easily.

"We should go back inside," he said.

Vaz was watching him intently. "All right." For now she let it go.

But he knew her silence wouldn't last.

Jaibriol ran hard, his feet pounding the dirt path. Above him, the sky vibrated in the blue-violet splendor of the high mountains, streaked with wispy clouds. Six tiny moons glittered in different phases, but none of the big ones were visible. Even this high above the coast, in the crystalline silence of the mountains, he could hear the thundering tides ripped from the ocean by those moons and hurtled against the shore far below.

Although the thin air up here bothered most people, Jaibriol enjoyed the challenge. Hidaka ran with him. Given all his augmentation, the Razer wasn't the least bit out of breath, which could get annoying, but Jaibriol would far rather exercise with him than with another Aristo. He reveled in the sheer joy of running in the clear, cold morning. His doctor claimed his body was a tuned instrument in its prime, bursting with health. He didn't know about that, but he felt as if he could live forever.

A hum came from the comm plug in his ear. Loping along, he said, "Yes?"

"Sire, it's Robert. Are you all right?"

"I'm, fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Surely Robert didn't think jogging a few kilometers would harm him.

"The Amethyst Wing of the palace blew up," Robert said.

"
What?
" Jaibriol came to an abrupt stop. Hidaka halted next to him, and his other three guards stopped behind and before them.

"A pipe detonated under the Columns Hall," Robert said. "The section with the gold tiles and black pillars. The columns shattered on the floor and the walls collapsed."

Good Lord. Had someone attacked the palace? Remarkably, it had actually been several years since anyone tried to assassinate him or any of his advisors. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No one," Robert said. "The hall was empty."

Jaibriol didn't see why anyone would bomb an empty hall. He glanced at Hidaka, who was undoubtedly wondering why the emperor was talking to thin air. Jaibriol tapped his ear and mouthed
Robert,
and Hidaka nodded.

"Is security checking it out?" Jaibriol asked.

"I called them immediately," Robert said. "They're making sure it's safe for the repair teams. And for you, of course."

"Good," Jaibriol said. "I'll be down as soon as I change."

Jaibriol stood in the ebony and gold hall, half hidden by a column that hadn't fallen, and watched the repair crews. Gilded dust swirled and mounds of glinting rubble were piled everywhere. The techs were calculating the cost of the robots they would need to replace those destroyed in the blast. More durable and less emotional than human beings, the robots needed neither sleep nor food. When Jaibriol realized the techs would have rather lost taskmakers than robots, bile rose in his throat. They ranked a machine above a human.

With Robert at his side, he resumed his walk through the hall, past crushed marble and melted gold, as much to escape the techs as to survey the damage. The dust would have bothered his nose, so he was glad his updated nanomeds neutralized its effect. Hidaka stayed with them, tall and silent, towering over even Jaibriol. The other three guards went ahead or behind them.

"Any report yet on why this happened?" Jaibriol asked.

Robert had his hand cupped around his ear where he was wearing a comm. "A pipe exploded." He paused, listening. "A pressure differential in the gas it carried may be the culprit."

Jaibriol stepped over chunks of a fallen column, a mess of gleaming marble shot through with jagged cracks. "That wouldn't cause a blast this big."

Robert nodded his agreement. "But security has found no trace of a bomb."

"Was anyone scheduled to be here?"

"Not a soul."

Jaibriol didn't like it. In his experience, nothing ever happened in the palace without reason, because someone was plotting this or that, anything from humbling a rival to seeking their demise. "Let me know as soon as you find out more."

"I will, Sire."

As they continued through the wreckage, Jaibriol's unease grew. He would have to ramp up his defenses even more; in the relative calm of the past few years, he had almost become fatally complacent.

People overflowed the Amphitheater of Memories where the Skolian Assembly met. Tiers of seats rose for hundreds of levels; above them, balconies held yet more people. Delegates filled the amphitheater, and images glowed at VR benches where offworld representatives attended through the Kyle web. Controlled pandemonium reigned as thousands conferred, bargained, and argued, all the gathered powers of a civilization struggling find an accommodation between dynastic rule and democracy.

Kelric sat at the Imperator's bench with Najo, Axer, and Strava standing on duty. They hadn't stopped scowling at him since they had discovered he took his "vacation" with no guards.

A dais was rising in the center of the amphitheater. The Councilor of Protocol sat at a console there, preparing to call the vote. Tikal, First Councilor of the Assembly, the elected leader of the Imperialate, waited at a podium near Protocol's console. Dehya was standing next to Protocol's console, gazing out at the amphitheater. On principle, Kelric would have preferred Dehya attend through the web; that way, his people could protect her even better than the stratospheric level of security he already had in place. But he knew why she came in person. Although she was one of the savviest people here, her waiflike face and small size made her appear fragile. It inspired protective instincts in people and helped counterbalance his presence, which many people found alarmingly militaristic.

The session had started only an hour ago, and already the debate regarding his mother's voting bloc had finished. Few speakers had commented. Those who did, including Naaj Majda, orated eloquently in Roca's favor. The lack of counterarguments didn't fool Kelric. No one wanted to speak openly against the Ruby Dynasty. Unfortunately, their reluctance only went so far; it wouldn't stop most of them from voting against her even in an open ballot. He could see Roca on his screens. She sat across the amphitheater, appearing relaxed at her console with a composure that he doubted came easy today.

The number of votes a delegate held depended on the size and status of the populations that elected them, or in the case of hereditary seats, on the power of the family. As populations fluctuated, so did the voting blocs, continuously updated. No one ever knew exactly how many votes everyone had, though they could estimate it with good accuracy. The Ruby Pharaoh and First Councilor held the largest blocs. The next largest went to Kelric, then to the councilors of the Inner Circle: Stars, Intelligence, Foreign Affairs, Finance, Industry, Judiciary, Life, Planetary Development, Domestic Affairs, Nature, and Protocol. For the First Councilor, Ruby Dynasty, Inner Circle, and Majdas, the size of their blocs depended on a complicated and oft-debated algorithm that took into account their political influence as well as the populations or hereditary position they represented.

Protocol spoke into her comm. "Calling the vote."

The words flashed on Kelric's screen. They also came over the audio system, almost lost in all the noise. She waited while people quieted. Then she said, "The measure is this: The voting bloc of the Web Key should cease to exist until another Web Key ascends to the Triad. A vote of Yea supports abolishing the bloc: a vote of Nay opposes the measure."

She called the roll, starting with the delegates of lowest rank, who had the fewest votes. Their names appeared on Kelric's screen, their
Yea
or
Nay,
the number of votes they carried, and the overall tally. The results also showed on a large holoscreen above the dais.

Bolt, Kelric thought. Project the outcome based on the current results and your expectations for delegates who haven't yet voted.

Your mother will lose, Bolt answered.

Damn. At the moment, the tally favored Roca. Most of the noble Houses had already cast their ballots, though, and they supported her. Ragnar's name came up—and he voted against her. Kelric gritted his teeth as her edge shrank. The vote continued inexorably, and when it turned against Roca, murmurs rolled through the hall. Kelric heard a snap, and pain stabbed his palm. Startled, he looked down. He had gripped the console so hard, a switch had broken and jabbed his hand.

"Cardin Taymor," Protocol called.

Kelric glanced up, at a loss to recognize the name.

She's new, Bolt informed him. From Metropoli. Given her record in their Assembly, she will undoubtedly vote Yea. He accessed Kelric's optic nerve and produced an image of Taymor. Kelric blinked; she was the woman in the green dress who had done a double take last night when he walked into the party.

His screen flashed with Taymor's vote:
Nay.

Hah! Kelric grinned. You calculated wrong.

Perhaps I had too little data. Bolt paused. Or maybe your protocol analysts know what they are doing better than you think. She did seem taken with you.

Dryly Kelric thought, Thanks for your confidence in my intellect.

Voices rumbled in the amphitheater; apparently Bolt wasn't the only one who had misjudged Taymor's intent. Coming from the most heavily populated world in the Imperialate, she wielded an impressive bloc. The tally swung back in favor of Roca.