The Ruby Dice (42 page)

The head of the Janq Aristo Line was still standing. Her voice carried. "Such wisdom is of inestimable value, Lord Xir." Her words suggested she honored Corbal, but her stiff posture implied hostility. "As does all such wisdom—especially those truths about our sailing ships."

Jaibriol pressed his palms against the console as if that could stop him from falling when all these threats avalanched onto his throne. Janq believed Corbal had helped the Skolians capture her merchant fleets. She had to have evidence she believed good enough to withstand any claim of false accusation. She was telling Corbal that if he didn't either support her side or shut the hell up, she would reveal his treason to the summit.

"This is out of control," Jaibriol muttered.

"It is—unusual," Robert said. He sounded stunned.

Jaibriol had to stop this before it took him down with everyone else. Before he stood, he focused on Tarquine. She seemed unconnected to the monumental confrontation; her attention was on her work with the comm officer. She was simply doing her job, keeping order amid the blaze of emotions. No one suspected
she
told the Skolians about the Janq ships, she set up Corbal, she discovered Corbal's secret, and she had the evidence that would implicate either Corbal or else the Janq Line for a false accusation. No one—except Jaibriol.

Her bizarre exchange with Barthol before the summit made all too much sense now. Somewhere, someplace, she had promised to declare him as her heir instead of her own child. His branch of the Iquar Line would become ascendant after this generation and hers would lose the title. All he had to do was support this ballot. For Barthol, it would be a great coup. What did it matter to Tarquine? Her child would inherit the Carnelian Throne. Except Jaibriol knew she would never give up that power, especially not the rule of such a powerful Aristo Line.

Jaibriol rose to his feet, and the hall quieted as everyone turned to him. The comm officer seemed frozen, unable to deal with yet another break in protocol, this time from the emperor himself. It was Tarquine who leaned over and turned off the lights on the consoles of Janq, Barthol, Erix, and Corbal. They all sat down; to presume they had the floor after Jaibriol had taken it was a crime against the throne, as decreed by one of Jaibriol's particularly narcissistic predecessors.

His words rolled over the amphitheater. The first time he had heard his voice amplified, he had thought the techs did something to give it that deep resonance. But he had checked. They did nothing. He actually sounded this way.

He directed his first comment to Janq. "Your Line has always done great honor to our empire." Jaibriol let neither his posture nor the position of his hands refute his statement. She nodded with a hint of relief, accepting the support.

"It is our hope," Jaibriol said, "that such continues. And certainly it is within our power to see that it does."

Her eyes widened the slightest bit, enough to tell Jaibriol she had taken his true meaning, despite his apparent support. If she pursued an accusation against Corbal, the emperor himself would discredit her evidence. He hoped to high heaven that Tarquine could nullify whatever proof Janq thought she had, because he had no idea how to refute her evidence.

Corbal lifted his chin with triumph. So Jaibriol spoke to him next. "We are pleased with the words of Xir, that those who ride in profit do so for the glory of the emperor."

Corbal inclined his head in acceptance.

Jaibriol waited a heartbeat. The frightened boy who had no idea how to speak among Hightons had vanished years ago and in his place stood a stranger Jaibriol barely recognized as himself. To Corbal, he said, "May the dawn always shine on those who sail for you, from here to realms exotic and new."

His cousin froze. No sound came from the amphitheater. Everyone knew what Jaibriol meant by realms exotic and new; incredibly, the emperor looked with favor on the ballot. That was shock enough. Only Corbal would hear the hidden warning; if he went against the ballot, he endangered Sunrise, his son, and his granddaughter. Jaibriol didn't want any of them hurt, but he couldn't protect them if someone without Corbal's best interest in mind—such as Barthol Iquar—chose to expose him.

Seeing Corbal go pale, Jaibriol felt like scum. But he had to continue. He turned next to Erix. The admiral sat behind his console, his attention focused on Jaibriol as he undoubtedly tried to unwind the conflicting tangles of alliance and confrontation.

Jaibriol said, "Admiral Muze."

Erix inclined his head, his posture wary.

Amplifiers carried Jaibriol's words to every inch of the amphitheater. "It is interesting that to become an admiral one must first be—" He paused. "A colonel."

The blood drained from Erix's face. Although the palace had released no formal announcement about the "attempt" against Jaibriol's life, word had leaked. The Aristos knew: Colonel Vatrix Muze had tried to assassinate the emperor. Vatrix and Erix were first cousins. Jaibriol had no reason to act against Erix; according to the investigation, the admiral hadn't seen Vatrix in years, and they had been estranged for longer. But in the elegantly vicious universe of Hightons, none of that mattered.

In ancient Highton tradition, Jaibriol could execute Erix or any other Muze for the sins of his kin. It would create a crisis for ESComm; the precipitous loss of a joint commander was no small matter. But Jaibriol wouldn't be the first emperor to retaliate against a highly placed member of a Line that had trespassed against him.

For a long moment no one moved. Then a rustle came from the dais. The comm officer was looking up at Jaibriol with a questioning gaze. When he inclined his head, she spoke in a subdued voice, and her voice went out over the spheres.

"Your Highness," she said, "do you wish to respond to this call for concord?"

Jaibriol met her gaze. "I call for concord as well."

It felt as if a mental quake shuddered through the hall. Jaibriol no longer cared. He just wanted this to end. "It would please us," he told the officer, "for you to continue the call."

She nodded, her face pale, and called the roll, starting with the highest delegate present. "Minister of Intelligence, Azile Xir."

Azile rose to his feet. He stared at Jaibriol, his gaze hooded, and Jaibriol knew he had made an enemy. Azile spoke slowly. "I call for concord."

Voices rolled through the hall like a collective groan.

As Azile took his seat, the comm officer said, "Minister of Finance, Tarquine Iquar."

Tarquine straightened up from her attempts to organize the messages. She looked startled, as if she had been so busy, she had forgotten she was involved in the vote. Jaibriol didn't believe it for a moment, but she did a hell of a convincing job.

"I abstain," she said.

No surprise there. The Finance Minister often abstained, given her position as moderator of the summit. With her husband making his preferences known atypically early in the vote, she also chose the tactful response, neither going against him nor appearing to use her position to influence the call. With a sense of shell-shocked awe, he realized she would escape this entire business with no one ever suspecting her involvement.

"Minister of Diamonds, Iraz Gji," the officer said.

Gji stood up behind his console. "I renew my call for concord." He sat down again, his expression satisfied.

"Minister of Trade, Parizian Sakaar," the officer asked.

The Trade Minister rose heavily to his feet. For a long moment he stared at the Diamond Minister. Then he spoke as if he were gritting his teeth. "I call for concord."

"Saints almighty," Robert muttered.

My sentiments exactly
, Jaibriol thought. Tarquine had stored up her evidence of his mammoth crimes for exactly such a time as this.

"General of the Army, Barthol Iquar," the officer said.

Barthol rose to his great height. "I call for concord."

The comm officer stared at him with her mouth open, and the rumbles in the hall swelled. Even having already heard Barthol sound as if he supported the measure, apparently few Aristos believed he would actually vote in its favor. They had probably thought his earlier comments were so elegantly abstruse that they hadn't yet figured out his true meaning.

The officer finally recovered enough to say, "Admiral of the Navy, Erix Muze."

Erix stood up as if he were going to his own funeral. He knew what he had to say if he wanted to avoid exactly that event. He answered in a tight voice. "I call for concord."

The officer inhaled sharply. "High Judge Calope Muze."

Jaibriol felt like crawling under his seat. He hadn't even realized Calope had attended the summit. She was the only other Highton he liked. She had always treated him with respect, as if she actually believed he made a good emperor. Now she had witnessed him threatening to kill her grandson without a shred of evidence. Every screen in the amphitheater showed her standing up at a bench far across the hall, her face strained. She stared in his direction for a long moment. Then she looked at Erix, her grandson. In a heavy voice, she said, "I call for concord."

I'm sorry,
Jaibriol thought, though he knew she could never hear his thought. None of them ever would.

The comm officer looked as if she were having heart failure. Nor was she the only one. But she spoke evenly. "Lord Xir?"

Corbal rose to his feet, his face clenched. "I call for concord."

Jaibriol doubted Corbal would ever forgive him. Or Calope. Or any of them. He lived on an island of his own slow dying.

The roll call continued, but the rest made no difference. The major players had spoken—and with the exception of one abstain, they had agreed to support what would rank as one of the most stunning upsets in Eubian history.

Tarquine glanced up at him and inclined her head as was appropriate for a Minister to her emperor. No hint of triumph showed on her face.

But it blazed in her mind.

Jaibriol left his bodyguards outside his office despite Hidaka's protests. The room was unlit when he entered, except for the light coming in the window across from the door. The sun of Glory had set, leaving the sky a vivid red. A tall figure stood at the window, gazing out at the burning sky.

"I don't know why anyone bothers to say I sit on the throne," Jaibriol said.

Tarquine turned to him. "You are the emperor, my husband. You handled yourself brilliantly in the summit today."

"You set them up." He didn't know whether to be horrified or grateful. "All of them."

"Ah, Jai." She walked over, more relaxed than he had seen her in days. "You have your chance to talk to the Skolians. This strong expression of support from your top people offers the opening you need to contact the Ruby Dynasty." She stopped in front of him. "What you do with that opening—sell curios or negotiate peace—is your choice."

This felt surreal. "It isn't that simple."

"No, it isn't. It never is. But you have the opportunity."

Knowing she was right didn't cool his anger. "Why bother to send me? I couldn't come close to your expertise."

"In what?" She set her palm against his chest. "Yes, if you put me on the Carnelian Throne, I could be the ultimate Highton sovereign. No other Aristo would match my reign."

"Or your modesty," he said dryly.

"Eube doesn't need the ultimate Highton sovereign."

"No? What does Eube need?"

Her voice had a sense of quiet. "Someone with the decency and strength of character to make the best
leader.
It isn't the same as the best Highton sovereign." She lowered her hand. "Go to the Skolians. Do what no one else among us can. Make the universe a better place for everyone, not just Aristos."

He stared at her. "If any Aristo overheard what you just said, they would consider it grounds for assassination."

"Do you?"

"Never." He couldn't believe she would give up the Iquar title for his hopeless dream. "You offer me the impossible, but the dreamer who sought that shiny hope has become tarnished past recovery."

"I will always be Highton." Her voice had a still quality. "I could no more change than I could alter the laws of physics. I am what I am." The dim light shadowed her face. "And you will always be decent."

Decent. He felt anything but. She had given him a second chance, but the boy who had approached the Skolians ten years ago was gone, and he feared the man who had taken his place had become too much of an Aristo to claim that dream.

The communication from the Eubians came into the Office of the Ruby Pharaoh on the planet Parthonia, capital of the Skolian Imperialate. They forwarded it to the equivalent office on the Orbiter space station. It went through twelve layers of security before it reached the Advisory Aide to the Pharaoh. At the time, Dehya was deep within the Kyle, working on the vast network of meshes. So the Advisory Office of the Pharaoh forwarded the message to the Advisory Office of the Imperator.

Seated in the command chair above the War Room, Kelric barely noticed when the light on the armrest turned blue. It was a moment before he touched the
receive
panel.

"Skolia, here," he said.

His aide's voice floated out of the mesh. "Sir, we have a communication from the Emperor's Office on Glory."

What the blazes?
"Play it."

"Forwarding."

A new voice spoke, this one in elegant Iotic with a Highton accent. "My honor at your Esteemed Presence, Pharaoh Dyhianna. I am Robert Muzeson, Personal Aide to Emperor Qox." The light on the comm indicated the message was prerecorded; without access to the Kyle web, Eubians couldn't send in real time. They weren't without recourse to Kyle technology; they could always petition Skolia for the loan of a node. Of course they liked that idea about as much as they liked moldy food. Maybe less. Moldy food didn't taunt them by challenging their ascendancy.

The message continued. "His Glorious Highness, Jaibriol the Third, desires a mutual audience of himself and Pharaoh Dyhianna."

"Good gods," Kelric muttered. He had never heard of anything like this. It gave him one hell of an opening, though. He could have the techs bring Dehya out of her Kyle session, but that would take time— and involve her in ways he wanted to avoid.