“A harsh judgment.”
“She would have seen her sister killed to keep up her pretense.”
“I can’t understand how the King couldn’t tell she wasn’t his wife, knowing she had a sister . . .”
“Who would believe such a plot? Was the sister lying when she claimed to be the true wife, or was the wife lying? Who would you believe?”
“I could tell by touching their minds.”
“You could, but Arthur couldn’t,” said Conner. “Sometimes things are not as simple as they appear to be.”
“They never are,” he sighed.
“Why do you distance yourself from your wife and Kaid?” asked Conner. “Don’t tell me it’s because you love Zayshul, because we both know you don’t.”
“There’s a scent marker . . .” he began then trailed off into silence under Conner’s gaze.
“Is this feeling of being controlled against your nature part of it?”
Kusac got to his feet. This priest was too damned observant, but then again, Conner wasn’t just one person. He carried the memories of hundreds of others in his head.
“I can’t involve them in this, Conner,” he said with finality. “I know how they will react because I know them, the way you know your predecessors like Llew. Their memories are mine. I need to know why Kuushoi is involved. That’s your field.”
“I can ask Ghyakulla, but She rarely talks. She communicates in images and symbols.”
“Ghyakulla is here?” he asked, surprised.
“Well, yes. That’s why I came to help these people open this temple to Her again,” he smiled gently. “I don’t just sit here and give lessons to them, you know. With the help of the Sholans, we’ve been going around the area clearing what waterways we can find and taking seeds of native grasses and plants to plant at the margins, trying to bring fresh growth to the land. The Orbital has helped us a lot by scheduling regular rainfalls at night.”
“Then please ask her.”
“Have you ever been pathwalking? Perhaps it’s time for you to meet Her yourself.”
He shied away from that idea. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen what happens to Kaid when he’s touched too often by Vartra.”
“I’ll see what I can find out for you, of course. For now, though, I think if you take what Vartra said at face value and consider yourself free of any intervention when outside at night, while it’s still chilly, you should be safe.”
“Even safe is a relative term,” Kusac said, turning to leave. “Thank you, Conner. And thanks for the story.”
“A pleasure.”
CHAPTER 12
M’zull, Zhal-Arema, 28th day (March)
K’HEDDUK’S craft finally settled on the Imperial landing pad in the old Palace courtyard. He’d barely begun the power-down sequence when the platform started its slow descent into the heart of the mountain where the more modern and secure levels were. With a rumble audible even over the decelerating whine of his engines, the overhead blast doors began to close above him, and the shaft was flooded with harsh actinic lights.
The sudden quiet was almost deafening as he leaned back in his pilot’s couch and briefly closed his eyes. He was exhausted. Technically the ship could be flown by one person, but it was designed for a crew of at least three. Then there was his captive, Zhalmo. She’d turned out to be as intractable as he’d expected and more inventive than he’d ever thought possible. Her constant attempts to escape her imprisonment or to try to force him to kill her had prevented him from relaxing during the whole three-week flight. When he’d run out of the sedatives in the first aid station, he’d had to beat her then resort to tying her up. Finally, when she’d realized the inevitability of her situation, she’d retreated into her own mind, becoming almost catatonic at times, letting him do as he wished with her—which had annoyed him even more.
On approaching his home solar system, the secure conversation he’d had with the head of his personal bodyguard, Zerdish, and the Generals loyal to him had reassured him that by the time he landed, there would be no opposition left on M’zull to his claim to the Throne. By now, the last of the arrests and executions should be over.
The platform stilled just as the sound of the engines ceased.
“Majesty, you’re clear to debark.” Zerdish’s voice filled the small Bridge. “The Palace and your people wait to receive you.”
“Acknowledged,” he said, pushing himself tiredly to his feet.
He headed for her cabin, drawing his stunner before opening the door.
She was still lying on the bed where he’d left her after giving her the sedative that he’d saved for their arrival. There was no way she was making a fool of him by her intransigent behavior. Checking that her wrists were still bound securely behind her back, he grasped her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. She staggered slightly as he led her out of the cabin to the air lock. The outer door irised back to reveal a unit of his personal black-clad guards. They snapped to attention, saluting him as he emerged. He could see them lining both sides of the corridor that stretched toward the underground courtyard. His four best guards detached themselves from their comrades and marched ahead of him. As he passed between the rest, each pair of heavily armed warriors fell in behind him as his escort.
“They overthrew your brother for you, K’hedduk. How long before they turn on you?” Zhalmo whispered, her voice hoarse from misuse as she stumbled along beside him.
“Already dealt with,” he said, jerking her onward. “Those alive now have only ever been faithful to me. Have no fear, you’re safety is assured on M’zull.”
The end of the corridor and a brighter light loomed ahead. Nostrils flaring as she caught the first scent of what lay ahead, Zhalmo tried to wrench herself free from him.
K’hedduk tightened his grip, pulling her closer. “Come now, Zhalmo, no female hysterics. You claim to be a soldier—surely you’re used to the smell of a little blood after a battle.” His mouth split into a wide smile totally devoid of humor as he dragged her into the courtyard.
“This wasn’t a battle, it was a slaughter!” she said in horror, looking at the forest of ceremonial poles, each topped by a severed head, which fronted the Palace’s huge metal doors. “You even had them skinned,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off those poles with limp green banners hanging against them.
Kezule slowed to a stop, his glance sliding past the waiting dignitaries to the grisly trophies. He looked them over with pleasure as his bodyguard fanned out protectively around him.
“Indeed, my orders were carried out to the letter.”
They were all there—those who had slighted and mocked him over too many years. Those who’d manipulated his weakling older brother into sending him on what they saw as a fool’s mission. He could hear his brother’s voice in his head even now . . .
“You’re ambitious, not bad in itself, so long as you keep your ambitions to those that glorify me. You want to lead, so lead me to the City of Light, and ultimately the Throne. I give you this opportunity to prove yourself.”
So he’d gone, not in force, but in stealth, armed with an extensive library of sleep skills and a handful of handpicked followers.
None of you are laughing now,
he thought, looking at each individual head.
“Highness, welcome home!” exclaimed Keshti, the chief drone of the Royal seraglio, rushing forward and bowing low before him.
“Magnificence! The Palace rejoices at your triumphant return!” said Garrik, his Chamberlain, trying to outdo the other with his own groveling obeisances.
Two khaki-clad Generals, accompanied by an officer dressed in black, were also bearing down on him.
“K’hedduk,” said one, giving him a brief nod.
Pointedly, he ignored him and turned his attention to the one in black. “Zerdish. Report.”
Zerdish saluted him crisply. “Your orders were carried out, Emperor K’hedduk, as you can see. The Palace and the armed forces are yours to command. The last few possible rebels are being flushed out of hiding in the city now.”
He nodded, tightening his grip on Zhalmo as she shifted slightly. “And my dear brother?”
Zerdish broke eye contact with him briefly. “He had a tragic accident, Majesty. When his rooms were checked for insurgents, he was found dead . . . drowned in his bath. Very tragic. I had his servant and the guard assigned to protect him executed on the spot.”
“A tragedy indeed,” said K’hedduk. “Once we’ve celebrated my wedding, then we can give him a fitting funeral.”
“Wedding, Majesty?” repeated Chamberlain Garrik, trying not to look at Zhalmo.
“Which female will you choose, Majesty?” asked Keshti. “If I may make a few suggestions . . .”
“No. I’ll have none of my brother’s castoffs,” he snapped. “Have them reassigned to the Court harem. Keep only those he never touched until I decide otherwise!”
“I’ll never marry you!” hissed Zhalmo, struggling in his grip.
“You’re my wife already, only the ceremony remains,” he said, thrusting her at Zerdish. “Have her taken to the seraglio, Keshti. Prepare her as befits an Empress for our wedding tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Keshti echoed, dismay writ large on his face. He stared at Zhalmo, dressed in torn and bloodstained military fatigues, as Zerdish gestured two of his soldiers to take charge of her.
“With . . . that?” He looked in distaste at the bedraggled female before him.
“Do you question my judgment?” K’hedduk hissed, grasping a handful of the terrified drone’s robe and jerking him forward till they were almost nose to nose. He was tired, and the drone’s objections were annoying him.
“She’s the daughter of Kezule, the only one left with a claim to the Throne of Light, and she
will
be my Empress! See that you make her presentable for the ceremony!”
“Of course, Majesty,” stammered Keshti as he was abruptly thrust aside. “But the cuts, the bruises . . .”
“Deal with them! And see she is more docile than she is now. I will not have her spoil the ceremony!”
“As you command, Majesty,” said Keshti, bowing and rapidly backing away from him. Turning, he almost fled after the guards and Zhalmo.
“Majesty, might it not be better to wait a day or two?” murmured Garrik. “The last few days have seen . . . many changes, and the people are unsettled. This last purge . . .”
“Was entirely necessary,” said General Geddash impatiently, elbowing him aside. “What happened on K’oish’ik? Why did you delay our attack?”
K’hedduk stared at him until the other dropped his gaze and mumbled a low apology.
“I was going to ask you the same question, Geddash. I want to know why you insisted that it would take you several weeks to ready a fleet.”
A perplexed look crossed the older male’s face. “Majesty, I did not. You told us you wanted to delay our plans, that the situation on K’oish’ik was stable.”
“We have recordings of your transmissions,” added his colleague. “Granted the connection was bad, but you said there was some problem with the transmitters at your end.”
“I’ll hear the recordings later,” he said, his anger building. “It seems that someone, probably Kezule, has been intercepting our communications. Thanks to him, I was left without your backup, and betrayed by the people I took with me. I barely escaped Kezule’s forces.”
“The God-Kings be praised that you did, Majesty,” said Garrik.
“Indeed,” said K’hedduk dryly, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to move toward the Palace entrance. “Have the heads and hides moved to the Palace walls,” he added. “And burn the bodies. No funeral rites for them.”
“As you command, Majesty,” murmured Garrik.
“Zerdish, send someone to my ship to retrieve the Imperial Crown. It’s in the closet in my cabin.”
“You have the crown? The Crown of Light?” asked Geddash sharply.
“I have. I was crowned Emperor on K’oish’ik, but apparently that news didn’t reach you either. Generals, I want a complete update from you in the morning regarding the situation here and on J’kirtikk and transcripts of the communications that were intercepted. I want to mount a punitive strike on K’oish’ik as soon as possible.”
“What about Ch’almuth?” asked General M’zoesh, who’d remained silent till now. “The tithe ship returned damaged and empty except for our own dead. Looks as if there was some accident in transit that killed the crew. The security program took over and returned it to us.”
K’hedduk frowned again. “I need real food,” he said abruptly. “Ship’s rations are barely edible. Join me in the red dining room, and I’ll hear your reports now,” he said as they passed through the heavy blast doors guarding the underground entry to the Palace. “I need to be sure the Ch’almuthians aren’t rising against us too.”
“They have no ships or weapons, Majesty,” said Geddash confidently. “They’re an agrarian world, no threat to us, but we should secure it before attacking K’oish’ik.”
K’hedduk stopped abruptly. “Hear me well—our first priority is to destroy the Palace of Light. I killed the old Emperor and his wife, I was crowned Emperor on the Throne of Light, and as I escaped, I killed Prince Zsurtul. I have the Imperial Crown and a bride of Royal descent. I want the City of Light, the Palace, and the Throne razed to the ground so no one can rise against me. We no longer need that ancient pile of rubble. Once it falls, K’oish’ik will be ours, and no pretender like Kezule can claim the throne.” He began walking again. “Send the tithe ship if you must. I know your loins are itching for your reward of a young and sentient wife. Use a corvette this time, at least it will test the compliance of Ch’almuth. Once K’oish’ik is destroyed, then we’ll take Ch’almuth.”
Despite her fear and the drugs, Zhalmo remembered Kusac’s training: Observe all you can, it may prove useful.
The fused-rock corridors had given way to more conventional ones, covered in painted battle scenes, leading to an L junction with an elevator ahead of them. They stopped there, Keshti reaching out to call a car. When it arrived, Zerdish pushed her roughly inside. The door closed, and they began to move downward.