Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (4 page)

The Kaa narrowed his gaze. “Most especially we do not wish to receive him. Deny him entry.”

The slave obeyed, and Gaveid cocked his head to one side. “Is that wise? Telvrahd will be offended.”

“We told our egg-brother we would not discuss his petitions until after Festival,” the Kaa said shortly.

“The Progressionist Party is gaining popularity in the outlying areas, sire. Perhaps it is best to deal early with the matter, before it becomes a problem.”

“The Progressionists are fools. Telvrahd is a fool,” the Kaa said.

“Diplomacy, sire,” Gaveid counseled. “Not confrontation.”

“Yes, and next you would advise us to listen to the Reformists as well. Must we then give full rights of citizenship to the abiru?”

“It is not necessary to go to radical extremes to appease these factions.”

“Factions.” The Kaa flicked out his tongue in scorn. “We are bored with factions and political parties. They should be abolished.”

“Granted, they are a nuisance, but they allow citizens and nobles to vent their dissatisfaction without violence.”

“Do they?” the Kaa retorted sharply. “Or do they encourage more grumbling against us?”

“Sire—”

“Enough,” the Kaa said, and held up his hand. “This discussion bores us.”

“Politics remain a necessary evil in the duties of the Imperial Father.”

“But not today,” the Kaa said with a grin of mischief. He was still swollen with pride, and he wished to savor the triumph of the Hatching as long as possible. “The Imperial Father has executed his most important duty. Twenty-nine new hatchlings,” he boasted.

Gaveid bowed. “A splendid addition to your imperial progeny.”

The Kaa cast him a sharp glance. Sometimes it was difficult to tell whether Gaveid was mocking him or not. “And how many hatchlings did you father when you were able, chancellor?”

Considering the low birthrate in Gaveid’s family, this retaliation was not a kind one.

Gaveid’s old eyes narrowed to slits. “A swift barb indeed, sire. You have reminded me of lost days, of vigor I shall never regain, of memories best left forgotten in the dust of time. I am honored by the Imperial Father’s attention.”

Annoyance flared through the Kaa. “And now in turn
you
remind us of the old days, when the royal hatching was double or triple this number.”

Gaveid bowed. “Time sets its footprints upon us. Our civilization has changed. Our genetics have changed. We are in decay and decline as a race. The empire shrinks a little more each year.”

“Don’t say such things!” the Kaa said sharply, turning away from him. Reaching for his refreshed wine cup, the Kaa drank deeply, too annoyed to savor its exquisite taste. “You speak as though we are finished.”

“The end comes,” Gaveid said.

His gloomy tone made the Kaa shiver. He loathed it when Gaveid was in one of his depressions. This should have been a time of rejoicing, but the old chancellor seemed to delight in drawing a curtain of pessimism over them all.

“Our empire will not end,” the Kaa said decisively. “We shall restore it to its former glory. We shall spread our influence among the worlds until once again our supremacy dazzles the lesser races. We shall have our palaces restored, and our people will know prosperity.”

“So your majesty’s speeches have assured us before,” Gaveid said in a dry, unimpressed tone.

The Kaa’s rill reddened, and he glared at the old chancellor. Perhaps it was time for Gaveid to retire. He was becoming a nuisance. “We shall not hear another lecture against the expenses of restoration.”

“No, sire.” Gaveid bowed and placed his pebbly-skinned hand on the dispatch box atop a small table of polished blue jaepis stone. “There is not time today to discuss the depleted state of the imperial treasury.”

The Kaa scowled. “Nor do we wish to receive the dispatches. They can wait until Festival is over.”

“That time approaches.”

“Not until sunset,” the Kaa retorted, although he knew it was an infantile quibble.

“Some matters should not wait, sire.”

The Kaa gestured, and the slaves came forward to divest him of his ceremonial robes. Even in private, without his courtiers to attend him, there was a ceremony and ritual to be followed in undressing the Father of the Empire.

Gaveid waited a moment, but the Kaa ignored him.

“Sire,” the chancellor said at last, stepping forward. He walked slowly these days. For an instant, the Kaa almost thought he saw the old chancellor limp. But that was unthinkable. Were the chancellor to become otal—physically decrepit and infirm—he would have to be replaced at once, exiled from Vir, and sent to the country to finish his days far from the demands of public service.

Regret and grief touched the Kaa. No matter how angry he sometimes became with Gaveid, he did not truly wish to replace him. Gaveid had the wily shrewdness necessary to guide him through the tangles of galactic diplomacy, policy setting, and continued subjugation of the abiru races without inciting active rebellion. Most important of all, Gaveid was clever enough to concoct ways of keeping the treasury filled, which paid for the all-important work of restoring the oldest sections of the palace.
Let the gods
preserve this old one for a few years more
, the Kaa thought.

“Sire,” Gaveid said persistently, “the dispatches will not take long. The situation on galactic border nine—”

“Not that,” the Kaa interrupted sharply, deflecting the matter entirely. “Not now. Send the dispatches away.”

Without waiting for the chancellor’s reply, he strode into his bathing chamber and walked down a series of shallow steps into a pool filled with warm, scented water. Pale moon blossoms floated on the surface, along with the oils of kaffyrd and eloa.

Slaves bathed and dried him, then his clothes for the procession were brought. Normally his courtiers would have entered for the ritual Dressing of the Day while Gaveid played the holograms of the dispatches. But during Festival many of the stultifying rituals of court were relaxed. There would be many parades to celebrate the return of the males who had left on their mating migration to other communities, and several courtiers had requested leave today to welcome home their sons.

On this final day, there would be no dispatches and no courtiers casting jealous glances at each other as they vied for imperial favor.

Instead, the Kaa allowed his slaves to dress him. When he had been assisted into a long-skirted coat of brilliant green cloth woven on the Isles of Vyria, and a heavy chain of gold studded with green Gaza stones—the most precious and costly of jewels—had been hung across his shoulders, he selected a tall jeweled collar, and gentle hands reverently arranged the folds of his rill above it.

He emerged from the bathing chamber to find the chancellor standing in the same spot. The dispatch box, however, was gone. The Kaa spread his rill in satisfaction and gestured for his mirror to be activated. The slaves pressed one of the jewel-encrusted knobs adorning a paneled wall, and a portion of the wall shimmered into a reflective surface. Standing before it, the Kaa watched as his attendants finished preparing him.

He was very tall, even for a Viis male in the splendor of full maturity, and towered over most of his subjects. Hued a magnificent deep bronze color, with dark green shadings beneath his jaw and across his hands, his skin showed patches of iridescence that shimmered multiple colors in the sunshine. Poets had lauded him for his splendid coloring, claiming in one epic poem that he “could blind his enemies simply with the radiant magnificence of his imperial person.”

The Kaa did not consider himself a vain male as a rule, although he took great pride in his appearance. Today he studied his reflection as the slaves finished slipping gold tips onto the spines of his neck and jaw rills. He had chosen to wear an elaborate collar of gold, embossed with his name and titles in the ancient alphabet. It was quite heavy, especially in the back, where it supported his rill to nearly full extension. Narrowing his violet-blue eyes, as dark and vivid as the sky where it meets the curve of space, the Kaa twisted and turned his head to see the full effect.

Satisfied, he stepped back, and his reflection automatically vanished as the mirror became a wall again. The religious procession would not take long, and then he would have his outing with the sri-Kaa. How pleasant that would be.

Consulting his timepiece, Gaveid frowned.

The Kaa knew that look. “Are we late?”

“Very late, sire. It is coming on midday.”

“Don’t fuss,” the Kaa said without concern. “We are the father of twenty-nine new hatchlings. Our wives are plump and happy. We are blessed.”

“Blessed indeed,” Gaveid said, inclining his head. “But still very late. There is the processional of thanksgiving to be made, the ritual at the old temple, the banquet, and the meetings with important visiting dignitaries. I think the Imperial Father should forgo his visit to the marketplace.”

The Kaa had been picking through a tray of rings and bracelets. Now he tossed down the trinkets and swung around.

“No,” he said sharply. “We made a promise to the sri-Kaa. We shall not break it.”

“The sri-Kaa is barely two years out of the egg. She will quickly forget her disappointment. The emissaries from Ul-one-two-four have been waiting several days for audience. Their disappointment may be more difficult to repair.”

Displeasure swept through the Kaa, and his tail stiffened beneath the long skirt of his coat. He faced his chancellor with a glare. “This will be the first public appearance of our daughter,” he said. “It is important that all see she has become chune.”

“Yes, it is well that the sri-Kaa has reached her second growth cycle, healthy and strong,” Gaveid said. “But equally important are the sivo crystals mined on Ul-one-two-four, and the money they pour into the imperial coffers. Money which pays for the restoration projects planned by the Imperial Father.”

“Can you not put them off?” the Kaa asked.

“Unwise, sire.”

The Kaa’s scowl deepened. He felt torn by these conflicting obligations. He did not wish to make a decision.

Gaveid watched him knowingly, as though he could read the Kaa’s mind. “Perhaps—”

“Yes?” the Kaa said eagerly.

“Perhaps the sri-Kaa could accompany the Imperial Father in meeting with the emissaries,” Gaveid said persuasively. “Combine both events. Please the chune, introduce her to the world, grant these dignitaries a double honor with both your presence and hers.”

As always Gaveid’s suggestions made excellent sense. The Kaa was tempted, but he remembered a pair of pleading eyes and the irresistible entwining of tender arms about his neck.

“We gave our promise to the chune,” he said. “We shall take her to the marketplace as she has requested.”

“Very well, sire,” the chancellor said, frowning. “But should the sri-Kaa not learn that the duties of high office must take precedence over personal wishes?”

The Kaa returned his frown. For a moment he felt the crushing weight of his duties, his responsibilities, the fact that he had yet to find the time or opportunity to visit the far-flung corners of his empire, the slowness of building projects that he might not live to see completed, the constant pressure from his subjects and courtiers, each with dozens of requests, petitions, and intrigues. He lived enmeshed in duties and obligations. No matter how early he rose or how late he retired, the work was never done, the demands were never satisfied. Dispatches, reports, petitions, and audiences were pushed aside, only to multiply like the repulsive little Skeks teeming in the city’s sewers.

This was Festival, a time of rejoicing and rebirth, a time of hope and renewal. The whole empire was at play for these few short days. Here, in his own capital, the Father of the Empire would also have a few moments of play with his daughter before Festival ended for another year of toil.

“Let the emissaries wait,” the Kaa said. “We shall please our daughter today.”

“The Imperial Father indulges her greatly,” Gaveid replied. “Is it wise, I wonder, to spoil the character of one so lovely and graceful in physical form?”

“Israi is perfect,” the Kaa said to him, thinking his worries foolish. “And perfection cannot be spoiled.”

Gaveid’s yellow eyes betrayed rare consternation. “Surely an unwise—”

“Let there be nothing more said on this matter.”

At that sharp command, the chancellor closed his mouth tightly and bowed low. He stood in silence, his air sacs inflated, his old eyes disapproving, while the Kaa finished his preparations.

The Kaa ignored the disapproval and ordered the sri-Kaa brought to him. While his chancellor was wily and shrewd, never making mistakes, never steering him toward unwise decisions, the Kaa also disagreed with Gaveid in three key areas. One had to do with his restoration work. Another concerned certain policies regarding the outer worlds of the empire, especially the trouble spot of galactic border nine. The third revolved around the sri-Kaa, her training as a future ruler and Sahmrahd’s successor, and the Kaa’s own indulgence of the chune’s whims and fancies.

Let the old one stand in sour judgment, the Kaa thought derisively. Gaveid did not quite know everything.

“Father! Father!”

The exuberant shouting came as music to the Kaa’s ears. Seconds later, the door burst open faster than the attendants could move it and a small figure came hurtling through. She barreled into the Kaa’s legs, nearly knocking him off-balance, and gripped him tightly in a hug.

“Father!” she squealed. “I have been waiting
forever
.”

Although the Kaa’s heart swelled with love, he put on an expression of mock disapproval and glared down at her. “Is this the way the sri-Kaa greets the Imperial Father?”

Israi’s beaming smile faltered. Her eyes widened for a moment as she recollected etiquette. Swiftly she backed up, nearly bumping into her attendants, who had just now caught up with her.

One of them gripped her shoulders to steady her and bent down to murmur encouragement into her ear dimple. The sri-Kaa nodded and lifted her gaze to her father.

He stared down at her as though unmoved, although inside he was melting with adoration. Never had he seen a more perfect chune. Her soft, pebbly skin glowed a pure golden hue without flaw or blemish. Her eyes were as brilliant a green as the Kaa’s own Gaza stones. That green spread from the outer corner of her eyes to curve up toward her ear dimples in markings that were very striking now but would, when she matured, make her beauty exotic indeed. Her tiny neck rill, supported by a miniature collar studded with glittering jewels, displayed variegated hues of gold, green, and blue. Although still very young, Israi already moved with incredible grace. Her physical proportions were perfect. She glowed with health and vitality. Even her tail, concealed today beneath the hem of her indigo-blue gown, was thick and already growing plump with stored fat. Lovely, intelligent, graceful, vital, precocious—Israi was his favorite daughter and chosen successor.