The Ruby Dice (19 page)

"So it is." Talv set a red pyramid in the playing area. He seemed bored, but Kelric could tell he believed the game would be over fast enough to make the tedium bearable.

A sense of
opening
came to Kelric. After so many years of solitaire, sitting here made him feel . . . expanded. It hadn't happened with Jeremiah or Dehya, but he had held back in those games. Now he envisioned a myriad of elegant patterns stemming from that single die that Talv had placed. He set down a grey pyramid with curved sides.

Talv looked up at him. "If your die doesn't touch mine, you aren't building a structure."

"I know," Kelric said.

"Are you sure you want to play that piece?" Talv said. "Nonstandard dice are difficult to use."

Kelric was growing irritated. Calani never disrupted a session, especially not with unasked-for Quis lessons. "It's your move."

"Suit yourself." Talv set down an orange pentahedron.

Kelric saw his intent: a queen's spectrum. Few players could manage them; they were too easy to block. Kelric had slipped one past Dehya because she hadn't known the rules, but he wouldn't be that lucky with her again. To succeed against someone who knew Quis, Talv either had to camouflage the spectrum or else hope his opponent was too stupid to see it. He hadn't bothered with a camouflage.

Kelric had met only one other player who could consistently build a queen's spectrum in high level Quis: Mentar, the Fourth Level at Karn Estate, the elderly widower of the previous Minister. Mentar's Quis had fascinated Kelric. Ixpar had claimed that when he and Kelric played dice, the world shook.

This callow player was no Mentar. Kelric slid an aqua piece against the orange die, disrupting the spectrum. Talv grunted and placed a yellow cube. So. He was trying to recover by turning his spectrum at an angle. Kelric blocked him with an ocher cube.

"Huh." Talv rubbed his chin. He set down a green die, again turning his spectrum.

Enough,
Kelric thought. He bridged Talv's pyramid and his own cube with an arch. The cube had a higher rank, so the advantage went to Kelric. He had no idea what points went with it, but he doubted he had enough to win. And indeed, Talv continued playing. Good. Kelric didn't want to stop; he was envisioning an exquisite design with the dice. His Quis thoughts pleased him, and he set about making them reality.

Talv became quieter as they played. His sneer vanished, and he spent more and more time considering his moves. Then he began to sweat.

Kelric built for the sheer beauty of it. Dice spread in patterns of platonic solids, and geometric elegance covered the table. After a while, Talv stopped sweating, and his game took on a new quality, as if he were appreciating a work of art. When he quit fighting Kelric, he became a better Quis partner. The structures flourished.

With regret, Kelric pulled himself back to here and now. As much as he would have enjoyed playing for hours, he had business to attend. He set down a white sphere. When Talv started to place a ring, Kelric spoke quietly. "It's my game."

Talv lifted his head like a swimmer surfacing from a dive. "Your game?"

A woman behind them said, "I don't believe it!"

Startled, Kelric looked around—and froze.

People.

They had crowded around, more even than for the last game. The woman who played before, the other Quis Master, was gaping at the table. Others looked from her to the board with bewildered expressions.

"What is it?" Talv said.

Kelric turned back to him. He tapped a line of dice that wound across the table, around and through other structures: grey, orange, gold, yellow, yellow-green, green, aqua, blue, indigo, purple, and finally the white sphere.

Murmurs swelled in the crowd. Talv stared at the structure for a long time. Finally he lifted his gaze to Kelric. "I don't think I've ever heard tell of anyone, even the highest of the Calani, building a grand augmented queen's spectrum."

Murmurs spread through the crowd like the hum of dart-bees swarming together. Kelric hadn't intended to draw attention; he had become too caught up in the game. He had to admit, though, it was a good spectrum.

He inclined his head to Talv. "You play well."

"I had thought so," Talv said. "Now I know better."

"You have talent. It's wasted on market Quis."

Talv's voice heated. "You won't lock me in a Calanya!"

"Find other ways to use your talent," Kelric said. "Join the Minister's staff. Work your way up in the Estate Quis."

Talv snorted. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm the wrong sex."

"No laws forbid it."

"Sure they do," Talv said. "They're just unwritten."

"So break them."

"Who
are
you?"

Kelric smiled slightly. "I believe you owe me two tekals."

Talv squinted at him. "Just two?"

"That was the bet."

Talv shook his head, but he handed over two coins. Kelric turned the copper heptagons over in his hand. One side showed a Quis structure, a nested tower that symbolized protection. The other had the portrait of a regal queen.

"That's Ixpar Karn," Kelric said.

"Haven't you ever seen a tekal before?"

He looked up to see Talv watching him oddly. Kelric rose to his feet. "Thank you for the game."

"The honor was mine." Talv stood as well. "That was Quis like nothing I've ever played or even heard of in a Calanya."

It was the highest compliment among Quis Masters. Kelric nodded to indicate honor to his opponent. His guards gathered around him, and he could tell they wanted him away from this attention. He left the table, and people stepped respectfully aside as he walked through the crowd. He felt their awe and curiosity.

Kelric went deeper into the market until he lost himself among the crowds. A familiar aroma teased his nose, wafting from a stall with yellow slats. A sausage merchant stood behind the counter, a plump man with a white apron pulled across his large belly. He beamed as Kelric paused. "What can I get for you, Goodsir?" He motioned at sausages hanging from the rafters. "I've the best spiced-reds from here to Haka."

Kelric indicated a fat specimen. "Kadilish."

"Ah! A man after my own tastes." The merchant wrapped the sausage in waxy paper, accepted Kelric's tekal, and handed over the purchase as if it were the most natural thing to do. For him, it was. To Kelric, it was another watershed.

"Sir," Najo said, his voice uneasy.

Kelric looked up at his worried guard, then turned in the direction Najo indicated. Across the plaza, a street opened into the market. Far beyond it, on its distant hill, the Estate glowed amber in the sunlight. Someone was entering the plaza from the street. Many someones. They came in formation, all wearing the uniform of the City Guard, and they were headed straight for him.

Strava stepped closer, and Kelric was aware of Axer behind him and Najo, tall and solid. He had no idea if the City Guard members approaching him suspected his identity, but if they did, and if Ixpar had sent these guards, then she might well hate him for bringing his people to her world. He had no reason to think she wanted to see him.

Najo, Axer, and Strava drew their guns, the black mammoths glittered harshly in the streaming sunlight, a forbidding contrast to the small, light stunners worn by the Coban guards. Then Najo sighted on the group coming across the market.

Kelric grabbed his arm. "Don't harm them!"

All three of his bodyguards waited, poised and ready. It was in that instant that Kelric realized who walked in the center of the approaching retinue. She had to see the monstrous guns his guards had drawn, but she kept coming without hesitation. She was tall even among Cobans, and her hair blazed like fire, pulled loosely into a braid. Her suede trousers did nothing to hide the muscular lines of her long, long legs. She had a powerful beauty, wild and fierce under a veneer of elegance—a face that could inspire armies and conquer a world.

For Kelric, time slowed down. In this crystalline moment, he thought the two of them would be here forever. She came closer, closer still, and then she was in front of him, her gray eyes filled with incredulity. He had thought of a million words for this moment, planned for days. Seasons. Years. Now the words left him.

"Kelric?" she whispered.

She was one of the few Cobans who had known him as Kelric rather than Sevtar. Seeing her filled him with an emotion he couldn't define, jagged and painful and miraculous. They stood together as if they were inside a bubble, and he wanted to touch her, feel her cheek, her hair, her lips, but he feared to move, lest it burst this tenuous sphere.

He spoke in a voice rough with the feelings he couldn't express. "My greetings, Ixpar."

"It cannot be!" Ixpar reached into her pocket and drew out a half- melted ring of gold. She held it up so he could see the remains of his twelfth armband. "This is all that remains of Kelric Valdoria."

He pulled up his jacket cuff and uncovered the wrist guards embedded in his gauntlets. It astonished him that his hand didn't shake. "These, too."

Ixpar stared at the heavy gold for a long moment. The engraving of a hawk soaring over mountains gleamed in their ancient engravings. Then she looked up at him and spoke in her husky voice, so familiar to him and yet also so new.

"If the god of the dawn has come seeking vengeance," Ixpar said, "I entreat him to reconsider."

"Vengeance?" He blinked. "For what? My shattering Coba?"

Moisture gathered in her eyes. "Ten years is a long time."

Too long. He wanted to say so much, but he could neither move nor speak. It was several moments before he found his voice again, at least enough to ask the question that was always with him. "My children?"

Her face gentled. "They are well."

Softly he asked, "And who came after me?"

"After?" She seemed as lost for words as him.

He forced out the question. "As your Akasi."

"None now."

"You have no husband?"

"I thought not." Her voice caught. "It seems I was wrong."

A sense of homecoming came over him then, more than he had felt since he set foot on her world. He took her into his arms and embraced the wife he had never expected to see again. She stiffened, and his bodyguards loomed around them. Gods only knew what they thought.

Then Ixpar exhaled and put her arms around him, leaning her head against his. He held a stranger, yet he recognized her curves and strength, the sensual power of her body. If he had erred in coming here, it was too late to turn back.

In this incredible instant, he didn't care.

The fifth implosion happened in Sphinx Sector, in deep space. Jaibriol heard about it while he was dining with Iraz Gji, the Diamond Minister, and Gji's wife, Ilina. Gji and Ilina were impeccable Aristos, their black hair glittering in the cool light, their eyes a clear, crystalline red. Just like Jaibriol. He had even become used to seeing himself that way. In his youth, gold had streaked his hair. Never again. Now he looked the perfect Highton.

Jaibriol had expected Tarquine to join them, but she had vanished, he had no idea where. He had no intention of admitting he couldn't keep track of his empress, so he asked his cousin Corbal to join him instead, to make her absence less noticeable.

They relaxed in the Silver Room, a parlor with holoscreens for walls and plush divans where they could recline, sipping wine and watching the broadcast about the implosion. A taskmaker read the news, which meant she could speak as directly as she pleased; indirect speech was only required from Aristos with other Aristos.

"Spacetime ripples have spread outward from the disturbance in every direction," she said. "It is by far the most extreme of the five events."

Jaibriol grimaced as he listened, stretched out on his divan. If this last blast had happened here, it sounded like it could have destroyed the palace and the surrounding coast.

"As to why the disturbances are occurring," the broadcaster continued, "scientists postulate that the fabric of space-time has weakened in the region of space where an implosion takes place."

"Weakened?" Gji asked, incredulous. "That's like saying the sky or the air weakened. It makes no sense."

Jaibriol sat up, swinging his feet to the floor while he touched a finger-panel on his wrist comm.

Robert's voice came out of the mesh. "Muzeson, here."

"Robert, get me the head of the team at the university studying this implosion business," Jaibriol said.

"Right away, Your Highness."

"Odd little events, aren't they?" Ilina said languidly. She was lying on her divan, sleek in a black-diamond bodysuit that fit her like a second skin. She sipped her Taimarsian wine. "Perhaps a Highton sneezed and his exhalations shook up space."

Her husband laughed, relaxed in a lounger. Although he had drunk several glasses of wine, he hardly seemed affected. Either he held his liquor remarkably well or else meds in his body kept him from becoming intoxicated. "Such exhalations would surely do more than shake space, eh?" Gji said. "Perhaps they could cause a black hole such as the one at the center of the galaxy."

Jaibriol didn't know whether to be astounded or exasperated. Eube and Skolia might be on the verge of war, assassination attempts threatened to destabilize the Imperialate, space-time was falling apart, and all they could talk about was the purported superiority of Hightons, even to the extent, it seemed, of causing galactic formation. He had learned to deal with Aristos, but sometimes it truly taxed his diplomatic skills.

The feeling was probably mutual. He knew Gji and Ilina were irritated that he hadn't offered them providers as part of tonight's entertainment. He had no intention of letting them transcend with the slaves he had inherited from his grandfather. By not doing it, he weakened his standing with them, but good Lord, he couldn't let them torture the people in his care. He hadn't lost that much of his soul.

Most Aristos considered him eccentric, particularly in his avoidance of providers. True, fidelity to one's spouse was expected; in castes where heredity and genetics meant everything, adultery brought high penalties. But that didn't preclude Aristos doing whatever they wanted with providers. Such slaves weren't considered human. It baffled Aristos that Jaibriol eschewed the pleasure girls offered to him and instead preferred his wife.