The Ruby Dice (40 page)

"That just makes him more dangerous."

"He's an inspired leader," she said. "If my taking the Ruby Throne meant his death, it was wrong. We need the Assembly. The time for an empire ruled solely by a dynasty is gone."

"Yes, well, too many people agree with you, Dehya. In fact, a lot of them think the time for
any
dynastic rule is gone."

"The Traders don't," she said dryly.

"Unfortunately." He stared down at the river as it frothed and churned over the rocks. "We don't have a Prime line to Qox the way we do to the Allied President on Earth. We've had nothing but hostilities and war with the Traders for half a millennium. I can't imagine that changing."

"Yet here is Jaibriol Qox," she murmured, "acting oddly."

"Which is the greater treason," he asked. "To defy First Councilor Tikal and meet a tyrant in secret, or to obey and go to war when Qox may wish otherwise?"

Dehya met his gaze. "I wish I knew."

Jaibriol strode with Tarquine down a wide hall of the palace, under soaring horseshoe arches that shone with gold and emeralds. They were headed to the Amphitheater of Providence. The boots of his Razers rang on the jade-tiled floor, four mammoth human-biomech hybrids. But today they couldn't help him. It would be agony when he entered the amphitheater, for over two thousand Aristos had arrived to attend the economic summit. Tarquine would preside as Finance Minister, but Jaibriol couldn't avoid the sessions or attend via the mesh, not if he wanted to maintain the political edge that kept him sharp, even kept him alive. To give the appearance of neglecting such a confluence of powers could be ruinous.

As they neared the enormous doors of the amphitheater, a retinue of Hightons approached them from a hall that came in at an oblique angle to theirs. Jaibriol knew it had to be one of his top people, because no one else could get this close to him. With a sinking sensation, he recognized the tall man in the center of the retinue; General Barthol Iquar, Tarquine's nephew and one of ESComm's ruthless joint commanders.

He had no wish to see Barthol; the general's abhorrence of the peace process was matched only by his personal dislike of Jaibriol. But Tarquine was slowing down. As their two groups reached each other, everyone stopped. All of the aides and even Barthol's Razers went down on one knee to Jaibriol.

The general bowed to him with military precision. "You honor the Line of Iquar with your presence, Esteemed Highness." His harsh voice grated, and his Highton presence ground against Jaibriol's mind until he wanted to groan.

Jaibriol barely managed a nod. It was a marginal courtesy, one that suggested displeasure, but at this point it was all he could do without revealing his agony. He was about to resume his walk when he heard his wife speak through the haze of his pain.

"It pleases me to see you, Barthol," Tarquine said.

Barthol bowed to her. "It is my great honor to be in your presence." This time, he even sounded as if he meant the words.

"Indeed it is," Tarquine murmured.

Jaibriol thought of going on by himself, but he couldn't insult Tarquine by leaving her behind, and he had no intention of inviting his own incineration by ordering her to come with him.

"You look well today," Barthol told her.

"As do you," Tarquine said.

Barthol tilted his head slightly, a gesture that hinted at appreciation. "It esteems the Line of Iquar that its leaders are in good health."

"It does indeed," Tarquine said with a cool smile. "They plan to continue that way."

Jaibriol couldn't figure out what Tarquine was about. The contrast between his curt greeting and her welcome to Barthol hadn't been intentional on his part, but if it bothered her, she gave no sign. More to the point, he picked up nothing in her mood. He had a good idea what she meant by "continue," though. She headed the Iquar Line. No one knew yet she carried the heir to the Iquar title, and she hadn't chosen a successor to follow her if she died without an heir. Barthol was a logical choice, given his seniority within their Line and his power in ESComm.

"The throne wishes honor for your Line," Tarquine added to her brother.

Jaibriol blinked at her.
Your
Line? She and Barthol shared the same bloodline. Of course she wished them honors, but it was an odd way to say it, especially bringing in the throne. He had no desire to offer Barthol anything. The general had blocked him at every damn junction in the talks, adamant that Skolia pass a law requiring the return of any slaves who escaped into Skolian territory. Jaibriol had thought the Ruby Pharaoh had been willing to search for a compromise, but after Barthol took a hard line, her military became intransigent as well. It was a major reason the negotiations had stalled. As far as Jaibriol was concerned, Barthol could rot in perdition. He said nothing to the general, just met his gaze, an omission that glared all the more harshly given Tarquine's friendlier greeting.

"Your generosity benefits the Line of Iquar," Barthol told Tarquine, which meant zero given that she
was
the Line of Iquar.

"Indeed it does." Her words flowed over them, smooth and potent. "As it does for those who stand behind the head of any Line."

Jaibriol stiffened. If she was referring to heirs as those "who stand behind," she better not be planning to reveal she was pregnant. He couldn't let her do it with no warning or preparation, and without his agreement. Of course if he cut her off, she would turn him into metaphorical ashes, but he would have to live with it. He was already so beleaguered from his Triad entry, he doubted even Tarquine could make it worse.

Jaibriol couldn't read her intent; her face was inscrutable, and she had raised mental barriers, which no other Aristo would use, because they had no reason to learn. Barthol had his focus completely on her. His posture indicated caution, but he had turned his hand by his side so his palm faced away from his body, a subtle gesture that indicated curiosity. He wanted to know what she meant, too.

Barthol spoke smoothly. "It is the honor of those who stand behind them."

Well, hell. Was she leaving open the possibility she would name
Barthol
as her heir? That was bizarre. Whatever she hoped to achieve with such a temptation, it could only last a few months, until it became public knowledge she carried a child who was both the Highton and the Iquar Heir. If Barthol knew she had done it when she fully realized it meant nothing, he would only be angry.

Jaibriol didn't think he could take any more intrigues. He spoke curtly to Barthol. "It has been our pleasure to see you, General." He nodded to Tarquine, trying to make it appear as an invitation rather than an order.

To his relief, she inclined her head to her nephew. "May you fare well."

"And you always." Barthol bowed to Jaibriol. "I thank you for the honor of your presence."

Right,
Jaibriol thought. He left with Tarquine, his retinue sweeping away. He expected Tarquine to frown at him for disrupting her machinations. Instead she put her hand on his forearm, as one would expect for the empress. Given that she never did the expected unless it served her purposes, it didn't set his mind at rest.

"An auspicious day," she said.

He spoke in a low voice. "Your esteem gives me hives, dear wife."

Her smile curved. "As often as you imply such to me, I have never seen a single hive on your beautiful body."

He flushed, and decided to keep his mouth shut on that one.

The doors to the Amphitheater of Providence rose to the height of ten men. They swung open as Jaibriol approached, apparently on their own volition, though he knew aides monitored his every step. As his retinue entered the hall, a thousand voices poured over him. He was coming in far above the floor, at a balcony that overlooked the gigantic hall with its many benches and the dais in the center.

Aristos filled the amphitheater.

Jaibriol's mind reeled from the thousands of them: Hightons, Diamonds, Silicates. He was dimly aware of Tarquine's hand on his elbow. To everyone else, it looked as if the emperor strode firmly into the amphitheater, attended by his empress and Razers. But he knew the truth; without the pressure of her hand, he would have stopped, frozen in place.

He and Tarquine took their seats in a balcony above the entrance, with his Razers around them like a human shield. This area was well removed from the rest of the amphitheater. He had selected it that way to protect his mind, but to the rest of Eube it was yet another example of his remote character. He had discovered it didn't matter. No one expected him to act normal. Broadcasters extolled his imperial demeanor. His behavior fit all too well with the Eubian belief that their emperor was a deity. Their attitude disturbed Jaibriol at a deep level; it felt like a trespass against the Christian religion he had converted to on Earth, which acknowledged only one God. But it also meant his people accepted his behavior, which at times was all that allowed him to keep from drowning in the cruelty of his life.

His distance from the other Aristos muted the effects of their minds, usually enough for him to tolerate these summits. Today even that wasn't enough. His head throbbed as the hum of voices swelled. Everyone knew the emperor had entered. They were an ocean of alabaster faces, glittering black hair, and hard carnelian eyes.

Tarquine turned to Jaibriol. "I must open the session."

He nodded stiffly, able to do little else. "Of course."

She didn't leave yet, though. Instead she spoke in a voice so low, even Robert wouldn't hear, though he sat only a seat away on Jaibriol's other side, reading holofiles. This was the best secured location in the amphitheater, with audio buffers for privacy, even visual buffers that hazed the air around them so no one could read their lips.

"Do you know why Corbal fears for his son, Azile?" she asked, intent on him.

Jaibriol narrowed his gaze. "Corbal fears no one. Not even you, Tarquine."

"He loves Azile, you know."

"I'm sure he does." Jaibriol even believed it.

"It is Admiral Erix Muze," she murmured.

"Why would Erix threaten Azile? They like each other."

"Suppose they were related."

"What do you say, 'suppose?'" Jaibriol couldn't see her point. "Azile is the grandson of one of Eube Qox's sisters and Erix is the great-grandson of the other. They're related to each other and to me." He pressed his fingertips into his temples, a sign of vulnerability no emperor should show in public, but he couldn't help himself.

"Erix married Azile's daughter."

"I'm aware of that." He was being too blunt, even for his wife, but he had no resources left for anything more. The impatience of the Aristos in the amphitheater grated against his mind like grit. "You have to start the session."

She leaned toward him. "Remember this, Jaibriol. Not all implications refer to your exalted self."

For flaming sake. She knew he didn't assume that. Unlike his predecessors. "Nor do all implications make sense."

"Erix loves his wife," she said.

Dryly Jaibriol said, "Truly astonishing."

"Just as Corbal loves the dawn. Except Erix doesn't know."

The dawn? That sounded like she meant Sunrise. He didn't see what this had to do with Erix's wife, who was Corbal's granddaughter and Azile's daughter—

A thought came to him, too impossible to consider, but he considered it anyway. Could
Sunrise
be Azile's mother? Azile looked and acted the perfect Highton, and he transcended. He had an Aristo wife and daughter. Of course his daughter was a Highton. Erix Muze would never have married her otherwise. If Erix felt an unusual affection for his wife, it might be seen as eccentric, but nothing more. He had no reason to think he might like her better because she had inherited traits not normally associated with an Aristo, such as kindness. Of course he would never suspect she was other than the ideal Aristo woman. Such an idea was preposterous. Outrageous.

Jaibriol stared at his wife and a chill swept over him. If Azile wasn't a Highton, Corbal had hidden a lie almost as huge as what he knew about Jaibriol. No one would discover it, not even Erix Muze. Corbal was too savvy. No one could outwit him.

Except Tarquine.

"What have you done?" Jaibriol said in a low voice.

"Prepared for the summit, of course." She rose gracefully, and he was aware of everyone below turning to look. The empress bowed to the emperor with perfect form and spoke in a voice that carried. "If Your Highness does so wish, we will began."

Jaibriol's pulse was racing, and his temples ached. He inclined his head, determined to keep his cool in front of the massed powers of his empire.

Tarquine walked with two Razers to the edge of the balcony. A robot arm had docked there, and she stepped into the Luminex cup at its end. As it ferried her across the hall, the dais in the center rose to meet them. A comm officer was seated at a console on that great disk, monitoring communications in the hall.

Within moments, Tarquine and her guards were stepping from the cup onto the dais. The robot arm withdrew, leaving her in full view. The shimmer of a security field surrounded her. It all had a surreal quality to Jaibriol, as he were watching a play through the veil of a mental haze.

Tarquine stood at the podium while the dais rotated, giving her a view of the entire hall. When she spoke, opaline spheres rotating in the air throughout the ampitheater sent her throaty voice everywhere.

"Welcome," she said. "The two-hundredth and twenty-second Economic Summit of Eube is now in session."

A rumble of voices greeted her announcement. Thousands of Aristos activated their consoles and settled in for the triennial meeting where the powers of the empire gathered to plot, argue, and conspire about increasing their already obscene wealth.

Jaibriol struggled to concentrate as the session proceeded. He neither spoke nor participated in either of the two votes, a ballot to increase Gold Sector tariffs and one to decrease the tax on merchant fleets. Technically, the vote didn't matter; the final decision rested with him. But he ignored the summit at his own risk. If he went against a vote, he weakened his power base with whatever group he opposed. It was an unending game of intrigue, and right now he couldn't handle it. Mercifully, he didn't have to. His aides were recording the session, and he would look at it in detail later.