The Ruby Dice (53 page)

"Perhaps you wish to congratulate me, then." Jaibriol felt no triumph. They had signed—and he had become more an Aristo tonight than ever before.

"I find myself astonished at Barthol's cooperative nature," Corbal said. "He esteems you greatly, to offer such a success."

Jaibriol met his gaze. "You think much about succession."

"Of my Line, yes." His expression hardened. "Of my emperor's promises—or lack thereof, yes."

He doubted Corbal would ever forgive him for threatening to reveal his secret after Jaibriol had led him to believe he wouldn't do it. Yes, Jaibriol had been subtle with his threat. But Corbal had known.

"Many Lines have succession," Jaibriol said. "Say, Iquar."

"The Iquar Line may be one of great tribulation," Corbal said dryly, "but no one would deny its strength."

"Indeed. Barthol is a fortunate man."

"Barthol?" Corbal's forehead creased.

"Yes. Barthol." Tarquine had signed the documents making Barthol her heir directly after tonight's meeting.

Comprehension flooded Corbal's face, followed by disbelief. "
No one
is that fortunate. Not with the empress."

Jaibriol turned back to the window. "She is complicated."

Corbal joined him and stood staring out at Qoxire. "You know my thoughts on that."

"So I do." He also knew what Corbal really wanted to ask. Now that he had the signed treaty, what would he do? Even a few days ago, Jaibriol could have answered without doubt; he would seek peace. But everything had changed. In meeting Kelric, in coming to know his Ruby kin through his uncle's mind, Jaibriol had seen just how great was the paucity of his life, even more than he had already realized. It had forced him to confront what he had given up the day he claimed his throne. He would never share what Kelric and his family took for granted, the kinship, the love, the Ruby ties. Jaibriol was the wealthiest man alive, and he was dying from starvation.

But if he conquered Skolia, he could have his family. He could protect the Ruby Dynasty. No Aristo would touch his kin. He had learned an invaluable lesson tonight; he had within him the capacity to do whatever necessary to bend powerful Aristos to his will. In tonight's meeting, he had been more a Highton than ever before in his life.

A sovereign didn't have to be a tyrant. He, Jaibriol the Third, could give the human race peace by following a different path. He could do such great good for his empire if he wasn't locked in a constant struggle with the Imperialate. Perhaps someday he could even free all his people.

He would never have a Ruby son; all that survived of his child was his memory of Tarquine's ravaged voice as she told him their son had died. He bit the inside of his mouth, using the pain to stop the tears that welled in his eyes. Unless he conquered Skolia, he would never again know a Ruby bond.

Images of Aristos cut through his thoughts. If he brought them this treaty, they would revile him, condemn him, even seek to end his life. That avenue to peace would be an unending route to misery. But if he brought all humanity together under his rule, he could offer protection instead of tyranny.

Jaibriol stared past the city at the violent waves battering the shoreline and leaping into the sky. "It is amazing," he said, "how difficult answers can be to the simplest questions."

"So I've heard," Corbal said. "It is amazing, too, how one can think he knows a man and yet be wrong on so many facets."

Each time Corbal brought up his betrayal, Jaibriol died a little more inside. "Gems have facets," he said. "People are more complex."

"Except for rubies, wouldn't you say? One should never underestimate their effect."

Jaibriol wasn't certain what he meant. Better to imply Corbal misjudged the situation than to admit everything. "I've heard it said misjudgment can be as dangerous as underestimation."

"Misjudgment and underestimation are two facets." Corbal paused. "A dyad, so to speak. You need a third facet. A triad."

His pulse jumped. Corbal couldn't know he had joined the Triad.
He couldn't.
He kept his voice cool. "To get a third facet, you must cut it. That can't be done if the tools are ruined." He doubted the Lock would ever again work.

"This is true," Corbal said. "One has to guess at so much in life. We can never be sure if speculation is no more than air bubbles that vanish when we look too closely. But let us suppose, purely for conjecture, that the destruction comes
after
the gem is faceted. A gem such as, say, a ruby."

"I prefer carnelians." It was a lie, but Jaibriol could say nothing else.

"Think of announcements." Corbal's words flowed like rich, forbidden oil. "One can proclaim many things. A signed document, perhaps. Or other things. Perhaps a trio of things."

"You seem fascinated with the number three tonight."

Corbal's voice hardened. "And think about this. What some call peace, others might call robbery of what belongs to them."

Jaibriol couldn't answer. He knew what lay within his grasp. He had thought of nothing else for the past two days. He could conquer the entire human race.

A man can be a benevolent ruler.
He could make the existence of humanity better by changing the Aristos.

You haven't changed them in ten years,
he thought.
You've learned only how to survive.
Was he becoming like them, the Aristos who believed they were so much higher than the rest of the human race while they inflicted such atrocities?

"
Think
of it," Corbal said. "Humanity has reached across the heavens, multiplied to incredible proportions, created wonders beyond any imagining. Our numbers are greater than any ever before known, more than our ancestors could even dream. We have achieved empires greater than anything we've found among the stars. We stand at the pinnacle of human achievement." His voice was like a siren call. "One person could rule it all."

Jaibriol's heart was beating too hard. "The Skolians have a saying," he answered. "'Across the stars the dynasty may trod, but yet the gods of Skolia are flawed.'"

"I wasn't talking about Skolians."

"Neither was I."

"Unlimited power," Corbal murmured. "Unlimited wealth. Unlimited realms."

"An empire fit for a man's heir," Jaibriol answered coldly. Until he and Tarquine had a child, Corbal was his successor.

Corbal's gaze darkened. "Or his wife?"

He thought of how Tarquine had walked at his side into his meeting with Barthol, Corbal, and Erix only hours after she had miscarried. In the lodge, he had seen her vulnerable in a way she would never show another human being, yet when she went to face the powers of an empire, she showed no sign of weakness. Corbal had no place criticizing her.

Jaibriol answered with ice in his voice. "A man's wife is his concern. Not his kin's."

"Nor should she be the concern of any facet in a triad."

Jaibriol felt as if Corbal had slammed him against the wall. He knew what "facet" Corbal meant. Kelric. Jaibriol would never be free of his uncle's specter. He had seen Kelric's mind. The Imperator thought of himself as aging and tired. He didn't see the commander who stood like a war god, the survivor who had defied two empires to claim his throne, the legend over which an entire world had gone to war.

The man Tarquine had wanted.

Jaibriol knew he could never match Kelric, neither in ten years nor ten millennia. The Imperator's shadow would forever leave him in its chill.

The moonlight cast Corbal's face into planes of light and shadow, making him look even more like their ancestors, especially Eube Qox, who had founded the empire. "I've heard the Skolians ratified a treaty," Corbal said. "I've also heard an Imperator's life depends on who else signs." His words were dark gems, hard and brilliant. "Announce a triad instead and he will die."

Jaibriol didn't want to hear Corbal—and he couldn't stop listening. On Earth, Kelric had offered him a means to survive. Quis. What it would come to, Jaibriol didn't know, but Kelric believed it could help. It had been an act of compassion. He didn't want to envy his uncle. He didn't want to fear Kelric's effect on Tarquine. He wanted to put aside these insidious thoughts. But he couldn't forget.

Jaibriol also remembered the boy who had needed to believe the lives of his parents had mattered, the boy who thought he could make the difference they had dared envision. Yes, he remembered. He knew what had happened to that young fool.

The boy had died, replaced by a Highton emperor.

Kelric found Ixpar on the balcony of his bedroom in the ISC mansion. Starlight silvered her face. He stopped at the entrance, needing a moment to absorb that she was here and not on the Orbiter.

"When did you come?" he asked.

She turned with a start. "Kelric." Then she said, "I've been trying ever since you returned. They wouldn't let me until tonight."

He joined her at the retaining wall of the balcony, which came up to their waists. Below them, the tangled foliage of a dense forest carpeted the mountain slopes. "I'm surprised they let you at all. I'm still under arrest."

"Why would they convict you?" she asked. "You brought them the treaty."

"Emperor Qox hasn't acknowledged it."

She had a strange expression, as if an avalanche were poised above them, ready to fall. "And if he doesn't?"

He indicated at the forest. "Look at that."

She glanced at the trees, then back to him. "It's beautiful. But I'm not sure how it connects to the treaty."

Kelric answered softly. "When you know it may be the last time you see a view, it becomes that much lovelier." He was gazing at her rather than the forest. She had let her hair down, and tendrils curled around her face, glossy in the starlight. "So very lovely."

Her face gentled. "They won't kill you."

"Perhaps I deserve it."

"How can you say that?" She had that look he remembered, the one he could never avoid, as if she could see past his silences and into the heart of his fears. "You offered your people a miracle."

"At what price?" He turned to the forest and leaned his elbows on the wall, staring at the rich green life. "I took a chance. I may have been wrong."

She stood with him. "You don't have your dice pouch."

"I lost it on Earth."

Her voice quieted. "On Coba, in our Old Age, the men in the Calanya had a custom. It was rare even then, and it fell out of practice many centuries ago."

"Coba has gone through many changes," Kelric said. Most of the recent ones, unfortunately, were because of him. He had sworn to protect them, and he had genuinely believed he could. He regretted it more now than he could say, for all he had offered them was upheaval and possibly his death.

"In the Old Age, men couldn't inherit property," Ixpar said. "But Calani found a way around that."

He looked over at her. "How?"

"A father would give his son his Calanya dice. They called it the Gift of Quis. It symbolized the father teaching the son how he played. And the Quis of a Calani is his essence. Almost his soul." Softly she said, "It was a great act of trust."

Kelric had thought his son meant it literally when he portrayed him as Jaibriol's father, but now he wondered. "Does my son know about this custom?"

"I don't think so." She rested her palms on the wall as she looked over the mountains. "But sometimes, with the most gifted Calani, the line between their Quis and precognition blurs." She glanced at him. "I used to see that in yours."

"Jaibriol Qox sees me as a rival. Not a father figure."

"Perhaps. Or it may be that neither of you sees himself as well as he sees the other."

"I don't know." Tiredly, he said, "I just wish my own son would see me as a father."

"Kelric, he does, maybe too much. He fears to lose you. For ten years we believed you were dead. Then you appear like a miracle, offering dreams." Her smile seemed to hold more sorrow than anything else. "We had you for so brief a time. Then you vanished into this place you call a Lock. Then you disappeared again, and it turns out you are on Earth with your enemy. They say you are going to die. Execution. Then you offer humankind its first peace in how many centuries? Five? Six? Now you say you may yet die." She gave an uneven laugh. "And how many days have we been with you? Ten? You live an eventful life."

"I'm sorry." That sounded so woefully inadequate.

"Don't apologize." Her eyes were luminous. "I am grateful to know you lived. I understand better now, both why you wanted to hide us and why you wanted to ensure we were prepared if you could no longer do it."

"I should have left you alone." The words came hard. "Yes, I protected you, and my children. No one can take your heritage now." With pain, he said, "And if Qox chooses war instead of peace? He knows about my family, including a Ruby psion heir."

"He won't betray your trust."

"He faces temptation greater than you know, Ixpar."

"You think it is true he set all this up to destroy you?"

"No. But he can use it for those purposes. He may not even fully acknowledge the lure of that power. He might convince himself, if he tries hard enough, that he can do more good if we all unite under one sovereign. Him." He forced out what had to be said. "More than anything, I wish for you to stay with me. I know you cannot. Nor can Jimorla or Rohka." He thought of the hatred on Ragnar's face. "I have no evidence one of my own people tried to kill me. But I know. It may yet happen. Anyone close to me is close to that danger." With pain, he said, "Take them home, Ixpar. I can't promise you will be safe there, but it is far better than here."

"I will." Then she murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His voice caught. "They are miracles."

She touched his hand. "Your son told me that playing Quis with you was a miracle, like riding on clouds or looking at the face of the sun and rising from its fire in rebirth."

Kelric swallowed. "Thank you."

"It is true."

"He will someday be better than me."

"He's like you. But he has played Quis almost from birth. It is a part of him in a way it never became with you." Her voice caught. "What he brings back with him, after his time here, will find its way into the Quis of Coba. Filtered through him. What Coba will do with that, I don't know, but I give you my oath, Kelric, we will seek answers for you. When you visit us—if ever you can come home—we will be waiting for you."