Chapter Four

Carann, Royal Palace

When Latharna stepped off the transport and out onto the landing platform, she found herself amidst such a scene as she had never before experienced.

The capital city of Carann was immense, a forest of silver spires stretching out almost as far as the eye could follow on either side, until it came to an end at the feet of distant mountains. The midday sun was bright overhead, and Latharna raised a hand instinctively to shield her eyes despite the protective lenses she wore as she turned in a circle to take in all that was around her. She watched the rows of flitters that travelled along narrow lanes in the sky, matching the streets on the ground below, and then finally turned towards the edifice that dominated all else – the royal palace, built on a hilltop, its slender towers gleaming in the sunlight. She felt a fluttering in her heart, a pang of anxiety, and yet also excitement. She was overwhelmed by all that she saw, but also intrigued.

“Miss Dhenloc?” a voice said from beside her, and Latharna turned to find herself facing a young woman perhaps a few years older than herself, in an official-looking blue and gold uniform.

“Yes?” Latharna asked, taken aback. “Are you looking for me?”

“Apparently so,” the uniformed girl said. “I am Officer Amphitrae Thestos of the Royal Guard, currently assigned to her excellency, Ambassador Preas. I was given your name and description, and I’m to take you to her at once, if you’re ready.”

“Of course,” Latharna said, recovering herself. “That would be wonderful. I’ll follow you, then.”

Amphitrae bowed and then turned and began to make her way through the spaceport, Latharna following close behind her. The crowds seemed to press in around them, and she had to resist the urge to wrap her cloak more tightly around herself in a vain attempt to ward them off, but her escort managed to lead her through without incident until they finally arrived at as platform with several important-looking flitters parked along its edge. Amphitrae stopped by one of them and opened its door, gesturing for Latharna to enter and take a seat.

She found herself in a tastefully decorated vehicle, and sat down next to an older woman in an elegant burgundy dress, who was regarding Latharna with a critically appraising eye. Finally, she nodded. “So, you’re the one the Academy sent me,” she said. “Latharna Dhenloc. I am Ambassador Ceana Preas, and if all goes well, you’ll be working for me for quite a while.”

“Thank you, your excellency,” Latharna said, buckling her seatbelt. She could hear Amphitrae getting into the front seat of the flitter, and then its engines hummed to life as it lifted off the platform. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

Ambassador Preas regarded Latharna quietly for another long moment. “You’re not what I expected,” she finally said.

Latharna felt her cheeks flush, and silently cursed her pallor that would make that fact obvious. “I seldom am, your excellency,” she said. “I know that my appearance is… unusual, but I promise you that I will serve you exactly as you wish, to the best of my abilities.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the Ambassador said. “In my line of work, true sincerity is something that’s hard to come by, but I hear it in your voice. There is an earnest quality to you that I find is hard to come by these days. Tell me, Miss Dhenloc – what do you want, really?”

Latharna was taken aback – she hadn’t expected that the Ambassador would question her about herself so directly, certainly not so soon – but an answer tumbled from her mouth before she had a chance to restrain it. “To prove myself,” she said. “To show the world that I’m not just the strange orphan that the Headmistress took in out of pity, but that I’m someone with talents to offer the galaxy. I want to do what I can to make our Kingdoms better places, however small that may be. I don’t know if I can succeed, but by the Lord’s grace, I intend to try.”

The Ambassador tilted her head. “’By the Lord’s grace,’” she quoted. “You’re religious, then?”

Latharna’s traitorous face flushed again. “I am,” she said. “The Headmistress is very observant, and I picked it up for her. It comforts and strengthens me. I hope that isn’t a problem?”

“No,” the Ambassador said. “I think we can find ways to make it work for us here. I just like to know these things about those who work for me. I find it helpful. Speaking of which, you have mentioned your skills. What can you do for me, Miss Dhenloc?”

“I am educated in history and political theory,” Latharna said, glad to chance the subject. “I have some skill in science and mathematics, though others are better. I can take notes quickly and in detail and am considered efficient and well-organized. I play the harp and have committed a number of classical pieces to memory and can readily learn more. I was considered the best student in my year on the sword and can serve as bodyguard or dueling champion as necessary. Brother Ronall, the swordmaster at the Academy told me I was one of the best students he’d ever had.” Her voice sank almost to a whisper at that last admission, which seemed too much like boasting to be comfortable, but she felt an urge to convince this intimidating woman of her worth, nonetheless. She raised her eyes to meet the Ambassador’s and found that she was staring at her strangely.

“I know Ronall,” the older woman said. “That’s high praise from him. And I indeed fear that I may need to make use of your skill with the weapon – this Kingdom has been in troubled times lately, and I don’t see an end to them any time soon. Assuming you’ve been honest with me – and I’ll soon find out if you haven’t, so you’d best come clean now if that’s true – then you’ll be a valuable asset for me and the Realtran Kingdom. But dear Lord, girl, when did you find time for all of that? What do you do for yourself, in your leisure time?”

Latharna shrugged. “Leisure?” she asked. “I was never close with the other children at the Academy. I studied. I trained. I was never very good at anything else.”

A flash of something that might have been pity crossed the Ambassador’s face and was gone. “Well,” she said, “you’re not likely to find time to pick any of that here. This is a kingdom in crisis, and as a crisis in the Dozen Stars would be trouble for Realtran, my goal for the moment is to prevent that from happening.” She nodded out the flitter’s window, towards the palace. “There’s a new queen on the throne, and certain factions around here are not very happy about that. Some of them are obvious; others less so. The girl herself is about your age, and she means well, but she’s untried and untested. She’s popular with the people, for the moment, but there are those among the nobility who think the Dozen Stars would be better off without her. I think there’d be civil war if they had their way.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Latharna asked, going cold.

Ambassador Preas regarded her straight on. “Because I intend to keep that girl alive, Miss Dhenloc,” she said. “And you are going to help me do it. If you thought this would be an easy job for a student fresh from the Academy, think again. I’m afraid you’ve just walked into a battlefield.”

///

It was evening on Carann as a man walked alone through the palace gardens beneath their great glass dome, head bowed in thought. He wasn’t a particularly striking man; slightly above average in height with hair that had gone to grey, though his eyes were still sharp and a great strength of will still lay behind them. He wore a white uniform of fine cut and a long cloak trailed behind him, marking him as a man of some stature, though that was not uncommon among the palace’s residents. Someone who didn’t know the man’s identity might take him for an unassuming minor nobleman or high-ranking functionary and dismiss him from their thoughts.

Those who did know him, on the other hand, knew better. Publius Vedrans Quarinis, Ambassador of the Empire, was one of the most dangerous men in the Dozen Stars, and he had the might of an Emperor at his back. Even the former regent, Duke Mardoban, however, didn’t know just how far Quarinis’s hand had reached or how much of recent events in the Kingdom could be traced back to his machinations.

Quarinis didn’t consider himself a cruel man, or even a particularly ambitious one – though one didn’t rise to such a position as he had in the Imperial hierarchy without a certain degree of both qualities. First and foremost, he saw himself as a patriot, a man committed above all else to serving his nation and his Emperor. Sometimes that required taking distasteful actions or associating with those he would prefer to avoid, but such were among the sacrifices duty demanded. And whatever else he might be, Publius Vedrans Quarinis had never shirked from his duty.

When the Emperor, Verus Licinius, had spoken and demanded that the Dozen Stars should be destroyed, it had been Quarinis who had answered; he had been the one who had created a team of elite assassins and set them against Queen Aestera, resulting in her death. Unfortunately, that had not resulted, as he had hoped, in the collapse of the Kingdom; and now, almost two decades later, an heir had emerged to claim the throne, and this time, the assassins had failed. It was an unexpected turn, and Quarinis disliked the unexpected.

Of course, all was not yet lost; the game had merely moved to another phase. Quarinis had other pawns and other plans, and so far as his spies reported, he remained undiscovered. All he needed now was a little more time…

Something rustled among the trees nearby, drawing the ambassador away from his musings. Quarinis turned sharply, but he saw no one either along the path nor among the trees. And yet, as he strained his ears, he was certain he could hear the sounds of someone moving close by, and he knew he was not alone. He’d left his praetorians, the immense cyborg warriors who served the Empire’s elite, standing guard outside the garden entrance; he could call them on his wrist comm, but in so doing alert the intruder that he was aware of their presence. Instead he stood still, slipping a hand inside his cape to where a small blast pistol hung concealed. Quarinis disliked engaging in violence himself, but like most Imperial patricians he’d done his service as an officer in the legions in his youth; if whoever was out there thought he was helpless, they’d be in for a rude awakening.

The sound stopped and Quarinis paused for a long moment before speaking. “I know you’re there,” he said. “You can go ahead and come out and we can have a civilized discussion, shall we? I warn you, if you think to attack me, I am fully capable of defending myself.”

“Are you?” a soft voice asked; it spoke from directly behind the ambassador, almost breathing into his ear. It took all of Quarinis’s considerable will to keep from visibly starting; instead he drew his pistol and slowly turned to find himself face to face with a figure he knew all-too-well, and he felt his blood run cold.

The man who stood before him was wrapped all in black robes that seemed to trail behind him until they didn’t so much end as fade into shadow. Not an inch of his skin showed; his hands were wrapped in black gloves, and his face – his face was masked. Not a blank mask like the ones that the Commander and his assassins had worn, but a stylized mask that was painted in elaborate designs of black, red, and silver, framing the lenses through which a pair of glittering eyes regarded Quarinis with amusement.

The mask was of Alaelam design, of a sort that many of their people and almost all of their clergy wore at all times, considering it an offense to their god to leave their faces uncovered in public. The designs on each mask were unique and carried particular meanings, though Quarinis had never managed to commit even a small fraction of the symbolism to his memory. The man behind the mask was also Alaelam in origin, though he and his followers had long ago split with the mainline religious authorities of the Alaelam Alliance over some obscure doctrinal dispute. He had come to the Empire several decades ago and pledged himself and his disciples to the service of the Emperor. All he had asked in return, so far as Quarinis knew, was the opportunity to see his rivals among his own people destroyed, a desire that burned so brightly within him that he was willing to ally with their traditional enemy to see it done.

What his real name was, Quarinis had never heard; he doubted anyone in the Empire, save perhaps the Emperor himself, knew for sure. He only answered to his title – Al’Aymar Alaen. In the Alaelam language, it meant, roughly, the Prince of Night.

He was an Adept; Quarinis knew that much. The Emperor had long made an effort to collect people of that rare ability, and it was somewhat more common among the Alaelam than other peoples, which was theorized to be an effect of their religion’s emphasis on mystical and esoteric practices, which may have helped to activate the power in those for whom it might have otherwise remained latent. Officially, the Prince advised Licinius on the Alaelam religious hierarchy; unofficially, he was known to serve the Emperor as a spy and assassin, using his formidable psychic abilities to gather information, deceive, and kill.

Despite his best efforts, Quarinis’s thoughts must have shown on his face, for Alaen inclined his head and a soft chuckle escaped from behind his mask. “No, Ambassador,” he said, his voice surprisingly smooth, almost musical – most who met him for the first time expected a rasp. “I’m not here to kill you – not today, at least. I merely come with a message from our mutual lord.”

“I mean no offense, my good Prince,” Quarinis said, “but admit to being confused. If the Emperor had a message for me, he could have spoken to me directly and saved you the trip.”

Alaen shrugged and began to circle Quarinis, his dark cloak trailing behind him. “Perhaps I am also sent to deliver a warning,” he said. “A reminder that I can reach you, no matter where you choose to hide, even in the heart of an enemy’s fortress. The Emperor is not angry with you, not yet, but he is… disappointed. You have failed him, Ambassador, and that is something he isn’t used to from you. Eighteen years ago, when he demanded that the Queen of the Dozen Stars must die, you arranged the death of Aestera ast Carann; for that, he was pleased. But now there is a new queen, and she yet lives, and your assassins are dead. The Emperor is… concerned, Ambassador. And I am here to express those concerns and remind you what might happen if those concerns are not assuaged.”

“I understand,” Quarinis said. “But I don’t think it’s entirely wise to discuss such matters so openly. If we are overhead, it will go poorly for me. My imprisonment – or execution – for regicide will not help the Emperor’s cause.”

Alaen chuckled. “Fear not, Ambassador,” he said. “My presence cloaks us from being overheard or recorded. There are only two Adepts in the Dozen Stars whose skills are great enough to pierce my veils, and neither of them are in this palace tonight. The girl-queen is talented, but untried. She will not detect me. We are quite safe to talk as we please.”

“If your skills are so much greater than Artakane’s, why not kill her yourself?” Quarinis asked. “It would seem to be your specialty, after all.”

“I could kill her,” Alaen admitted. “And then I would be hunted by the two of whom I spoke, both of whom would take offense at my actions. I am the Emperor’s servant, but I am not his slave. I have no intention of dying for his cause. My war lies elsewhere. This task is yours.”

“And you want assurances that I am able to carry it out,” Quarinis said. “I assure you, Prince, that events are in motion. Several of the Kingdom’s dukes have chafed at the appearance of the new Queen. I have made certain arrangements, certain… promises, and I believe that I have successfully brokered an alliance among some of them – at least one of whom is prepared to go to war regardless of alliances or support. War is coming to the Dozen Stars, my ominous friend, and I do not think that our untried Queen will be able to whether it. She will fall, and if we are lucky, her Kingdom will fall with her.”

“You have made such assurances before, Ambassador,” the Prince said. “How can we be certain they will be met this time?”

“I underestimated the integrity of the Dozen Stars government before,” Quarinis said. “I won’t do it this time. The arrangements have been made. The storm is coming.”

“Then I will carry your assurances to the Emperor,” Alaen said. “He will judge their worth. But we expect results soon. Someone – an Adept – attempted to penetrate the Emperor’s plans not long ago. The Emperor repelled the intrusion, but he is troubled. He prepares a great offensive against the Alaelam Alliance, and he wishes to carry out this campaign knowing that the Dozen Stars will not be a threat from the other side.”

“The Dozen Stars will soon have conflicts far closer to home than the Empire to worry about, my good Prince,” Quarinis said with a thin smile. “That I can most certainly assure you.”

“Good,” Alaen said. “I must go and rejoin the Emperor in his war against my former compatriots – at long last, by the will of the One, my own revenge may be within my grasp. I leave the arrangements here to you, Ambassador. And I leave you with this warning – you have a long record of success for which the Emperor is still pleased. But you have also failed him once already. Fail him again, and he may not be so merciful.”

There was a sudden rustle of cloth and the shadows seemed to writhe; when they stilled, Alaen was gone, leaving Quarinis alone in the gardens, his thoughts dark. The Alaelam renegade’s warning was a reminder of the price of failure, but not one he needed – he knew what Licinius’s displeasure could bring, and he had no intention of letting it fall on him.

And the wheels of civil war were already in motion. It wouldn’t be long; not now.