The Moon's Shadow (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Read online

  The Razers disturbed Jai. Their minds exerted a mental pressure he thought would crush him if his defenses weakened. He would have sweated, but this morning his protocol aides had injected him with temporary nanobots that controlled his perspiration. It kept him dry, but it didn’t calm him down. He wasn’t ready. These past five days that he had spent at Corbal’s mansion, learning about Eube, were nowhere near enough to prepare him for what lay ahead.

  Lights blinked on the captain’s gauntlet. He spoke into its comm, and a low hum came from the doors. As they swung inward, opening into the Hall of Circles, Jai felt as if he were on a wild ride, unable to stop as he plunged toward disaster. Determined to hide his fear, he set his shoulders and entered the Hall.

  Impressions hit him like an avalanche. Rank upon rank of Aristos filled the Hall, sitting on high-backed benches, hundreds of them, all in glittering black: Hightons, who controlled the government and military; Diamonds, who managed commerce and production; and Silicates, who produced the means of pleasure, including providers. Every one of them had ruby eyes, shimmering black hair, and perfect, cold faces.

  Show no hesitation. Jai repeated the words in his mind like a mantra. He strode down an aisle toward the dais in the center of the Hall. Corbal waited there, his expression triumphant. He stood with one hand resting on an arm of the Carnelian Throne, a large snow-diamond chair inlaid with red gems. Jai knew the script; just before he had entered, Corbal had dropped his bomb-shell: I present to you, His Honor, Jaibriol Qox the Third, Emperor of Eube.

  Every Aristo in the Hall was staring at Jai. Their shock vibrated against his mind, so great it penetrated his barriers. It was a nightmare. They exerted a pressure far worse than what he experienced with the Razers; this many Aristos in one place were like a black hole ready to suck him in and crush him into nothing.

  Somehow he kept walking. As he climbed the dais, Corbal watched him, his gaze like a ruby laser. When Jai reached the throne, he turned to face the assembled Aristos.

  And he spoke.

  His voice rolled out, amplified by the extraordinary acoustics of the Hall. “In honor of my father’s memory, I accept the Carnelian Throne.”

  His audience murmured. The suspicion and hostility he expected were there, but another emotion also came through, strong and sharp—and unexpected. Hope? They seemed to lean forward, though no one actually moved.

  Jai made himself start the speech Corbal’s staff had prepared. “Eube in her magnificence will attain ever more lofty heights, a glory greater than ever before known in our illustrious empire.” It sounded as pompous now as it had the first time he had read it. But his voice rolled out exactly as the protocol aides had predicted when they rhapsodized over his “incomparable resonance.” It startled him; he hadn’t realized how deep his voice had become this last year.

  “We will triumph!” he continued, feeling like an idiot. “We will bring ever greater splendor to the exalted memory of our ancestors.”

  Pah. He couldn’t believe anyone thought this would inspire people. Aristo logic was more alien to him than the chlorophyll-based animal life on Prism, the exile world where he had grown up with his family. Right now Eube needed vitality and energy, not overblown platitudes.

  With sudden resolve, Jai dropped the speech and spoke his own words. “The wounds of this war will heal. We have survived. Our strength will return.”

  The mood of his audience shifted: he had startled them. He went on, using his own words, terrified of these people and their crushing minds. Incredibly, he seemed to mesmerize them. Even through his barriers, he felt their confidence building. Three times during his speech, they chimed the small cymbals they wore on their fingers, showing approval.

  And he despised himself for giving hope to a people who inflicted such atrocities on humanity.

  Tarquine Iquar, the Highton Finance Minister, reclined in the banquet hall on her space habitat. Most of the Diamond Aristos who had attended her feast were also sprawled nearby, watching a news-holo projected on the wall. The recording came from Eube’s Glory, many light-years away. After the collapse of the interstellar webs during the war, the only way to carry news was by starship, which meant it could take weeks, even months to cross interstellar space. This broadcast had been made two days ago, yet she was seeing it only a few days after receiving the news of Prince Eldrin’s capture, which had happened nearly two months ago. But she understood why this news had traveled so much faster.

  Eube, it seemed, had an emperor.

  Jaibriol III. How terribly convenient. Tarquine had to admit, his charisma filled the screen. Even by the exacting standards of Aristos, he was uncommonly handsome. His voice resonated, full timbred and deep. Sensual. His self-possession was remarkable in one so young, and he chose his words far better than the inane propaganda produced by government speech hacks, which suggested he had intelligence. For all his impressive qualities, though, she doubted this man-child would rule. Corbal Xir would control him: the power would be Xir rather than Qox.

  Tarquine frowned. As Finance Minister, she sat within the emperor’s highest circle of advisers. She had spent decades building her political position. A new emperor would bring change. Her family, the Iquar bloodline, had no current feud with the Xir bloodline, but neither did they have strong ties. Corbal might seek to replace her with someone the crafty old lord thought he could control.

  She studied Corbal, who remained on the dais as the boy spoke. As the oldest living Eubian, Corbal had dealt in Aristo politics longer than anyone else alive. But Tarquine had spent over eight decades breathing the rarified atmosphere of Highton intrigue herself. If Corbal thought he could trifle with her, he would soon discover otherwise.

  She wondered at his white hair. Many Aristos would do away with that sign of age, believing it marred their Highton perfection. But others thought the white accented Corbal’s authoritative presence. Tarquine took a tendril of her own hair and wound it around her finger. White threaded the black. Although she had considered having it treated, she had decided to leave it for now, to augment her aura of experience, a reminder that she was no untried youth but a force to deal with. Or so she let others believe. And it was true. But her hair hadn’t turned white because of age.

  Had Corbal’s whitened for the same reason as hers? She would probably never know; if he was hiding a secret as dire as her own, he would certainly never reveal it to her.

  Tarquine looked around at her guests. Most were watching the broadcast, but a few had remained in alcoves or shadowed corners, enjoying themselves with the providers she had made available tonight. An atmosphere of sensuality overlaid the dimly lit banquet hall as the night receded into its latest hours. If not for the broadcast, most everyone would have been asleep by now.

  She was the only Highton present; her guests were all Diamonds. As the caste involved with commerce, they were intimately tied to the economy; as Finance Minister, it behooved her to maintain profitable relations with them—and to keep abreast of whatever schemes they hatched.

  Tarquine was sitting next to Kiv Janq. Sleek black hair swept back from Kiv’s forehead, accenting the icy severity of her features. The Janq Line owned one of the largest Eubian banks and had great influence over the flow of credit throughout Eube.

  When she noticed Tarquine watching her, the banker curved her lips in a cool smile. “So. The emperor had an heir after all.”

  “Apparently so,” Tarquine said.

  “A delectable young piece, eh?”

  Tarquine held back her laugh. “I would hardly presume to call our esteemed emperor a ‘delectable young piece.’ ” In truth, though, Kiv had it right. Eligible young Highton women would soon be throwing themselves at this scrumptious boy, seeking to become empress. It promised to be immensely entertaining.

  Corbal Xir would undoubtedly sidetrack the young emperor with the flower of Eubian femininity. The more time Jaibriol III spent distracted by their charms, the more freedom Corbal would have to scheme. Tarquine considere
d the idea. Amorous pursuits might keep Jaibriol III’s attention away from finances as well. The last thing she needed was an emperor who paid attention to what she was doing. She could think of a few charming young Iquar women with political acumen. Perhaps she would send them his way and see what they could learn while they kept him diverted.

  Tarquine knew the game well. In her youth, she had fended off many ambitious Highton men bent on becoming consort to the heir of the Iquar bloodline. After she had come into her title as the head of her line, she had done her duty and accepted an arranged marriage. It had been worse than prickle-heat in the summer. She had soon sent her esteemed husband away, much to their mutual relief, and they had divorced several years later. So it was that she had no legitimate offspring. No heirs.

  She did have several children whose fathers had been her pleasure slaves. Although she had given her progeny wealth, status, and education, none could inherit her title. Long ago, she had frozen some of her eggs but she had no interest in conceiving any more children. Nor did she desire to let a cold Highton man share her title and her bed. Pah. Never again would she tie herself down that way. When she died, her title would go to her younger brother, Barthol Iquar.

  Tarquine looked down the length of her banquet hall. On the raised area at the far end, Kelric was sitting on the top step, watching the broadcast. He had put his clothes back on, his gold shirt and leggings, but he was barefoot. She hadn’t given him shoes. Walking wasn’t what she had in mind for him. A slow smile curved her lips. Why waste her life in a chilly Highton marriage? Far better to enjoy the charms of her incomparable provider, a pleasure slave worth every one of the unprecedented fourteen million she had paid for him.

  Her Ruby prince—and no one suspected. No one. Even his own people believed him dead. Who would have thought he would show up after eighteen years? In the few days she had owned him, he had kept his past to himself, but she would learn where he had been all those years. She had plenty of time. He would be hers for the rest of his life.

  Ironically, Kelric threatened everything she valued. He was too strong a telepath; he had learned her secret. But he would never reveal it. He didn’t dare, for it meant she would no longer own him. He would go to another Aristo, who would force him to provide by torturing him. Yes, Kelric knew her secret—and so he knew that as long as he remained silent, he would never have to endure transcendence.

  Fifteen years ago, Tarquine had used telepresence to operate on her own brain, in secret. It had taken years of planning, but when she finally tried the operation, it had succeeded. The only outward change was the whitening of her hair. The real alteration remained unseen—she could no longer transcend.

  By Aristo standards, that made her abnormal, sick, a pariah. If the truth became known, she would lose her title, lands, wealth, possibly even her life. She had done it anyway. She couldn’t have lived with herself otherwise, for she didn’t think she could have resisted the temptation to transcend as long as it remained possible. The experience was too intense. So she had ensured she could never do it again—for she had gradually, in her later years, developed a new, unexpected trait.

  Compassion.

  However, Tarquine remained a Highton in all other ways. The exhilaration of ambition, the challenge of gaining power, the gratification of using it—she relished it all. She thrived on the excitement of accruing wealth in ever more creative ways. She had no intention of letting this inconvenient new emperor interfere with her plans to dominate the political structure of Eube.

  If he tried, Jaibriol III would discover he had a formidable enemy.

  5

  Sunrise

  Corbal Xir was an impostor.

  Lying in his opulent bed with its ornate posts and tasseled canopy, Jai brooded. The minds of Aristos were like an immense weight pressing on his mind. It exhausted him to maintain his barriers every moment, never relaxing except at times like this, when he was alone.

  Corbal caused no pressure.

  Jai didn’t understand how his cousin could be so unlike other Aristos. Didn’t they notice he was different? Maybe only a psion could sense the lack of threat. Corbal acted like an Aristo, owned worlds, had providers, and looked Highton, except for his white hair.

  Strange, that. White hair. Aristos were fanatics about their supposed “perfection.” Taken altogether, they were like a huge machine with identical parts, each Aristo icily designed in their unforgiving ideal of beauty. It had no appeal to Jai, but they considered their homogeneity inviolate. He understood why Corbal had chosen to interrupt it; his cousin’s white hair accentuated his authority. But Jai felt what the Aristos would never know: Corbal wasn’t like them. It made Jai wonder.

  A rustle came out of the darkness.

  Jai sat bolt upright in bed. “Who is that?”

  Another rustle. He sensed the mind of a psion. Alarmed, he strengthened his mental barriers. “Lumos on,” he said.

  The lights came up, revealing his bedchamber. It made him dizzy. The gold and sapphire furnishings sparkled. Gold hangings adorned the walls, and ivory friezes bordered the horseshoe arches. The room’s antique quality spoke of more than his wealth, it was also a testament to his power that no holo-ads adorned the furniture or trim. He had the authority to prevent the planetary network from marring the privacy of his rooms. But the decor wasn’t what riveted his attention. No, a far more natural beauty caught him. A girl.

  She stood across the room, an impossible vision. Jai flushed, suddenly remembering he wore nothing except a dark nightshirt he had found in the bureau. The girl’s negligee drifted around her thighs, barely veiling her spectacular curves. Her breasts strained against the gauze, the enlarged nipples erect. Her hair glimmered like the proverbial spun gold, but soft and pliant, pouring around her body. And her eyes. They were huge, bluer than the sky on Earth and framed by gold lashes. A rosy blush touched her cheeks, and she averted her gaze with virginal shyness.

  “Who are you?” Jai stuttered.

  “My honor at your presence, Your Glorious Highness.” Her voice was a blend of innocence and sultry promise.

  Sweat broke out on Jai’s brow. “Why are you here?”

  “Lord Xir sent me.” She looked up. “As a present, to welcome you to the palace.”

  “You’re his pleasure girl.”

  “Tonight, I am yours.”

  Oh, Lord.

  “Would you like me to come over?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he managed, forgetting any reasons he might have had about refusing providers.

  She walked forward, her negligee molding to her breasts, her slim waist, her hips, and thighs. Jai couldn’t stop staring. She climbed onto his air-bed and knelt next to him, her hair brushing his arms. He could barely think.

  “You’re so pretty.” Jai winced as soon as he spoke the words. He sounded as nervous as he felt.

  Her smile warmed her face. “You are kind to say so, especially when you are a man of such magnificent form.”

  Even knowing she was supposed to compliment him, Jai wanted to believe every word. Mesmerized, he ran his finger along her lower lip, tracing its curve. She shyly laid her hand on his shoulder, then slid it down his chest. He knew he should hold back, find the hidden thorns on this gift, but he didn’t want to be sensible now.

  “So strong,” she murmured, moving closer. “Hold me.”

  With a sigh, he pulled her into his arms. Her mouth was so close when she turned up her pretty face that he couldn’t help but bring his lips to hers. It wasn’t his first kiss; there had been a few times during his two years on Earth, though he had never gone any further. But it had never been like this. The provider melted against him, warm and pliant, her mouth opening under his.

  With care, Jai laid her on her back, pulling down the covers so she sank into the downy sheets. Then he stretched out on top of her, and filled his hands with her breasts. Being emperor of Eube suddenly seemed less daunting. It had a lot more going for it than he had thought.

  Th
en he saw the images in her mind.

  Her telepath’s mind magnified their violent impact. She had lain this way with a select few of Corbal’s guests, and had suffered at their hands. Their brutality went beyond Jai’s ability to comprehend. She pretended to want him, but fear saturated her thoughts. She expected the same agony from him—no, worse, because he was the emperor.

  “Gods, no.” Jai sat up, his desire transformed into horror. “I could never—” Too late, he stopped, realizing his words would give him away.

  If she understood what he had just revealed, she gave no hint. “Have I displeased you?” She sat up quickly and laid her hands against his chest, toying with the fastenings on his nightshirt. Her delicate fragrance drew him.

  Jai caught her hands. Her fear intensified, and he longed to say I won’t hurt you. Her fear made him want to hit someone. Even having known what it meant to be an Aristo, he had never really understood. It was beyond his ability to comprehend how they could consider themselves exalted when they committed such violence against people they were supposed to love.

  She had no mental defenses. None. No one had taught her to protect herself. It sickened him to realize why; it made her more vulnerable to the link that formed between an Aristo and a provider. Aristos had a cavity where their capacity for compassion should have been, a void in their souls.

  Alarm sparked in the girl’s mind. “Please forgive me if I have disappointed you.”

  “No! You haven’t. You’re perfect.” He took her hands in his. “I just—uh—took a vow.”

  “A vow?”

  He tried to think of an intelligent follow-up to that panicked remark. Given Aristo culture, she was hardly going to believe a vow of celibacy.

  Then her mind prodded his.

  Ah, hell. She was trying to probe his thoughts. Corbal had sent her to spy on him. Pah. Maybe Corbal was the one he should sock.