they saw a shape slip into a tent out at the edge of camp.
'Where are we going?' Ilya asked finally.
'I'm not sure.' She looked up at the brilliant cast of stars above. Somewhere out there, worlds spun and ships traveled, spanning vast distances; Charles wove his plots, and the Chapalii wove other plots still. Her life, all of it, and yet this world was hers as well. She had done her duty to Charles-tracked the Chapalii and not only alerted him to their presence but discovered a relic of such value that she could not begin to measure it. 'I'm not sure what I ought to do anymore, or what I can do, or whether or not Yuri was right.''
'Right about what?' he asked softly.
She stopped. They had walked about halfway through the Veselov camp, and the two great tents, one belonging to Arina and one to Vera, lay some fifty paces behind them. A low fire burned in the fire pit that separated the tents, illuminating the wedding ribbons woven up the tent poles that supported the awning of Arina's tent. And, Tess saw, a small pile of gear deposited on one corner of the rug: her new husband's possessions, to be moved inside by him this night.
'Oh, damn,' said Tess in a low voice. 'Look, there's Vera.'
Vera stood just outside the entrance to her own tent, talking with a man Tess could not recognize from this distance. By the way she was gesticulating with her arms, Tess could guess that it was poor Petya, and that he was being scolded for some illusory offense.
'Tess,' said Ilya as softly as he had spoken before but in an utterly changed voice, 'where is your saber?'
'In my tent.'
'Damn. Walk back to the fire.'
'Ilya.'
'That is Vasil. How he got into this camp I do not know, why Vera is sheltering him I do not care to guess, but there is going to be trouble any moment now. Go alert Josef and Tasha.'
'Where are you going?'
He put one hand on his saber hilt. 'To talk with him.'
She laid both hands on his chest. 'No. Don't be a fool. Don't you remember when Doroskayev sent men into Sakhalin's camp to kill you? What if Vasil isn't alone? Let's walk back to the fire together, now.''
But it was already too late. Vera's companion had stepped past her and it was obvious that, even over such distance and in the darkness, Vasil and Ilya were looking at each other. The flap leading into Vera's tent swept aside, and three men rushed out, sabers drawn.
'Stahar linaya!' Ilya cried. He drew his saber. 'Tess! Back to the fire.'
She stepped away from him. The three men closed, slowing now to split around him, and Ilya edged away from her. Vasil had not moved. Tess ran for Vera's tent.
'Damn you!' Vera was shrieking. 'Go kill him! You coward, go kill him!'
Vasil backhanded her so hard she fell to the rug. She began to sob. 'You're a fool, Vera. He will never love you. But who is this?' He sidestepped Tess's rush neatly, tripped her, and than pinned her to the ground. 'The khaja pilgrim. How interesting.'
Behind, she heard the ring of sabers and a distant-too distant-shout. 'Give me your saber,' she said to Vasil the ground, 'and I'll speak for you, and maybe they'll spare your life.'
'He rode with her down the Avenue,' Vera gasped out between sobs. 'I want him dead.'
'Vera. Shut up. Get the horses.' Then, moving before she realized he meant to, Vasil lifted Tess up and pinned her to him. 'They'll never spare my life, and I don't plan on giving it up. Retreat to me!' he cried.
Horses snorted and pawed beside them. Vera stood at their heads, clutching their reins. Tears streamed down her face. 'You are a coward,' she gasped. 'You're afraid to kill him. You've always loved him more than you ever loved me.'
'Forgive me,' said Vasil, and in the instant before she realized he was speaking to her, Tess got her head turned enough to see Vasil's three men sprinting back toward them, Ilya at their heels. Farther, much farther back, cries of alarm and shouts and commotion stirred the camp. Then she saw the flash of Vasil's knife, and a hard knob struck her temple.
Charles Soerensen sat in an anteroom of the imperial palace. Indeed, the only city left on the homeworld of Chapal was the imperial palace.
It had taken him five days from his arrival on Paladia Major to get dispensation to enter imperial space, and five days on Chapal to get this far, seven doors away from audience with the emperor. Suzanne sat next to him, decently swathed in scholar's robes; she was his best interpreter-best except for his own missing sister, of course- but very few females were allowed into the imperial presence. Across from them, on benches grown from crystal, sat Hon Echido and two elder members of Keinaba, those who would partake of the rite of loyalty with Charles in the emperor's presence.
If the emperor allowed it. Charles allowed himself a smile, a brief one, secure that Chapalii did not interpret facial tics as meaningful of emotion or thought. For all he knew, it would take him five months to get past those last seven doors, and even then he did not know if the Keinaba dispensation would still be in force. But, like water working past a dam in a stream, eventually he would find his way past each obstacle. Eventually, one way or the other, he would get the key that would allow the next rebellion to succeed.
The far door-the door leading back away from the emperor's presence-opened, and Tai Naroshi Toraokii entered with his retinue. The near door opened, revealing a lord in the silver livery of the imperial house. Tai Naroshi paused in front of Charles. Charles did not rise.
'Tai-en.' Naroshi inclined his head.
'Tai-en.' Charles inclined his head in turn. 'The translation program works very well. Your artisans are efficient.'
'I am gratified that you find them so. I express my grief with your family at this time.'
Charles glanced at Suzanne, wondering if the program was not working. She blinked twice: the words were correct. 'Your concern is generous, Tai-en,' Charles replied.
'Perhaps you will adopt a proper male heir now. I would be honored, Tai-en, if you would consider my sister, who is an architect of great renown, for the design of your sister's mausoleum. She would certainly design a fitting and magnificent structure of unparalleled beauty.''
One of his retinue had flushed blue. Charles stared at Naroshi, both of them equally impassive.
Suzanne pulled the loose drape of her hood over her face. 'Oh, Goddess,' she said in a stifled voice.
'Tai-en,' said Charles at last. 'Are you telling me that my sister is dead?''
If Naroshi was surprised by Charles's ignorance, or by his directness, he showed no sign of it. 'This one of mine, who is named Cha Ishii Hokokul, has brought me this news. Are you telling me, Tai Charles, that you have not heard it yet?'
The far door swept aside and Tomaszio strode in, followed by a lord in imperial silver who was flushed green with disapproval. Charles stood up. The lord halted, facing two dukes, and let Tomaszio proceed alone.
'This is just in,' said Tomaszio in Ophiuchi-Sei. 'Goddess, I'm sorry to disturb you here, Charles, but it's code red from Odys.'
Charles took the palm-sized bullet and just stood for a moment. Suzanne still held the cloth across her face. Keinaba watched. Naroshi and his retinue watched. The one called Cha Ishii watched, skin fading to a neutral white.
Charles pressed his thumb to the pad, and the bullet peeled open. It was not even scrambled, the message, just two bites. One bore Marco's signature code, and it read: Tess found the key. The other, the unique signature code of his only sibling, his heir, twined into the secondary pulse of an emergency transmitter's beacon and flatcoded to be sent on to him: / am safe.
Without a word Charles nodded to Tomaszio, dismissing him, and handed the bullet to Suzanne, who lowered the cloth enough to read it and then with a suppressed gasp pulled the cloth back over her face again. She pressed the fail-safe on the tube, and the casing and contents dissolved her hand.
'Your sympathy is well-taken, Tai-en,' said Charles. He at down.
'Tai Naroshi Toraokii.' The lord at the near door spoke, ad he bowed to the precise degree. 'I beg you to allow me to admit you into the next antechamber.'
Naroshi inclined his head to Charles. 'Tai-en.'
