TWO
Maurice Chen stepped onto the terrace outside the Hall of the Convocation as his nerves tingled with the knowledge that he was about to accept a bribe.
Lord Roland Martinez waited at one of the terrace tables, a cup of coffee in front of him. His dark hair ruffled in a gusty wind heavy with the sweet scent of the blossoming pherentis vines that covered the cliff face below. Spring had come early to Zanshaa City, brightening the gloom of a catastrophic winter.
Above the convocates’ hall loomed the Great Refuge, the carved granite structure with its huge dome, from which the Shaa had once ruled their empire, and through the gates of which the last Shaa, less than a year ago, had been carried to his rest in the Couch of Eternity at the other end of the High City. From the parapet the vine- covered cliffs fell away to the Lower Town, the metropolis that spread all the way to the horizon, its boulevards, streets, alleyways, and canals aswarm with members of the sentient species conquered by the Shaa. On the horizon the baroque silhouette of the Apszipar Tower stood plain against the viridian green of Zanshaa’s sky. And above all, above even the Great Refuge, was the silver metal arc of Zanshaa’s accelerator ring, which served as a home and harbor to the Fleet, to hundreds of civilian vessels, and to millions in population who had chosen to live above planet rather than on it.
As Maurice Chen approached, Lord Roland rose. He was a larger, older version of his brother, the famous captain ofCorona, and had the same long torso and overlong arms atop shortish legs.
“Will you have coffee, Lord Chen?” he offered. “Or tea, or perhaps something stronger?”
Chen hesitated. On one side the terrace was the long clear wall of the Hall of the Convocation, and the Convocation, he knew, was in session. Any lord convocate could look through that transparent wall and see Chen in conversation with Lord Roland, and perhaps wonder what the two had to say to one another.
Perhaps he could suggest moving to the convocates’ lounge, which would be a little less public.
“Would you mind terribly if we walked indoors?” Lord Chen said. “I don’t have the best memories of this place.” He glanced over the terrace and shrugged deeper into the winered uniform tunic of the lords convocate.
A few months ago he and his colleagues had hurled Naxid convocates from this very terrace, to break their bodies on the stones below. There were now plans to build a monument here, larger-than-life statues of representative members of the non-Naxid species tipping rebels over the brink. Lord Chen’s memories of the event were fragmentary and disordered, unclear yet jagged, like a picture painted on shattered glass, a confused series of images with razor-sharp edges that could still draw blood.
“Of course we can go inside,” Lord Roland said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested the terrace.” His provincial accent was as crude as his brother’s, and Lord Chen felt a burst of annoyance at himself for the fact that he was about to take money from such a man. The Chen Clan was at the top of Peer society, and even though Clan Martinez were Peers, they were Peers from the far side of nowhere. In a properly ordered society, Roland should be asking Chen for favors, not the other way around.
Lord Roland took a final sip of his coffee and walked with Lord Chen past the armed Torminel who now, since the rebellion, were posted on the terrace doors. Footfalls were softened by plush carpet as the convocate and his guest walked up a long ramp.
“I hope Lady Terza is coping with her loss,” said Lord Roland.
“She’s doing as well as we can expect,” Chen said. He really didn’t want to discuss family matters with Lord Roland. It wasn’t as if the man would ever be an intimate of his family.
“Please give her my best wishes.”
“I will.”
Lord Chen’s daughter, Terza, had lost her fiance at Magaria. She and Captain Lord Richard Li had formed an uncommonly lovely, lively, charming couple, and though Lord Chen’s heart warmed whenever he’d seen them together, he had noted other advantages to the match. Clan Li, though a step below the Chens socially, had grown uncommonly prosperous, and an alliance would have done well for the Chens.
Another bit of financial bad luck that had made this meeting necessary.
Bronze doors, cast with a heroic relief of The Many Species of the Empire Being Uplifted by the Praxis, opened silently before them, and the convocate and his guest passed into the building’s foyer. There Lord Chen was startled to see a Naxid, in the dark red tunic of a convocate, speed across the foyer, her four polished boots beating at the stone floor, her body whipping from side to side as she hurled herself the even greater bronze doors that led into the Hall of the Convocation.
“Strange to see Naxids again,” Lord Chen murmured.
“Stranger still to see Naxid convocates.” Lord Roland watched the huge silent doors close behind the centauroid figure. “For a while I thought you’d killed them all.”
Lord Chen blinked. “Not me personally, I hope.” His heels clacked on the granite floor with its inlaid semiprecious stones. “But no, it seems they weren’t all involved in the plot.”
For a while it had been difficult to remember that only some Naxids had revolted. Perhaps not even the majority. The Committee for the Salvation of the Praxis, on the Naxid home world of Naxas, had kept knowledge of their rebellion in as few trusted hands as possible—even half the Naxid convocates hadn’t been told, and had fled the violence in the Hall of the Convocation, or stayed in their seats out of fear and confusion.
For some time after the rebellion, it was rare to see a Naxid in public—it was as if a sixth of the population of the empire had simply vanished. Even in Naxid neighborhoods the streets were quiet. But gradually, first by ones and twos, then in small groups, they had appeared in civil society once more.
“We’ve had a number of Naxid convocates return,” said Lord Chen. “Of course, the new lord senior keeps them off committee chairmanships, and any committees to do with the war.”
“You can’t be too careful, I suppose,” said Lord Roland.
“I’ve observed that the Naxids are careful to vote with the majority on all war measures. And they regularly forward patriotic petitions from their clients.”
“Hmm.” Lord Roland stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder how their clients are faring in the current climate?”
“Not well, I’d imagine. The Convocation has better things to do these days than to pay attention to Naxid petitions.” Resentment rumbled through his mind. “No one will trust a Naxid for generations, believe me.”
The two passed through the foyer and into the lounge, then walked along the gleaming dark ceramic bar, with its dashing accents of brushed aluminum, to a booth with plush leather benches contoured to the Terran physique. Lord Roland ordered another coffee, and Lord Chen a glass of mineral water.
“I’m pleased to report that another two ships have passed through the Hone-bar system on their way to safe areas,” Lord Chen reported.
“Excellent.” Lord Roland smiled thinly. “I’d like to lease them all, of course.”
“Of course,” Lord Chen agreed.
The onset of war had hit the Chen Clan hard. Lord Chen’s home planet, which he represented in the Convocation, was in the hands of the rebels, as was much of his personal property. Other Chen possessions scattered over many worlds were now controlled by the enemy, and so were at least half the ships belonging to Chen-controlled merchant companies. Much of Lord Chen’s remaining wealth was in the Hone Reach, which could be cut off in the event of a Naxid capture of Hone-bar, the Lai-own home world.
Lord Chen was facing ruin. Fortunately he now sat across the table from a man who had volunteered to be his financial savior.
Lord Roland proposed to lease Clan Chen’s ships.All of them, including those lost in Naxid-controlled space. The lease would be for five years, and specifically exempted Lord Chen or his companies from any nonperformance penalties resulting from war or rebellion—in other words, if the ships were lost, destroyed, or confiscated by the enemy, Clan Martinez would have to pay for them anyway. Insurance would be carried by a company on the Martinez home world of Laredo.
Lord Roland Martinez—or more properly his father, the current Lord Martinez—would subsidize Clan Chen for the next five years.
What Lord Roland wanted in exchange for this was for the most part clear. Lord Chen was a member of the Fleet Control Board, the body that made all major decisions regarding military personnel, supplies, bases, and construction. Lord Roland’s home world of Laredo had already been awarded a contract to build frigates to replace
