A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [155]
But Jora’h could not feel sympathy—not now. Ignoring Udru’h, he held up the documents containing the censored portion of the Saga. “No doubt you had some important reason for showing me this part of our history? Knowing half of an answer only increases the quality of ignorance, Father.”
“Sometimes the truth can be destabilizing,” said the Mage-Imperator. “Not everyone deserves to have it.”
“The truth is the truth! By what right do you deny Ildirans their heritage?”
“By my right. I am the Mage-Imperator, the gateway to the Lightsource. I control the thism. I control the truth.” He softened his voice. “No one but I—and, in a short while, you, Jora’h—can decide what is best for our people.”
The Dobro Designate moved to his father’s side. “Human folly reawakened the hydrogues, but we have always known they would return. Now perhaps you are ready to understand the essential work we have been doing on Dobro.”
Feeling even more betrayed, Jora’h turned to the Mage-Imperator. “You kept me in the dark, Father, and yet told Udru’h your secrets?”
“Only the secrets he was required to know. Your brother has been responsible for overseeing my most difficult and vital projects on Dobro.” Udru’h looked smug and proud.
Jora’h maintained a grip on his anger, though he felt as if he were drowning. “What else have you hidden from me, Father? Tell me”—he paused in a last instant of indecision before reaffirming that he truly wanted to know—“tell me what really happened to Nira and the other green priest.”
“Why would you think that you do not know?” the Dobro Designate asked.
Jora’h snapped at his brother. “Don’t play tricks with your words! Tell me. Are they truly dead?”
The Mage-Imperator pondered for a moment. “The old green priest is truly dead. The treelings are truly burned. The young woman, however, continues to serve the Ildiran Empire. She has a greater purpose.”
A whirlwind of joy and confusion swept through him. “She’s alive! Where is she? I must see her.”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” the Dobro Designate said.
Jora’h glared at him. “You don’t make the decisions here, brother.”
The Mage-Imperator seemed amused. “Oh, tell him, Udru’h. Tell him about everything you do on Dobro. He needs to learn, if he is to become a leader.”
The Designate hesitated; then with a brief nod he complied. “Nira Khali is not dead, and neither is your child by her.”
“My…child?”
“A perfect, healthy daughter with undreamed-of talents, incredible potential. We named her Osira’h. She is now more than six years old.”
As Jora’h stood reeling, the Dobro Designate explained how Nira had been escorted to the breeding camps on Dobro, where for centuries human captives had been the subject of genetic experiments with various Ildiran kiths. “We have been selective. We managed to enhance certain characteristics and develop Ildiran–human crossbreeds with far superior abilities.”
Stunned, Jora’h hung his head. “All this has been kept from me…my entire life?” How could his heart take any more?
“Jora’h, you will not understand the nuances until you take my place, until you see everything through the crystal-clear lens of thism. You do not yet see all the facets.” The Mage-Imperator’s expression was placid. “You must trust me. I have my reasons.”
“I never doubted that you had reasons, Father,” Jora’h said, his voice as cold and ragged as fractured ice, “but I may not agree that those reasons are correct or honorable.”
Cyroc’h tried to explain his rationale, to convince his eldest son and heir. When it was clear he was making no progress, though, the Mage-Imperator said, “Once you are in my place, you will understand the reasons. My reasons.”
But for Jora’h, this terrible deception by his own father had changed everything forever.
80
ADAR KORI’NH
The Adar stood in the command nucleus of his lead warliner, frowning in frustration. Defending the Ildiran Empire was the most important thing—not his pride or his desire for vengeance. The Mage-Imperator had instructed him to avoid pointless bravado against the hydrogues. And so he must obey.