A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [236]
What was to become of the Empire now?
The Mage-Imperator had tried to instruct Jora’h, training him in politics and explaining some of his schemes, but not all. The stubborn Prime Designate had been angry when he’d learned the truth—a truth that he should have suspected all along, if he’d simply paid attention to history and the clear hints around him. Jora’h refused to understand the realities, the necessity of doing what was best for the Ildiran race. And now he would become the leader of the Empire.
Should he have faith in his elder brother?
He had to believe the Mage-Imperator would not have entrusted the Ildiran realm to anyone he did not consider adequate for the job. However, Udru’h also remembered how ill his father had been. Perhaps the terrible pain and the bodily deterioration had weakened his resolve, muddied his thoughts. What, then?
With the Mage-Imperator dead and the thism gone, the brothers were cut off from each other, unable to sense each other’s respective thoughts. The Dobro Designate had to hope that once the thism came to Jora’h, all the necessary comprehension and enlightenment—and acceptance—would also come to him. It must!
Even so—though his brother would understand everything—he might not agree with it. As the new Mage-Imperator, Jora’h would be free to issue whatever commands he wished…and sweep away centuries of planning and interbreeding. That would be the worst possible thing.
And if Jora’h already hated the breeding plans so much, what was to stop him from punishing Dobro and its Designate? Jora’h could ruin everything, all because of his pathetic imagined love for a human green priest whose genetic heritage held the key to breeding a weapon, a living bridge that might save them all from the hydrogues.
Such grim thoughts preoccupied him as he dressed himself in rarely worn formal robes. Frowning, Udru’h studied himself in the reflection glass again. He preferred simple clothes because there was always so much work to do, whereas his wounded brother, the Hyrillka Designate, preferred gaudy robes that could be worn to banquets and parties. Udru’h preferred to let others be pampered; he had no use for such things.
Sadly, there were some ceremonies that he must attend—such as the funeral of his father, the delivery of his glowing bones to the ossuarium…and, finally, the ascension of Jora’h. No summons had been issued—every Designate knew he must depart immediately for Ildira and the PrismPalace. Udru’h would leave little Osira’h and the breeding program here for a time unsupervised, because that was what must be.
What must be.
However, with the telepathic network cut off, he did have an unexpected opportunity—a means by which he could implement secret plans…and keep them from Jora’h, should the necessity arise.
As he left his quarters, anxious and disheartened, Udru’h felt all alone, unable to see even a glimmer of the Lightsource, but his basic convictions were unshaken. Perhaps he couldn’t trust his brother to make the difficult, necessary decisions, so he, the Dobro Designate, would see to it that those decisions were absolutely inevitable.
He summoned his guards to his residence and gave them clear instructions on what they must do while he was gone. Nira Khali was a dangerous loose end, just like the derelict ship Burton had been. Udru’h could never let his brother have her back. It would ruin everything.
123
OSIRA’H
The telepathic call was so strong it struck through the young girl’s heart, captivating her mind and drawing her awake in the quietest part of Dobro’s night.
Osira’h was exhausted, and alone. After the shocking death of the Mage-Imperator, the Dobro Designate had just rushed off to Ildira, leaving orders that the instructors must make her work harder than ever, training her, drilling her. “We do not know how much time we have. Osira’h must be ready for her responsibility.”
But tonight, while she was alone in the Designate’s residence, a yearning voice in her head summoned a deep longing within her. It was a call of blood and love