Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [34]
Nonetheless, to be polite to Momosaki, Decalon said, “I will remember that.”
Eborion entered the stone chamber beneath his family’s palace early enough not to be late, but late enough not to be confused with someone who was concerned about what others thought of him.
Faces turned in the soft, artificial light, all of them familiar. But then, each of them bore at least a passing resemblance to Eborion-not surprising, perhaps, considering they were all aunts, uncles, and close cousins.
The nobleman did a quick count. Apparently, he was the last of the sixteen in the family council to have arrived. Only fitting, he thought, for one who has the ear of the praetor.
Clabaros, the eldest of Eborion’s three long-faced uncles, second in age only to Eborion’s long-deceased father, cast a vaguely reproachful glance at his nephew. It was Clabaros who had, in his brother’s stead, taken it upon himself to tutor young Eborion in the ways of Romulan society.
“Thank you for coming,” Clabaros grumbled in his courtly but understated way, his voice echoing slightly among the stones. “If you will be seated, we can begin.”
Eborion’s uncles, aunts, and cousins took their places around the long, crimson-and-cream-colored marble table that had served their family for hundreds of years. Though a stranger might not have noticed, each seat represented a different level of importance in the family hierarchy.
Claboros, for instance, sat at the head of the table, at its northern extremity. His brothers Rijanus and Obrix sat on one side of him and his sister Cly’rana sat on the other.
Cly’rana, a great beauty by all accounts, alone seemed to bear no resemblance to the rest of the family. She was either a throwback to some recessive set of genes or the product of an extramarital dalliance, as was rumored about the capital. Even if the latter explanation was based in fact, it had not diminished her standing in the family’s stone chamber.
But then, Cly’rana was not just beautiful. She was also exceedingly clever, and there wasn’t a family among the Hundred that could not benefit from a little more cleverness.
Eborion’s place, which was nearly at the opposite end of the table from Claboros’s, was not one of advanced status. Only his cousins Tinicitis and Solops, who were seated to his right, enjoyed less of a say in family matters.
But that will change soon enough, Eborion thought. After all, he had secretly made himself one of Tal’aura’s confidants. And he would shortly be her very closest confidant, if all the pieces fell into place for him.
First, Claboros called for reports on the family’s holdings throughout the Empire. These were rendered by the youngest relatives in attendance. Solops described the profitability of their agricultural ventures, which he had lately extended to a fifteenth colony world. Tinicitis spoke proudly of their investment activities, which had allowed them to participate in the successful businesses of less wealthy families.
When it was Eborion’s turn, he brought everyone up to date on developments in their weapons manufacturing plants. As usual, their technology was ahead of their competitors’, allowing them to maintain their position as the foremost supplier of disruptor systems to the Empire’s warbird fleets.
“Naturally,” said Rijanus. “We have the best engineers working for us.” It was a reference to a precept put forth by Inarthos, Eborion’s paternal grandfather: Gather the brightest and most innovative individuals in their field, and make yourself wealthier on the strength of their gifts.
Inarthos’s insights into the armaments business were used as touchstones around the marble table. After all, it was Inarthos who had supplied the Empire with directed-energy weapons during the war with Earth some two hundred years ago, trebling his family’s already considerable fortune.
“Yes,” Eborion said in response to his uncle’s remark, “we do have the best engineers.”
What he didn’t say was how thoroughly the weapons business bored him, and how glad he would be to