Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [19]
"I told you he was a Master Rememberer," the Prime Designate said.
Reynald gave a wry smile. "How ironic that Ildiran rememberers are the best ones to tell our story."
11 ADAR KORI'NH
Though he commanded all the ships in the Ildiran Solar Navy, Adar Kori'nh still felt his chest grow cold with awe whenever he stepped into the presence of Mage-Imperator Cyroc'h. The deified ruler saw everything, knew everything, touching each Ildiran through his tendrils of telepathic thism.
And still he wanted to see Adar Kori'nh.
The ceremonial septa of warliners had returned from Oncier after having observed the astonishing Klikiss Torch. He had already transmitted images and reports, but now the Mage-Imperator wanted the words directly from his lips. Kori'nh could not refuse the command.
Bron'n, the Mage-Imperator's hulking personal bodyguard, moved behind the Adar. Since he was a member of the warrior kith, Bron'n's features were more bestial than those of other Ildirans. His hands sported claws, his mouth showed long, sharp teeth, and his large eyes could detect any movement, any threat to his revered leader. Adar Kori'nh, of course, posed no threat, but the chief bodyguard was incapable of lowering his state of alert.
The Mage-Imperator's private antechamber was hidden behind opaque walls at the rear of the skysphere, the nucleus for the PrismPalace's many spires, domes, and spheres. Kori'nh stepped into the lambent illumination of blazers where the enormous Mage-Imperator waited for him, reclined in his chrysalis chair. Bron'n sealed the doors. Despite his impressive rank, the Adar had rarely spoken alone to the Mage-Imperator without an audience of advisers, attenders, bodyguards, and nobles.
Mage-Imperator Cyroc'h was like a male queen bee, a single being who could direct and experience his whole civilization from within the PrismPalace. He was the focal point and recipient of the thism, which made him the heart and soul of all Ildirans. But often, as now, the leader needed more precise details and eyewitness analyses.
Kori'nh clasped his hands in front of his heart in prayer and supplication. "Your summons honors me, Liege."
"And your service honors all Ildirans, Adar." The Mage-Imperator had already shooed away the constant diminutive attenders who pampered him, oiled his skin, massaged his feet. His eyes were hard and impenetrable, his voice edged like a razor. "Now we must talk."
Nestled in his bedlike chair, covered in draping robes, the leader was large and soft. His fleshy skin hung in pale folds, his hands and legs weakened from lack of use. After his ritual castration many decades earlier, Mage-Imperator Cyroc'h looked vastly different from his handsome eldest son, Prime Designate Jora'h. By tradition, his feet never touched the floor.
Before renouncing the calls of the flesh, Cyroc'h had sired many children. As the paternal figure of the Ildiran race, he maintained an extraordinarily long braid, the cultural symbol of virility. The braid hung down from his head, across his shoulder and chest, draped like a thick hemp rope that twitched and flickered with faint nerve impulses of its own.
A Mage-Imperator could live for two centuries after he became the nexus of the thism and the repository of Ildiran knowledge. Cyroc'h had not deigned to walk for decades, allowing the rest of the Ildiran race to be his eyes and hands and legs. He had too much self-importance to be bothered by such things.
Resting in his enormous cradle-chair, he directed his attention toward the Adar. Kori'nh adjusted his uniform again, glad that he had taken the time to apply all the medals and ribbons, though very little could impress the great leader.
"Tell me what you witnessed at Oncier. I am already aware that the Terrans have ignited the planet, but I require your objective assessment. How much of a threat does this Klikiss Torch pose to the Ildiran Empire? Do you believe the Hanseatic League means to use it as a weapon against us?"
A thrill went through Kori'nh.