Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [239]
From his thick vest, Bron'n removed a jagged knife made of smoky gray glass. "Old woman, you are long past breeding age, and therefore of no use to us."
Before Nira could even scream, the brutish guard struck down with the dagger, plunging it deep into Otema's heart. He yanked the glass blade back, and her captors let the old woman fall to the floor. Each of the guards raised his spear. Each stabbed the already-dead ambassador. Then they stepped away from her bleeding body.
Bron'n gave a signal. Five scuttling servant kithmen hurried forward to clean up the mess, as the Mage-Imperator had commanded.
Sobbing with revulsion and horror, Nira sagged. Her knees buckled, and black specks swam in front of her eyes. She couldn't believe what she had seen, prayed that it was some bizarre nightmare, but the guards grasped her and held her up. She felt the hard grip of their calloused hands, smelled their musky, violent scent.
Wrestling her arms behind her, exerting pain but careful not to break her wrists, they bound Nira tightly, strapped a gag across her mouth, and hustled her down dim and winding corridors deep within the Prism Palace.
They tossed her into a stiflingly hot chamber with thick curved walls of bloodred stained glass. The shadows here were darker, the blazers turned low, the air almost too thick to breathe. Bron'n stood blocking the doorway behind her. Nira fell to her knees, unable to move her arms because of the bindings.
Another man came forward. He grasped her chin and tilted her smooth head up toward him. The Dobro Designate glared at her with dull eyes, as if he saw nothing living or intelligent there, only a specimen for a collection. Nostrils flaring, he sniffed her, then released her chin and stepped back with a cruel but approving smile to Bron'n.
"Perfect material," he said. "She is healthy and strong. I can smell the possibilities in her genes. Take her to my ship and be certain that all evidence is gone well before the Prime Designate returns from Theroc."
Bron'n acknowledged the instructions. Nira couldn't even find the strength to struggle. The Dobro Designate looked down at her, eyes glittering.
"The potential you give us," he said, "is the only hope the Ildiran Empire has of surviving the hydrogue war."
110 CESCA PERONI
After all the terrible news the Roamers had heard in recent months, Jhy Okiah's announcement still managed to astound the clans.
The old Speaker waited for silence to fall in the speaking chamber at Rendezvous. She stood at the pedestal on her oratory platform in the middle of the vault. Lights shone down upon her, commanding the focus of the gathering.
She exercised her veto power, putting an end to arguments and discussion, and waited for the clans to hear what she had to say. "The future will require extraordinary strength and vision—more than I have left within me." Her firm voice cut through the cries of dismay and shouts of dissent. "I have led you through many productive years, but now the rules have shifted. My predictable ways are no longer appropriate. We Roamers must change in order to deal with the hydrogues.
"And therefore, for the good of Roamer society, and for the human race itself," she said, "I have no choice but to resign my position as Speaker for all Roamer clans."
She stopped and waited a second. Then the uproar began.
During the worsening crisis, the Speaker had seemed to be the only bastion of stability for the Roamers. Jhy Okiah had represented the clans impartially for years and directed their discussions with an even hand. She was considered a fair and reasonable leader, even by those who disagreed with her decisions.
The aliens had followed through on their threat against all trespassers after delivering their ultimatum and assassinating King Frederick on Earth. Intimidated, most Roamers had withdrawn their skymines from the gas planets, but a few had lingered too long. Within a week, fifteen more ekti-harvesting