Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [130]
“All of those mistakes weakened mankind,” Basil said. He stood beside a stone bench but showed no sign that he intended to sit down. “Now it’s time to fix those mistakes. We can cement the pieces together again.”
Sarein stopped to touch the flowers of a lemon tree as she thought of an interesting comparison. “You see yourself as a human version of the Mage-Imperator, trying to draw together all the separate strands of a political thism.”
His expression was almost boyish. “Hmmm, I like that. I do have the wisest plan for us all to cooperate efficiently. King Peter can be our spokesman, even the Archfather of Unison can be useful—though I’ll make the important decisions…after receiving appropriate advice from my experts, including yourself, Sarein.”
“So long as I’m on Theroc. Instead of here.”
Did he want to distance himself from her? Maybe, seeing the situation crumbling around him, he was doing mental damage control. Perhaps he had realized he was depending on Sarein too much, maybe even loved her—which would frighten him. No wonder he was sending her away. It was just like him.
“All right, Basil. I’ll go back to Theroc. I’ll try to become the next Mother.” His smile showed relief and satisfaction, but no visible warmth. I’m doing it for you, she thought.
Chapter 65 — MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H
Inside the Dobro Designate’s residence, Mage-Imperator Jora’h met his daughter for the first time. Though supposedly destined to be the savior of the Ildiran Empire, she was just a little girl.
Osira’h had poise beyond her years. Her eyes were large and innocent, with a glint of star-sapphire that came from Jora’h‘s genetics; her narrow chin and gentle expression were achingly clear reminders of her mother.
Seeing his daughter was like an electric jolt that brought back a flood of memories of the many times Jora’h had made love to the beautiful Nira—more times than he had ever mated with the same female, before or since. Even as the years went by and he believed the green priest long dead, Jora’h‘s longing for her had grown deeper.
Standing before Osira’h, though, made much of that grief and regret wash away. Jora’h was startled to sense her incredible strength and intelligence through the thism, though the girl had a different connection and mental pattern, thanks to her mother. Even as Mage-Imperator, he could not link with her clearly, but she seemed stronger, sharper than his usual sense. He was unable to grasp all that she could do.
“Osira’h,” he said in a long sibilant breath, “you are…beautiful.”
The girl bowed, avoiding his gaze. “I am honored to serve you, Mage-Imperator.” Her initial formality was like a crystal knife in his chest, until she finally looked up. He saw a startling hunger there, a recognition, as if she shared many memories with him, though this was the first time they had met. Her thoughts and personality were no more than an echo, like smoke in the thism.
“We’re very pleased at how Osira’h has turned out,” Udru’h said, interrupting his thoughts. “The best instructors and lens kithmen have guided her development, and she has performed admirably. Her skills are…advanced beyond anything we have measured before. With the continuing war, we know our time is desperately short. Osira’h is nearly ready to serve as the psychic bridge between Ildirans and hydrogues, which we so desperately need.”
Jora’h gently put a finger under the little girl’s chin and raised it so that he could read her face. “Is that true?”
“I am ready.” She blinked her sparkling eyes. “If that is what you need.” Osira’h was still young, but Jora’h grieved for all the time he had lost with her. He was her father, and he should have watched her grow and learn, as he had done with all his children, all his Designates-in-waiting. Osira’h was special, though—and not just in ways the Dobro breeding program considered important.
He turned