Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [37]
His corpulent father had never set foot out of the chrysalis chair, yet Jora’h felt that it confined and isolated him and limited his ability to lead his people. Although tradition required him to issue his decrees and guide his people without ever touching the floor, this seemed to Jora’h a ridiculous restriction for a ruler.
As Prime Designate, he had always known this would be his fate. Unfortunately, he hadn’t appreciated his freedom and opportunities, hadn’t noticed his life—until it was too late.
Many parts of the government, the Solar Navy, the Designates and their replacements, were currently undergoing the turmoil of transition. It was up to Jora’h to dispatch his sons to their new assignments, to issue orders and proclamations, to reassure the Ildirans that his vision of the Lightsource was true and his thism was strong.
How was he supposed to go to Dobro, to Nira, to liberate her and her fellow human captives, if he was trapped by so many immediate crises and obligations? Within days, he hoped it would be possible to rush off to Dobro—to Nira. She had waited so many years, undoubtedly believing he had abandoned her…
But first he had to be the Mage-Imperator.
His son Thor’h bullied his way past the door guards, despite Jora’h‘s orders for his children to wait outside. “Father, your new Designates have gathered and are ready for you.”
Jora’h looked at the Prime Designate, fighting a frown. He noted the glassy sheen in the young man’s star-sapphire eyes. In the Mage-Imperator’s senses, Thor’h was a blot in the thism, an indistinguishable blur. “Perhaps if you consumed less shiing, Thor’h, you would find it easier to allow me to make decisions and issue commands.”
His son did not even have the good grace to appear stung by the rebuke. “Shiing allows me to focus and gives me more energy to do my important duties. At the moment, the Empire requires nothing less than my peak performance.” Shiing, a popular drug from Hyrillka, had been hard to obtain since the hydrogues devastated that world. But Thor’h still had his supplies and, the Mage-Imperator feared, his addiction.
Annoyed by his son’s lack of discipline and understanding, Jora’h clenched his hand beneath the folds of soft cloth in the chrysalis chair. The Prime Designate was still young and poorly trained; his years on Hyrillka had made him too soft, though at the time Jora’h had thought he was doing his son a kindness. Now, he wondered if he should have been harder on his firstborn, prepared him better to become the Prime Designate. He hoped Thor’h would grow up properly and learn his skills and his place. After all, the former Mage-Imperator had not prepared Jora’h until the last few months of his failing life.
“Go bring in my other sons now,” Jora’h said abruptly. “I don’t wish to wait any longer.”
Anxious to proceed with the meeting, the Prime Designate spun, left the room, and soon hurried back into the contemplation chamber accompanied by his two closest brothers, Daro’h and Pery’h. Pery’h would now take over the role of Designate on Hyrillka, even though Thor’h had spent more time there.
No one gets exactly what he wants…not even a son of the Mage-Imperator.
Behind the three young men, unbidden, came Yazra’h, the Mage-Imperator’s oldest daughter. She was lean and muscular, her movements conveying a confident, decisive nature. Coppery hair waved around her head like a mane, long and extravagant in comparison to that of the young men, since all Ildiran males had hacked off their hair in mourning at the former Mage-Imperator’s death.
Thor’h sniffed at his sister in distaste. “You are not needed here, Yazra’h.” The Mage-Imperator’s bloodline was heavily skewed toward male offspring. Indeed, of Jora’h‘s myriad children of all kiths, only a handful were daughters. Including one by Nira…
Even though he had not asked Yazra’h to this meeting, Jora’h decided that the Prime Designate’s pompous attitude needed to be dealt with. “The Mage-Imperator makes those decisions, Thor’h,” he said, a warning tone in