Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [98]
With an abrupt predatory movement, Rusa’h tore off the newly fused pair, crushing the squirming growth in his palm. He lifted his clenched fist above his head, turning his face up into the orange sky as he squeezed. Silvery-blue juices and sap trickled into the Designate’s open mouth, some of it splattering messily on his lips, cheeks, and chin. His eyes were bright and unfocused.
Finished, he turned and looked at Thor’h without wiping the bloodsap from his mouth. “Fresh shiing is the best, and strongest. Much more…intense than the processed form. It brings me even closer to the Lightsource.”
Thor’h had tried only appropriately processed shiing. When taken in large doses, shiing dulled an Ildiran’s connection with the thism network. Some found the temporary sensation relaxing; Thor’h considered it liberating. Lights were brighter, thoughts clearer. Under its influence, he felt buoyant, existing in a mental state of zero gravity.
This mixed bloodsap, though, was pure and oozing with stimulant. Even so, he was not tempted.
Now the deep, rustling silence of the fields bothered Thor’h. He felt the need to make conversation to dispel his uneasiness about what Rusa’h had just done. “Even though I am the Prime Designate, I wish I could stay here with you, Uncle. Pery’h would be better off back at the PrismPalace, but he is your Designate-in-waiting.”
Rusa’h looked at him strangely and wiped the sticky droplets from his chin. He cast the ruined plantmoth to the ground and licked his fingers. “You must do what is best for the Ildiran people. That is your destiny.”
Thor’h knew what he was supposed to say, even though it made him uncomfortable. “Yes, I will obey the Mage-Imperator, my father. I will serve…and make the Empire strong.”
But his uncle surprised him. “Obeying the Mage-Imperator may not be the best thing for you to do, Thor’h. Sometimes the Lightsource is not clear to everyone, and any Ildiran can be blinded or deluded. Even your father.”
Thor’h did not know how to respond. “But he is the Mage-Imperator.”
“He is…Jora’h.”
Thor’h frowned, deeply uneasy now. “Maybe we should go back to the citadel palace, Uncle? Where it’s brighter?”
“You may return if you like. I prefer to remain out here alone.”
“Alone?” Thor’h couldn’t grasp the concept that any Ildiran would wish such a thing upon himself.
“Alone.”
“The shadows aren’t too oppressive for you here? In a few hours the primary sun will rise again, and we can come back when the day is brighter—”
Rusa’h turned to look at him, not at all unsettled by the shadows. “If I carry the light inside me, I need never fear the darkness.”
Thor’h shuddered. “I suppose that if you have been to the realm of the Lightsource, then you know many things that I’ll never understand.”
“Oh, you will understand, Thor’h.” The drying film of shiing on Rusa’h‘s face glistened in the light. “I will make you understand.”
Chapter 50—BASIL WENCESLAS
It was an informal inspection tour of the Soldier compy production lines, and also a place with sufficient background noise that Basil could talk to the commander of the Earth Defense Forces without being overheard.
“What exactly are you looking for, Mr. Chairman?” General Lanyan stood beside him as they watched the identical military robots emerge from the fabrication stations.
Basil gave him a wry smile. “Sometimes I just like to observe, General. People place altogether too much importance on formal inspections. Today I don’t need King Peter, or Admiral Stromo, or Mr. Pellidor, or any one of a hundred protocol or Hansa assistants. I wanted to see the compies—and speak to you.”
Lanyan stiffened, as if presenting himself for a medal. “You received the reports from this morning? All three additional Klikiss Torches were