Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [223]
Cain looked away. “You overestimate my ambitions.” The pale-skinned man removed a polymer tarpaulin that covered a large framed painting. Peter saw a foppish medieval nobleman on a white horse beside a woman in a voluminous blue dress; she held a bouquet of flowers.
“This work is utter rubbish,” the deputy said, “and I’m glad it was taken down from the southeast hall. The sunlight hit it all wrong there, and it simply didn’t go with the other works in the alcoves. Look, even the frame is bad.”
Tilting the painting forward, he reached behind it for a smaller study of a sweet-looking girl in a pink dress with a rangy hunting hound curled at her feet. “This one has much more character. Mid-1700s, I believe.”
Peter looked closer. “Not a name I recognize, but judging by some of the details, he might have been a student, or at least an admirer, of Velazquez. Has the bright charm, but without the bleak despair of Goya.” When Cain looked at him with mixed surprise and interest, Peter explained, “Chairman Wenceslas made me spend years learning to understand the politics and history of the Hansa. OX also took me on tours of the Whisper Palace to show me the architecture, stained glass, fountains, sculptures, and paintings. I am not an expert by any means, Mr. Cain, but I do appreciate skillful workmanship and fine art.”
The hairless skin on the deputy’s forehead wrinkled like putty. “If you appreciate skillful work, then we shall have to accomplish some.”
“We don’t have much time, Mr. Deputy. I should get back to the royal quarters before anyone notices my absence.”
“All right, then, raise your question—not that I can’t guess what it is. I know about the Queen’s pregnancy. And the Chairman’s somewhat extreme response to it. It lacks a logical foundation.”
“So, you’ve noticed that he’s becoming somewhat...unstable,” Peter said.
But the deputy would not commit himself to a comment.
Peter’s eyes flashed as he pressed. “This is not an isolated incident. You’re aware of Basil’s erratic behavior. You’ve seen him become more aggressive, his decisions more rash, his actions more desperate and unsound.”
“He is under a great deal of pressure,” Cain said. “We can all understand that. He believes he is acting in the best interest of the Hansa.”
“We all want to believe we’re acting in the best interest of the Hansa, but that can’t be used to excuse just any action. Year by year, day after day, the Chairman becomes less reasonable and more volatile. He kidnapped me as an unknown street child and murdered my whole family to cover his tracks. I’m certain he did the same with Daniel’s family.”
Cain stared at him, absorbing the information. Peter wondered how much the deputy already knew about what was going on in the shadows of the Hansa. Cain ran his milky hands over the smooth surface of one of the statues. A nervous fidget? Perhaps the deputy was as anxious as the King.
Peter continued, “Almost two years ago I raised legitimate questions about the dangers of producing the new Soldier compies. I asked for an investigation. Rather than listening, the Chairman squashed my objections, threw me out of a meeting, and utterly ignored the threat.”
“I don’t believe he wanted to admit it, because the consequences would have been devastating. He didn’t want to lose a potential weapon in our war against the hydrogues,” Cain said. “But you may have been more right than you knew, if Admiral Stromo’s report from Corribus is correct.”
“Corribus? What’s happened?”
“We are still investigating. I’m not surprised, however, that Chairman Wenceslas has kept you in the dark about it.” He obviously wanted to change the subject. “I believe you were enumerating your grievances?”
Peter’s nostrils flared. “Then Basil tried to assassinate Estarra and me. He planted a bomb on our royal yacht, but OX deactivated it in time. The Chairman intended to frame a Roamer trader and use our assassination to launch his war against the clans.”
“So he’s been planning to go against the Roamers since before they issued