Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [253]
Jora’h spent his first day back in the chrysalis chair, both because it comforted the people and also because his exhausted body required rest after the enormous mental effort on Hyrillka. He withdrew to his private contemplation chamber, gently touched the treeling Estarra had given him, and stared out the multicolored panes that let in filtered light.
Only six suns remained in the sky.
After completing the initial recovery operations on Hyrillka, a contrite-looking Designate Udru’h had arrived bearing yet another secret. The Prism Palace’s outer halls had been empty as Udru’h made his way from one of the ship landing platforms down through private byways until he reached the Mage-Imperator’s contemplation chamber. No one had seen him come.
The Dobro Designate smiled guardedly as he appeared before his brother. “I had many private meetings with our father here. He showed me how to reach his contemplation chamber unobserved.”
Jora’h frowned at his typically cool and mysterious brother. Even during the Hyrillka rebellion, he had never been completely convinced of Udru’h’s loyalties. “What business do you have with your Mage-Imperator that requires such stealth now?”
The Dobro Designate gestured, and from behind the secret entrance, two of his own guards urged the captive forward. Jora’h lurched with surprise. “Thor’h!”
Bound hand and foot, the former Prime Designate was rendered silent by a rough gag tied around his mouth. Thor’h’s eyes showed neither anger nor defiance; in fact, he displayed little expression at all. His vision was glassy, his expression slack. “What have you done to him, Udru’h?”
The Designate smiled. “Since he enjoyed shiing so much, we gave him enough to keep him docile. He is drugged out of his senses now and will remain completely passive, cooperative, and detached.”
“I still cannot feel him anywhere in the thism,” Jora’h said. “As if my son is dead to me. My oldest noble-born...my Prime Designate.”
“Former Prime Designate. It would have been best if he had actually died in the battles on Hyrillka,” Udru’h observed. He stepped closer to the chrysalis chair, his expression devoid of compassion. “Do not be fooled, Liege. Thor’h knew exactly what he was doing every step of the way. Designate Rusa’h’s delusions can be excused as tragic insanity brought on by a severe head injury. Thor’h purposefully betrayed you. He cannot redeem himself. His very existence will always be a blot on your reign.”
The sinister implication hung in the air, but Jora’h shook his head. “I will not consider murdering my own son, no matter what he has done.”
The Dobro Designate pursed his lips, then actually smiled. “It is what I expected of you, my brother. You were always too soft.”
Jora’h attempted to read Udru’h’s thoughts, but the Designate seemed to be guarding a great many secrets inside his head, camouflaging his own thism with intentional shadows. He had never noticed such a thing before. “You and I will never see eye to eye about the future of the Ildiran Empire, Udru’h.”
“Probably not, but you are the Mage-Imperator.” He shrugged. “Allow me to suggest a different possibility then. I will take Thor’h back to Dobro and hide him. It will be simple enough to change our stories about what actually happened at Hyrillka. He was already stripped of his title; now, the Prime Designate will be exiled. We can keep him drugged, if necessary. As far as the rest of the Empire knows, he will be dead.”
The Mage-Imperator’s nostrils flared. At the doorway, the two guards maintained their silence, never loosening their grip on the former Prime Designate.
“No,” Jora’h said. “When his shiing wears off, the thism still binds us. Others in the Empire will know. Keeping the secret may cause more damage than the reality.”
“Not if the secret is well kept, Liege. Believe me, it can be done. I have done it before,