Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [65]
The Chairman looked up from his document screens, giving Peter a bland but cool gaze. “Breakfast? Are these attempts at sociability meant to influence me in some way? If there is no audience in front of us, then you don’t need to pretend for my benefit.”
Peter bowed, covering his smile. “As you wish, Basil.” Preoccupied, the Chairman made no further comment and sealed the door again.
Of course, Peter wanted to keep Estarra as far from the man as possible. But if they were too obvious about hiding, someone would suspect. Both by lessons and by example, the Chairman had taught Peter many tricks of manipulation.
For a time he’d thought the Chairman actively despised him, but then he realized that Basil didn’t waste time or energy on such strong emotions. As Chairman of the Hansa, Basil Wenceslas expected the King to follow his role and his duties precisely. Nothing more. He grew angry at the young man only when Peter stepped out of bounds and challenged his authority. Otherwise, Basil didn’t bother to think about him at all. The Chairman had no time for friends or enemies. He existed for administration, for making decisions and conducting the business of human civilization.
During their brief visit in the Prism Palace, Peter had been surprised at the Mage-Imperator’s deep interest in Estarra and Theroc. Jora’h had been drawn to the Queen, more interested in talking about her brother Reynald and the green priests who had come to visit him in Mijistra than about diplomatic matters.
Now, as they thought about their visit of state, Estarra looked up at Peter with her large brown eyes. “I wish Reynald could have been there with us.”
Peter sat next to her on the bed and pulled her close. With the surreptitious help of the Teacher compy OX in the Whisper Palace, the two had been developing a secret language: key hand signals, gestures, and code words that they hoped no one else would decipher. Now he silently reassured her, told her he loved her.
“Did the Mage-Imperator look troubled to you?” she pressed. “He seemed very disturbed, pulled in a thousand different directions.”
He glanced at a tiny nick in the ceiling, where he was sure a monitoring imager had been hidden. He ignored it, not caring if he was overheard. “Think of how much goes on behind the scenes in the Hansa—underhanded deals and secret decisions and forced activities. The Ildirans aren’t human, but I’ll bet similar things weigh upon the Mage-Imperator.”
“I hope he solves them,” the Queen said.
“I hope we do, too.”
When they returned to Earth orbit, the Chairman informed Peter and Estarra that he was slipping away in a shuttle before all the fanfare began, so he could meet with other Hansa administrators and discuss the statements Mage-Imperator Jora’h had made. Then Basil turned away. It was an announcement, not a polite goodbye. His shuttle separated from the diplomatic transport and raced down into the Palace District.
Meanwhile, Peter and Estarra had to stage a much more formal arrival. Before departing, Basil handed them a speech and ordered Peter to record it. He had long since stopped allowing the King to do anything live. Peter glanced at the words, quickly memorizing them. The speech was relatively innocuous, a cheerleading rally, nothing that he couldn’t stomach saying—unlike other times.
The King and Queen dutifully took their positions in the diplomatic transport’s recording chamber, surrounded by an artificial background projected to look like the area over which they would cruise.
“The alliance between Ildirans and the Hansa remains strong,” Peter said, striving to make his voice firm and confident. “The Queen and I have visited the Mage-Imperator, who is as committed to defeating the hydrogues as his father was. With the Ildiran Solar Navy fighting beside the Earth Defense Forces, we shall stand against the enemy aliens who have already wrought so much havoc.”
Now Estarra joined in. “The hydrogues nearly destroyed my home. They killed