The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [134]
On either side of the young King’s throne stood royal guards, but Sarein did not recognize them as among the particular friends of Captain McCammon. Colonel Andez was also there with twelve members of the cleanup crew; they stood in a line with their backs to the stone wall.
Sarein was especially disturbed to see no other audience, no members of the media, no newsnet imagers. Too many guards, too many guns, and too few witnesses. Her throat went dry.
Deputy Cain and Captain McCammon arrived separately, looking similarly perplexed.
Rory rose from his elaborate seat and gestured for the three of them to step forward along a crimson carpet that flowed like a river to the raised throne. As she stopped before the dais, Sarein glanced out of the corner of her eye at her companions. Cain was as calm and unreadable as always, though right now he seemed to be working very hard to maintain his composure. McCammon was a half step closer to the throne, as if to shield her.
King Rory’s brown eyes seemed to look through them, as if he were still practicing these words in front of a mirror. “We have long known there is a traitor in our midst. Chairman Wenceslas has brought to my attention certain evidence that proves who is really responsible — not only for the recent failed assassination attempt, but also for letting the outlaw Peter and his wife, Estarra, escape from Earth. We also know that Freedom’s Sword did not plan their assassination attempt without cooperation from someone close to the Chairman.”
The pronouncement reverberated like a thunderclap. All of the guards remained silent. Sarein felt her knees tremble. How could he know? What loose ends had they not wrapped up? Before anyone else could speak, she pressed forward, trying to sound perfectly reasonable. “That is excellent news, King Rory. Exactly what sort of evidence do you have? And how can we help?”
McCammon nodded, picking up on her cue. “I’ll send my men to apprehend him. It is my duty to protect you, Your Highness.”
Deputy Cain did not seem at all ruffled. “I thought you announced that all those involved in the assassination plot were found and executed?” He sounded as if he were explaining mathematics to a child. “And after all this time it seems frivolous to worry about the nature of the King and Queen’s self-imposed exile. Considering what just happened to General Lanyan on Pym, shouldn’t the Hansa be more worried about a Klikiss retaliation? Surely we have higher priorities.”
Basil emerged from a side alcove and stood not far from the King’s throne. His mere presence suddenly increased the level of threat that Sarein felt. “Enough games, all of you. We have significant new information. I know one of you three is behind it.”
Before McCammon and Sarein could protest, Cain lifted his chin. “Games, Mr. Chairman? I recognize the tactic, and we all resent it. How many others have you brought here and accused like this, hoping to get a nervous confession? If you do it enough times, you’re bound to find someone sufficiently frightened to cave in.”
Sarein jumped on Cain’s train. With eyes flashing, she directed her words at Basil. “You’re trying to intimidate us, and frankly I don’t appreciate it. We’ve been your trusted advisers for years.”
Basil came around the throne, his face flushed. “You don’t appreciate it? I don’t appreciate someone — someone so close to me — trying to kill me!”
Sarein struggled to hide her anxiety. The three of them had done enough questionable things that the simplest mistake, the slightest missing detail, could have been enough to draw attention to them. She knew her own part in the conspiracy, and she felt color rising in her cheeks.
“Was it you?” He focused his accusatory stare on her like a high-powered jazer beam, as if he knew she was the easiest one to break. “Sarein?”
If she said nothing, he would assume she was guilty. If she vehemently denied her