The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [233]
He and Orli traveled to the university district where Margaret shared an apartment with her son, Anton. When the older woman opened the door, DD’s optical sensors flashed. “Margaret Colicos, I am pleased to be reunited with you.”
The woman threw her arms around his polymer shoulders. “Oh, DD, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” She gave the girl a hug as well. “And Orli! I’m so happy you’re safe.”
Anton invited them into his small apartment, then hurried to make tea. Out of habit, or perhaps by accident, the scholar brought out a cup for DD as well as the others.
“I have heard very much about you, Anton Colicos,” DD said. “Your mother told me tales of how you grew up with her and Louis Colicos on their archaeological digs, and how you gave her the small music box that saved her life among the Klikiss.”
“I’m still amazed by that.” Anton flushed. “It wasn’t much of anything.”
“It was exactly what it needed to be,” Margaret said. “DD, we’ve been through so much, and truth be told, I’d just as soon we were done with our adventures. It’s time to relax and recuperate.”
Orli nervously cleared her throat. She hadn’t touched her tea. “That’s why I brought DD back to you, ma’am. He’s your property. You should take him back.”
DD suddenly realized that this was what had been bothering the girl. He hadn’t even considered the consequences, hadn’t understood why Orli was so worried.
The offer surprised Margaret. “I won’t hear of it. DD is yours now, Orli. You two belong together.”
Orli started to cry, though she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, pretending that no one had noticed them.
“I am pleased with that decision, Margaret Colicos,” DD said. “But are you certain you won’t need my assistance? Will you not be doing other work?”
The old woman and Anton exchanged smiles. Margaret said, “Oh, we definitely have interesting work ahead of us, but we can handle it ourselves. Orli, you watch out for DD now. I don’t want to worry about him. My son and I have places to go.”
* * *
162
Mage-Imperator Jora’h
In spite of the devastation of Ildira, the Mage-Imperator found great cause for hope and gladness, especially with his Empire strongly connected once more. The faeros were defeated, and the treacherous Hansa Chairman dead by his own deputy’s hand. The numerous soulfires stolen by the blazing elementals had safely found their way to the Lightsource. Even the one burned-out sun in Ildira’s sky now shone again.
The landscape of the universe had been forever changed, as had Jora’h and Ildira itself. Nevertheless, he was home, leading the remnants of his people, reconnecting the splinter colonies that had been adrift since the faeros invasion.
In spite of the rough conditions of the temporary camp outside the remains of Mijistra, Nira had mentally healed and strengthened, finally achieving a new peace. “Look at this as an opportunity, Jora’h. You have a chance to be the greatest Mage-Imperator the Empire has ever known. The slate is wiped clean.”
Ildiran civilization had long rested upon old accomplishments. The people revered the past to such an extent that they changed very little. Now that the foundation of Mijistra had been swept away, however, the people had no choice but to make a fresh start.
Getting to know the human race better had changed Jora’h’s opinion about steadfast Ildiran ways. It would do his race good to be creative and inventive. Architects and builders, diggers and rememberers, medical kithmen and administrators — he could pull them all together in a project vastly more complex than anything ever chronicled in the Saga — re-creating the entire capital city in its glory. Maybe even make it better.
And they would do it.
From their camp on the outskirts of the ruined city, he and Nira watched the work continue. Yazra’h and Prime Designate Daro’h had shown amazing verve and independence. Rather than requiring detailed orders, they took initiative and lifted some of the