The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [39]
While grim and silent sentries continued to watch for fireballs, Daro’h met with Adar Zan’nh, Yazra’h, and Tal O’nh. Chief Scribe Ko’sh, the head of the rememberer kith, sat near them, ready to quote from history and record new events. The knuckles on Yazra’h’s right hand were torn and bloody from when, unable to quell her frustration, she had lashed out at the unyielding rock.
Zan’nh delivered a report from his most recent surveys. His hair was pulled back from his face, his uniform rumpled. He had wasted little time following meticulous military dress codes since the crisis had begun.
“The Prism Palace glows like a bonfire at all hours, and many other buildings have burned down. From what I can tell, Mijistra is empty.” The effort of making such a statement was plain on the Adar’s face. “The faeros have cemented their control over the skies. Ten more of my patrol cutters failed to return. Whenever a ship attempts to make a run from Ildira, the fireballs pursue and destroy it.” He looked around, narrowed his eyes. “They will not let us leave the planet.”
Daro’h thought of all the splinter colonies in danger, the lost settlements across the Spiral Arm. All had been distraught that the Mage-Imperator was missing during their most tumultuous crisis, and now it was much worse. Jora’h had vanished entirely from the thism web, and the silence in the racial mind reverberated like an unending scream.
Now it was his responsibility, as Prime Designate, but he had no way to lead them, especially not hiding deep in a tunnel.
“We are in limbo,” Ko’sh interrupted. The lobes on the rememberer’s face shifted through a chameleon rainbow of colors, helping to convey the alarm in his voice. “No one can sense the Mage-Imperator!”
“That is news to no one,” Yazra’h answered in a growl. “But we are not in a position to do anything about it.”
“You know what must be done, Prime Designate,” the Chief Scribe said, focused only on Daro’h. “We need a leader. There is a precedent. You must undergo the ascension ceremony and become our new Mage-Imperator.”
Louder than the outcry from the others, Yazra’h shouted, “The precedent set by mad Designate Rusa’h? You are a fool to suggest it unless we know our father is dead!”
Tal O’nh said in a quiet voice, “The rememberer’s logic is valid. You give the people what guidance you can, Prime Designate, but you cannot fulfill the same role unless you have all the thism under your control. And that requires the ceremony.”
Daro’h had been present after the death of Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h when Jora’h underwent the castration ritual, the painful yet obligatory passage that transformed him from Prime Designate into Mage-Imperator. As a young man, Daro’h remembered the sudden rush of warmth and confidence as all the thism strands were taken in the new Mage-Imperator’s mind and heart. His father had instantly brought strength and direction to the lost and frightened Ildiran race, filling them with confidence, hope, and security.
Yes, his people desperately needed that security now. If Jora’h was truly gone, then the Prime Designate was required to become Mage-Imperator.
But if his father still lived, Daro’h could not simply ascend to become a new Mage-Imperator. That would cause terrible confusion, possibly even tear the remnants of the Empire apart. Rusa’h had already proved that.
Daro’h closed his eyes. To make an appropriate decision, he needed more information. If the Mage-Imperator was dead, then his path was clear. But his father’s death should have struck him like a hammer blow to his chest and mind. Instead, all Daro’h had to go on was utter mental silence . . . no thism, thoughts, or the faintest glimmer that Jora’h still existed.
He shook his head. “That is an irrevocable act, and it is tantamount to abandoning hope. Since I do not believe the Mage-Imperator is dead, any such action would therefore be premature. I will not do it.”
“There are those who say that if you do not do this, then you are a coward, Prime Designate,” Ko’sh retorted.
“There are those who say many