The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [66]
Safe again . . . though still a prisoner. The isolation he had just endured, and Osira’h’s revelation of what was happening on Ildira, made him yearn more than ever to be where his people needed him most. Jora’h gripped the rail in the command nucleus and drew a deep breath to steady himself.
The warliner went directly to Earth, and Diente gestured for Jora’h to follow him. “Come with me to the shuttle deck. I have an immediate appointment to see Chairman Wenceslas at Hansa HQ. He is extremely interested to hear more about the Klikiss translation system we found aboard this warliner.”
“What does he intend to use it for?”
Diente seemed to think the answer was obvious. “Diplomacy.”
Jora’h shuddered to think what that might entail. “I hope he is more successful than his current attempts at ‘diplomacy’ with the Ildiran Empire.”
Diente did not comment, merely nodded respectfully. “The Chairman has instructed me to send you to the Whisper Palace straightaway.” With a wan smile, he added, “Your green priest is there.”
Knowing that Nira would be waiting for him, Jora’h felt much stronger, even rejuvenated by the time the shuttle landed in the Palace District. When he stepped out into the sunshine of the landing zone, surrounded by uniformed EDF soldiers, he managed to stand straight and proud. Diente had already gone to see Chairman Wenceslas in the Hansa headquarters pyramid.
Nira stood behind a line of royal guards next to Captain McCammon. One glance at her was all Jora’h needed. He strode away from the shuttle, ignoring the EDF soldiers who were supposedly escorting him. The look on his face made the royal guards falter, and McCammon told them to let the Mage-Imperator pass. He released Nira, and she ran to meet him.
“Jora’h, are you all right?”
“Chairman Wenceslas will not defeat me,” he said in as strong a voice as he could manage. He folded her in his arms.
McCammon gave a slight salute, a clear gesture of respect. He wore his dress uniform, complete with a ceremonial gold-hilted dagger at his hip. Taking the two of them aside, he lowered his voice in private conversation. “The Chairman instructed me to tell you that if you declare King Peter a renegade and swear to support the Hansa, we can begin the process of returning you to Ildira.”
“That is all I need to do? Truly? One simple statement, and I am free to leave Earth immediately and save my people?” Jora’h scowled in disbelief. “Do you trust him, Captain McCammon?”
The man remained silent for a long and disturbing moment. “That is not for me to say. I only convey his message.”
Nira was also skeptical. “What’s to stop Jora’h from recanting his statement after you let him go? Nothing. So the Hansa wouldn’t really release us, would they? There’d be excuses, postponements, administrative setbacks. We would never be allowed to leave.”
McCammon stared straight ahead at the landed shuttle, past the stiff-backed guards, as if not speaking to her directly. “In such complex bureaucratic matters, many unforeseen delays and difficulties might occur before your actual release. It could take years.”
Jora’h had suspected as much. Continued resistance was his only leverage.
He held Nira more tightly and looked at the guard captain. “Then I am afraid I must decline the Chairman’s offer. The terms are not acceptable to me.”
* * *
47
Sarein
Sarein was shocked to see the changes being made to her quarters. Now what was Basil up to? Claiming to be under the Chairman’s orders, a work crew methodically removed the bright cocoon-weave hangings, a tangle-web macramé, and four small potted flowers, colorful favorites from her native worldforest.
She was incensed that he would do this without consulting her. Was he merely demonstrating that he could exert control, even here? It seemed indicative of his desire for domination. Basil did things his own way, and liked all the pieces to fall neatly in place.