"All right, Patrick-you've had your way." She stared out at the majestic rings and the giant planet. "Now show us this hydrogue derelict. It better be worth so much trouble, that's all I can say."

"Oh, it is, Grandmother."

The big cruiser moved away from the main shipyards, circling around the rings and climbing out of the plane to the isolated spot where Kotto Okiah had left the alien vessel. The sphere hung like a tiny star sparkling in the reflected light from the gas giant.

Maureen dispatched a Remora squadron with crews outfitted in commando suits to take possession of the empty derelict. Noting the triumphant expression on his grandmother's face, Fitzpatrick said, "See? We'll still receive plenty of applause when we get home to Earth."

Del Kellum transmitted the coordinates of the location to which the EDF prisoners had been taken. After bringing the diamond-hulled derelict into his cargo bay, the Manta captain changed course and raced back to retrieve the lost EDF personnel. Families crowded forward, hoping to meet their loved ones again; by now, a full list of survivors had been disseminated, to the joy or anguish of the passengers.

Although Fitzpatrick was satisfied with what he had accomplished, his heart was still heavy. Because he had played on Zhett's emotions in order to effect his escape, the beautiful young woman would be more angry, hurt, and suspicious than anyone else. Would he ever see her again?

Watching the rings, he saw that most of the Roamer ships had already fanned out and lost themselves among thousands of other target signatures drifting in the rubble field. Del Kellum wouldn't believe that he and his Roamers were free to escape until every last EDF ship was gone.

In high spirits, Maureen ordered the Manta cruiser to depart from Osquivel, taking Patrick Fitzpatrick back home.

Chapter 128-KING PETER.

With every move he made, the political ground grew more slippery beneath his feet. Peter relied heavily on the assistance of the Teacher compy OX, and he always had Estarra, his beautiful and devoted Queen.

Peter did not yet trust Deputy Cain, although surprising rumors had suddenly spread among the populace, reported and repeated in gossip streams. It would be too much of a coincidence to believe the news had gotten out any other way. Cain had done as he had said.

Cards and supportive messages flooded into the Whisper Palace from the delighted populace. They were ecstatic. The Queen was pregnant! Soon there would be a royal heir, a baby who would surely be as handsome or beautiful as the regal parents.

Courtiers and guards smiled at the couple, giving knowing nods. Others were so bold as to ask if the news was true, but Peter was smart enough to evade the question, simply promising that an appropriate announcement would be forthcoming as soon as he had discussed the matter sufficiently with the Hansa Chairman.

Basil could do nothing about it now.

What made Peter most uneasy, though, was that the Chairman made no comment. He had expected Basil to rage at him for putting the Hansa in such an awkward situation. The King had practiced his bewildered look, rehearsed his protestations of innocence, ready for the confrontation. After all, he he wasn't responsible for any of the rumors. It should have been easy to blame the Palace medical doctors for the rumor, or the technicians who had taken samples or performed pregnancy tests. wasn't responsible for any of the rumors. It should have been easy to blame the Palace medical doctors for the rumor, or the technicians who had taken samples or performed pregnancy tests.

But Basil didn't give him the opportunity-never asked, never demanded answers. That was a very bad sign.

Other rumors around the Whisper Palace were far more frightening. Something had happened to all of the Klikiss robots, and new doubt had been cast on the Soldier compies. As Cain had hinted, another Hansa colony had been wiped out, but no one seemed to have any details-and that wasn't the sort of news usually kept secret, which meant even Basil must be afraid of the implications. Perhaps that was what kept him so preoccupied...

"I'd like to go swimming again." Estarra touched his arm, and he smiled.

"I'd like to swim with you."

"And the dolphins," she said.

"And the dolphins, of course."

As the baby grew within her, Estarra craved peaceful moments in the water more than ever. Surrounded by a whirlwind of politics, treachery, and obligations, the couple relished their retreats to this one warm sanctuary. For Peter, it was part of a healing process that allowed him to gather his thoughts and recharge his energy.

He led his Queen out of the royal apartments and down the corridors. They didn't need to tell anyone where they were going. "Basil will know where to find us if he needs us."

"Doesn't he always?" They glanced at each other with knowing, nervous smiles.

For a long time now the Chairman had been growing more and more volatile, letting desperation and anger rule his decisions. He had earned the enmity of struggling colonies by abandoning or even bullying them, and had started the current nonsensical brawl with the Roamers. His actions weren't the cool and considered ways of a skilled Chairman. They seemed like the actions of a drowning man grasping at any straw.

Basil wasn't just crumbling as a leader; he was dangerous. After seeing the drugged-senseless Prince Daniel and hearing Basil command command Estarra to terminate her pregnancy, what choice had Peter had but to seek a means of fighting back? So why had the Chairman not reacted to the leaked rumors about the Queen's pregnancy? Estarra to terminate her pregnancy, what choice had Peter had but to seek a means of fighting back? So why had the Chairman not reacted to the leaked rumors about the Queen's pregnancy?

Together they entered the grotto where the dolphins played. The walls were made of coral and lava rock polished smooth, draped with ferns and lush vegetation. The water stood in deep pools connected by passages through which the dolphins could swim and frolic.

As soon as he stepped into the chamber, the smell struck Peter. Estarra screamed.

The stench of blood and violence hung thick in the humid air. Peter stared, and his feet seemed frozen to the ground. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak. Estarra pressed herself against his chest, sobbing.

In the calm, warm waters of their sanctuary, every dolphin had been butchered. The mangled gray and red carcasses floated in the crimson water like so much discarded meat.

Peter's knees felt weak, and he clung to Estarra while she shuddered. Perhaps the Chairman had learned of his surreptitious conversation with Deputy Cain, or perhaps this was merely his blunt response to the pregnancy itself or the release of rumors about the baby.

He held Estarra, rocking her as much to comfort himself as her. Burgeoning anger turned his vision as red as the blood-murked water. His quiet, private clash with the Chairman had passed utterly beyond the bounds of schemes and skirmishes. The King and Queen could no longer remain safe by exercising restraint where the Chairman was concerned.

As his head pounded with the force of his fury, Peter realized that many more options were available to him than he had previously considered. And he would not hold himself back-even if it meant killing Basil Wenceslas.

Chapter 129-MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA'H.

While the recaptured warliners remained at Hyrillka to mop up the results of the rebellion, Adar Zan'nh took the rest of the cohort to Dzelluria, Alturas, and Shonor to break the mad Designate's other strongholds.

With Rusa'h gone, the misled populace was easily shaken loose and restored to the thism thism that bound the Empire together. The rebels had been unwillingly subsumed by warped mental powers, and the Mage-Imperator chose not to impose dire punishments on them. The deluded kithmen would remember what they had done, and their guilt would be enough. that bound the Empire together. The rebels had been unwillingly subsumed by warped mental powers, and the Mage-Imperator chose not to impose dire punishments on them. The deluded kithmen would remember what they had done, and their guilt would be enough.

Jora'h could not stay in the Horizon Cluster. One terrible crisis had been dealt with, but another remained unresolved. He returned swiftly to the Prism Palace, hoping to receive word about Osira'h's mission to the hydrogues.

When he reached Mijistra after his struggles on Dobro and Hyrillka, he learned only that the girl's crystal bubble had descended deep into the clouds. Yazra'h had been forced to withdraw her warliners to avoid a confrontation with a group of EDF battleships, and Osira'h had never made another response. Days had passed now, and the hydrogues had not returned her.

Jora'h tried not to despair though he feared something had gone terribly wrong with her mission. It had been too long, much too long. He could sense Osira'h was still alive...or at least he hoped so. Her presence was so strange in the thism, thism, he couldn't be sure. he couldn't be sure.

At the Palace, Jora'h received one bit of good news: The human skyminers on Qronha 3 had risked their own lives to rescue Ildiran miner kithmen, and the survivors had all been brought back to Ildira.

That hopeful note was a bright counterpoint to news of the tragedy suffered by the skeleton crew on Maratha Prime. For weeks, Jora'h had sensed dark events occurring there, but the splinter group was too small and the thism thism connection with his distant brother Avi'h too weak to provide a detailed picture. Only the human historian and Rememberer Vao'sh had survived, and the revered Ildiran storyteller was comatose. After hearing the story from Anton Colicos, the Mage-Imperator had no choice but to consider the Empire at war with the Klikiss robots. Yazra'h was already spoiling to take a full battle group to Maratha and wipe out the whole infestation there... connection with his distant brother Avi'h too weak to provide a detailed picture. Only the human historian and Rememberer Vao'sh had survived, and the revered Ildiran storyteller was comatose. After hearing the story from Anton Colicos, the Mage-Imperator had no choice but to consider the Empire at war with the Klikiss robots. Yazra'h was already spoiling to take a full battle group to Maratha and wipe out the whole infestation there...

Jora'h spent his first day back in the chrysalis chair, both because it comforted the people and also because his exhausted body required rest after the enormous mental effort on Hyrillka. He withdrew to his private contemplation chamber, gently touched the treeling Estarra had given him, and stared out the multicolored panes that let in filtered light.

Only six suns remained in the sky.

After completing the initial recovery operations on Hyrillka, a contrite-looking Designate Udru'h had arrived bearing yet another secret. The Prism Palace's outer halls had been empty as Udru'h made his way from one of the ship landing platforms down through private byways until he reached the Mage-Imperator's contemplation chamber. No one had seen him come.

The Dobro Designate smiled guardedly as he appeared before his brother. "I had many private meetings with our father here. He showed me how to reach his contemplation chamber unobserved."

Jora'h frowned at his typically cool and mysterious brother. Even during the Hyrillka rebellion, he had never been completely convinced of Udru'h's loyalties. "What business do you have with your Mage-Imperator that requires such stealth now?"

The Dobro Designate gestured, and from behind the secret entrance, two of his own guards urged the captive forward. Jora'h lurched with surprise. "Thor'h!"

Bound hand and foot, the former Prime Designate was rendered silent by a rough gag tied around his mouth. Thor'h's eyes showed neither anger nor defiance; in fact, he displayed little expression at all. His vision was glassy, his expression slack. "What have you done to him, Udru'h?"

The Designate smiled. "Since he enjoyed shiing so much, we gave him enough to keep him docile. He is drugged out of his senses now and will remain completely passive, cooperative, and detached."

"I still cannot feel him anywhere in the thism, thism," Jora'h said. "As if my son is dead to me. My oldest noble-born...my Prime Designate."

"Former Prime Designate. It would have been best if he had actually died in the battles on Hyrillka," Udru'h observed. He stepped closer to the chrysalis chair, his expression devoid of compassion. "Do not be fooled, Liege. Thor'h knew exactly what he was doing every step of the way. Designate Rusa'h's delusions can be excused as tragic insanity brought on by a severe head injury. Thor'h purposefully betrayed you. He cannot redeem himself. His very existence will always be a blot on your reign." Prime Designate. It would have been best if he had actually died in the battles on Hyrillka," Udru'h observed. He stepped closer to the chrysalis chair, his expression devoid of compassion. "Do not be fooled, Liege. Thor'h knew exactly what he was doing every step of the way. Designate Rusa'h's delusions can be excused as tragic insanity brought on by a severe head injury. Thor'h purposefully betrayed you. He cannot redeem himself. His very existence will always be a blot on your reign."

The sinister implication hung in the air, but Jora'h shook his head. "I will not consider murdering my own son, no matter what he has done."

The Dobro Designate pursed his lips, then actually smiled. "It is what I expected of you, my brother. You were always too soft."

Jora'h attempted to read Udru'h's thoughts, but the Designate seemed to be guarding a great many secrets inside his head, camouflaging his own thism thism with intentional shadows. He had never noticed such a thing before. "You and I will never see eye to eye about the future of the Ildiran Empire, Udru'h." with intentional shadows. He had never noticed such a thing before. "You and I will never see eye to eye about the future of the Ildiran Empire, Udru'h."

"Probably not, but you are the Mage-Imperator." He shrugged. "Allow me to suggest a different possibility then. I will take Thor'h back to Dobro and hide him. It will be simple enough to change our stories about what actually happened at Hyrillka. He was already stripped of his title; now, the Prime Designate will be exiled. We can keep him drugged, if necessary. As far as the rest of the Empire knows, he will be dead."

The Mage-Imperator's nostrils flared. At the doorway, the two guards maintained their silence, never loosening their grip on the former Prime Designate.

"No," Jora'h said. "When his shiing wears off, the thism thism still binds us. Others in the Empire will know. Keeping the secret may cause more damage than the reality." still binds us. Others in the Empire will know. Keeping the secret may cause more damage than the reality."

"Not if the secret is well kept, Liege. Believe me, it can be done. I have done it before, hidden someone so well that no one-not even you-could guess the truth."

"You are withholding something from me."

"Yes, Liege. Yes, I am."

Jora'h stared at him, and Udru'h stared back as if challenging the Mage-Imperator's will. They waited in silence for a long moment. Finally Udru'h backed down. He seemed satisfied with what he had seen in his Mage-Imperator's eyes. "Your green priest lover, Nira Khali, is still alive. I have kept her isolated on Dobro. She is alone on an island where all her needs are taken care of. I daresay she is more content there than when she served in our breeding camps."

Jora'h gasped, lurching forward. "Nira is alive?" Explosions of joy rippled through him, followed by a wave of outrage. He didn't know whether to shout with excitement or order Udru'h's immediate execution. "And you kept it from me!"

The Designate remained calm. "I no longer see any purpose in holding her as a pawn. I was unsure of your ability to lead, Jora'h, and I feared for the Empire. But now I am convinced, even if I do not understand your strange attraction for her." He bowed his head slightly. "I will bring her back to you."

As Jora'h fixed the Dobro Designate with an implacable gaze, he found that his joy at the prospect of seeing Nira again, of rescuing her from her years of terrible distress and begging her forgiveness, proved to be stronger than his immediate need for vengeance. Keeping his voice flat he said, "Even when Nira is safely returned to me, there is much for which you must atone. After all the pain and strife our Empire has suffered, this news seems as bright to me as the star we lost in the Ildiran sky." He hesitated. "But I am surprised you would reveal such a thing, without asking for anything in return. I always saw you as uncooperative, harsh, and needlessly bitter."

The Dobro Designate was not easily shamed. "Perhaps you think so, Liege, but I have served the Mage-Imperator and the Ildiran Empire with my every breath. I followed the orders of our father, just as I have obeyed your instructions, whether or not I agreed with them. I stand by every action I have taken." Finally, Udru'h lowered his eyes and backed away to a respectful distance. "I was never your enemy."

Chapter 130-ANTON COLICOS.

When Anton's escape ship was brought to Mijistra, the Ildirans were astonished to hear of the massacre on Maratha. According to the lithe warrior woman Yazra'h, the Mage-Imperator had long held suspicions about the Klikiss robots. Now his worst fears had been confirmed.

Even under the sunlight and surrounded by people in the Prism Palace, Rememberer Vao'sh remained withdrawn, unresponsive, barely alive. The revered storyteller still could not find his way back to the safety net of thism, thism, though it was all around him. though it was all around him.

Anton did not give up on his friend.

Treated as a guest, the human historian was fed and given proper care. He recuperated for a day, after which Yazra'h offered to be his assigned escort at Mijistra. But he did not need an escort. "I want to see Vao'sh," he said.

With her exotic face set in a determined expression, the beautiful warrior woman guided Anton through curved corridors saturated with colored light. Her Isix cats prowled along beside them, and Anton uneasily recalled the shadow lions on the dark side of Maratha. But his only real concern was for Vao'sh.

In the Prism Palace's infirmary, the old rememberer lay on a bed bathed in warmth and illumination. Though open, his eyes stared at nothing, blinking only occasionally. The once-expressive lobes on his face were pale. His mind was far gone into madness.

Anton did not ask, so Yazra'h spoke for him and demanded of the medical kithmen who tended Vao'sh, "Has his condition changed?" When the doctors looked anxiously at her Isix cats, she snapped, "Answer my question."

"He is lost and alone, forever wandering at the blind edge of the Lightsource. We can only hope he is happy there."

Anton said, "We fought so hard and endured so much. We battled monsters and robots, and we escaped. We flew our ship without guidance for days." He heaved a long sigh. "I can't believe he would simply surrender now."

Yazra'h glanced at him with respect. With her long hair flowing back from her face like a mane, she looked like a character from legends of fearsome female warriors: Amazon queens, Boudicca, Olga, even Wonder Woman. He thought the Mage-Imperator's daughter would have been pleased by the comparison.

Anton sat for hours at the rememberer's bedside, holding one of the datascreens he had brought along when he'd left Earth. "I'm going to read to you, Vao'sh. Even if you can't hear me, I'll keep you company with more stories. Listen. Try to grasp the thread of my voice and follow it back here."

He called up literature files, cleared his throat, and drew a deep breath. "Homer's epics are the closest thing to the Saga of Seven Suns Saga of Seven Suns our storytellers have ever created. I'll begin with the our storytellers have ever created. I'll begin with the Iliad Iliad." He cleared his throat. 'Sing, O Goddess, of the wrath of Achilles, such a deadly wrath that brought countless woes upon the Achaeans and sent the souls of many mighty heroes down to the house of Death.' "

Anton drew another breath and continued. This was, after all, an epic.

Yazra'h returned often to check on him, making certain that servant kithmen delivered adequate food and drink to him. At first she seemed amused by Anton's devotion, and then touched.

He did not despair. His voice grew rough and cracked, but he continued his best telling of the Trojan War, of the heroes Hector and Achilles, the dangerous love of Paris and Helen, of disgraced Ajax and how he had fallen on his own sword.

Throughout the recitation of the epic, Vao'sh stared blankly at the curved ceiling. At times, Anton would set Homer aside and recount other anecdotes from history, even reminiscences of his lost parents and their archaeological work.

It went on day after day.

When he was halfway through the Odyssey, Odyssey, intent on Odysseus's perilous voyage between Scylla and Charybdis, his voice took on a strong, dramatic tone, and the words flowed. At the most exciting point, he glanced down at Vao'sh and paused in mid-stanza. intent on Odysseus's perilous voyage between Scylla and Charybdis, his voice took on a strong, dramatic tone, and the words flowed. At the most exciting point, he glanced down at Vao'sh and paused in mid-stanza.

It seemed to him that the rememberer's skin had flushed with new color. Anton set the datascreen aside. To his astonishment, Vao'sh blinked his normally fixed eyes. Anton leaned forward, eager to see any other movement.

Vao'sh blinked again and turned his face. The rememberer's mouth curved in a smile. "Do not stop there, my friend. Tell me how the story ends."