"Work within the a.s.sembly. Be a moderating influence. I will support you."

"How?" Roca hit her palm on her knee. "I am thoroughly sick of Kurj blocking my simulacrum from appearing in the a.s.sembly. I am a Councilor, a member of the Inner Circle. Every time he cuts off my transmission, he interferes with government business. It is appalling." She had kept her staff working on the problem nonstop, and they had barely dented Kurj's security blocks. But she intended to succeed, regardless of what it took.

Dehya spoke carefully. "That is a serious accusation."

"I know it's him."

"I had wondered why you didn't attend this last session. I a.s.sumed you were busy with the baby."

"I am. But that wasn't the reason." She tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch. "I'm thinking of going to Parthonia for the next session."

"If it truly is Kurj behind these problems, he could have his people there prevent you from attending in person."

"They can try," Roca said darkly.

Dehya's mouth curved upward. "The solution is simple."

"It is?"

"I told him I would design security to keep out Traders." Her eyes glinted. "I never promised to keep out his mother."

Roca gave her a dubious look. "I know you're good at what you do. b.u.t.thatgood?"

Her sister leaned forward. "Just watch me."

Kurj worked late into the night, reading reports from his top officers. All plans for the invasion were on track.

A comm hummed on his desk. He rubbed his eyes, then flicked his light-stylus through a holo. "Primary Skolia."

One of his aides answered. "Sir, this is Secondary Teller. Your grandparents have received a message from the Eubian emperor."

Kurj lifted his head.Thatwas unexpected. "What is it?"

"The message is secured, sir."

G.o.ds. His officers were as bad as his EI. "I'm cleared to see it." He wasn't, but he doubted Teller would argue with him. "What does it say? You have my permission to read it."

"I'm bringing it up-" Astonishment crept into Teller's voice. "Sir, it looks like an offer to negotiate for the Platinum Sectors."

Kurj gritted his teeth. He knew his grandfather; given a false offer of truce, Jarac would weaken instead of keeping the resolve they needed for the invasion. "Say nothing more about this. Forward a copy of the message to my home. I will go over it tonight."

"Right away. Also, sir."

"Yes?"

"We have the results of the medical tests on your father."

Kurj's hand clenched the edge of his desk so hard, the muscles in his hand spasmed. He had to make a conscious effort to control his voice. "Secondary Teller, I want one thing understood and understood well. Eldrinson Valdoria is not my father. You will never again refer to him in that manner."

"Yes, sir." His aide sounded subdued. "My apologies."

"Is the report on Valdoria complete?"

"The medical exam, yes." Teller paused. "But the psychologists are questioning the validity of their tests.

They have doubts about the interpretation."

"Interpretation, h.e.l.l. Just send me the results."

"Yes, sir."

"Anything on his DNA? Is he a psion?"

"Yes, it seems so."

The light-stylus in Kurj's hand snapped. He stared at the gash in his hand where it had cut him. "A Ruby psion?"

"They can't say for certain yet. But it looks like it."

Kurj felt as if the walls were closing on him despite the large size of his office. He wanted to explode, but he pressed down his emotions. He wouldn't lose control, wouldn't let the anger burst free. "Very well.

Send those results, too, the preliminaries you have now and the final report, when it is ready."

"I'll get right on it."

"That will be all for tonight. Out."

"Out, sir."

For a long moment, Kurj sat unmoving, his fists clenched so hard that his fingernails gouged his palms.

Finally he made himself relax, first his shoulders, then his arms. Slowly he opened his fists. He picked up the broken stylus and turned it over in his hand. Then he moved it through holos on his desk, bringing up images until he found the one he wanted, a holo of his father. Tokaba stood grinning, his rakish stance showing a young man full of vibrancy, his blond-streaked hair tousled from the wind.

"We only had six years." Kurj swallowed. "Far too short a time, yes? But in that time, you taught me more about fatherhood than I've learned in all the years since then."

The memories hurt too much. Kurj closed all of his files. A large part of his anger at Eldrinson Valdoria came because he knew the man would hurt his mother. Kurj could never accept him. He represented everything Kurj loathed: turmoil, wildness, barbarism. Kurj wanted-needed-the universe to follow rules of logic and reason. Any other path was chaos, the brutality of the Traders, Darr Hammerjackson multiplied a billion times, on an interstellar scale.

Eldri walked through the nursery. It had formerly been an alcove off his bedroom where he stored clothes and armor. He and Roca had cleared it out together, sharing their dreams of the child who would live here. Instead of rough stone walls, now it had blue gla.s.swood paneling gifted to them by people who had scavenged it from their own rooms during the siege. A beautifully carved cradle stood in one corner, full of plump baby quilts.

He gazed into the empty cradle and a tear ran down his face.

Sunlight filtered through the polarized wall of gla.s.s behind Kurj's desk. Sprawled in his chair, intent on the holos above his desk, he lost track of time.

A rustle interrupted his concentration. Looking up, he saw Roca in the doorway. His inner eyelids retracted, taking away the gold sheen they laid over his sight. It had been three weeks since he had found her on Skyfall, but he still felt that deep surge of relief each time he saw her.

"My greetings," he said.

She nodded stiffly. "Teller said you wanted to see me."

"Yes. Please, sit down." He motioned at the most comfortable chair in the office.

She crossed the room warily and settled into the chair. He could tell she was trying to keep her expression impa.s.sive, but it had already dissolved into concern. She probably didn't even realize it. He wished she didn't look so lovely sitting there, golden and vulnerable.

"You look exhausted," she said. "You need to sleep."

He sat back in his chair. "I'm fine."

She fidgeted with the sleeves on her white jumpsuit. "What did you want to see me about?"

"This." He handed a holofile to a metallic drone waiting by his desk. It trundled over to Roca and gave it to her.

"What is it?" Roca asked.

"The results of your husband's medical tests."

She tensed, scanning the file. "His DNA?"

Kurj wished she didn't look so hopeful. It made him feel betrayed. "We haven't finished that a.n.a.lysis yet. The one you're holding has his medical and psychological results."

Roca sat reading the report. "So it's true. He has epilepsy."

"His condition is severe." Kurj leaned his elbow on the arm of his smart-chair. "The doctors can control his seizures, but they doubt they can stop them altogether."

She looked up. "You will let them treat him?"

"I gave you my word I wouldn't hurt him." Grudgingly he added, "And denying him treatment would hurt him." He hated to admit it, but it was true.

"Thank you." The grat.i.tude that surged from her mind made him feel small.

Kurj clenched the desk, then realized he was doing it and made himself relax his hand. "Look at the rest."

She continued to read the holofile. As she flicked through the reports, her forehead furrowed. "This can't be right."

"I'm sorry." Kurj wasn't, not about this, but it seemed the right thing to say.

" 'Severely mentally r.e.t.a.r.ded'? That's absurd!"

"They did a full battery of tests." Kurj shrugged. "He couldn't answer even the simplest questions."

She regarded him, her gaze smoldering. "Then something is wrong with the tests."

"Nothing is wrong with the tests."

"This is crazy." She thrust the holofile at the drone. "I lived with him for eight months. I would have noticed if he were as slow as these reports claim."

Kurj spoke carefully. "The doctors do have questions about the results. He may not be as impaired as these tests indicate. But, Mother, no one doubts one thing: he isn't competent to make complex legal decisions involving a culture as advanced as ours."

She turned wary. "I disagree. But regardless, no one expects him to."

Although she was guarding her mind, he knew she had doubts, and he knew why. He had investigated.

The Allied resort planners had pretended Eldrinson was competent to give permissions that amounted to handing the cultural sovereignty of his people to a multistellar corporation. Had the man truly understood, surely he would have fought it more.

Kurj leaned forward, crossing his arms on his desk. No matter how he handled this, his mother would be angry. He accepted that. He had to take care now. If he acted without sensitivity, it could turn her against him forever. He didn't fool himself that someday she would thank him. He knew her too well. She loved without condition, with a loyalty that had no limitations. It was why he cared for her so deeply; only Roca would love him despite his abiding, irredeemable flaws.

He spoke quietly. "Mother, are you aware of Eldrinson's age?"

She tensed. "What about it?"

"He is rather young for you."

Although she shrugged, her lack of concern was too studied. "Ruby queens have always married younger men. You know that."

"When Skolia was a matriarchy, yes. It isn't now." That stretched the point; aspects of their culture retained its ancient structure, including the conservatism of certain n.o.ble Houses, which was why Dayj Majda never appeared in public without his robes and cowl. "We have laws regarding the age at which people can consent to a lifetime marriage contract."

Puzzlement came from her mind, though it was hard to read more from her, given how well she fortified her barriers. "It never bothered you that I'm older than Dayj."

He touched a panel on his desk, and the drone trundled over to give him the holofile. Kurj motioned at his mother with the file. "We aren't sure of your husband's exact age; his people don't measure time in years, and they have enough differences in their physiology that the medics want to do another check."

He regarded her steadily. "But no one doubts he is too young to marry."

Roca frowned. "That's absurd. He's well into adulthood."

"That may be." Kurj set down the file. "But you aren't from his culture. And Imperialate law is clear, Mother. He cannot give his consent to marry you, an offworlder, unless he is older than twenty-five standard years."

She didn't look impressed. "It would be easy to prove he's an emanc.i.p.ated minor under our laws. He's a leader, one well loved and respected by his people."

Kurj tapped the holofile. "According to these, he's not competent to act as an emanc.i.p.ated minor."

Roca clenched the arms of her chair. "You can't make this stick. Anyone who talks to him will know he's competent."

Kurj couldn't believe she was trying to replace Tokaba's memory this way. She had done it with Darr, and that monumental disaster had scarred them for life. Now she had chosen someone even worse. He wanted to shout, but he made himself speak gently. It felt strange, as if he were trying to contort himself.

"The medics talked with him for a long time."

Her face flushed. "Yourmedics."

"I'm sorry." And he was sorry, not that the marriage wasn't valid, but that he was hurting her.

Roca stood up, her motions controlled, her barriers raised, but nothing could hide the blaze of her anger.

"Why should you care if Eldri and I have a valid contract? I gave you my word I wouldn't go back to him."

"Then why make him a Ruby consort? To what point?"