Chapter Twenty-Three

Carann, Royal Palace

Mardoban made it through the remainder of the opening ceremony and politely excused himself once it was over, but he couldn't keep the Katanes girl's face out of his head. Having shaken the hands of his fellow dukes and the High Prelate and wished the competitors success in the tournament, he entered a little used side-passage and stopped, staring down at his hands and trying to process what he'd just seen.

Arta ast Katanes didn't resemble her sister, but Mardoban vaguely recalled hearing that she was a fosterling, not an ast Katanes by blood. Karani ast Katanes was tall – one of the tallest teenage girls the regent could remember meeting – and rangy, taking much after her father in appearance, though the smirk that played around her lips and the casual confidence in her eyes more recalled her mother, whom Mardoban had met before she'd died. Arta, on the other hand – she looked almost exactly like Aestera had when she'd been that age, more than thirty years ago.

Mardoban didn't know if any of the other dukes had noticed it, but then, most of them had only known Aestera as a queen and rarely saw her without her crown and royal robes, her jewelry and her makeup. Mardoban, though, had known her when she'd been barely older than that girl was today, and they'd been young knights together, had fought the Csarag side-by-side before he became a duke and she a monarch. And the girl had looked so much like the face he remembered… maybe it was a coincidence, or even the result of extensive reconstructive surgery, but Mardoban doubted it. No, the only idea that made sense was… was…

"Damn you, Shiran," the regent muttered. "Is this your play after all?"

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him. "Father?" Pakorus said; Mardoban turned to face him. "Are you all right?" There was a look of genuine concern on the boy's face.

Mardoban waved a hand wearily. "I'm fine, son," he said.

Pakorus didn't look convinced. "Really?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Maybe I have," the regent muttered. "Maybe I have."

/

The great ballroom of Carann's royal palace was a scene of grandeur such as Arta had seldom imagined.

Growing up as the foster-daughter of a noble house, she'd thought herself familiar with elegance and glamor, but in comparison to Carann, even the baronial palace on Katanes felt like little more than the home of country nobility, impressive only in comparison to its surroundings. Even Hiram's party on Tantos III seemed much diminished in comparison, as if this had been what he was trying to imitate and had fallen short.

The chamber was high and sweeping, lined with silvery arches and stained-glass windows depicting scenes from the Kingdom's history. And yet, despite its size, the room was filled with people, nobility and guildsmen mostly, with a few clergy dotted among the crowds, the men in suits and the women in gowns; serving mechs glided among them with trays of food or drink balanced easily on their limbs.

Though not as viscerally unpleasant as Hiram's party had been, Arta still found it overwhelming as she nibbled on a small sandwich she'd taken from a passing mech and rubbed her temple with her free hand. It was all too easy to fade into the background here – even a duke like Hiram himself, who she saw not far away chatting animatedly with several guildsmen, would be lost in the shuffle. Karani, for her part, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely; she'd found her way to the dance floor in the middle of the room and was in the process of twirling with a young man from some duchy Arta couldn't place, but who she'd remembered seeing at the opening ceremony yesterday.

For her part, Arta was content to fade into the background, to simply take in the sights and listen to the music which so many couples were currently dancing to, performed by a live choir and orchestra at one end of the ballroom. The new year was a complex holiday, celebrating many things, and its music reflected that fact. On one level, it was, as its name suggested, a celebration of the turning of the year according to the Carann calendar, which was the standard used across the Kingdom, but it also commemorated the founding of the Dozen Stars by Artax the Founder centuries ago. And it had been a significant day even then, a religious holiday commemorating the Lord's revelation to His Prophet in that long-ago time before Terra was Lost. The current song was a hymn to that theme, one Arta recognized and had loved since childhood; she found herself humming along to the familiar music as others danced.

A sudden feeling pricked the back of her neck, and she turned to see a tall, handsome man a few years her senior standing by a window; Darius ast Sakran himself. He, too, was alone, neither of his siblings in sight, and he was regarding Arta in a careful, weighing manner. At first she felt a cold chill run up her back – Lord, he wasn't going to ask her to dance, was he? – and then she realized that he'd picked a vantage point from which he could see the whole hall, and had no doubt been sizing up each competitor in turn. Darius was supposed to be the best duelist in Sakran duchy, and Arta had no doubt he intended to win here as well.

She met his eyes for a brief moment, then nodded her head slightly, a gesture of respect from one competitor to another. A smile twitched the edge of Darius's lips at that, and he raised his glass in a salute before turning his attention elsewhere in the crowd.

Arta had just turned back towards the main ballroom when she felt someone grab her arm. "Oh, no," Karani said, "you are not standing here like a lump all night, Arta. What's the point of going to a party like this if you don't dance at least a little? Come on?"

Arta considered protesting but thought better of it – her odds of talking Karani out of this weren't good, and it would be easier to just let her have her way and then wriggle out of it when her attention flitted to something else. She allowed her sister to drag her to the dance floor and shove her at the same young man she herself had been dancing with earlier; for once in her life, Arta thanked her years-old dancing lessons as she took his hand and let him lead her on in time with the music. It was another old new year's hymn this time, not Arta's favorite but one she knew well enough, and the dance moves were simple enough that she didn't have a hard time keeping up with them. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

The song ended, and the young man bowed and excused himself to get drinks. Before he returned, the music started again, and Arta heard someone walk up beside her. "Pardon me, my dear," a lightly accented voice said, "but might I have this dance?"

Arta turned to find herself facing a tall older man in a white uniform of unfamiliar cut. "Of… of course, my lord," she stammered out, taking his hand. "And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The man smiled as the dancing began anew. "My name is Publius Vedrans Quarinis, ambassador to the Dozen Stars on behalf of his most august majesty Verus Licinius, Emperor of All Humankind."

Arta felt herself go cold. The Imperial Ambassador was dancing with her? This was a man as powerful as any duke in the Dozen Stars – perhaps more so. And almost certainly far more dangerous. She wanted to excuse herself, and cursed Karani for putting her in this situation in the first place but fought the impulse. "I'm sorry," she said as calmly as possible, "but I wasn't aware that His Majesty the Emperor ruled all of humankind. I thought we had a war here a few hundred years ago where we disagreed with the Empire on that point. Rather strongly."

If Quarinis was offended, he gave no sign – he merely smiled. "Well, the title is somewhat outdated, I must admit," he said, "but you know how slow these things are to change. Nonetheless, I am the Emperor's ambassador, and you, if I'm not mistaken, are Arta ast Katanes. A pleasure."

"You know my name?" Arta asked.

"I was in the audience for yesterday's ceremony and I do pride myself on my memory," Quarinis said. "And I've made a point to familiarize myself with the dukes and barons of this Kingdom, and their families. I've served in this post a very long time, Miss Arta. Much longer than you've been alive. There are many things that I know." Things that others do not was the unspoken statement that hung in the air, and Arta was suddenly and strangely reminded of Midaia.

"But that doesn't answer what interest the Emperor's ambassador has in me," Arta finally said.

"Oh, you in the Dozen Stars always think we of the Empire are scheming monsters," Quarinis said lightly. "But the truth, as it so often is, is rather more complicated than that. No one here is entirely what they seem – I'm not, the regent isn't, and most of the council aren't." He lowered his voice. "And I don't think you are either."

Arta went cold. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"There's a certain ability I don't possess myself," Quarinis said, "but that I have had occasion to become familiar with, and I think you do have it. If I strain hard enough, I can feel the energies tingling around you. This ability is valued by my lord the Emperor. There is a place for you with us, if you wish it."

"And why exactly would I wish it?" Arta asked coldly. "If you haven't noticed, I'm Dozen Stars nobility – I may only be a fosterling, but that doesn't mean I don't have some pride. Why would I want to work for the Emperor, ever?"

Quarinis leaned in close. "This Kingdom is dying," he whispered. "You were at Tantos the night of the riots, weren't you? Yes, I see it in your eyes. The rot is here, too. Not as obvious, perhaps – the regent is a better ruler than poor, hapless Duke Hiram – but here. This entire tournament is symptomatic of it. Give a crown to the family of the best duelist in the Dozen Stars? Preposterous. It exists solely to stroke the egos of the nobility, not to actually serve the interests of the people. Oh, don't give me that look. I know what you're thinking – the typical self-righteous Dozen Stars contempt for the Empire's so-called brutality. There is some truth to that, I'll admit, but I can assure you that a group of jumped up businessmen like your guilds gunning down unarmed civilians would never happen under our rule. We're not what we were, yes, but we are still strong, while your Kingdom is riven by factionalism and corruption. It will eat itself, Arta. It can't be stopped. But you can be saved. Come work for the Emperor, use your gifts for us, and we can protect you and your family. You want a knighthood, yes? We can give you something greater. The Emperor can always use a talented Adept; your kind are too rare to turn down. All we ask is that you recognize a lost cause."

"And if I refuse?" Arta asked, her mouth dry.

Quarinis shrugged. "Nothing terrible," he said. "I won't force you. All I ask is that you follow a reasonable course and consider my offer. But you know in your heart that I'm right, don't you?"

Arta pulled her hand out of the Ambassador’s with rather more force than she'd intended. "I can't deny that I agree with some of the things you've said," she hissed, "but I can follow my own path without your reasonable course. Thank you for the dance."

Spinning on her heel, narrowly avoiding tripping on the hem of her dress, Arta fled the dance floor.

/

Mardoban bowed and politely excused himself from a conversation with the Duchess Laodamia ast Nadar, a formidable and opinionated woman who'd already seemed old when he'd first inherited his own position; she rarely bothered attending council meetings these days, sending any of her numerous family members in her place, owing to her general disgust with the current state of the Kingdom. Several of those children and grandchildren were hovering protectively around her now, not that the old woman seemed to need it as she looked around disapprovingly at the rest of the room with eyes that were still bright and focused.

The regent had been doing his rounds, making conversation with the various council members; Laodamia was the last, and he could feel the weariness growing in him. Excusing himself, he made his way to one of the balconies that lined the ballroom and stepped outside, leaning on the railing and looking down at the lights of the city spread out beneath him. After several minutes, someone joined him.

"It's been a while, old friend," a familiar voice said, and Mardoban turned to see the Professor beside him. "I trust you're well?"

"As well as can be imagined, under the circumstances," Mardoban said. "I'd ask you the same, but I think I already know the answer. You'll probably outlive us all."

"Even I'm not immortal," Shiran whispered.

"Well, you've been busy lately, anyway," said the regent. "I trust that my assumption that you were the one who planted that crown was correct? It'd be embarrassing if it turned out we were all wrong about that."

Shiran chuckled. "That was my doing," he said. "I thought that the council needed some incentive to actually carry out their duty rather than continue allowing this Kingdom to factionalize on their watch. I must admit, a tournament wasn't quite what I had in mind. And there were… other factors. But I've been busy lately with other things, too, so I haven't had much time to come back here and check in on you. I recently took a job as a tutor in Tantos Duchy."

"A tutor," Mardoban mused. "Tantos Duchy, you said? The planet Katanes, perhaps? And would the person you're tutoring happen to be one Arta ast Katanes?"

"And her sister Karani, yes," Shiran said casually, but he didn't elaborate further. Mardoban sighed; if he wanted to confirm his suspicions, it looked like he was going to have to ask.

"And tell me this," he said quietly, "is the ast Katanes girl what I think she is?"

Shiran was silent for a long moment before he answered. "Yes," he finally said.

"How?" Mardoban asked.

"About a year and a half before she died," the Professor said, "Queen Aestera had a brief affair with a certain Baron Ionas from Kern Ducy. Hmmm. I see from your expression that you remember it. Ionas died not long after Aestera did. Killed by pirates, wasn't he?"

Mardoban recalled the incident. "Yes," he whispered.

"In any case, a few months later, Aestera left the running of the Kingdom the council and dropped out of sight for several months. I trust you remember that much?" Shiran smiled.

"Of course," Mardoban said. "That was after she'd sent Midaia to be educated at the convent, and the Sisters were already complaining about her nosing into things she shouldn't; I remember Aestera got into a fight with the Mother Superior over her daughter's character. The Church thought she wasn't showing proper respect, so Aestera decided to go on a retreat and pilgrimage to mend that bridge, and she didn't want to be disturbed. She was gone for most of a year, and…" realization suddenly struck. "Lord," he breathed.

Shiran nodded. "Yes," he said. "Aestera was pregnant at the time. She'd already been the subject of several assassination attempts at that point, some of them public, some of them only a few of us knew about. She feared for her life, correctly as it turned out… and her child's life. When the girl was born, she named her Artakane and before she returned to Carann she gave her to me and told me to find somewhere she'd be safe. If she got to the bottom of the assassination attempts and thought the girl would be free of danger, she intended to take her back and claim her openly…"

"But she died less than a month after her return, and so Arta… Artakane… has been hidden on Katanes all this time," Mardoban breathed. "Damn it, Shiran, why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I was sworn to secrecy," the Professor said. "And I felt that the fewer people knew about Arta, the safer she would be. Baron Varas is a good man, loyal to the Dozen Stars but not a significant player in Kingdom politics. And he had a daughter of his own, about the same age. I asked him and his wife, and they accepted. Spreading the knowledge too far outside of the Baron's household seemed… imprudent."

Mardoban felt anger and bitterness over having been left out of Aestera's and Shiran's plan rise in him but he fought it down; part of him understood their logic, even if he didn't like it. "And the crown?" he asked. "It's for her, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Shiran said. "The crown is for the worthy heir. Maybe that is Arta, but only she can prove that."

/

Arta leaned against the ballroom's far wall, breathing heavily after the disturbing encounter on the dance floor. She didn't notice someone was approaching until she heard a voice beside her. "Party not to your liking?" it said, and she turned to find herself facing a young man about her own age in a fine royal blue suit; she recognized him from the ceremony and found herself blushing.

"Pakorus ast Orlanes, right?" she asked.

He bowed. "That's me," he said. "And you're the younger ast Katanes daughter, I think. Arta?"

"Artakane," she said, the full name slipping out; she wondered why it was easier to say it to a stranger than to her family. "But everyone calls me Arta, yes."

Pakorus nodded and looked back towards the dance floor. "Thought I saw you talking to old Quarinis before you bolted. Don't worry, it's not you – he can have that effect on people. Probably trying to recruit you to spy for him or something like that, wasn't he?"

"Something like that," Arta admitted.

Pakorus looked at her strangely for a moment. "You look like you could use some air," he said, "and I have to admit, the novelty of all this is wearing off for me too. Would you mind letting me show you a part of the palace that's a little quieter?"

Arta raised an eyebrow. "Are you propositioning me?" she asked.

Pakorus flushed and held up his hands. "No, Lord no," he said. "I mean, not that you're not pretty, because I think you are, but I only just met you, and… and I'm only digging myself in deeper, aren't I?"

Arta laughed. "I get what you're trying to say, or at least what I think you're trying to say. And a quiet place sounds really appealing right about now."

"Then follow me." Pakorus lead the way out of the ballroom and down the palace's twisting corridors; despite the size and complexity of the building, he seemed to know exactly where he was going with little difficulty. Finally, they came to a large door that he opened by waving a hand over a small scanner, and they stepped out into what seemed to be a warm, lush forest.

"Lord," Arta breathed as she stepped out into the garden; looking up she could see the night sky through the glass dome overhead between the leaves of trees. "It's beautiful."

"I was born on Orlanes," Pakorus said, "which is mostly ocean, and what land there is can be pretty lush. The last few years I've mostly been living here with my father, but so much of Carann is urban, this is one of the only places that really reminds me of home. And like I said, it's quiet here – I like to come here to read when I'm not running errands for Father."

"Katanes isn't this lush, but we don't have many cities," Arta said, running her hand along a tree. "A lot of the planet is fertile plains, good farmland, but it's mostly mountainous where I live. I love the mountains, though. I like to ride my izdakan and look down on them, seeing them all spread out underneath me, like a map, only alive…"

"Izdakan?" Pakorus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess you'd never have seen one, would you?" Arta asked. "Dragons, some people call them. Big flying creatures with scales. Mine's called Ezi; she's still back on Katanes. It's not like I'm liable to have time to fly while I'm here."

"I assume your parents came with you?" Pakorus asked.

"Father – my foster-father, technically, did," Arta said. "My foster-mother died a long time ago, when I was a little girl. I don't really remember her. Lord only knows who my birth parents were."

"I'm sorry," Pakorus said. "My mother's still alive, but I don't see much of her these days. She and my father are… separated. They had a fight, years ago, and never really made up. I think Mother thought he was spending too much time being the regent and not enough with his family – and that he was more loyal to a dead queen than he was to her. I overheard her saying once that she could compete with a living woman, but not a ghost. I didn't understand for years what she meant." He shook his head. "I don't think I agree with her, though. Father's an important man, and he's always busy, but he's also always been there for me when I've needed him."

They fell into a silence for several long minutes, and then finally, Arta laughed. "Listen to us," she said, "we've only just met and we're already airing all our family problems for each other. If my sister was here, she'd probably slap us both upside the head and tell us to stop moping. Let's talk about something happier, shall we? The tournament starts tomorrow, after all."

Pakorus gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Don't expect great things from me," he said. "I took dueling lessons at the Academy, but I was never very good at it – I know, I know, I'm a miserable failure as a noble. I guess I'd rather study great warriors than be one. Doubt I'll make it very far. How about you? Are you any good? What about your sister?"

"Oh, I'm not bad," Arta said, feeling a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Karani's better, though." Maybe not anymore, a voice whispered in the back of her head. You beat Karani, remember? Maybe it was a fluke – or maybe it wasn't. "Still, every noble house in the Kingdom probably sent their best duelists for something like this. There are probably loads of people here better than I am."

"My money's on one of the ast Sakrans," Pakorus said. "I was at the Academy with them. Never much cared for them, but they're good, especially the older brother. I saw him at the party tonight, sizing up the competition. I'd wager that if anyone wins this, it'll be Darius."

"If what I've heard is true, you're probably right," Arta said. "Still, who knows what might happen?"

They spent what felt like the better part of an hour talking under the trees, comparing the different competitors and weighing their odds against each other, and sharing stories of their home worlds. Finally, Arta felt herself give a great yawn. "I'd better get going," she said. "It's late, and Karani's probably already torn the ballroom to pieces trying to find me. Thank you for showing me this place, Pakorus. I think I needed it."

"The pleasure was all mine," he said. "Good luck tomorrow, Arta."

"Good luck to you too," she said, and they exchanged bows that were half-playful and half-sincere. Then Arta turned and left the garden behind her. She needed to find Karani and assure her that she was safe, and then get some sleep. She'd need all the rest she could get for tomorrow.