Chapter Fourteen

Tantos III, Ducal Palace

Darius stood behind his father with his hands clasped behind his back, regarding the room’s other inhabitants from narrowed eyes. The three rebel dukes were seated at a hardwood table in one of the palace tower’s conference rooms, and each of them was accompanied by a knight from their own duchy serving as a bodyguard. Naudar had Darius himself; Respen had a rough looking man whose scarred face spoke of extensive service in Aurann’s military forces; Sateira was accompanied by a hard-looking young woman in armor that gleamed only slightly less than her mistress’s. He knew that the others were sizing him up even as he was doing to them; they all expected that this alliance would inevitably end in betrayal. Darius’s only fear was that the others might decide to put aside any quarrel between them and target him first in some situation where he couldn’t count on his siblings for backup. He had no doubt he could take either of them in a one-on-one duel if necessary; not since his early teens had he ever faced the swordsman or woman who was his match, save perhaps for Tariti on a good day.

Sometimes that disappointed him.

Gaspar Madran, Guildmaster of Security on Tantos, paced back and forth in front of the conference table, muttering into his wrist comm. He was an older man, roughly Naudar’s age, beefy and balding – he wasn’t a handsome man in any conventional sense, but he wore his shimmering silver guild suit well and there was an opportunistic gleam in his eye that spoke of his cunning. Darius didn’t trust him – someone who’d been a turncoat once over was liable to turn that coat again, in his opinion – but Sateira vouched for him, saying that Madran’s loyalty was always and without question to money. And there were few who were as rich, or as willing to use that wealth liberally to get what they wanted, than the duchess of Tashir.

Finally, the guildmaster finished his conversation and looked up at the gathered dukes. “Good news,” he said, not bothering to use the proper honorifics. Darius frowned at that, but he knew that the highest-ranking guildsmen commanded power comparable to that of some barons and even dukes; if anyone could get away with disrespect, it was they. “Lion of Carann has emerged from jump and has taken up orbit around Tantos III at a respectable distance from our own forces. My security officers have hailed them and confirmed that the Queen – excuse me, that Artakane is on board.”

“Excellent,” Sateira said. “Tell them to escort the girl in, Gaspar. It will be good to get this over with at last.”

“I trust that all of our requirements for the meeting have been seen to?” Respen asked, leaning forward. Darius frowned as he watched him; the duke seemed almost to be hoping that the requirements hadn’t been met. He’d probably love nothing more than a chance to order Artakane shot out of the sky and Katanes put to the torch.

Naudar raised his hand. “Settle down, Respen,” he said. “Unbridled aggression does not serve us here; we need to play things out to the end, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Respen muttered, though it was clear from the expression on his face he didn’t much like it.

“Lion of Carann is alone, with no other forces from Carann or any other duchies,” Guildmaster Madran said, looking irritated at the interruption. “Artakane is inbound on a small shuttle, accompanied by only a small contingent of guards and, according to our communications, her assistant. Duke Mardoban is present on the Lion but will not be descending to the planet. All has been carried out as you requested.”

“Good,” Naudar said. “Do make certain we have the girl and her escort searched when they land, of course. We don’t want any surprises.”

“I know my business, Duke ast Sakran,” Madran snapped. “Though I must confess I’m curious as to why we don’t just kill her now. True, Lion of Carann is formidable and could probably hold off any attack we made long enough to escape into jump, but Artakane’s shuttle is quite vulnerable. I have but to say the word and my troops will shoot her down.”

“No,” Naudar said. “Don’t be a fool. If we kill the girl when she’s helpless, we are the aggressors and she a martyr. The other dukes will never follow us then and we’ll have a protracted war on our hands.”

“If, on the other hand,” Sateira said, “we can maneuver her away from prying eyes before we kill her, then we’ll be able to spin the story however we wish – make her the aggressor, claim we acted in self-defense. That way we can infuse an element of doubt into her allies and ease the consciences of the other dukes who might have opposed Respen’s claim. Do stick to shooting things, Gaspar – it’s what you’re good at. Leave the politics to us.”

The guildmaster’s face flushed, but he clearly didn’t think it wise to talk back to the woman who had recently given him such a generous donation in return for his support. “Clearly,” he murmured. “I will have my security forces escort Artakane’s shuttle to the palace hangar and will be there to greet her. When she’s been searched, I will send her to you.” He bowed at the waist, the bare minimum of propriety, and then turned and left the room.

“Where did you find that creature?” Respen asked Sateira when he was gone. “Who does he think he is, talking to us like an equal? Doesn’t he know who we are?”

“He thinks that he is a very powerful and wealthy man, even if he has no noble title,” Sateira shot back. “And so long as he feels working with us is profitable for his guild, he is a valuable asset. As Naudar said, do keep your temper in check.”

“Very well,” Respen muttered, looking down at his hands. “I’ve waited for the throne for years; I can wait a few more hours.”

Darius exchanged a glance with his father at that; though Respen did indeed have the best claim to the throne by blood of any duke in the Kingdom, they both knew that if Naudar had his way, he would never have the chance to sit on that throne. And for the moment, Darius had other concerns that the Duke of Aurann’s pedigree and ambitions. “Father,” he said. “May I be excused for a moment? I have some personal matters to attend to.”

Naudar waved his hand; he’d been expecting this. “Of course,” he said, “but do hurry back. I want to have the finest knight in the Kingdom at my back when Artakane arrives, after all.” Darius nodded his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, though he knew it was as much for the others as it was for him, a reminder to Respen and Sateira of who exactly they would have to cross if they decided to betray Naudar.

Darius left the conference room by a side door and walked down a short hallway to the waiting room where he’d left his siblings. Tariti was standing in the middle of the floor, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and looking eager for action; Galen was seated and was staring down at his folded hands with a dark, brooding expression.

When she saw her older brother, Tariti hurried over to him. “Well?” she asked. “What news?”

“Artakane is coming,” Darius said. “Her shuttle is on its way.” He spoke the words without enthusiasm, a strange feeling worming its way through his gut. It was guilt, he decided after a moment; guilt and shame. Arta had been an honorable and skilled opponent at the tournament, and now here he was plotting to lure her to her doom by treachery. It didn’t sit right with him, just as the plans his father had given him for betraying their current allies didn’t sit right with him either. It wasn’t honorable, wasn’t behavior worthy of a knight, and it made Darius feel like a coward.

At his words Galen looked up and a fierce light was in his eyes, but Tariti studied his face and frowned. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Worried we’ll lose?”

“It’s nothing,” Darius said, brushing it away. “Listen, Tariti. Artakane is going to be allowed into the conference room with one assistant, and I’ll be there with Father; Respen and Sateira have handpicked bodyguards as well. They think that we’ll be able to overpower her easily enough; I’m less certain. I saw what she can do up close at the tournament, and I know she’s good with a sword – and she’s an Adept. Lord only knows what tricks she has ready. I want you and Galen to get our house troops ready and standing by on this floor, just in case. Pull some from guarding our ships and Father’s quarters; right now, this is more important. Wait for my signal.”

Tariti narrowed her eyes. “Did Father approve of this?”

Darius shrugged. “He doesn’t think it will be necessary,” he said, “but he approves of caution, so he allowed me to give you the order. If we’re lucky, I won’t need you. If not… just stand by.”

“Trust me, we will,” Galen said, glowering. “I don’t intend to let that girl go unpunished for what she did to me.”

“I’d better get back,” Darius said. “She’ll be arriving planetside soon. You’d best get ready. The excitement will be starting soon enough.”

///

Arta glanced over at Latharna where the Realtran girl sat across from her in the shuttle’s passenger cabin and watched her fiddling idly with her clothing. She was dressed in a plain but well-tailored jacket and skirt, both the shade of bright red associated with her home nation, which have her a respectable, professional and yet innocuous air – the perfect combination for a young aide to an equally young queen. The dueling sword that rested by her side indicated that her role was as much bodyguard as assistant, but one of the reasons Arta had wanted her for this particular role was that she was an unknown, apparently inexperienced quality, rather than a seasoned knight or royal guard who might put the rebels on edge. Anything that made them underestimate the queen and her entourage was a good thing. And just in case Respen had seen holofootage of his assassins’ failure, she was wearing a black wig and darkened spectacles over her eyes, so that she wouldn’t be easily recognized as the young Realtran who had saved Arta’s life.

Arta herself wore a new and rather stiff uniform in Carann blue and gold, with a cape over one shoulder and a slender golden circlet, rather than the official crown, on her brow. Mardoban had told her he wanted her to present the image of a warrior queen, but not so aggressively as wearing full armor would; that might put the rebels too much on edge and make them suspect an attack. Arta agreed with him, but privately she still felt vulnerable. Not that there was any particular reason for that – she was, after all, fully capable of defending herself no matter how heavily armored she was. She supposed she was just nervous, and she had every right to be that. One wrong move today and there would be war, and Katanes would be the first world to feel its bite.

“I feel ridiculous,” Latharna finally said, drawing Arta away from her dark thoughts. “The last time I wore something like this, it was my school’s dress uniform. And at least with that I didn’t have to hide my own hair.”

“Honestly, I feel a little silly too,” Arta said, looking down at herself. “Look at this; I’m dressed like I’m some sort of officer, but I’ve never commanded troops in my life. It makes me feel like a little girl playing dress-up. But I guess that’s kind of the point. These outfits aren’t for us – they’re to make sure the dukes see what we want them to see.”

“If you say so,” Latharna said, sounding dubious. “I still don’t understand why this has to be you, though. Duke Mardoban is much more experienced than either of us, and he knows all of these people. Back home, King Luagh would never go in to meet any enemy alone.”

Arta wasn’t sure how she felt about being compared to someone she’d heard her whole life was a mostly ceremonial figurehead, but she decided not to comment on it. “I’m not alone,” she said. “I’ve got you and a squad of guards with me.” She nodded towards the door to the next cabin down, where the guards in question waited. “Besides, in Realtran the king is technically in charge, but the parliament has most of the actual power. The Dozen Stars was founded by warriors and that’s what we expect our leaders to be. I can’t let Mardoban, or anybody else, face my enemies for me, especially not this early in my reign. If I did that I’d come across as a weakling and a coward, and nobody would want to follow me.”

Latharna shook her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Arta,” she said, “but your people are crazy.”

Arta couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing, and it only intensified at the bemused look Latharna shot her from behind her spectacles. “I think you’re probably right about that,” she said. “But it can work for us, too. In Realtran, I doubt anyone except for guards would be allowed to carry weapons into a negotiation – but in the Dozen Stars, nobody would dare tell a noble or their entourage they have to leave their dueling swords behind. That means we get at least some protection in there.”

The shuttle began to shake as it hit turbulence and entered Tantos III’s atmosphere. Arta turned to look over her shoulder out the viewport and took in the thick, perpetual cover of grey fog. Memories of a night of chaos and fear on this very planet rose in her thoughts, and she could almost hear the sound of blast bolts impacting the ground and a crowd screaming. “I hate this place,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s always so dreary, so… oppressive.”

Latharna shrugged. “I don’t mind it,” she said. “Skin like mine burns so easily it’s kind of nice to see a place where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Arta said. “We’re almost there. Do you still have the device Duke Mardoban gave you?”

“Right here,” Latharna said, patting a pocket on her jacket. “And I remember what to do with it.”

“Excellent,” Arta said, reflexively reaching up to adjust the golden clasp on her cape. “Well, best get ready. One way or another, this won’t be a meeting to forget.”

///

Mardoban sat in the command chair on the Lion’s bridge, unable to shake the tension filling his body. Arta’s shuttle was even now descending to Tantos III’s surface, and soon she would be walking into a room to meet with three people who he had no doubt desperately wanted her dead. They had plans and preparations for what would happen, but still he hated being stuck up here, powerless to act until events took their course. Lion by itself wasn’t enough to defeat the forces occupying Tantos, and any action the ship took would likely result only in Arta’s death.

The duke shook his head, trying to clear away memories of another queen, one whom he had failed. He wouldn’t fail today, he privately vowed to Aestera’s ghost. He would do everything in his power to see her daughter safely returned.

The sound of a booted foot tapping impatiently on the floor distracted him from his thoughts and he looked over to see Karani where she stood by his right side with her arms crossed and a profoundly dissatisfied look on her expressive face. She was wearing a military uniform of similar design to her sister’s, save that it was Katanes green and silver rather than royal blue and gold – she had expressed a great disappointment that wearing it didn’t entitle her to the rank of “Admiral” in what was apparently a joke between the sisters Mardoban wasn’t privy to – and it was her foot that was tapping an irregular rhythm.

“Nervous?” Mardoban asked her.

“My sister’s going into danger with nobody but that creepy foreigner to protect her and I’m stuck up here not able to do anything,” she muttered angrily. “What do you think?” Then she paled suddenly as she seemed to remember just who she was addressing. “Er, that is to say, your grace.”

Mardoban waved it away. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “If I was in your position, I doubt I’d be very inclined to formality either. And, as a matter of fact, I do understand exactly how you feel. I know what it’s like to not be able to be there for someone… someone you care for. It’s an awful feeling.”

“It is,” Karani said quietly. “I don’t understand why I can’t be down there with her! It’s not like I’m actually in the line of succession – keeping me out of harms’ way doesn’t really matter.”

“I think it matters a great deal to Arta, who doesn’t want to see her sister hurt or killed – and it matters in that while you’re up here in the middle of the finest warship in the kingdom, your life can’t be used as leverage against her,” Mardoban said. “Besides, Naudar stipulated that only one guard would be permitted in the room with Arta, and she chose Miss Dhenloc – and having seen that girl fight, I can’t say I disagree.”

“Oh, and we’re just going to go along with what Naudar says,” Karani said. “Last I looked, he was our enemy.”

“As a matter of fact, we’re not going along with what Naudar wants,” Mardoban said, and Karani raised an eyebrow questioningly. “We’re letting him think that’s what we’re doing, but we’ve got some tricks ready that I don’t think he’ll see coming. If Arta can play her part, and we can play ours, we may be able to turn the tables on the rebellion today. And that, Miss ast Katanes, is another reason why I wanted you here on the bridge today – to watch and learn. You’re the heir to Katanes barony – you need a firsthand look at commanding in a crisis. Your father would agree with me, if he was here.”

Karani stayed silent, but the expression on her face was intrigued. Mardoban smiled at that, but before he could say anything a voice called from across the bridge. “My lord!” an officer said. “We have an unplanned fighter launch in bay five!”

“Was this part of your plan?” Karani asked warily.

“No, it wasn’t,” Mardoban said. “Track that fighter. And get me the command code used to authorize the launch!”

“Pulling up the code now, sir,” the officer said, and then he paused, frowning. “That’s strange. The code – it’s yours.”

///

Pakorus settled himself back into the fighter’s cockpit seat as the small ship shot away from the Lion, mentally thanking the flight training he’d taken at the Academy and now, finally, had a use for. He’d been able to use his family name, and a certain amount of its funds, to get himself aboard the flagship in disguise, without his father’s and Arta’s knowledge. The handful of officers in on the plan had been instructed to keep it to themselves and had looked the other way when he used his family codes to access the fighter and take it out. A part of Pakorus felt guilty over using his position in such a way – there were few doors that were closed to a duke’s only son – but still, this was the easiest way to get where he was going, and to find the answers he sought.

Letting the fighter’s autopilot take over, Pakorus keyed up the message he had written to his father explaining what he was doing and why. He was certain that Mardoban would have noticed the launch by now, and he hoped he could allay his concerns. A few keystrokes later, the message was sent to the main terminal on the Lion’s bridge, with high importance.

That done, Pakorus sat back and let the fighter take him onwards, away from the planet and towards his destination – Tantos Station and the man called Specter, who had knowledge that might well prove essential to the future of the Dozen Stars. Finally, Pakorus would be doing something worthwhile.

///

The shuttle’s ramp descended to the floor of the docking bay in Tantos Palace and Arta swept down it, Latharna following slightly behind her. They were preceded by six guards in tight formation, and four more followed behind; they held their beam rifles ready but otherwise made no sign of aggression. A number of men and women in the silver armor of guild security waited for them in the docking bay, led by a middle-aged man in a guildmaster’s suit.

Arta had been here before, on the night of the late Duke Hiram’s party, but she resisted the urge to look around; she kept her gaze forward and her expression carefully neutral as Lieutenant Leilin Rehan, leader of the guard squad, stepped forward. “Announcing Her Majesty Queen Artakane I of the House ast Carann, Queen of the Dozen Stars, Duchess of Carann, and Protector of the Realm,” the guardswoman declared. “She has come to treat with those who have raised arms against her throne and seek to bring a speedy end to the conflict.”

The guildmaster bowed at the waist. “I am Gaspar Madran, Master of Security for the Tantos Guilds, and I bid Her Majesty welcome to the planet Tantos III. Dukes Naudar and Respen, and the Duchess Sateira, await you; I will escort you to them. Your Majesty is expected.”