Chapter Six

Carann, Royal Palace

As Arta had suggested, Pakorus found his father in one of the hallways adjoining the council chamber, deep in discussion with the elderly Duchess Laodamia. He waited for a moment until there was a break in the conversation and then stepped forward. “Pardon me, your grace,” he said, nodding at Laodamia, “but may I borrow my father for a moment? I have a message for him.”

Laodamia looked him up and down and nodded approvingly. “You’ve got a well-spoken lad there, Mardoban,” she said. “Best hear what he has to say. I’ll be waiting for you in the council chamber.” She nodded to them both and then turned away and began to make her way down the hall, her cane tapping on the floor. When she was gone, Mardoban turned to Pakorus.

“What is it, son?” he asked; his tone was curious, but not accusing. He knew Pakorus wouldn’t have interrupted him with one of the other council members if it wasn’t important.

Pakorus drew a breath and let it out again. Best to get this over with quickly. “It’s from Mother,” he said. “Apparently there’s a… situation, back on Orlanes.”

Mardoban raised his eyebrows. “Apparently so,” he said. “It must be serious, if your mother is willing to take it straight to me. Well, we’d better hear it, then.” He led Pakorus to one of the small, unused offices that lined the hall – rooms Pakorus suspected had been built precisely for such discrete conversations - and closed the door behind them. Pakorus walked over to the desk in the room’s center and took a moment to steel himself before placing his comm on its surface and keying it on. A moment later, a small holo appeared floating above it, depicting an elegant woman in her middle years. Her eyes fell on the duke. “Mardoban,” she said, her tone cool.

“Artemisia,” Mardoban replied. “This is an unexpected pleasure. What is the occasion?”

“Unexpected, maybe,” Artemisia said. “But I think we both know that this isn’t a social call. I wouldn’t have dreamed of interrupting your ever-so-important work on Carann if it weren’t urgent.”

Mardoban sighed. “That’s about what I thought,” he said. “You always did insist that you didn’t require my aid to run Orlanes Duchy in any capacity. And you never call me unless it’s to discuss business.”

“Your duties to the Kingdom as Regent were well and good,” Artemisia said, “and you did keep the Dozen Stars from falling entirely apart, for which I will credit you. But in the process, you seem to have forgotten that you are a duke with your own holdings to worry about; it’s fortunate I was able to step in during you absence and that the Orlanes Assembly is at least somewhat competent. Our son knows his duty to his Duchy, at least,” she added, nodding towards Pakorus who did his best to shrink back and look inconspicuous without making it obvious that’s what he was doing. “I knew he would listen to me, and that if he brought it to you, you would listen too.”

“Can we please stop arguing about things we’ve already discussed a hundred times?” Mardoban asked. “I have a council meeting coming up very soon, and I need to be there. What is happening in Orlanes?”

“And clearly the council comes first, as always,” Artemisia said in an exasperated tone. “Why would I ever think otherwise? But in this case, it’s lucky – you can tell them what I’m about to tell you.” She drew a long breath before continuing. “Over the past few weeks, merchant vessels leaving Orlanes and neighboring planets started disappearing en route. At first, we thought it was pirates – some remnant of the Commander’s fleet that you missed, maybe. So, I got the guilds to agree to run their ships with a Defense Force escort. They were attacked and managed to escape… barely.”

“Attacked by who? The Empire? Surely not!” Mardoban said. “Orlanes Duchy is on the other side of the Kingdom from the Imperial border!”

“Not the Empire, Mardoban,” Artemisia said, her eyes haunted. “The captain of one of the Defense Force Equestrians took footage of the battle. This was the ship that led the attack.” Artemisia’s image vanished from above the comm, and a holo of a warship replaced it – but this was no warship that had ever been fielded by any military, guild or pirate fleet in the Dozen Stars, and neither was it a design used in the Empire. It looked less like a ship, truly, than it did some shelled deep-sea creature, its hull sweeping back from the prow in curving segments, save where long spikes jutted outward. The ship was painted solid black, save where what appeared to be words had been written along its sides – words in no language any human had ever devised.

Pakorus had seen images of such warships before, but he’d never seen one in person. Beside him, his father drew in a deep, shocked breath. He had faced this enemy before, decades ago before Pakorus was born.

“Lord be with us,” Mardoban breathed. “That’s a Csarag raider.”

“Indeed,” Artemisia said, her image returning. “Mardoban, the Csarag have returned. We don’t know how many they are in total, lurking in the darkness between systems, but it was enough to take on a squadron of the Orlanes Defense Force fleet and win. It may just be an especially large party of marauders… or it may be more than that.”

Pakorus’s breath caught; he hadn’t been born yet when the Csarag had invaded the Dozen Stars, but he knew his history well enough. It had taken two years of bloody chaos before they’d been forced back to their territory on the galactic rim; a number of the Kingdom’s brightest stars had made their names in that war including then-Princess Aestera and the future dukes Mardoban and Naudar, but while his father was a veteran of that war, he rarely spoke of it. He said it was something better off forgotten.

And now the Csarag had returned. Pakorus shook his head. “Why now?” he asked out loud. “Could they be working with the Empire? Forcing us to fight on two fronts?”

Mardoban and Artemisia exchanged a worried look. “It’s possible, son,” Mardoban said slowly. “I doubt it, though. The Empire has no territory that borders the Csarag’s – nation? Kingdom? Empire? We were never quite sure what sort of government they had on their homeworlds – and I don’t think they could get in contact with each other without our knowing about it. But even if they could, so far as we know, no human being has ever managed to find common ground with the Csarag. When they attacked the Kingdom, they never gave us a reason, never issued any demands. They didn’t even try to hold territory. They just appeared in our systems and started killing. Maybe that’s all they wanted all along.”

“Now do you see why we need help?” Artemisia asked. “And why we need the council? The Csarag haven’t tried to hit Orlanes yet; maybe they don’t have the strength for that. If so, we’re lucky. But maybe they’re waiting for reinforcements. Or maybe they have some other goal – they’re aliens, who knows how their minds work? But if there are more of them out there – if this is another full-scale invasion and not just an ambitious raiding party – then we need reinforcements. Mardoban, Orlanes is strong, and I’m proud of it – but our Duchy can’t fight an entire fleet of Csarag marauders on our own.”

“Dammit,” Mardoban muttered angrily. “Whether the Csarag are working with the Empire or not to deliberately split our forces, they’re doing a good job of it. I don’t know how much we’ll be able to spare from our defenses against the Empire’s attack, but I promise you, Artemisia, I’ll bring you as much relief as I can.”

The edge of Artemisia’s mouth quirked. “Well, I suppose that’s more than I had any right to expect,” she muttered. “Damnable timing, though. Maybe they are working together after all.”

“Father,” Pakorus said, leaning in, “I know you were at the Battle of Kern, where the Csarag were defeated last time. How did you beat them, anyway? The history books I read at the Academy were always vague.”

Mardoban frowned, his eyes darkening at old, unpleasant memories. “The Csarag Overlord himself was there,” he said quietly. “He’d come to watch the Kingdom’s forces broken before him. But we had a plan. Naudar and I led our squadrons on a charge straight for his flagship – Lord, it was a nightmare of a thing, all spikes and cruel edges – and we cleared a path so an elite team of knights and royal guards could board it. They managed to kill the Overlord and cripple his ship; without his leadership, the Csarag fragmented. They’re a fractious, chaotic people without a strong personality to hold them together.” He chuckled bitterly. “They’re a bit like us in that way. Aestera herself led that strike force – she told me she could bear to send good men and women into that monstrous ship without being there with them. But she never told me what happened inside, except that they won.”

Artemisia’s lips pursed in disapproval at the mention of Queen Aestera’s name, but when she finally spoke, she didn’t mention her. “Well, maybe the Csarag have finally crowned a new Overlord and that’s why they’ve come back,” she said. “But at least if we can figure out where their command ship is, we might be able to bring it down and stop them in their tracks.” She sighed. “I suppose for now, it’s all we can do. Go to your council meeting, Mardoban, and tell them what’s happening on Orlanes. Come through for us.”

“I will,” Mardoban said softly, but by the time he’d finished speaking, Artemisia’s holo was already gone.

///

Darius walked down the long, austere hallway of the prison level deep beneath the palace, head held high as he stared determinedly ahead. This was the first time he had been down here on this particular visit to Carann, and he was determined not to show uncertainty to the man he had come to see, especially not when he had come here to try and get his help. And besides, though he was loath to admit it, there was a part of him that still desired that man’s approval.

Finally, he arrived at his destination – a cell near the end of the hallway. Through the shimmer of the forcefield that presented anyone from entering or leaving, Darius could see that the room was pleasantly enough appointed, if small and cramped – a prison fit for a duke, even if that duke had disgraced himself by committing treason. The cell’s occupant, a grey-haired and mustached man in his late fifties, lay on the cell’s bed with his hands folded behind his head, starting up at the ceiling. If he had heard Darius approach, he gave no acknowledgment of that fact. Finally, the young duke cleared his throat loudly and then spoke a single sentence. “Hell, Father.”

The former Duke Naudar ast Sakran, deposed following his failed rebellion and now awaiting trial for treason and insurrection, gave an exaggerated yawn and sat up on his bed. “Oh, hello, Darius,” he said. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you there. I’m simply so busy these days, it’s hard to keep track of things.”

“I don’t have time for your games today, Father,” Darius said, gritting his teeth. “I need to talk to you, and we need to do it now. I have a council meeting to get to, and I’ll probably be running late after this little detour as it is.”

“Well, at least the mighty Duke ast Sakran can still make time to visit his poor father in his humble abode,” Naudar said. “A pity your siblings weren’t able to show the same courtesy, but then, such is life. And how are Tariti and Galen these days, anyway? I’d have liked to have seen them too.”

“This isn’t a social call, Father,” Darius told him. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need information – information you probably have stored in that mind of yours, or at least know how to get.”

“Ah,” Naudar said, sudden understanding growing in his expression. “It’s finally happened, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Darius said, sighing. “Yesterday, we received a messenger from the Empire – Publius Vedrans Quarinis himself, over holo. They issued demands they knew we would never meet, and then when we refused them, they declared war on us. The Dozen Stars stands ready to face an Imperial invasion.”

“I thought my guards seemed rather tense when they brought me my breakfast this morning,” Naudar mused. “I suppose that explains why. So, the Empire prepares for war, as I knew they would. I’m surprised young Artakane hasn’t been down here to see me yet.”

“I thought you might respond better to a family visit,” Darius said. “I assume Artakane thought so as well, considering that the guards seemed to be expecting me.”

“Well, the girl isn’t stupid, I’ll give her that,” Naudar said, frowning. “A pity that she’s the cause of all this, in a way. Our contact in the Empire was always insistent that no matter what else happened, the girl had to lose her throne and die. That was the primary reason for his interest in the Dozen Stars. Had I been permitted to take the throne, none of this would have happened. A pity.”

“Your ‘contact?’” Darius asked. “Call him Quarinis; we both know you knew who he really was.”

“I suspected,” Naudar said. “That isn’t the same as knowing for sure. There are only so many people in the galaxy who have pockets deep enough to make a significant improvement over the combined resources of three duchies; that pointed to the Empire. And there are only so many Imperial patricians who make a habit of meddling in Dozen Stars politics. It was a short list.”

“In any case, do you really think that your taking the throne would have stopped the Empire from going to war?” Darius asked. “The Empire is ravenous, desperate to regain its former glory, and Verus Licinius is an ambitious man and a strong emperor. Even with Artakane dead, I doubt he’d have left us in peace. And that’s assuming you did manage to take the throne. What if Respen had managed to kill you instead of the other way around? Your grand plans would have come to nothing then, and the Dozen Stars would be in the hands of a maniac!”

Naudar waved a hand dismissively. “Come now,” he said. “Do you really have so low an opinion of me as that, boy? I could have outwitted Respen any day. And the possibility of war with the Empire would have been better than what we have now, when war has become a certainty. But I don’t think you came here to discuss past sins and might-have-beens. What do you want to know?”

Darius rested a hand on the door frame beside the force field and leaned in close. “I know that you never went into business with anyone without learning all you could about them,” he said. “And I know that you claimed to still have plans in place in case the Empire double-crossed you. I need that information, Father. And I need it now.”

“Interesting,” Naudar said. “You need this information because you think it will save the Dozen Stars – a kingdom which, at the moment, is holding me prisoner for treason, and may well execute me or sentence me to life in this hole once I am tried. I find that I am not currently overflowing with generosity towards the Dozen Stars.”

“You’re in this ‘hole’ because of your own actions, and you know it,” Darius said, rather more harshly than he’d intended; Naudar merely shrugged, as if from his current position that didn’t really matter overly much. “I’m the one who’s trying to fix the mess you helped create. But I don’t particularly think you want to see the Dozen Stars burn, even if it is from your prison cell. I always knew you were ambitious, but I also thought you were at least a patriot where it counted.”

“Perhaps I am, at that,” Naudar said. “But I won’t offer my help for nothing, and not as a prisoner. I want a pardon.”

“You know I can’t promise you that,” Darius said. “Your crime was against the Crown, not Sakran Duchy, so I don’t have the authority to pardon you. Only Artakane does. And somehow I don’t think she’s liable to feel very kindly disposed towards you.”

“In that case, we have a problem,” Naudar said, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “Though it occurs to me that someone with influence – a member of the council of dukes, say, perhaps the duke of one of the most powerful and influential of the twelve duchies – might be able to put in a good word on my behalf with Her Most August Majesty. That someone – should such a person be found – might be able to say that you were right, that I never do go into business with someone without learning as many of their dirty secrets as I can. That I can provide you with information regarding the composition of the Imperial fleet, their likely avenue of attack, and information on the identity and character of the man who will likely be assigned to lead it. Such a person might, even, be able to say that I have managed to make contact with a man highly placed in the Imperial hierarchy and found him amenable to a peaceable relationship with the Dozen Stars, should the ambitions of the current leadership prove… unfeasible to enact. Do you think that such a person might be able to prevail upon the Queen to show mercy to an old man who has put his ambitions behind him?”

Darius snorted. “I doubt you’ll ever put your ambitions entirely behind you,” he said. “But I get your meaning; as it so happens, I am exactly the sort of person you describe.” His gaze hardened. “But tell me – was even half of what you just implied to me true?”

“All of it was,” Naudar said. “I swear it on my life, on the Lord’s name, and by the proud name of House ast Sakran.” Darius scanned his father’s eyes but could see no dishonesty there – and while Naudar had never been a devout man, he had always been one to take pride in his house’s heritage and plan for its future. He didn’t think that was an oath he would have sworn lightly.

“I can’t promise you anything,” he finally said. “The decision isn’t mine, and if Artakane says no, I’m not breaking you out of here. But I will pass on your message to her and see what she says.”

“That’s all I can hope for,” Naudar said, but Darius couldn’t mistake the fact that his gaze was brighter now, and more intense. “Go to your council meeting then and do pass my regards to your brother and sister. And if the Queen is willing to listen to reason, let her know that I’ll be here, waiting.”