She climbed gingerly to her feet, set her glass next to Lwellen’s. “The Black Paladin rides again?” she asked. She stepped over to look Daniel up and down very carefully. In the past few days Daniel had gotten to know people’s expressions very well when it came to judging him. Eve Kincaid’s was different. She seemed to measure something deeper than his actions. “Maybe,” was her final judgment.
Then she limped out the door.
Ruskoff met Daniel’s gaze. “If I can forgive myself, I can begin to forgive you. What you do from here is in fate’s hands.” He glanced at the door. “Lwellen will be finding out any moment that the Lord Governor’s promise is contingent on a lot of things, including proof of your rehabilitation and your testimony in a great deal of hearings. So I suggest you absent yourself for the unflattering discussion we will have on the merits of your case. Unless you do not trust me to look after your interests.”
Daniel shook his head, throat pinched closed and unable to speak.
“Go on, then, Daniel. Get some rest and come in fresh for our morning’s planning session. If we’re going to force the Dynasty Guard to stand and fight, we’ll need to convince Hidic to back our play with every last soldier he can spare.”
“I won’t let you down,” Daniel promised, finding his voice again. It was stronger this time.
The Legate was less sanguine. “You might,” he said. “You might. It’s a long road back.” But if his doubts included any serious thoughts of rescinding the offer, Ruskoff hid it well. He shrugged, offered a tight smile and an encouraging nod. “But I don’t believe it will be for lack of trying.”
“No.” The fallen Paladin tried on a weak smile, and felt it strain at the corners. “Never that.” He already knew that he wouldn’t wait until morning. If Ruskoff was extending this very last attempt at redemption, there was one more thing he could do. Something he could not even tell the Legate he intended to try.
Yiling (Chang-an)
Qinghai Province, Liao
Evan Kurst had let Jenna alone as they both worked through their grief. They were there for each other, certainly, but with Hahn’s death and David Parks’s loss to the Conservatory, they escaped into solitude rather than each other’s arms. Just as well. As House Ijori rose from the ashes, there was much to think about.
Now Evan was thinking about rekindling their start at a serious relationship.
Standing in the commons that separated his dormitory from hers, he leaned against the low bend of elm, watching moths dance around the overhead lamps. The bark rubbed rough against his bared forearms, and his feet were cold from standing in the wet, unmowed grass. He walked himself through what he might say. If she gave him the chance. Jen was a strong woman who also knew what she wanted, and might not give him much time to say anything one way or another. Evan had to admit, such forcefulness had its charms as well. He smiled, laughing at himself, joking up the courage for that last step forward.
He never made it. Footfalls padded to an uneasy stop behind him. The quiet was expectant. Evan couldn’t help but turn.
Daniel Peterson nodded. “Hello, Evan.”
Evan reached for his pistol, forgetting in the sudden burst of adrenaline that he’d traded his cadet corps fatigues for civilian dress. Jeans and a casual shirt. Canvas sneakers. He shoved himself away from the tree, glancing about to see if Peterson had led back an entire Republic team. Nothing. They had the commons to themselves except for one cadet walking on the other side of the lawn. Too far away.
Should he yell for backup? Take a swing at the betrayer? Evan had imagined a dozen different ways this meeting could take place, and right now he was stumped for one of them.
The other man backed up a wary step, ready.
“Easy, Evan. I didn’t come here to fight.”
Evan took one threatening step away from the elm, hands balled into tight fists. Peterson made no move to defend himself, even though he had several centimeters and twenty kilos on Evan, easily. What was he waiting for? Charge the man. Wrap him around that tree. Do something! Call an alarm—Peterson would never get off the grounds alive.
So if Evan couldn’t make himself judge and executioner, he’d leave it to others?
Standing there, shaking, Evan forced himself to relax. Slowly, he unclenched each fist. He had grown beyond blindly striking out, apparently. He had a greater need to understand.
“So,” he said, remembering their last conversation, how it ended. “This isn’t 3128. But you are Ezekiel Crow.”
“My name is Daniel Peterson. I think you know that.”
“Why are you here?” Evan asked, spitting out each word as if it had a bad taste.
Peterson held a steady gaze. “We didn’t get a chance to finish our last conversation. I thought there was still something left to say. Something that might make a difference.” He looked around the deserted, darkened campus. “I felt I owed you that.”
“You have no idea what you owe me. I’ve hated you my entire life for what you did. And you had the nerve to stand there and lecture me on the consequences of my actions? All that empty talk about the road to hell being paved by the best of intentions?”
“I did that. I couldn’t stand there and watch it all happen again without trying to stop it.”
Evan advanced a step on Peterson. “Let it go, you said. Talk this out, you said. You!” The anger was there, white hot and burning at the edge of Evan’s control.
Peterson looked ready to turn and walk away. Evan swore that he’d bring the man down and kill him if he tried. But the Betrayer simply checked the horizon, saw that they were still alone and folded his arms over his chest.
“You’re not going to listen, Evan, but I’m going to try one last time. I’ve spent most of my life trying to make good on what I did, but I’ve never made excuses. And I’m not about to start with you.”
“Why not me? What’s wrong with me?” Evan felt a cold hollow beginning to eat away at his anger now. He’d let it go for too long. “My parents died after the Night of Screams when a ’Mech—a Republic ’Mech!—smashed through our apartment building. That was in the second wave of assaults. Why should I care how many years you lived a lie, trying to make it up to The Republic? What have you done to make it up to me?”
“I tried to help you not make the same mistake I did.”
“It’s not a mistake unless you never had the conviction to begin with. That’s your problem, not mine.” His rage was spent, and Evan shook with cold and adrenaline fatigue now. He waited, but Peterson had nothing else to say, apparently. The two men stood looking at each other. “What did you expect, Daniel? Why did you come here? Forgiveness?”
“It’s not important anymore, Evan, why I came here. The person I wanted to help is gone.”
“No.” Evan shook his head. “The person you thought you could help never was. My decisions may not be easy ones, but I can live with them.” It was he who turned away now. Toward his own dormitory. Not Jenna’s. He glanced back once, and saw Peterson still standing there. “Can you say the same?” he asked.
No answer followed after him.
34
A Time For Change
Today, Lord Governor Harri Golan of Prefecture VI stressed that only through peaceful relations with neighboring realms can The Republic hope to survive and thrive in this time of chaos and doubt. The Lord Governor mentioned specifically his latest attempts to broker a new peace with the Oriente Protectorate, and to stop any similar threats from the Capellan Confederation.
Suriwong Floods