The Ashes of Worlds

The woman threw her arms around his polymer shoulders. “Oh, DD, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” She gave the girl a hug as well. “And Orli! I’m so happy you’re safe.”

Anton invited them into his small apartment, then hurried to make tea. Out of habit, or perhaps by accident, the scholar brought out a cup for DD as well as the others.

“I have heard very much about you, Anton Colicos,” DD said. “Your mother told me tales of how you grew up with her and Louis Colicos on their archaeological digs, and how you gave her the small music box that saved her life among the Klikiss.”

“I’m still amazed by that.” Anton flushed. “It wasn’t much of anything.”

“It was exactly what it needed to be,” Margaret said. “DD, we’ve been through so much, and truth be told, I’d just as soon we were done with our adventures. It’s time to relax and recuperate.”

Orli nervously cleared her throat. She hadn’t touched her tea. “That’s why I brought DD back to you, ma’am. He’s your property. You should take him back.”

DD suddenly realized that this was what had been bothering the girl. He hadn’t even considered the consequences, hadn’t understood why Orli was so worried.

The offer surprised Margaret. “I won’t hear of it. DD is yours now, Orli. You two belong together.”

Orli started to cry, though she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, pretending that no one had noticed them.

“I am pleased with that decision, Margaret Colicos,” DD said. “But are you certain you won’t need my assistance? Will you not be doing other work?”

The old woman and Anton exchanged smiles. Margaret said, “Oh, we definitely have interesting work ahead of us, but we can handle it ourselves. Orli, you watch out for DD now. I don’t want to worry about him. My son and I have places to go.”

162

Mage-Imperator Jora’h

In spite of the devastation of Ildira, the Mage-Imperator found great cause for hope and gladness, especially with his Empire strongly connected once more. The faeros were defeated, and the treacherous Hansa Chairman dead by his own deputy’s hand. The numerous soulfires stolen by the blazing elementals had safely found their way to the Lightsource. Even the one burned-out sun in Ildira’s sky now shone again.

The landscape of the universe had been forever changed, as had Jora’h and Ildira itself. Nevertheless, he was home, leading the remnants of his people, reconnecting the splinter colonies that had been adrift since the faeros invasion.

In spite of the rough conditions of the temporary camp outside the remains of Mijistra, Nira had mentally healed and strengthened, finally achieving a new peace. “Look at this as an opportunity, Jora’h. You have a chance to be the greatest Mage-Imperator the Empire has ever known. The slate is wiped clean.”

Ildiran civilization had long rested upon old accomplishments. The people revered the past to such an extent that they changed very little. Now that the foundation of Mijistra had been swept away, however, the people had no choice but to make a fresh start.

Getting to know the human race better had changed Jora’h’s opinion about steadfast Ildiran ways. It would do his race good to be creative and inventive. Architects and builders, diggers and rememberers, medical kithmen and administrators — he could pull them all together in a project vastly more complex than anything ever chronicled in theSaga — re-creating the entire capital city in its glory. Maybe even make it better.

And they would do it.

From their camp on the outskirts of the ruined city, he and Nira watched the work continue. Yazra’h and Prime Designate Daro’h had shown amazing verve and independence. Rather than requiring detailed orders, they took initiative and lifted some of the burden from his shoulders.

Unlike Thor’h, who had shirked his duties as the leader in training, Daro’h clearly would one day become a formidable Mage-Imperator. The young man no longer looked reticent about his role, and the Mage-Imperator reminded him to begin breeding many, many new Designates. Attender kithmen, eager to follow the Prime Designate’s instructions, followed him around as if he were already sitting in the chrysalis chair.

Teams of rememberers struggled to chronicle all those who had fallen, trying to tally the deaths caused by the faeros and mad Rusa’h. The names of the dead were etched on diamondfilm and made into structural plates that would be used to assemble a new Hall of Rememberers.

Cargo ships and cutters descended from the Solar Navy warliners in orbit. All of the Ildiran soldiers had been reassigned as workers, though they remained ready to defend the Empire, should the need arise. The Mage-Imperator was confident that his people would have at least some time to recover before the next crisis struck.

Designate Ridek’h had brought together all the survivors from the Hyrillka refugee camps and spoken to them. Now he approached Jora’h, bursting to talk. “Hyrillka is where these people belong, Liege, not Ildira. There is rebuilding enough for them to do there. With your permission, I shall lead them home.”

“I give it gladly.”

“And one other thing.” The boy hesitated, then added quickly, “I believe I should take former Designate Rusa’h with me.”

That surprised Jora’h. Though he was free of the faeros since his defeat and collapse, Rusa’h was a mere shell of himself. Because he was so unresponsive, it had taken the rest of them several days to discover that he was blind, like Tal O’nh, his sight burned out from within by the faeros. Utterly broken, unaware of his surroundings, he often sat trembling; Rusa’h did not seem to remember anyone or anything, as if his mind had been purged.

“We have lens kithmen and medical kithmen,” Designate Ridek’h continued in a rush. “We should surround Rusa’h with Ildirans, enfold him in the truethism and through it allow him to see the brilliant light of the suns. Let him return to his home on Hyrillka.”

Jora’h was skeptical. “My brother was in a sub-thismtrance once before, because of his severe head injury. When he awoke, he was dramatically changed.”

“And now he needs to awaken again — but properly. If there is a chance he may recover, then we are obligated to try.”

Nira considered, then slowly nodded. “I think Designate Ridek’h’s suggestion shows great maturity.”

Jora’h thought of what he had done to his own son Thor’h after his betrayal, keeping him drugged with shiing and locked in an underground chamber. He would not do the same to Rusa’h, no matter what crimes the mad Designate had committed. “Very well. I entrust him to you. It pleases me that your desire is not for vengeance, but for healing.”

Then the Mage-Imperator saw one of the most hopeful signs of alclass="underline" Giggling, and actuallyplaying, Osira’h and her brothers and sisters ran through the camp, chasing a small mirrored balloon that drifted into the air and slowly bounced back to the ground. Muree’n seized the balloon and ran faster than the others, rushing up to her mother and Jora’h; Osira’h raced after her sister.