She sensed that he understood her reluctance to speak, that he knew at least some of what she’d been feeling so strongly and concurred with her decision not to voice it aloud. Of course, that might simply have been a caution that was instilled into every man, woman, and child born of Eniath, particularly its aristocracy and royal family. With neighbors like Chava Busar, not voicing certain thoughts had become an ingrained and necessary habit.
But tonight, those fears and worries were far away and dim. Tonight, the stars were brilliant, the sea and sky were a glorious riot of bursting colors, and joy filled the air. Millions of people stood along the shoreline, on the housetops, in the windows of shops and tall buildings. Every single one of those millions of people shouted and rang bells and set off long chains of fire-poppers. The noise came rolling across the water like a solid wave of sound, filled with bursting happiness.
It wouldn’t last, she knew; but for tonight, at least, the worlds that had sprung from Sharona-and all the people in them-were safe from the threat of Arcana. That simple, profound truth moved her nearly to tears. She gripped the railing as her yacht moved slowly and softly through the darkness, past the crowd of boats bobbing on the water where even more Sharonians celebrated the halting of the Arcanan menace.
She smiled as the Peregrine slipped through the dark, color-splashed water, with her security men nearby, her hawk on her arm, and her heart full nearly to bursting with happiness and hope for their future. She turned to tell Howan Fai how very happy she was-
And the Glimpse struck.
* * *
Zindel chan Calirath wandered across the long stone balcony overlooking the Ylani Straits, ostensibly to obtain another glass of wine after draining his first one in toasts to the newly married couple: MP Kinlafia and Voice Yanamar. His real motive was the view. This portion of the balcony gave a better view of the western end of the Straits, where they led into the Imbral Sea and eventually down past Imbral’s Blade and out to the Mbisi Sea. The Straits and the harbors on either side were filled with boats of every size in a confusing jumble that was lit every few seconds by the strobing light of fireworks.
None of that mattered. The Peregrine’s profile was etched into his memory. He’d learned a deep appreciation of the sailing master’s craft aboard that trim, lovely little ship. She was moving under sail, tonight, creeping softly, silently through the crowded harbor, toward the open channel at the center of the Straits. Her escort destroyers steamed fore and aft-under power at slow speed to follow the rules of the road that granted sailing vessels right of way-as if they’d merely happened to be transiting the Ylani Straits at the same time as Peregrine instead of following careful, Voice-coordinated transit orders. A convenient port call at Larakesh had held them at the ready, and now they were immediately at hand to defend the Peregrine if anyone dared threaten her.
Zindel had wandered along the length of the balcony several times already, this evening, careful to spend just as much time gazing out across other vantage points. He didn’t want observers to notice his keen interest in the ship moving so slowly toward the deep channel. The fireworks offered the perfect cover under which the Peregrine could run, taking his daughter to a place where she and her husband could learn one another in greater privacy. It was difficult enough for ordinary newlyweds to learn how to live together. For an imperial heiress, the job was ten times harder.
Still, he couldn’t help worrying. So he strolled the balcony, watching the Peregrine make her way towards the open sea. He wondered again if he’d made the correct decision, sending her on the yacht, rather than the Windtreader. The Windtreader was harder to attack, certainly, but part of his intention had been secrecy. It would have alerted most of Tajvana, had the Windtreader steamed out in the middle of the victory celebration.
So he’d arranged for Andrin and Howan Fai to take the sailing yacht, instead, relying on the brand new engines installed in her hull, the Imperial security team onboard, and her destroyer escort. She might be a romantic little ship, but she carried a genuinely nasty sting for anyone foolish enough to attack her, and the two destroyers could blow anything short of a major warship completely out of the water. And for the possibility of major warships, two armored cruisers were waiting to add themselves to the escort once they were safely out into the Mbisi.
The Peregrine, which had nearly cleared the tangle of small craft clogging the harbor, carried a marine detail, in addition to a full squad of Imperia Guardsmen, but he still couldn’t help worrying. I shouldn’t have let her go, he found himself thinking as he gripped the stone balustrade. This is stupid! he snarled at himself a moment later. You’re being an overprotective father. She’s a woman grown, married, now. She has enough firepower around her to take out half a city. And there hasn’t been so much as a whisper of trouble out of Chava, let alone anyone else.
When he caught himself worrying his lower lip with his teeth, he took several deep, slow, calming breaths. He was being paranoid. Chava Busar had behaved with extreme prudence and every outward appearance of unhappy acceptance. Security had been watching him, his sons, his wives and daughters, his supporters, and his high-ranking security officials, every second of every day and night. They’d even been watching the officers of Chava Busar’s so-called “imperial police,” who constituted a private army under the Uromathian Emperor’s control.
A spate of cheering prompted him to glance down at the broad flagstone terrace just below his balcony. This portion of the palace had been built along the slope of a hill which had been terraced with a series of gardens, staircases, and open flagstone pavements where garden parties were held throughout Tajvana’s long social season. The palace’s gaslights had been dimmed for the firework display, but more than enough light spilled across the terrace from open doorways and windows to reveal the identities of the revelers below.
Various members of his Privy Council chatted with one another and their families, pausing now and again to cheer a particularly spectacular burst of fireworks, and musicians played. The bright sounds of military marches, the patriotic tunes of every nation on Sharona, and celebratory hymns of thanksgiving and joyous praise for the deities which watched over them splashed across the terrace and eddied out into the night, and temple bells tolled solemn jubilation in the distance. All of Tajvana was filled with joy, tonight.
Zindel spotted First Councilor Taje, head bent in conversation with Darcel Kinlafia. Kinlafia wasn’t a member of his Privy Council, but his new bride was. Alazon Kinlafia had been reinstated as Privy Voice and was radiant tonight. Zindel approved of that match, very much, and a faint smile touched his mouth. From the reports he’d been receiving, Kinlafia had weathered the transition from survey crew Voice to Imperial Parliament MP with great success.
He’d been selected to several important committees in the House of Talents, including Foreign Relations and Budget, and he was vice-chair of both the War Caucus and the Talent Mobilization Board. That sort of authority was rare for a novice politician, but he owed it only partially to his fame as the sole surviving member of the Chalgyn Consortium crew and the Voice who’d relayed Shaylar Nargra-Kolmayr’s last Voice transmission. It turned out-to Kinlafia’s own surprise, Zindel suspected-that he had very good political instincts even without his wife’s guidance, and his fellow MPs had quickly realized he was smart, thoughtful, and well-informed on the critical issues not only of the war but of conditions in the border universes, as well.