“Since it is widely known that House Valtane is no longer linked with that of the Emperor, the Ambassador is curious, Mistress Valtane, as to the reason for your presence here on Luna,” he said without hesitation. “May he inquire as to your purpose?”
Rihana smiled inwardly. You do get to the point, don’t you? she thought. Why not? “Yes. He may.”
“Very good. Let me go over a few points of protocol before you meet him.”
Rihana was taken aback. “He’s here?”
“Yes; on the shuttle in which I arrived. I thought I made that clear.”
Rihana was grateful for the quick lesson in interspecies protocol that Carrigan had given her as she waited for the Ambassador to enter his side of his shuttle’s small receiving room. The chamber was divided by an air shield similar to that used in the shuttle bays. Each side of the room, as far as she could tell through the haziness of the Sarpan-normal atmosphere on the other side, mirrored the other, with three chairs facing the shielding on either side. Closer scrutiny, however, showed several differences. While the chairs on the alien’s side were roughly of the same size and design, they were padded with thick cushions of waterproof plastic. The chair in which she sat was fabric-covered. Moisture dripped freely down the walls on the other side, and even the window-shield fogged slightly from time to time as moisture adhered to it. The Sarpan shield was nonpermeable and kept the wetness inside, but was not designed for insulation; considerable heat radiated from the window’s surface, and her side of the room was uncomfortably warm. The reason behind Carrigan’s choice of light clothing became suddenly clear.
“Ambassador Press,” she said when he entered his side of the chamber, remembering to look him directly in the face, “it is with great honor that I welcome you to my House.” She swept an arm to indicate, not the shuttle itself, but rather the landing bay in which it was parked. Carrigan, seated next to her, nodded and she rose and approached the window-shield, tentatively placing the palm of her hand flat on the sultry surface. The shield was firm, but gave slightly beneath the pressure of her fingertips. The Sarpan was somewhat shorter than she, and needed to reach up to place a webbed, four-fingered hand opposite hers. As their hands met, separated by the molecular thickness of the shield, Rihana could feel the warmth and softness of the alien’s fleshy palm against hers. He nodded several times, puffing gill slits at the sides of his neck with each movement. The “touching” completed, he reclined in the centermost chair.
The Ambassador wore a short kilt of bright orange with a matching sash over one shoulder, soft-looking leather boots and little else. The edges of his gill slits were pierced, Rihana noted, and sported several tiny silver bobs that glinted brightly against the gray-brown moistness of his skin when he spoke.
“Mistress Valtane,” he said in a strangely melodious voice through the comm speaker. “It is my honor.” He turned to his liaison. “Mr. Carrigan?”
“Ambassador, I have informed Mistress Valtane of your interest in her House, and she has agreed to discuss the situation frankly.”
“Good.” He returned his gaze to Rihana, blinking away excess moisture with transparent nictitating membranes. The drops rolling down his face gave the appearance that he was crying. “Why have you come to Sol system? We know that you are out of favor with the House of the Emperor of the Hundred Worlds. So. Why are you here?”
“Ambassador, my ouster from my husband’s House is unprecedented. I have come to make claim on several rights due the wife of the Emperor’s son.”
“But you are no longer his wife. You no longer have claim.”
Had she been speaking to another human, Rihana would have been outraged by such effrontery. She suppressed her feelings of anger and stared evenly at Press, rationalizing that he was speaking candidly and decided to return his frankness. “You are correct in that I am no longer the Prince’s wife, but that does not change the fact that I am to be the mother of his son.”
Press blinked eye membranes and laced and unlaced his fingers several times as he considered this new bit of information. “So. I see. Another question, then: Is your”—Press hesitated, groping for the word she had used—“ ‘ouster’ from your husband’s House related in any way to that scientific endeavor ongoing now to halt Sol star’s rebirth?”
“Yes. I opposed his support of the Emperor’s project. But I am confused, Ambassador. My reason for being here has only to do with my rights, and nothing directly related to the project—”
“A moment, a moment,” Press interjected, “a moment. Understand. I thought perhaps because of your estranged relationship to the Emperor’s House, that you might be less reluctant to inform me of this project. So?”
“So” indeed. That’s it, then. She waited for him to continue.
“Consider, please: We see a massive building of starships by your people. We see your Court moved farther from the Sarpan sphere of influence. We see a traveling of your people from all the Hundred Worlds to here. So. Consider: What are we to think?”
Rihana did consider. The Sarpan were, simply enough, nervous about the Empire’s massive buildup of equipment and ships. And why not? The relationship between the Empire and the Sarpan had been tenuous at best, and deadly—on occasion—at worst. How were they to know that the Hundred Worlds hadn’t decided it was time to change the relationship to their favor once and for all at the Sarpan’s expense?
“To the best of my knowledge, Ambassador, the stated purposes of the Emperor are true and without darker motives.”
“But, to stop a star’s rebirthing! Surely this is a folly?”
Rihana nodded in understanding. “I know,” she admitted, “it does seem foolish, just as I told my former husband.” A thought suddenly came to her. “Ambassador, despite the treatment of my House by my former husband, I am not without influence. It would be no difficult matter to confirm or deny the truth of this.”
“So? And in return for this truth?”
He’s sharp, Rihana thought, a smile spreading across her lips.
“Suppose,” she began, “that House Valtane were able to confirm that the nature of the Emperor’s endeavor is, indeed, scientific only—that this plan to ‘stop the rebirthing,’ as you describe it, is exactly that?”
A disturbingly human grin appeared on Ambassador Press’ face. “Mr. Carrigan, leave us.” The Ambassador’s liaison stood, nodding politely to Rihana, and quickly exited the small chamber. “What we say now should be between us only. If House Valtane could confirm this, then this one of the Sarpan would be much in debt to House Valtane.”
“Perhaps. But it need not be a onetime arrangement,” she hinted. “Think of the future, Ambassador: trade, information, materials; both my House and yours could profit greatly from such a cooperation.”
Rihana paused as he blinked in consideration, then tilted her head and smiled wryly, adding, “Think, too, of a human Empire ruled by a son of my House.”
Chapter Seven
I was wrong, the Emperor reflected as he watched Adela de Montgarde approach. She hasn’t aged; she’s matured. True, the corners of her eyes showed new lines that hadn’t existed when she’d left Corinth for Earth’s Moon. Her figure was fuller now as well, less boyish than he’d remembered. But if the tasks ahead of her on this difficult endeavor had aged her slightly, they had also invigorated her, filled her with a purpose that was easy to see after so long a separation. Still, despite her newfound maturity, he took comfort in the childlike way she delighted in each of the pleasures the royal family’s private garden presented.