The Emperor returned his attention to the agent. “It is time, Marc, that my son be advised of your findings concerning his former wife. Please see to it that he receives the report I just reviewed, and that he is kept up to date on anything else you may uncover regarding her activities.”
The man’s eyes grew wide. “Sire?”
“Do not question me on this,” he said. He narrowed his eyes and looked squarely at the man. “Thank you for your report.” He lifted a hand to emphasize that the meeting had ended and started to pivot the chair around, but stopped when he realized that although the man was now on his feet, Glenney had made no move to leave the chamber.
“Sire…”
For a moment, the Emperor thought the man was about to ask him to reconsider his request to inform Javas, but Glenney’s face—normally unreadable—told him otherwise. “Yes? There is something else?”
Glenney reached into a coat pocket and produced a data stick, rolling it nervously in his fingers as he spoke. “There is an addendum to my report,” he began, the barest hint of apology in his voice, “concerning another of Mistress Valtane’s meetings, that is not yet in the main system. Because of what it contains, I…” He hesitated and licked lips gone suddenly dry. “I wished to present it for your personal review before entering it into the main files.” He placed the stick in the Emperor’s outstretched hand, a look of relief plain on his features to be free of the thing.
The Emperor slipped the data stick into a matching slot in the arm of the powerchair and stiffened as the images flowed into his mind. He felt a wave of cold wash over him as he watched Rihana Valtane conversing in a private dining booth of one of Armelin City’s finest restaurants. She had altered the color of her hair, and her clothing was entirely out of character, although the thin disguise was probably intended more to avoid unwanted public attention to herself than Imperial scrutiny. Her dinner companion, on the other hand, had made no attempt to alter his appearance. The visual quality of the surveillance report was clear enough to easily detect the amount of wine in their glasses, but the conversation between the two was inaudible. An audio blocker had obviously been used in the table’s vicinity. He mentally speeded the download, noting the time, date and other particulars of the meeting.
“Their lips were visible through most of what I just saw,” he said to Glenney. “Have you made an attempt to have a computer reconstruction made of their discussion?”
“No, Sire. As I said, I thought this was important enough to give to you before I did anything with it.”
“Thank you for bringing this to me first.” He turned the chair away from Glenney. “You are dismissed.”
Glenney took a step forward. “Shall I enter this with the other file?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he lied. He used as much will-power as he could summon to control not only his bio-readouts but his emotions as well. “I’ve already done so.”
The Emperor didn’t bother to rotate the chair, but the sound of the door sliding shut, followed by a stillness returning to the room, confirmed that Glenney had gone. He dimmed the lights to a more comfortable level and looked at the bracelet, still in his hand, and marveled at the way it reflected even in the weak light. A phoenix, he mused. Life, rising from death. He waited, lost in thought. Less than a minute passed, however, before he heard the door slide open again. He didn’t need to turn to identify the newcomer; other than Prince Javas, only his immediate medical aide could enter his study without the Emperor personally admitting him.
“Please have a seat, Brendan,” he began, a lightness in his voice belying what he actually felt. He glided the chair around to face the aide finally, adding, “I gather you wish to reprimand me for repeatedly ignoring your medical orders of late.”
The man raised an eyebrow and smiled, as he always did when reminding the Emperor of his medical needs. “It appears that my reprimands are taken too lightly, sometimes. However, I trust that once this business of the Hundred Worlds Council is concluded this afternoon you’ll finally be willing to accept the medical order I gave you when we arrived, and the one you’ve ignored the longest: Rest after a long voyage.”
The Emperor allowed a smile to form on his lips for the first time since Glenney had come to see him. “Perhaps so. Perhaps so.” He stared into the young man’s eyes and concentrated, giving a complicated command that caused the study’s viewscreen to spring to life, replaying the visual portion of Glenney’s report on the data stick still inserted into the chair arm.
Brendan’s face drained of all color as he watched the replay, saw clearly Rihana Valtane talking to him at the restaurant. His eyes darted from the Emperor to the screen, then back again several times. He watched himself fidgeting in the replayed scene, and he saw that he had glanced around several times in fear that he’d be spotted talking to her. He began shaking as he watched, sweat rolled down his brow and his body quivered in spasms even though he sat rigidly upright in the chair.
The bright images cast a flickering reflection on Brendan’s face and white tunic in the dimmed room, adding a grotesque enhancement to his obvious fear and discomfort. The Emperor took no pleasure in it.
The replay stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and the lights slowly increased in intensity. Except for the sound of Brendan’s rapid breathing, and the minute rustling of the man’s clothes as he shook visibly under the Emperor’s gaze, the room was silent. The Emperor remained where he was and regarded his aide steadily, saying nothing, asking nothing of him. He carefully, continuously monitored the aide’s readouts, despite the drain the effort caused him, and waited.
“There is a debt between our Houses,” Brendan offered at last, his voice trembling. “She… A representative of her House called on me, insisted that I meet with her. I couldn’t refuse.”
“We know.” The Emperor lowered his voice to a whisper. “What did she want?”
Brendan tried to reply, but each time he opened his mouth to speak he reconsidered what he was about to say and attempted to start over. His brow furrowed in puzzlement and his words came in sobs when he finally got control of himself enough to form a coherent answer. “I don’t know! She… I…” He sat upright once more, averting the Emperor’s gaze, and tried desperately to regain his composure.
You’re telling me the truth, he thought as he monitored several vital telltales in Brendan’s readouts. The Emperor steepled his hands before him and waited for Brendan to continue.
“I… I had made up my mind, long before I was to meet with her, to refuse whatever request she made. The debt between Houses is centuries old, and I intended to deny it.” He looked up again, his face flush with a mixture of shame and confusion. “I made an oath of loyalty to you, Sire, and have lived by that oath. I intended to invalidate the debt, but she made no request!”
“Think carefully,” the Emperor said. He spoke slowly, keeping his words firm, but at the same time letting the controlled power of his voice encourage the distraught young man to speak freely. “What did she say? What did you discuss?”
“Nothing of consequence, Sire, I swear!” His breathing had slowed, and he spoke more calmly now, but he shook his head in frustration as he searched his memory. “It seemed almost, for lack of a better description, like a… a family reunion. She asked only about my welfare: Were my duties demanding? Did I need anything? Had the change in location of the Imperial Court put a greater burden on me? Things of that sort.”
The Emperor listened as he described their conversation, then nodded in understanding when Brendan had finished. He leaned on an elbow, absently pulling at his thinning white beard as he considered the implications of what he’d heard.