Chapter Thirty-One

Carann, Royal Palace

Artakane I, Queen of the Dozen Stars, returned in triumph to Carann following the Battle of Tantos and the defeat of the rebel dukes. As she descended from orbit, she saw the cheering crowds that had gathered outside the palace and found herself overwhelmed by the scale of it all in a way the battle itself, in the heat of the moment, had failed to do. Leaving her shuttle on the landing platform, she found herself surrounded by reporters and holocameras; she managed to wave to the crowds and give a short, prepared statement promising that the rebellion was over and peace had been restored; reporters pressed in, shouting questions, but Mardoban put a hand on her shoulder and gently led her away and into the palace. There would be time for public appearances soon; for now, Arta just felt like she needed to rest.

Once they were inside, Mardoban turned to Arta – and to Latharna and Karani, who were following close behind – and smiled. “You did good, Your Majesty,” he said to her. “You faced your first test as queen – one that most monarchs will never have to deal with – and you passed it. You defeated your enemies and restored peace. Your mother would be proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Arta said. “You knew her better than almost anyone, and that means a lot from you. Still, I feel like I didn’t really do all that much. It seems like everyone else did the hard work.” She wasn’t even entirely sure how Respen and Sateira had died; the captain of Sateira’s flagship remained closemouthed about it, though he’d let slip enough that Arta could guess it hadn’t been pleasant.

“A good leader knows they don’t have to do everything,” Mardoban said. “More often, they need to find the right person for the job and let them do what they’re best at. But Arta, you escaped assassination, defended your home, rescued your father, helped overthrow a tyrant and kept your head under fire the whole time. That’s definitely something to take pride in.”

“Yeah, you can second-guess yourself later,” Karani said. “For now, just enjoy the compliments.”

Mardoban turned to look at Latharna. “I hear Miss Dhenloc comported herself well, too,” he said. “I’ll have to pass my complements on to Ambassador Preas.”

“It’s Lady Dhenloc, actually,” Arta put in as Latharna blushed. “Latharna’s a knight now.”

“Really?” Mardoban asked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I don’t want to be the one to explain things to Ceana after all.” He shook his head, chuckling.

“I didn’t ask for it, Your Grace,” Latharna said. “But I intend to serve Her Majesty as best as I can, for as long as she needs me to.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Arta told her. “I have no doubts that you’ll be just fine.” Latharna blushed again, while Karani looked to be snickering behind her hand at the sight. Arta shot her sister a disapproving look.

The sound of footsteps interrupted them; Arta turned to look down the hall and saw a familiar looking young man approach. “Father, Arta!” Pakorus shouted. “You’re back!” He ran forward and caught Arta in a hug, then coughed and step back. “Er, that is, I’m glad to see you’re safe, Your Majesty.” He turned to Mardoban. “And you as well, Father.”

“You don’t need to be so formal,” Arta said, turning her head to the side to hide her blush. Hold on, there, she told herself. You’re already sort-of involved with Latharna. You don’t need to complicate things any more. Even so, she noticed that there was something new in the way Pakorus held himself, a sense of purpose, maybe, that wasn’t entirely unattractive.

“I saw what happened on the news when I got back,” Pakorus said. “That was quite a victory, Arta. Congratulations.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot,” Arta said. “But thank you anyway. And where have you been, anyway? Your father told me you’d just gotten back from some sort of secret mission with Midaia? Where is she? And what have you two been doing, anyway?”

Pakorus’s expression turned serious. “I don’t know where Midaia is,” he said. “She ran off as soon as we landed; I think she was looking for someone. But we were both trying to find out what we could about the Commander, and that’s how we… ran into each other. We ended up going to the Empire, and what we found there… well, it’s best if I showed you.” He held up a small drive in one hand. “Come with me. We need a computer terminal.”

///

Arta’s mind was still reeling from the information Pakorus had showed her on his drive. She’d thought she’d passed through the worst of the conflict, but now it seemed that things had only just begun. But she was beginning to see the shape of things, now. Pakorus had given her the final piece. There was a hand that had been moving pieces against her since before she’d even been born – and that hand belonged to a man who lived in this very building, a man who had the gall to dance with her at the New Year’s party before the Crown Tournament. Had Publius Vedrans Quarinis even known who she was, then? He very well might have.

Well, now Arta knew him for what he was. And the Queen of the Dozen Stars had one more enemy left to face.

She marched into the small receiving room near the palace’s main hall where a passing guard had informed her that Latharna, Karani, and Mardoban had retired to after Pakorus had taken her aside; he was following close behind. When she saw who else was there, however, she stopped dead in her tracks. Three figures stood in the room who she hadn’t seen since Katanes and who were now being warily regarded by everyone else. Two of them hung back cautiously, but the tallest and most handsome turned towards her. Darius ast Sakran gave a small, embarrassed smile and bowed from the waist.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “I just wanted to say that I deeply regret my father’s actions and am truly sorry that I didn’t do anything to stop him sooner. I know that personally, I have done nothing to earn your trust, but I wanted to extend my sincere apologies and promise that Sakran Duchy will do all in its power to atone for its role in starting the rebellion and to prove its loyalty to the Crown.”

“Darius,” Arta said coolly when she thought she could speak levelly, “I wasn’t aware you had come planetside. I had thought that the Sakran delegation remained in orbit until tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“He said he wanted to talk to you alone first,” Latharna said, regarding Darius with a cool hostility. “We didn’t think that was a good idea.”

“I threw a muffin at him,” Karani admitted; indeed, the plate of pastries that rested on the low table in the room’s center appeared to be one muffin short.

“Which is not an appropriate way to greet an Acting Duke,” Mardoban said, frowning. “Even one whose duchy was recently engaged in open rebellion against the Crown.”

“He helped kidnap my father,” Karani muttered. “You ask me, he deserved to be hit with something a lot worse.”

“I probably do, at that,” Darius said; behind him, his siblings remained quiet. Galen in particular was glaring at Arta and she had a feeling that he, at least, had not abandoned his personal hostility despite allying with the Crown. She remembered suddenly that he had been one who had called for an attack on Katanes after she’d escaped the failed negotiations. “But for now, I wanted you to know that I am willing to do everything in my power to make things right. Whatever it takes.”

“Really?” Pakorus asked, folding his arms. Arta suddenly remembered that he and the ast Sakran siblings had gone to school together; that added another dimension to the hostility in the room, one that she was in no mood to deal with.

“Enough!” Arta said, holding up her hands. “Everyone, calm down. We have other matters to worry about now.” She turned away from Darius and towards the other side of the room. “Latharna, Mardoban, come with me. There are things I need to tell you – and I think I may need your help.”

“So, what, we’re just going to be brushed aside like nobodies?” Galen demanded angrily. “Darius did not have to come here personally and put himself at your mercy like this, and this is how you’re going to treat him?”

“Darius is lucky he’s not been thrown in jail for the rest of his life,” Karani muttered. “As are you.”

“Quiet, Galen,” Darius said, raising a hand; he didn’t acknowledge Karani’s remark at all. “This is Her Majesty’s home, and we wait on her pleasure.”

“Wait,” Arta said, turning to Darius and regarding him critically. “Were you serious about being willing to do anything to prove your loyalty to the Crown?”

“Yes,” Darius said bluntly; Arta searched his face, and found herself believing him. And after all, his defection had turned the tide at Tantos III…

“Then, you come with us, too,” she said. “Some new information has come to my attention, and I think I may need all the help I can get. And your skills might just come in handy.”

///

That evening, Arta marched down a palace corridor at the head of a guard squad, flanked by Latharna at her right hand and Darius on her left. The explanation she’d given Darius seemed only to strengthen his resolve, and upon hearing Quarinis’s name, he’d nodded as if he suddenly now understood many things. Latharna was grimly determined, face set and shoulders squared. Arta had the two best duelists in the Kingdom by her side now, but she still couldn’t feel completely safe – for they were heading to confront perhaps the most dangerous man in the Dozen Stars.

They reached Ambassador Quarinis’s door, and Arta stepped forward and knocked once; beside her, Latharna and Darius put their hands on their swords and the guards – including both Gilgam and Rehan – gripped their rifles tightly. To Arta’s surprise, the door slid open at once; she glanced at her companions and nodded, and then stepped inside.

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Quarinis was seated at his desk and looked up when they entered; the lights of the capital city gleamed in the dusk through the window behind him. “Ah, Your Majesty,” he said. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Allow me to congratulate you on your victory at Tantos III, by the way. Most impressive. And may I inquire as to the reason for such a… heavy escort?”

“Publius Vedrans Quarinis,” Arta said, resting her hand on her sword and stepping forward, “by the authority of the Crown of the Dozen Stars, I hereby place you under arrest.”

If Quarinis was at all impressed by this announcement, he gave no sign; he merely raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Indeed?” he asked. “My I inquire as to the charges?”

“You know them as well as I do,” Arta said, voice low. “Murder and regicide, piracy, sedition. I have evidence directly tying you to the creation and activities of the Commander and his assassins, and reason to believe that you were responsible for hiring mercenaries to attack my half-sister and Duke Mardoban’s son when they were investigating you, and stoking the recent rebellion to advance your own gain. And that you have done all of these things not in defiance of, but at the behest of your government and its Emperor. Do you deny it?”

Quarinis spread his hands. “I cannot,” he said. “I am guilty of all you say and more, Your Majesty.”

Arta drew a sharp breath through her teeth; beside her, Darius tensed. “Are you saying,” he said slowly, “that it was you who was manipulating my father into rebelling against the Kingdom? Was Her Majesty right?”

“Indeed,” Quarinis said. “Though honestly, your father and the others required very little encouragement from me. I merely offered… incentive.”

Darius growled and stepped forward, preparing to draw his sword, but Arta put a hand on his arm. “Calm,” she said quietly, then raised her voice. “Then your own words condemn you. Take him into custody.”

The guards fanned out around the room and Gilgam stepped forward with cuffs in his hand, but Quarinis simply shook his head. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Have you honestly thought this through? I am an Ambassador of the Empire, handpicked by Verus Licinius himself. I have committed crimes against your Kingdom, and I do not deny them, but I am not subject to its laws or its Crown. Arresting me here, now, would be an act of war. Are you sure you want to risk that?”

Gilgam stopped and looked at Arta, but her will remained firm. “Your assassins murdered my mother in her own throne room, along with anyone else who got in their way,” she said. “Then you tried to have me killed, and my sister, and my friend, and if you didn’t start the rebellion, you stirred the pot. An act of war? It seems to me that we’re already at war, Quarinis. We just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Quarinis smiled thinly at stood. “Perhaps,” he said. “But so far, it’s been a rather gentlemanly war, don’t you think? Fought in back alleys and with proxies. Your people haven’t really suffered, not yet. But if you do this, they will. The Dozen Stars rules less than fifty systems; Realtran, who you can doubtless count on as allies, about as many. The Empire commands more than a thousand. Do you understand the difference yet? We may be far past the peak of our strength, true enough – but we are still stronger than you, by a magnitude I don’t think you’ve considered yet. When the war comes – and it will, if you arrest me now – and all the Empire’s fleets and legions bear down upon you, you will lose.”

“Your threats are empty,” Arta said. “The Empire has wanted the Dozen Stars back ever since we broke away, but you’ve never been strong enough to reclaim us before and you won’t be now. And you have enemies at your back as well as your front now. The Dozen Stars may not be your equal, but between our Kingdom and Realtran and the Alaelam Alliance the story might be different. You can’t fight a war on two fronts, Quarinis.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But it may also be that there is news out of the Empire that you haven’t heard yet, and that the Alaelam Alliance may soon cease to be a factor.”

“Arta, what do we do?” Latharna asked quietly, leaning in. From her other side, Darius also shot her a questioning look.

Arta considered for a moment, then looked up at met Quarinis’s eyes. “I think you’re lying,” she said. “Or not telling the whole truth. If the Empire was as strong as you say, we’d be the Emperor’s slaves already. I’ve heard enough. Gilgam, take him, please.”

Quarinis sighed. “Then you leave me no choice,” he said. “But don’t forget – I tried to give you a way out.” He stepped back from his desk, and one of the office’s walls suddenly hissed and slid open, revealing a concealed chamber there. From inside it came the echoing sounds of pounding metal feet, and then two towering mechanical figures strode out into the office.

“Praetorians!” Gilgam shouted, taking cover behind the desk and drawing his rifle. Arta snarled and drew her sword, flicking it on; Darius and Latharna did the same. She’d seen Quarinis’s praetorians before, had known to expect them – that was why she’d wanted the two best knights she had by her side when she came here tonight. But somehow seeing them again, knowing that they had the brains and skills of some of the finest warriors in the Empire built into those monstrous mechanical shells and that they were about to attack, the Praetorians seemed far more terrifying than her imagination had made them.

From behind the desk, Gilgam opened fire; Rehan gave the order, and the other guards did the same. The beam bolts only glanced off their gleaming armor, leaving scorch-marks behind but doing no appreciable damage. The Praetorians ignored the attacks and levelled their arms; the beam-pistols built into their wrists rose to the surface and they unleashed a barrage of their own. The guards shouted and took cover as the blasts tore through the office.

Arta threw herself between her subjects and the Praetorians and slammed her sword into the floor; there was a brilliant surge of blue light and a wall of energy erupted from her, shielding the others from the attacks. The Praetorians paused, seeming to consider what this new development might mean, and then continued forward, their feet pounding the ground. They held their fire, knowing it wouldn’t penetrate the barrier, but Arta knew the cyborg warriors themselves would be able to pass through effortlessly. Then they could simply crush the life from their enemies with their bare hands if need be.

Neither Latharna nor Darius intended to give them the chance. No sooner had the Praetorians resumed their advance than both knights sprang forward, blades at the ready. Darius aimed straight for the center of the left Praetorian’s chest; his sword struck and hissed as it was buried deep, but not deep enough. The Praetorian batted him away, sending him flying into Rehan and knocking them both down, and then kept coming, sword still protruding from its chest.

Latharna, meanwhile, grabbed her Praetorian by the arm and hauled herself up its side. The creature made a grinding noise that might have been irritation and began swinging its arm back and forth, but it couldn’t dislodge her. She pulled herself up to its shoulders and grabbed her sword’s hilt with two hands, holding onto the Praetorian with her legs. Her blade flared brightly as she increased its power to the highest setting and then swung with all her might. The Praetorian’s head went flying, clattering to the floor.

But unlike a normal foe, decapitation was not enough to stop it. Praetorians’ organic brains, the only remnant of their humanity, were buried deep inside their torsos, not in their heads. Latharna’s opponent could no longer see, but it didn’t need to; seizing the Realtran with its free hand, it picked her up and threw her across the room.

Arta gave a loud cry of surprise and dismay. She leaped to her feet, letting her barrier fall, and jumped onto Quarinis’s desk. There was a brilliant flash of blue light as she propelled herself forward, and the force of that leap carried her onto the Praetorian’s shoulders herself. There she could see the hole in its neck where its head had once been; she couldn’t see far inside, but she could see enough to know that its impenetrable armor didn’t cover here; Latharna had exposed a weakness. Raising her sword high, giving a tremendous shout, she coated her blade in blue light, focusing all her Adept’s power upon it, and then slammed it down into the hole. There was a blinding flash and a terrible sound of screaming metal, and then the Praetorian blew apart. Arta was flung backwards and barely managed to land on her feet, panting for breath. The remains of the Praetorian fell to the ground across the room, still smoking.

Now the second Praetorian turned towards her, ignoring the guards who shot at it or Darius’s sword sticking out of its chest. Arta swayed on her feet, uncertain of how long she’d be able to hold her barrier this time as the Praetorian levelled its weapon at her, but then Latharna was there, throwing herself between them like an angel from the Canon, sword held high. “You will not have her,” she hissed. “I am Latharna Dhenloc, knight and Queen’s Champion, and I say you will not have her!”

The Praetorian regarded her; its metallic face unreadable. Then, finally, it spoke in a deep, echoing voice. “That,” it said, “is irrelevant.” Then it advanced, its arm lowering to focus its weapon on Latharna instead of Arta.

The Praetorian fired but Latharna was ready, catching the bolt on her sword, and she leapt forward, launching into a flying kick. Arta almost called out a warning – no human foot could possibly inflict damage on the creature’s metal shell – but then she saw that wasn’t Latharna’s intent. Her foot slammed into the hilt of Darius’s sword, burying it deeper and causing the Praetorian’s internal mechanisms to whine and spark. Falling to the ground, she dropped her own sword and grabbed Darius’s, pulling it out, revealing wires and darkness beyond.

“Now!” Arta called, waving to the guards. “Shoot the opening! Do it!” Gilgam and Rehan needed no further prompting; raising their beam rifles, they took aim at the Praetorians exposed insides and unleashed a barrage. Many of the shots bounced harmlessly off the armored torso; several more found their mark. Arta could hear what sounded like machinery breaking, and then something that might have been glass shattering. The Praetorian’s glowing eyes flickered and dimmed, and then went out. With a metallic whine, it pitched forward and lay still.

Arta ran to Latharna side where she crouched by the fallen Praetorian and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. “Are you all right?” she whispered into her ear.

“I am,” she said, “knowing that you’re safe.” They both stood, looking around the wreckage of the office and their fallen enemies, to where Rehan was helping a battered Darius to his feet, and then turned back to the window, where Quarinis stood with his arms crossed, seemingly unconcerned by what had just happened. Arta stepped away from Latharna, bent to pick up the handcuffs that Gilgam and dropped, and approached him slowly.

“Now,” she said, “I believe we were in the middle of something.” Reaching out, she grabbed Quarinis by the arm – or tried to. Her hand passed through him, meeting no resistance, and Arta stumbled backwards in horror.

“You are, perhaps,” Quarinis said. “I, however, was never here at all. Remember my warning, young Queen. This was only the beginning.” His image flickered briefly and then vanished; from beneath the desk, Arta saw the gleam of light, and realized what it meant.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no no!”

“What happened?” Darius asked. “Did I hit my head harder than I thought?”

“He knew,” Arta whispered. “He knew we were coming for him; there’s a holoprojector on the underside of the desk. He was gone before we got here. He got away!” She sank to her knees, muttering curses under her breath. Latharna put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“He got away,” Arta said again after a long silence. “And he was right. This isn’t over. Tonight was only just the beginning.”

///

Quarinis sat back in the cockpit of his personal yacht and deactivated the holotransmiter that had been recording his image for his conversation with Artakane. He’d been anticipating that he’d need to make a clean escape ever since Al’Aymar Alaen had warned him that his trail was being followed; Artakane’s return from battle had been his signal that it was time to go. He’d left earlier in the day, concealing his ship behind a false ID transmitter so that the Carann flight records wouldn’t reveal that he was gone, setting up his holoprojector to begin transmitting when Artakane approached his rooms and leaving the Praetorians behind to delay her. He felt someone sorrowful at that; they were a valuable resource and served the Empire well. But then, dying gloriously in battle was what they were made for, after all.

He regretted ending his time on Carann; he had rather enjoyed it, rustic and barbaric as the Dozen Stars might be. But he’d always suspected this day would come; it was too much to hope that his scheming might go unnoticed forever. A pity Artakane had survived. He rather liked the girl, despite himself – she had fire, and dedication – but Verus Licinius had demanded her death above all else. Quarinis had weakened the Dozen Stars with the rebellion he’d fostered, but would that be enough to appease his Emperor? In any case, it was out of his hands now, and he’d delivered his message, and warning, to the young queen. What came next would be on her head.

Taking the controls, Quarinis turned his ship away from Carann and entered jump, away from the Dozen Stars and into Imperial space, and the judgment that would await him there.