Just as his fever peaked, his AID sent him a sharp tone. His transformation was abrupt and comprehensive. Hands frozen against Jessine *s ribs, he focused on the incoming information.
Urgent, insisted the AID. The High Secretary has been a.s.sa.s.sinated. Ver winced inside, though he knew Jessine couldn"t hear the intelligencer.
Acknowledged, he responded, then murmured a few rea.s.suring words to Jessine, Her movements against him had stopped as she sensed his sud- den distraction.
"What is it?" she asked. She clutched him tighter. "My husband?"
He paused before answering her, focusing on the now of information from his AID. "Yes. Your hus- band." Finally the flow stopped and he left her embrace. Kneeling beside her on the bed, he kissed her, long and deep. "Guard yourself, Jessine.
It could be dangerous." He began to gather up his uniform, scattered around the chamber. Then he
15.
Chelsea Quinn Yorforo
changed his mind and took a small pack of ordi- nary clothes out of the closet, where it had waited next to skiing togs and riding habits.
*Tell me," she pleaded, reaching out to grab
his sleeve.
"When I have confirmed..." Someone else
would have to tell her - not he. He would die for her if necessary. But he could not tell her she
was a widow.
"Damien-"
He caught her hand in his and deliberately
kissed her fingers. "Not now, Jessine. Not until I know for sure- In the mean time we have to get you away from here." He broke away from her, going toward the bathroom. He would have to wash and dress in less than two minutes if he wanted to stay ahead of the chaos. As he went through a hurried shower, he thought of the two best bolt-holes he knew of. Machines shaved and dried him; he was just fastening his shoes when the sirens began to whoop. He moved more quickly as new information came through.
"I heard," said Jessine as Ver came through
her bedchamber.
"I"ll send my men. They"ll protect you. I"d stay
but-"
"I know." She gave him a single, swift loss and
she motioned him away.
16.
Then he left and the enormity of her predica- ment came home to her. If her a.s.sumption was right and the High Secretary was dead, the Empire would fall into chaos. In dismay she set about putting her things together, trying to antic.i.p.ate how much she would need and for how long. She chose her clothing for rigorous practicality, including the three strands of almond-sized Milurean tsarovite which might buy her escape, if it came to that.
She had no wish to be at die center of a power vacuum when the winds began to fill it. Little as she wanted to admit it, she was frightened. With Ver gone, all she had to protect her was her mute alien staff, selected for their silence and discre- tion, not their skill at arms. She paced around her fantasy of a room. i^ioring its sensual prom- ises. At the window she looked down nervously, antic.i.p.ating the arrival of rebel squads. She didn"t know what faction would take advantage of the confusion first, but she knew Damien Ver was keeping an eye on one particular admiral with ambition.
If only there was someone in the building she could trust. That was the worst thing about this.
The alien staff would do their jobs as long as her position appeared viable. She was not certain that the aliens would protect her once armed
17.
Chelsea Quinn Yarbrv
men arrived. They had no reason to defend her.
She doubted she could trust them. She doubted
she could trust anyone.
A discreet knock at the inner door caught her attention. For a moment, she stared at the door.
Then she picked up the small railgun concealed in die door of an armoire. She strapped it to her hand and wrist before checking the spy hole.
Kitchley stood at the door, his golden alien face set in lines that Jessine recognized as con- cern. A native of Daphne, Kitchley had served as the Appointments Clerk to the High Secretary for years and was so familiar a presence that he hardly seemed alien any longer. Originally little more than a butler, time and proficiency had turned Kitchley into a power in his own right.
Although few would think of him as such, he was undoubtedly the most influential bureaucrat in
the Pact.
Jessine opened the door and stared at him, unsure what to say, not knowing his a.s.sessment
of the crisis.
"I am very sorry. Lady Jessine, for your loss, and for the danger you face at present." His voice had an odd timbre, as if he were speaking on two tones at once, one deep and ragged, the
other higher and smooth.
"Thank you." she said, thinking, confirmation.
18.
He"s gone. Sadness cut a narrow stream through her tension.
"I know it must be a great shock to you," he said gently. ^our kind are always deeply upset at the death of those close to you."
"Yes, I suppose... yes," she said, realizing that she had given her husband no more than a pa.s.s- ing worry. "T don"t think I can have taken it in yet."
"Probably not," said Kitchley. "I am making arrangements to get you out of here. I don"t want you to have any more trouble." His nod was courtly.
"What do you mean?" Jessine asked, feeling disoriented,
"I am arranging for an escort. It will take you to my vacation home in Horizon Park; the estate is fortified and patrolled. No one will suspect you are there. You will be safe until we can reestab- lish order." He smoothed his long tunic, his six-fingered hand moving quickly, holding her attention.
"That is very good of you, but I don"t want you to put yourself at risk. This isn"t a Daphne mat- ter," She saw approval in his amber eyes. She decided she would rather go with Kitchley now than await whatever Ver planned.
"I have my own position to protect Not many