“Sir, you just survived an attempt on your life,” the guard in this transport says. “We need to check you for injuries!”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Umbra? Are you all right?” I uncurl, now that we are doubly safe.
She sits up and touches the sheet. “What’s this? Are we being kidnapped?”
“Standard procedure,” I tell her and poke my finger at the material. “Only air passes through this. Nothing else, such as blades or projectiles.”
“He tried to kill you,” she says, touching the sheet and clearly not liking it. “Almost the moment you arrived on Khav.” Her voice trembles.
I put my arm protectively around her. “And you saved me with your Syntrix. If you hadn’t, he’d succeeded.”
She shudders. “It wasn’t a conscious effort. I just had to get the knife away from us.”
“A very useful talent,” I tell her, nuzzling her hair. “You saved my life. Bellatriz, do we know who that was?”
“I’m eavesdropping on all the communications,”the sword AI replies. “The security agencies are all very busy blaming each other. Apparently the assassin killed himself immediately after.A poisoned pill, they say. He already had it in his mouth, ready to bite down. It looks like a suicide mission. He’ll be investigated thoroughly, but the investigators will likely come up empty and state that he acted alone.”
I give a dry snort. “Of course. The slikes at court are great at preparing these things. He will be found completely clean.” I open the protective sheet and tear it off Umbra and me. “Let’s not arrive at the Imperial court wrapped like a couple of guttedjesks.”
“Everyone knows that Umbra saved you, although they’re not sure how.”
“Good.”
The transport turns off the main street, passes through the Portal of Asugiux, and into the Palace courtyard.
“In a way, this was fortunate,” I ponder as the transport comes to a halt right outside the main entrance and large, purple-clad Calanian Guards come up and surround it. “Nobody can blame us for being shaken after an assassination attempt that nearly ended up killing me.”
The doors on both sides open. I get out and help Umbra out after me. “How are you feeling, my love?”
She gives me a brave smile. “I’m shaken, but ready.”
I go in and embrace her tightly. “Perfect,” I whisper. “The people will love you. And I think we can be certain that the slikes will hate you. You are everything they are not.”
28
- Umbra-
“I think they would hate me anyway,” I whisper back.
Mareliux looks at me with concern that I think is genuine. “Do you need a break?”
I take a deep breath. I’m not as shaken as I’m acting — it all happened so fast, and the threat was gone in a split second. It helps thatIresolved the situation, although it happened all by itself. I saw the blade, there was a wave of Syntrix, and the knife was yanked from the man’s hand. It even gave me a bit of a thrill to have it succeed. I’m feeling exhausted with that effort, but it’s a good exhaustion, like after a long workout. “I’m fine. So this will happen a lot?”
“Not inside the Emperor’s part of the palace,” Mareliux says, looking at the crowd of security people around us, including some tall, purple guards that stand out by their height. “That is, if these people can do their job properly!” He raises his voice, clearly meaning for them all to hear his disapproving tone.
Two figures in rich purple togas stand a respectful distance away. Their multiple tentacles, some a deep violet and others shot through with shimmering gold, twitch with subtle curiosity as they await our approach. Their expressions convey a practiced air of dignified patience.
Two other land transports are pulling in and stopping behind ours. The Empress, the quaestor, and the younger Prince Nerox step out of them, also surrounded by security.
I take them in as they approach. Empress Juriniel walks first, moving stiffly, a thin and tall woman in several layers of black robes, the outer one accented by a thread of bright purple. She must be in her fifties, and her gaze has an intensity that’s much colder than Mareliux’s. Her features are calculating, the lines around her mouth hard. Her tendrils are short and kept close to her head, the top of her scalp covered by a white hat with two long ribbons that hang down her front in playful curls. They break up the nun-like severity, but I’m not tricked for a moment. That woman is dangerous.
Right behind her comes Quaestor Preniat, his pale robes much the same as the ones he wore on Grefve. His walk is slow and cumbersome, but I suspect he’s making himself look more decrepit than he really is.
Prince Nerox wears blindingly white pants and a sword in his belt. Where Mareliux prefers a bare upper body, the younger brother wears a shimmery black vest with three shiny buttons, only the upper one buttoned. Along with the cape, it gives him a careless appearance, but there is also something dashing about him, something pirate-like. I see the family resemblance with Mareliux, but this prince has a sly smile on his face and his turquoise tendrils are waving and undulating in a vaguelysuggestive manner. His eyes are focused on me, looking me up and down.
“We had the most terrible news,” the Empress says as she approaches. “Thank the gods you are well, Mareliux!”
The news isn’tthatbad,I think to myself.Or does she mean it’s terrible that he survived?
