Five EDF soldiers with rifles on their shoulders marched to the doorway and stopped. Base Commandant Tilton, a man with large, slightly bulging eyes, entered next and scanned the chamber to assess where everyone was. He had a weak chin that seemed designed for a beard, despite EDF regulations prohibiting facial hair. When Tilton finally spoke in a reedy voice, he addressed someone behind him in the hall. “The room is secure, Mr. Chairman.”

Basil Wenceslas stepped in alone, wearing a business suit that set him apart from all the military personnel. The guard kithmen closed in around the Mage-Imperator, and Jora’h did not tell them to back down. He coldly faced the Hansa Chairman, refusing to address his supposed counterpart with any title or formalities. “My Empire is under attack. Millions, if not billions, of my people are dying because you keep me here. Release me.”

“Certainly. provided you agree to a few simple terms. I thought I had made my expectations perfectly clear.” He responded with an obviously false smile. “Break your agreement with Peter and the outlaw Confederation. Declare that he’s a rebel and publicly support me. You can do it all in a single speech.”

Jora’h’s voice was ragged and distraught. “I am the Mage-Imperator. My promises are more than wind. By holding me here, you have declared war on the Ildiran Empire. My Solar Navy will hold you responsible for every Ildiran death that — ”

The Chairman gave him a dismissive wave. “Your Solar Navy is in a shambles. Bluster all you like, but now that I know your battleships are busy fighting the faeros, I have even less to fear from them.”

Jora’h’s journey to Theroc to cement an alliance with the Confederation had been a dramatic move. He had admitted the errors of previous Mage-Imperators, and King Peter had suggested that the two great races put their pasts behind them. New leaders, new times, a new future.

But now the relationship between Ildirans and humans — at least these humans — had forever changed.

Ironically, Nira realized that Jora’h’s father, like Chairman Wenceslas, would have betrayed anyone necessary to achieve his own ends and to protect the Empire. He would have had no qualms about breaking his alliance with the Confederation and making a pact with the Hansa if it served his purpose; nor would he have balked at breaking the newly made pact to be safe again. Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h had kept many secrets from the Ildiran people and even killed his own rememberers when they discovered too much.

Jora’h, however, was most emphatically not his father. He would never give in to the Hansa’s coercion.

Chairman Wenceslas continued to prod him. “Where is the Confederation now? Are they here to help you? Have they responded to your alleged crisis on Ildira, or have they left you entirely alone? Why remain loyal to such fair-weather friends. Why not end this? You can be on your way in no time.”

“I don’t believe he has any intention of freeing you, Jora’h,” Nira said. “His actions speak clearly enough.”

“I agree. It makes my decision even more straightforward.”

The Chairman was not impressed. “In the meantime, we’ve finished an analysis of your flagship. Or should I say the newest addition toour fleet? Since the Earth Defense Forces have been severely depleted, we need every viable ship. Enemies continue to abound. in all directions.”

Jora’h said in a cool voice, “Then perhaps you should not have made so many enemies. I will not permit you to incorporate part of the Ildiran Solar Navy into your military.”

The Chairman shrugged. “It’s a perfectly functional ship. I can’t let it go to waste.” He turned to Commandant Tilton. “Send word to Admiral Diente to prepare for a thorough test cruise.” Recognizing the name of the man who had ambushed the Mage-Imperator’s warliner on its way from Theroc, Nira scowled.

The Chairman flashed Jora’h a distasteful smile. “Admiral Diente will take your ship far outside our solar system to see what it can do. And, since you still need to come to your senses, I have decided that you will accompany him — all alone, so you’ll have uninterrupted time for contemplation.”

“If you isolate him from all Ildiran contact, he’ll go insane,” Nira cried. “Even the Mage-Imperator can’t bear that.”

“Oh, dear. That hadn’t occurred to me.” The Chairman’s voice was rich with sarcasm. “He can change his mind anytime he likes.” He waited, but Jora’h did not respond. Annoyed, Basil Wenceslas shook his head. “I am so tired of people being obstinate and intractable instead of pulling their own weight to solve a crisis that affects us all.” As if a timer had gone off, he signaled the guards in the hall. “That is all the time I can devote to the matter. I must get back to Earth. Admiral Diente has his orders. Enjoy your solitary journey, Mage-Imperator. I trust it will help you to think more clearly.”

10

Prime Designate Daro’h

Mijistra was on fire, and the faeros reveled in it.

Thanks to the sacrifices of countless guard kithmen, Prime Designate Daro’h had escaped from the Prism Palace along with his sister Yazra’h and Nira’s five half-breed children. They had barely gotten away from the flaming avatar of Rusa’h as he surged through the crystalline corridors, destroying everything in his path.

On a barren hilltop far outside of Mijistra, Daro’h ached as he observed the sprawling shape of the glorious city. In the distance, the faeros continued to bombard the Ildiran capital.

To save as many of his people as possible, the Prime Designate had commanded a mass exodus, ordering all kiths to flee into the countryside while fireballs continued to hover over the skyline. Crowds of refugees streamed into the open hills, following rivers, looking for places to hide. Several Solar Navy warliners cruised low to the ground, delivering more survivors and supplies.

Next to Daro’h, Yazra’h also stared at the spectacle, her eyes like hard chips of topaz. His sister’s mane of long, coppery hair drifted in the breeze. “Clustering together makes the people vulnerable. They have no defenses if the faeros decide to incinerate them. They cannot fight.” Although one of her Isix cats had been burned to death during Rusa’h’s conquest, the remaining two prowled around her legs.

“So far the faeros have not chosen to attack,” Daro’h said. “I must postulate — I mustbelieve — that annihilating the Ildiran people does not serve the faeros plans. Rusa’h seems to be in control of them. He wants something more — the Mage-Imperator, perhaps.”

But their father was not on Ildira. In fact, no one knew where Jora’h was.

Yazra’h crossed her arms over her chest. “Nevertheless, I will not letyou stay in one of the open camps or exposed villages, Prime Designate.”

“You want me to hide.”

She gave him a hard look. “I want you tosurvive. I swore an oath to protect you.” With the Mage-Imperator missing, Ildirans had no one else to look to; Daro’h was their de facto leader.