“It is the measure of a great leader to put misunderstandings behind him. It is human to admit a mistake.” Basil’s words were flat and clipped, without the passion he would have demanded of either the Archfather or King Rory. “Despite our past differences, we and the black robots can be far stronger together. It may be the only way we can survive against the dangers abroad in the Spiral Arm.” He smiled. “The robots will restore our Earth Defense Forces, and in return we will replenish their numbers so that they can fight against their destructive Klikiss creators. Together, we become powerful, a force for our enemies to reckon with.”

Basil surprised Cain by summoning Sirix and his companions forward. The deputy blinked. He hadn’t expected the black robots to be so close to the Chairman. Sarein flashed him a quick, nervous glance, then looked away. She appeared nauseated. He didn’t acknowledge her.

Moving on clusters of fingerlike legs, Sirix led the two identical machines up beside Basil Wenceslas. Cain felt sweat glistening on his pale forehead, but he did not dare reach up to wipe it away.

“These are the first new robots we’ve released from our factories,” the Chairman announced. “They and others will be exchanged for more newly reassembled EDF battleships.”

Sirix stepped forward, his crimson optical sensors bright. Basil discreetly moved back half a step to give him room. Cain closed his eyes.

The first shots rang out.

A patter of projectiles whizzed through the air and stitched an embroidery of sparks against Sirix’s black body core. McCammon’s guards and Andez’s men shouted, trying frantically to locate the sniper. Andez pointed to one of the rooftops where an automated self-guiding gun had risen up from where it had lain hidden among the pipes and heat radiators.

Basil threw himself to the ground as projectiles ricocheted off the black bodies of the other two robots. Andez pointed to the warehouse rooftop and barked orders. McCammon’s men were already opening fire, though they could not see any sniper. Within seconds, they had blasted the automated weapon to pieces.

McCammon raced to the podium, panting, while Colonel Andez sprinted ahead of him, apparently wanting to be the first to reach the Chairman’s side. Afraid it would appear that he had waited too long to respond, Cain grabbed Sarein’s arm and they ran forward as soon as the gunfire stopped.

Stumbling, Sarein gasped at Cain, “What do we do now?”

“Why, we try to save the Chairman,” he said, struggling to play the expected role. “We need to say that Freedom’s Sword must be behind this. They are the ones who wish to assassinate the Chairman.”

Sarein looked stunned; then she nodded briskly. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it.”

Sirix and the two other black robots extended their multiple sharp-tipped arms, ready for close-in combat, if necessary. “Who dares attack us?” he demanded.

“Those shots weren’t meant for you,” Basil snapped. “Somebody was trying to kill me.” His face was red with anger. He drew deep breaths and said coldly to Andez, “Find out who did this.”

“We will,” McCammon answered.

87

Faeros Incarnate Rusa’h

Following the impact of the shipyards, Mijistra was an inferno. But this was not a cleansing, reviving fire such as the faeros might cause. The magnificent Prism Palace, the legendary Hall of Rememberers, the museums, sculptures, and fountains — all of them erased, vaporized in a fiery flash of impact.

At the heart of the blaze, embers and shards of superheated crystal stirred. Dozens of brilliant faeros fireballs swirled around the impact point like angry hornets. They added their energy, nurturing the flames, pulling upon the lava.

Rusa’h emerged, his form intact and wreathed in flames like the corona of a sun. His skin glowed, and his soulfire quivered with fury for what had been done to him and to this glorious city. The part of him that still remembered being an Ildiran recoiled from the appalling act. The Prism Palace! Mijistra! And anIldiran had done such a thing.

Now, because of the thoughts he had glimpsed in thethism, he knew it was all because of Mage-Imperator Jora’h.

In a shower of sparks Rusa’h cast the wreckage away. He stood powerful, throbbing, his fists clenched. His transitory flame garments billowed in a windstorm of his own making. The wild fireballs circled overhead, barely under his control, hot with their need for destruction. The faeros wanted to sweep across the landscape now and incinerate every remaining Ildiran in every camp, every sheltered tunnel, every town and settlement.

Rusa’h was barely strong enough to hold them back. He would not let them exterminate his people. “No, we have a far more important goal.”

The crucial target.

From thethism of the half-breed children, he had learned to his shock and disbelief what Tal O’nh was doing, but too late to stop the disaster. The orbital shipyards had already been on their way down, and neither Rusa’h nor his faeros could prevent the impact.

Even as Mijistra exploded all around him, he had reeled with shock at the revelation gleaned from the children who were shielding young Ridek’h: Jora’h was being held prisoner among the humans! Now he knew why the Mage-Imperator had not come to face him when the faeros took control of Ildira, why he had left the Adar and the Prime Designate to fight in his stead.

The Terran Hanseatic League had captured the mighty Mage-Imperator! Another sign of Jora’h’s weakness and corrupt rule.

Now, though, he also understood what Adar Zan’nh meant to do. The destruction of Mijistra had been meant both to kill him and to let the warliners escape the faeros. He would not let that go unchallenged. The nine Solar Navy ships had already left Ildira. He could pursue them, even though they thought they had gotten away.

And at last, he could confront Mage-Imperator Jora’h.

Rusa’h raised his glowing hands and summoned the flaming ellipsoids overhead. He called one down, its outer skin rippling with sharp tongues of fire. The fireball enfolded him like a hot embrace.

Thanks to the soulfires they had absorbed over the past several months, the faeros had vastly increased their numbers. Rusa’h would take the fireballs with him as reinforcements — all of them — and by doing so he would also ensure that they did not capriciously exterminate more Ildirans here.

Rusa’h was the one who would save the Ildiran people.

Mage-Imperator Jora’h was the one who must suffer.

Like a meteor shower, Rusa’h and his tremendous armada streamed away from Ildira toward the Earth system.

88

Rlinda Kett