The older man was startled, as was Cain. “Sir?”

The Chairman made an amendment to the command grid, used his authorization, and posted it. “Your rank is hereby raised to General, the highest military officer in the Earth Defense Forces.” His face remained blank, his expression distant for a long moment before he seemed to remember to give a congratulatory smile. “Deputy Cain, arrange for an immediate ceremony. I want King Rory himself to pin on General Brindle’s stars.”

The next day, resplendent in spectacular robes and a crown that gleamed with gems, the young King confirmed Conrad Brindle as the new commander of the EDF.

Brindle knelt in front of the King in his crisp new uniform. The older man had served in the military all his life and now seemed amazed at his good fortune. Rory made additional pronouncements, praised Brindle’s brave and loyal actions, and applied new rank insignia to his shoulders. Natalie Brindle, his wife, sat in an honored position near the portable throne, also wearing her EDF uniform.

The crowds cheered, and the newsnets recorded every second of the strange event. Cain watched without comment. The scene looked for all the world like an ancient king dubbing one of his new knights.

The next evening Cain returned to his apartment suite in the heart of the Hansa pyramid, where he had no windows and no distractions. He spent more than an hour just sitting in solitary silence, contemplating his prized Velazquez paintings. He needed to center himself.

Even in his private sanctuary, though, Cain detected subtle indications that his possessions, furniture, and storage areas had been carefully searched. He felt a chill, suspecting that microscopic surveillance imagers must even now be trained on him. If he ransacked the place looking for them, the Chairman might interpret his actions as being indicative of a guilty conscience. No, it would take some time for him to put a subtle signal jammer in place, find the devices, and hook up a mirror feed of him performing innocuous activities.

Then again, hewas just performing innocuous activities. He had nothing to worry about.

Cain knew that Chairman Wenceslas was still looking for the traitor or traitors in his midst, determined to find the real assassins. But he also knew that Basil had never believed that the eighteen scapegoats were truly members of Freedom’s Sword. He was too smart for that. The executions had been for show, not for justice or vengeance.

Cain had been careful at all times. He hoped he hadn’t left any loose ends.

Unsettled but hiding his anxiety from any secret observers, he left his quarters. He was required to attend an “urgent” and mysterious meeting in the Whisper Palace. supposedly a late-night conference with King Rory himself, though Cain was sure the Chairman must be behind it. He always was.

Out in the dark streets, making his way through the crowds without drawing undue attention to himself, Cain noticed more than the usual number of uniformed members of Basil’s cleanup crew on the streets, ever vigilant.

Cain was not a paranoid person, but he had no doubt that they were watching him.

93

Sarien

When King Rory summoned her to the throne room of the Whisper Palace, Sarein was automatically frightened. He had never done that before, and she knew the boy wouldn’t have thought of it on his own. It was late at night. Ever since the failed assassination attempt, she’d felt as though her life had been built on a foundation of exceedingly fragile eggshells.

King Rory looked particularly young sitting on his elaborate throne. The crown on his head seemed overlarge, and his robes gave him a decadent rather than a regal appearance. So different from the somber uniform he had worn during the horrific executions of the supposed assassins.

Innocents, she knew.

Sarein had never spent time alone with Rory, had not seen him speak in an unrehearsed conversation. He was simply a mouthpiece for Chairman Wenceslas, as the Archfather was supposed to have been. And everyone in the Hansa had seen what happened when such a mouthpiece decided to speak for himself. She glanced up at the throne room ceiling, as if she might spot a newly installed set of lightning-bolt projectors.

On either side of the young King’s throne stood royal guards, but Sarein did not recognize them as among the particular friends of Captain McCammon. Colonel Andez was also there with twelve members of the cleanup crew; they stood in a line with their backs to the stone wall.

Sarein was especially disturbed to see no other audience, no members of the media, no newsnet imagers. Too many guards, too many guns, and too few witnesses. Her throat went dry.

Deputy Cain and Captain McCammon arrived separately, looking similarly perplexed.

Rory rose from his elaborate seat and gestured for the three of them to step forward along a crimson carpet that flowed like a river to the raised throne. As she stopped before the dais, Sarein glanced out of the corner of her eye at her companions. Cain was as calm and unreadable as always, though right now he seemed to be working very hard to maintain his composure. McCammon was a half step closer to the throne, as if to shield her.

King Rory’s brown eyes seemed to lookthrough them, as if he were still practicing these words in front of a mirror. “We have long known there is a traitor in our midst. Chairman Wenceslas has brought to my attention certain evidence that proves who is really responsible — not only for the recent failed assassination attempt, but also for letting the outlaw Peter and his wife, Estarra, escape from Earth. We also know that Freedom’s Sword did not plan their assassination attempt without cooperation from someone close to the Chairman.”

The pronouncement reverberated like a thunderclap. All of the guards remained silent. Sarein felt her knees tremble. How could he know? What loose ends had they not wrapped up? Before anyone else could speak, she pressed forward, trying to sound perfectly reasonable. “That is excellent news, King Rory. Exactly what sort of evidence do you have? And how can we help?”

McCammon nodded, picking up on her cue. “I’ll send my men to apprehend him. It is my duty to protect you, Your Highness.”

Deputy Cain did not seem at all ruffled. “I thought you announced that all those involved in the assassination plot were found and executed?” He sounded as if he were explaining mathematics to a child. “And after all this time it seems frivolous to worry about the nature of the King and Queen’s self-imposed exile. Considering what just happened to General Lanyan on Pym, shouldn’t the Hansa be more worried about a Klikiss retaliation? Surely we have higher priorities.”

Basil emerged from a side alcove and stood not far from the King’s throne. His mere presence suddenly increased the level of threat that Sarein felt. “Enough games, all of you. We have significant new information. I know one of you three is behind it.”