William paused, considering his words, then pressed on.
“Further,” he said, “of those who can link to an Armati, only a fraction are physically and mentally capable of serving as Cadre.”
Kennissey fell silent at that, wondering if his young friend and ally quite understood just what that meant, in political terms.
“This is explosive, William. You know that, right?”
“There is a reason Edvard, not to mention his predecessors, chose not to make it known.”
Kennissey nodded, understanding the former emperor’s thoughts on the matter. The Cadre were the arm of the empire. The ideal they represented was arguably the iron core that held the kingdom upright. While Imperial forces controlled the explored world, for all practical purposes, many of the outlying territories were under the Imperial flag in name only, and some weren’t even that. Oh, they still bowed to the empire when the force of the legions were brandished in their direction, but like petulant children they pretended loudly that they held no fear even as they shook in their boots.
The legend and, yes, the reality of the Cadre—warriors worth a century of men and women on their own—and the idea that anyone in the empire could one day become such, was more powerful than a legion. The empire didn’t have nearly enough legions to cover the known world, but legends? Those had no limits.
“I’ll not speak of this,” Kennissey swore. “I think maybe you should not have told me.”
William nodded. “I know.”
“So why then?”
“Because if Corian isn’t stopped soon, the empire will begin to unravel … and you need to plan for a very different future.”
“Understood.” Kennissey sighed. “So what is next for you?”
“My oath makes that clear,” William said wearily. “I have to locate the Scourwind heirs. But until I have another lead, I have a secondary task.”
“And that is?”
“I need to ensure that there is an empire waiting for them when they’re found,” William said. “This idiotic fighting has to stop. The loyalists can’t be facing Corian’s legions in a battle line. Damned fools.”
Kennissey merely nodded, having nothing in particular to add. Any commander who thought he could face a legion with a century or less should be so lucky to be considered a fool, and he would most certainly be damned.
“Well, good luck in your endeavors, my friend … and speedy travels.”
“Brennan? Are you here?”
Brennan looked up as Lydia stepped into sight. “Hey, Lyd.”
Lydia sighed, relieved, as she saw her brother working on the skimmer they’d escaped from the capital in. She winced at the same time, however, because he wasn’t going to be happy with her.
“I brought food and a few supplies,” she said.
Brennan stiffened, eyes snapping to look at her and the bundle she was holding in her arms. “You didn’t.”
“We needed food.”
“Lyd, we’re on the run from the empire,” he said, exasperated. “Literally everyone is trying to get us. We can’t just stroll into towns and get supplies.”
He paused, confused. “Where did you get the money to pay for everything?”
She shot him a look, one that he’d long ago interpreted to mean Don’t ask! You won’t like the answer.
“Lyd …” He groaned. “What did you do?”
“It’s not like they needed it,” Lydia defended herself. “The guardsmen’s stores had plenty for such a small garrison.”
“Oh God, you didn’t!” he hissed, shocked. “Lydia, that’s insane! They monitor those stations! We have to move—”
“Please”—she rolled her eyes—“do I look like a technical illiterate? I looped the monitors before I walked in. They haven’t changed the codes in over a year.”
Brennan closed his eyes, groaning again.
While he was the natural flyer of the family, Lydia was something of the family criminal. Not that anyone was supposed to know that, of course. Oh, she preferred to think of herself as a security or technical specialist, but some of the things she’d done that he knew about made his delinquent acts pale by comparison. There were few secrets that she got the scent of that remained secret from Lydia for long, in his experience at least. More than one time in the past she’d narrowly avoided being caught stealing data from palace servers by expertly playing the bratty princess card to whomever came looking.
He only wished he could get away with half of what she managed.
“Lyd, we need to keep low. We’ve been getting by—”
Lydia rolled her eyes again. “On the survival pack in your skimmer and what pocket change we had when we ran? We were days from being starved out of your little cave here, Brennan, and you know it. Besides, we’re far enough from the capital. No one here cares about the orders to take us in.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Lyd,” Brennan said with derision. “There’s nowhere far enough that they won’t care about the orders to take us in. With father and Kayle … gone, we’re the Scourwind heirs. Everyone is going to want a piece of us.”
“Look, do you want to eat or not?” Lydia demanded, now quite put out. “I’ll be happy with double rations.”
He scowled and held a hand out. “Fine.”
Victorious, Lydia smirked at him and dropped a ration pack into his hand. Brennan turned it over, noting that not only was it Imperial issue but it had the quartermaster’s stamp on one side.
“Honestly”—he shook his head—“I can’t believe that I’m the one everyone considered a delinquent.”
“I always was the smarter twin.” Lydia shot him a grin.
Brennan, well used to comments like that, just sighed. “I suppose that I’ll have to settle for being the better-looking one.”
The glare of pure death shot in his direction cheered Brennan up immensely as he thumbed the autoheat switch on the pack and set it down while it warmed. He had a few things left to do to his skimmer before he ate.
“How is it?” Lydia asked after a moment, knowing that the skimmer was about the only thing in the world they still owned.
“Ready to fly,” he answered. “I just pulled the identification systems and blasted the numbers off the side. I’ll paint some fake numbers on it, if I can find some paint. They won’t stand up to a scan, but it’s better that than the alternatives.”
“I’ll see if they’re stocking any paint in the local stores,” Lydia offered.
Brennan closed his eyes, taking a breath. “Please don’t get caught, Lyd.”
“Aw,” she cooed at him, “are you worried about me, bro?”
“Less and less every time I talk to you, but yeah,” Brennan said, drawing another glare from her. “We’re in this together, Lyd. Stand or fall.”
She nodded slowly. “Stand or fall.”
“All right, tell me what I have to do,” Brennan said, taking a breath.
“What?” Lydia looked puzzled.
“Lyd, I’m not letting you go back into town alone, and besides, two can carry more than one.”
They left the skimmer in the cave they’d stashed it in, hiking the few miles to the edge of the small settlement. The two of them were moderately disguised, though they weren’t too worried about being recognized. The empire was a big place, and the Imperial family—such as it was—didn’t photograph as often as one might expect. Still, Lydia tied her dark hair up, and Brennan wore his flight cap and tinted goggles. He looked like a skimmer groupie, which was fair enough, he supposed, and she could pass for any of ten thousand young girls in the area.