“I’m the backup plan,” Cheris said. “In case the Kel formations don’t get him. It’s a long shot, but what’s a life but a coin to be spent, anyway?”
“Please don’t tell Kel jokes.”
“Sorry, habit.” Jedao’s smile again.
“Do servitors even appreciate Kel jokes?” Since he couldn’t imagine anything else would fit in that needlemoth with her.
“Depends on the servitor. If you want to know, you can ask the ones around you.”
A shiver went down his spine. He would never be at ease with the servitors, even though they were perfectly polite to him. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“If I can trap Kujen in non-high calendar space,” Cheris continued, “he can be killed.”
“He’s not going to be stupid enough to enter hostile calendrical terrain for your convenience,” Brezan said.
“I know. That’s why I’m going to assassinate the other Jedao on his own command moth.”
Brezan’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth for a moment at how casually she said it. “Localized calendrical spike.”
“Yes. You won’t notice it, I don’t think, but it should give me a window of opportunity to do away with Kujen.”
“Cheris,” he said, “you’ll be careful?” Now, as much as he disliked her, he was wishing her good luck. Funny how that went. “I can’t imagine he’s less of a killer than you are.”
“If Kujen designed him, probably not.” Her eyes had gone intent. Brezan didn’t envy the other Jedao, who would never know what hit him. “I’m Kel, Brezan, you think I’m not used to living with risks?”
“I don’t think ‘I’m Kel’ has anything to do with your extraordinary penchant for destructive gestures,” Brezan said.
Her smile flickered at him like a candle flame. “If you feel that way, imagine what it’s like having him in your head all the time. Besides, I’m not done. I’m going to need one more thing from you, or none of this will work.”
Nine years of playing politician had inured Brezan to receiving people’s demands. “I’m listening,” Brezan said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JEDAO SPENT THE next eleven days in his quarters contemplating his options. Kujen had already proven that he was willing to have Jedao removed for disobedience. Anything he wanted to do to stop the remembrances would have to take that into account.
During that time Jedao barely ate. Dhanneth stopped by with broth and insisted on trying to feed him. The metallic aftertaste had grown worse, however, and the torture he’d witnessed left Jedao with little appetite. He only tried because Dhanneth seemed agitated if he refused food.
The number of guards increased from four to six. Jedao suspected reinforcements lurked nearby, just in case. It was what he would do.
On the twelfth day, Kujen came to see him. Dhanneth startled, then prostrated himself. Jedao did as well. He had to play this carefully.
Kujen arranged himself on a chair, although Jedao caught the subtle crimp of his mouth. Inhyeng, Jedao thought.
“You may rise,” Kujen said, as though nothing had passed between them. “You’ll find this interesting, General.” He pulled out a small slate and called up an image of a star system. Calendrical gradients were clearly marked in different colors. “That’s to scale,” he added, “so naturally it’s impossible for you to make out the details you care about.”
“And what would those be?” Jedao said warily.
Several labels flared up like pins of fire. The image shifted, compressed. Tiny flickers expanded into the standard symbols for orbital defense platforms, stations of varying capabilities, even a wolf tower. Of most interest was the great fortress built into the largest moon of the fourth planet, Terebeg 4.
“It’s not a nexus fortress, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kujen said. “The Fortress of Pearled Hopes, something of a throwback.” His mouth pulled up in a sudden wry smile. “I don’t think even the archaeologists remember anymore. Pearled Hopes was built on the ruins of an earlier civilization’s colony. At least, it’s always been clear to me that someone a lot more determined than we are dragged the damn ‘moon’ to its present orbit from somewhere else. There’s no way it originated in-system, and back when I was young, you could read up on the artifacts people used to find on it.”
“Fine,” Jedao said, since someone with amnesia was in no position to criticize anyone else’s memory, archaeological or otherwise. “That’s the next target?” If Kujen had an urgent need to conquer artifact worlds, things could be worse. Maybe he could use the travel time to persuade Kujen otherwise on the matter of remembrances.
Maybe pushing the issue would get him killed, which would do no one any good. He needed to bide his time until he could come up with a better plan of resistance.
“Most of that’s of no concern to you,” Kujen said, confoundingly. “The part you care about is where the Compact has made the fourth planet their center of government. That will be our next target.”
“Does their leadership reside there?”
“Well,” Kujen said, “their ‘official’ head of government does. An elected person of no consequence. Alas, the real adversary is Shuos Mikodez. I’m not going to ask you to take on the Citadel of Eyes, as nice as it would be to eliminate him. But the elected premier plus High General Kel Brezan and their staffs will make approachable targets.”
Even then Jedao didn’t see the trap. “What are their military capabilities? And when do you want this assault to take place?”
Kujen told him: the anniversary of the massacre at Hellspin Fortress.
“I have a gift for you,” Kujen said. Then Jedao knew things had not stopped getting worse. “Major—”
Dhanneth presented Jedao with a report on Terebeg System and the fortress’s defenses. “They’ll see us coming, sir,” Dhanneth said, referring him to a larger map relating their present location to the target’s. In a colorless voice, he detailed their current intelligence on the defense swarms, reports compiled by Jedao’s staff.
“You will need weapons capable of handling the fortress,” Dhanneth said, then looked at Kujen.
It’s a loyalty test. “What,” Jedao said, on the grounds that he couldn’t let Kujen know how much this bothered him, “you don’t trust me to make do with what you’ve already given me?”
“You’ve already proved capable of independent thinking,” Kujen said sardonically. “I’m giving you another chance.”
This made no sense. Kujen didn’t strike Jedao as the type of man to tolerate any chance of failure. Unless—Hellspin Fortress.
It was a calendrical attack. For the attack to have the impact Kujen desired, he needed Jedao. Specifically Jedao, and not some other general. Which meant—
Kujen confirmed it with his next words. “You will be using threshold winnowers,” he said. “I’ve increased their range.”
“You can stop being coy and give me specifics,” Jedao said past the sudden dryness of his mouth. “I can’t make good use of a weapon I don’t understand.”
“Let me show you how winnowers work,” Kujen said. He brought up a series of equations, a schematic, a stylized animation. “We can go into the math if you want, but gate mechanics gets very technical.”
Jedao watched, unwillingly fascinated, as the simulated winnower caused eyes and gashes to open in pixel rats. “Why rats?” he asked. The real question he wanted to ask was, Why such ugly deaths? He couldn’t imagine death by winnower being anything but excruciatingly painful.