Baranak_Storming the Gates Page 6

  The soldiers patrolling the courtyard saluted as we strode by, and I returned the gestures. As we passed them, though, I wondered what they might be thinking. Their loyalty to my father had been absolute. With him gone, they had likely transferred that iron-clad devotion to Justinian. As for little old me? That remained to be seen.

  Into the palace we went, through the tall, iron-bound doors set into the western wall. The two ladies accompanying me looked around, wide-eyed, and I wasn’t surprised, for the Victoria Palace was at least as impressive as their own cathedral. Majondra was a wealthier world than Sarmata, or it had been before the Gates closed. Our structures were older and, for the most part, grander.

  A black-uniformed soldier I recognized as bearing the insignia of Justinian’s personal staff met us just inside and saluted crisply. “The General requests that you and the other members of the family gather in the second floor library in one hour,” he said.

  “I will be there,” I replied with a nod.

  The man hurried away, presumably to deliver my response, and I turned to face the two women squarely. They still seemed somewhat taken aback by the splendor of our surroundings.

  “I believe our first order of business should be to find something to eat and drink,” I said. “Does that meet with your approval?”

  The smaller one—Halaini, I remembered—looked to the other, whose name I had not yet recalled. She nodded. “That would be appreciated,” she said. The other made a face the meaning of which was not readily apparent to me, but she did not object, and I took that as a positive.

  And so we adjourned to the kitchens and helped ourselves to whatever we could find, consisting in the main of some cold roast beef and cheese and a particularly nice Shiraz, after which we separately engaged in the timeless tradition of “freshening up.” This was particularly necessary in my case, as I still bore the ashes from the fire. Even thinking of that brought with it pain, and I found I couldn’t wash myself fast enough. The mirror revealed a man who appeared much older than my own thirty-two years, thanks to the soot that permeated my hair and goatee. The shower was welcome, and a change of clothes afterward helped, too—I donned a thin, long-sleeved, golden-mesh deflector suit shirt with the family crest on the left breast, black pants and boots, and a broad black belt.

  I met the ladies back in the main hall afterward. They looked considerably refreshed as well, and I had to remind myself that they, too, had endured something of a trauma this day. I had questions for them—questions unconnected to the ones about my father. The Church was up to something, and I intended to find out precisely what.

  I greeted them and complimented them on their new attire. Servants had located sets of spare clothes, likely cast off by one or more of my aunts, and the two corinda had accepted them reluctantly but with good graces. We exchanged brief pleasantries until one of the guards informed me that the hour had nearly expired. I thanked him and we made our way in the direction of the second-floor library.

  We entered the great hall and strode across its cavernous space. Its ceiling was vaulted, with great dark wood beams curving up toward the heavens. Very large and mostly faded tapestries hung along both walls, depicting scenes either real or imagined from my family’s history. At the far end a second-floor balcony projected out, with one broad, curving stairway leading up to it from our level. Beyond the balcony on that upper level stood broad oaken double doors set into the back wall—the doors that led into the library.

  As we walked I glanced up at the balcony and noticed two figures standing in the shadows of its far right corner. One of them appeared to be wearing the uniform of our world’s military; the other I couldn’t make out at all. The dim light of the balcony glinted on something, though; either metal or glass, it seemed—and a lot of it. The second figure took notice of us and visibly reacted. I still could see nothing but the outline of a very tall man. And that strange glinting, as from all over. Both figures quickly moved deeper into the shadows, and at that moment we passed beneath the balcony and I lost sight of both of them.

  Frowning, I stopped in my tracks. The two women accompanying me realized a moment later that I’d stopped and turned back to look at me, curious. I motioned for them to wait. Something felt wrong about what I’d just seen. It was nagging at me, at the back of my brain. I turned and moved back out far enough that I could see atop the balcony again. Two figures were there, sure enough, but they were two of my uncles—Jerome and Alexius—and they were clearly visible and recognizable, standing in the light, near the railing.

  I lingered there, staring up at them for several seconds, wondering. Could they have been the two figures I’d seen at first? It didn’t seem possible. One of them, perhaps, but the other had been much taller, skinnier, and there was that odd glint...

  Before I could say anything they both moved away from the railing and I heard the double doors open and close.

  “Are you coming?” hissed the sister superior. She and Halaini were still standing impatiently at the foot of the stairs, looking extremely annoyed.

  “Yes, I—I am coming.” I paused and ran through my memories of what I’d just seen one more time. Something was not right. I was sure of it. I could feel it.

  “You say that,” the corinda replied after a few more seconds of my immobile introspection, “and yet there you still stand.”

  I snapped out of it, laughed politely at her remark, then led them up the stairs.

  No one was present there on the balcony—no one to see me, and no one to see the two corinda. As far as I knew, only a few members of the household staff had laid eyes on them thus far, or even knew of their presence. This gave me a thought. I turned to them and ran my hand over my chin, then, “Would the two of you mind waiting in the small sitting room next door?”

  “You don’t want us to go in with you?” blurted Halaini. She paled. “Are we in some danger here?”

  The sister superior regarded me with a frown but withheld her judgment for the moment.

  I offered both of them what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Not at all. However—I believe you’d be more comfortable there, and you would be near at hand when I need to call you in to describe what you saw and to verify my testimony, or if one of the others wishes to question you.”

  After initial concerns the two women acquiesced with grace. Expressing my appreciation for their understanding, I led them to the small but comfortable room, made certain they had access to refreshments and knew where the nearest restroom was, and left them there.

  Around the corner then and to the library. The two broad oaken doors parted as I neared them, and I was greeted by the broad, smiling face of my Aunt Aurelia, who stepped aside to usher me in.

  The eldest of my three aunts, she had been something of a confidant of my father, though she and I had never been particularly close. I had always respected her deep affinity for the Church, her devotion to it, but it had always made me somewhat uncomfortable, and never more than now. I resolved to bear her beliefs and allegiances in mind when speaking with her.

  As if reading my mind, she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She wore a richly embroidered sea-green dress with tiny red and white gemstones set in patterns upon it. She wore her thick, red hair up, held in place by jeweled combs. Her lips were blood red and her eyes ice blue.

  “Gaius,” she said. “I am pleased to see you.”

  I smiled a tight smile and returned the greeting, then looked around the room, taking it all in.

  The library was high-ceilinged, paneled entirely in dark wood where the wall was visible behind the many shelves of books and other forms of media. Half a dozen dark, overstuffed chairs sat positioned around the interior space, and a long, broad table that looked to weigh tons filled the center of the room. A small fire burned in the fireplace across from me.

  “We will talk privately later,” she said quietly. “I know you must be anxious to make the rounds.”

  Not particularly, I thought—and she knew thi
s, too—but I smiled again and nodded, and walked past her.

  At first I thought only two others—my younger uncles, standing beside the table—occupied the room. But, as my eyes adjusted to the room’s dim lighting, I realized someone else had arrived before me.

  In a broad corner chair, nearly lost in its depths, sat a small, slender woman with short, black hair and pale skin. She wore a long, black skirt and sleeveless black top that revealed both her arms, one of which featured a spiraling tattooed line that trailed down from her shoulder to the back of her hand. Silver rings sparkled on most of her fingers and a small, starburst tattoo shone on her left cheek, below vibrant green eyes. In her lap lay a marbled silver and black cat, while another, all of silver, curled about her feet. Seeing me, the faintest of smiles touched the corner of her mouth, then vanished.

  Stephanie. Youngest of my three aunts in age—at twenty-five, even younger than me—and perhaps the most enigmatic. What I knew of her, I liked. Mainly that consisted of a studied disinterest in our family’s politics and ambitions. Where her interests did lie, I had no idea.

  I nodded to her, and continued across to where the twins, Jerome and Alexius, stood.

  Glancing at me, they both seemed to size me up at once, measuring my worth in a mere instant. They did this every time we met, and had since I was a child, to the point that I scarcely reacted anymore.

  Jerome, the elder by about ten minutes, stood about an inch taller and appeared twenty pounds lighter. Beyond that, they seemed identical, though they were only fraternal twins. They both wore Majondran dress uniforms of navy blue with lots of gold pips and stat bars, and both had shaved their heads. Their eyes were blue, like Aurelia’s, and indeed they shared the same mother with her. My father and Justinian had shared a common mother, dead these many years, while Stephanie’s mother was a much younger, dark-haired woman who still lived, and could be seen from time to time, bustling about the estate. My own mother had been very blonde, a trait I shared, and thus I had rarely if ever been confused for a brother to one of my uncles or aunts.

  I greeted the twins and received gruff acknowledgements in return. They had a map spread across one end of the table and seemed to be arguing over something related to it, sprinkling in sharp gestures and rebukes. They always did this, and it never escalated to actual conflict. Separately, I got along well enough with each. Together, everything became a competition, and I found them intolerable. It was simply the way they were.

  I came very close then to asking them who the mysterious and very tall individual had been—the one I’d seen on the balcony. Something nagged at me, though, holding me back, and I decided to hang onto that little tidbit for later, when it might yield better results and do the most good.

  I leaned between them, frowning down at their map, only to find both of them ceasing their bickering and looking at me, their brows furrowed. I started to say something when the doors banged open and we all looked up, startled.

  My eldest uncle, Justinian, strode in. Tall and regal in bearing, he resembled my father, though somewhat thinner. One might even say “gaunt.” Four years younger, he actually appeared older than Dad, his face lined and his hair thinning. He wore the dark blue regular uniform of the military rather than a dress outfit, probably in order to send some sort of subtle message to the twins in their finery. I noticed that a commander-in-chief insignia like the one previously worn by my father now rode on his chest.

  That didn’t take long, I thought to myself. Maybe he had it in his pocket all this time, waiting for the opportunity to put it on.

  Justinian inserted a data crystal into a receptacle on the table, as Jerome rolled up the paper map over which they had been arguing. A three dimensional image of our homeworld, Majondra, shimmered into existence above the tabletop, spinning slowly.

  “We’re all present, then?” Justinian asked, scarcely looking up.

  “Where’s Octavia?” I asked.

  The others looked at one another.

  “I couldn’t reach her,” Justinian said. “I’ve been trying since yesterday.”

  The twins shrugged. Aurelia shook her head.

  No one seemed terribly concerned, so I let it go, filing it away for later investigation.

  “Here is our strategic situation,” Justinian began. He pointed to a cluster of red dots between Majondra and the moon we now occupied, Victoria. “The Verghasites caught us by surprise, no doubt about that. We were arrayed for travel, for attack, not for defense. Some hit Victoria. Some even made it close to here—to the palace.” His mouth formed a tight line. “But we held. And, in the past few hours, we’ve pushed the bastards back.”

  There was a murmur of agreement from Alexius and Jerome.

  My eldest uncle moved his hand over the controls and the image zoomed in to a point in space behind the Verghasite fleet.

  “The Sarmata Gate is here,” he said, pointing to an empty area nearly surrounded by enemy vessels. “They’re guarding it with their very lives now, of course.”

  “We smash those ships,” Alexius growled, “we gain access to the gate. And then we hit Verghas itself.”

  Jerome nodded grimly. “Just as we originally planned.” He gestured airily with his right hand. “This all becomes a mere distraction—a delay.”

  “That fleet of theirs is not inconsiderable,” Aurelia said. “Can we ‘smash’ it so easily?”

  Alexius smiled at his elder sister.

  “Their advantage is gone,” he said. “Now it comes down to ability, to skill. They can’t match us.”

  Aurelia gave her little brother a sweet, brief smile, then looked at Justinian.

  “Is it so easy as that?” she asked.

  He frowned, running a hand over his long chin.

  “Not so easy, but it will be done. It must.”

  “I had no real problems passing through the Sarmata Gate,” I pointed out. “Either direction.”

  For a moment no one spoke, but everyone was plainly looking at me.

  “That’s where you’ve been?” Jerome exclaimed.

  “You’ve been to Verghas?” Alexius said at almost the same instant.

  “What? No—not at all,” I quickly answered. “We didn’t go beyond Sarmata itself.”

  Things turned chaotic for a moment, with the twins demanding tactical and strategic information—number of ships we passed, formations, configurations, and so on—and Aurelia seeking to glean whatever Church intelligence I could provide from my brief visit to their cathedral on Sarmata. At last Justinian brought the whole crazy proceedings to an abrupt halt, shouting, “Enough!”

  The others stopped chattering and looked up at him, cowed.

  “There will be time for such things later,” he said. He turned to focus on me and his eyes burned intensely. “My only concern is that you made it there and back again still in one piece.”

  I spread my arms and smiled. “As you can see,” I said, “none the worse for the wear. Though we did run into trouble at the Sarmata cathedral. A bit of gunplay.”

  “The Verghasites were there?” Justinian asked, turning and regarding me fully.

  “Of course they were there,” Aurelia said. “One of their first actions would have been to neutralize a rival branch of the Church.”

  “It wasn’t the Verghasites,” I stated. “We never even saw them. It was a whole group of corindar. Locals.”

  Aurelia appeared most troubled by this news. She sat up straight. “You’re sure they were priests?” she asked.

  “They came from inside the cathedral,” I replied. “They wore the robes and the golden insignia.” I snorted. “And they were extremely well-armed.”

  “Did you bring back any evidence? Photos, genetic—”

  “They burned,” I answered quickly, cutting her off. I didn’t want to have to think about the fire again. “Just like Jeras and Dad. Nothing was left.”

  Aurelia’s expression at that little revelation was inscrutable.

  “I don’t know about you
r theory that the Church is divided, sister,” Jerome interjected after a moment’s silence. His tone was belligerent.

  Aurelia rounded on him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Jerome shrugged. “A priest from our own world killed Constantine. The Church let the Verghasites attack us through the Gates before telling us they were operative. A bunch of corindar on Sarmata attacked Gaius. Sounds like they’re pretty well unified to me. It is almost as if they were never separated.”

  Anger flashed in Aurelia’s eyes. She stood. “What are you saying, brother?”

  Jerome met her look with one of his own, stepping forward, jaw out. “I am saying the Church appears to me to have a single objective in mind, regardless of world—at least, that they’ve revealed thus far.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “The destruction of this family.”

  Aurelia took an involuntary step backwards, blinking. “That—that’s insane,” she managed after a moment. “The Church has always supported our family.”

  Jerome laughed. “They appear to have abandoned that position.” He paused, then, “Even as they abandon all their positions, quite literally,” he added with a smirk.

  Aurelia said nothing to that, merely looking back at him with obvious hostility.

  “What do you mean, Jerome?” I asked. I was curious but was also hoping to distract at least one of them before something was said or done that couldn’t easily be retracted. Of all times, we needed everyone together now, with Dad murdered and the Verghasites on our very doorstep.

  “Tell him, dear sister,” Jerome said. “Tell him why you can’t simply contact our friends of the Church on our own world.”

  Aurelia glared at him.

  I waited, very curious about this.

  “Because they are all gone,” Justinian said after my aunt failed to respond. He moved between them—better late than never, I thought as I watched him. If he was going to serve as the patriarch of our clan now, he needed to pick it up a bit.