“I’ll be fine. But he’s aware of me now. The psychic. He’ll be bombarding me whenever he can.”
“Can you fight him?”
“I can hold him off for now.”
The jeep ascended into the hills where the wealthy lived, the great Parliament Building rearing from the largest of them, the orange stained-glass of its tower aglow with dawn light. Built after the Revolution some fifty years ago, the building was free of the ominous architectural flourishes typified by the Ysstrals and the Drakes, but it was still baroque, built to look commanding and prestigious. Guards at black gates let the procession in, and as it trundled up to the marble steps, men in livery waited expectantly. General Hastur hopped out and showed Avery and the rest up the steps to meet the retainers.
“I’m to lead you to the Prime Minister,” one said.
Avery dusted himself off, drawing attention to the fact that their clothes had been caked with grime when they’d hit the ground back at the docks. “Perhaps we could wash and dress first,” he suggested.
“I’m most sorry, but I’m to lead you straight to her.”
“Like I said, you’re eagerly anticipated,” General Hastur said. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. It’s been a pleasure.”
They said their good-byes and she climbed back into her jeep and motored away, the military procession following, but not going far. Avery realized he had seen numerous Army vehicles near the Parliament Building as the convoy had approached it. Did they surround it? Was the Parliament Building under a sort of siege and they its defenders?
“Please, if you would,” said the aide.
As other aides took their few bags, he showed the group past the rearing granite pillars and inside. Their footfalls echoed on the marble floors and off the elaborate mosaics along the walls. It had taken ten years to complete this building, Avery knew; it had been started shortly after the Revolution, and two governments had collapsed before it was ready to house the third. Avery remembered the various coups and executions from his boyhood, the sound of gunshots and screams echoing through the city, and it awed him that the woman who had put all that behind Ghenisa, who had ushered in a new age of solid, benevolent government and rife optimism—the New Dawn—was the very person they were about to meet.
“Denaris,” he breathed. “The Granite Rock herself.”
They were just passing a long silken banner with Prime Minister Denaris’s proud face staring out from it, bold chin aimed like the prow of a warship, eyes like searchlights.
“A fan, eh?” said Janx.
“She transformed the country.”
“Yeah, but you could get away with a lot more before she did.”
The aide led up a wide and winding staircase, then another, and Avery gaped at the wide open space of the Parliament Building’s dome, visible every time the spiral stairs wound around. Part of him wondered that no one objected to his presence; after all, he was infected, a mutant. How dare he tread upon the marble floors of the Parliament Building—that was the old way of thinking. But no one stopped him, no one lifted an eyebrow; they must be anxious indeed. Or perhaps the war had changed things, readjusted people’s priorities. If so, that was at least one positive thing the conflict had brought about.
Finally they reached the highest floor of the main structure and the aide led the way into the tower, then to a well-appointed conference room with an amazing view over the city. Through the thick, antique windows the red sun rose over the sea in a haze of firelight.
Standing at the windows with her back to the visitors was a thin woman with a familiar profile.
She turned, still just a silhouette against the sun, and said, “Come in. Sit down, I know you must be tired. Your things will be brought to your rooms. Mark, see to it. Arrange for breakfast and tea. Our guests must be starving.”
“I could eat a corpse,” Janx said, and swung into a chair.
With perhaps too much relish, Hildra let Hildebrand scamper onto the table, and Denaris eyed the monkey, doing somersaults down the width of the aged wood, without expression. Hildra seemed disappointed.
Avery, holding Ani’s hand, moved forward to introduce himself to Denaris, unsure whether he should offer to shake her hand or not. He did, and her grip was cool and firm. She was a handsome woman in her late fifties, with a proud chin and clear, purposeful gray eyes, just as the banners advertised. Her hair, mostly white but with shoots of brown still in it, was tied back from her forehead and hung down her back in a tail. She was very much the woman he had grown accustomed to seeing in newsreels, banners and pictures in newspapers, but it shocked him how old she looked. She normally seemed so vigorous, so dominating. Now he could see the lines flowering from her eyes and mouth, see the bags under her eyes and the stoop in her posture. Age alone hadn’t done this to her, he knew. The war had laid a heavy toll upon her.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” he said. “I’ve looked up to you for many years, and voted for you every chance I got.”
“A voter!” She smiled. “Then it is an honor to meet you, as well. And who is this?” She bent and shook Ani’s hand.
In a small voice, Ani said, “Anissa May Avery, ma’am.” Her eyes were huge.
The Prime Minister ducked forward and kissed Ani on her forehead. Ani yelped and jumped, then stepped back in awe, a hand over the spot the Prime Minister had kissed.
“I’m Gwendolyn Sarela Denaris, at your service,” said the Prime Minister. “Call me Gwen.”
Layanna, who had remained by the door throughout all this, as if ready to bolt should the Prime Minister show the least aggression, finally stepped forward. She didn’t shake hands or offer her name, but said, “My experience with your country hasn’t been the warmest, I’m afraid. I’ve been treated as a lab rat, experimented on, shot at and hounded since I’ve entered it. Forgive me if I seem reticent. Please, tell us what all this is about.”
Denaris nodded and gestured to the oaken conference table. “Let us get comfortable.”
As they sat, Avery saw that Denaris had chosen the table and the room well. The table was round so that the visiting group wouldn’t all be on one side with Denaris on the other but grouped around it like equals and comrades.
Janx had stuck a cigar in his mouth and was bringing a lighter to its tip. “Mind if I ... ?”
“Normally I would,” Denaris said. “But why not? In fact, if you’ve got another, I’ll take one.”
Looking surprised, Janx shrugged and pulled one out.
“My last one,” he said.
“I’ll treasure it.” Denaris leaned forward, and he grudgingly lit it for her.
She coughed. “Not a brand I’m used to.”
“Got it in ... the Azads.”
A dark look crossed her face. “We’ll get to the Azads. First let me apologize for the way you all arrived. I know who you are and what you’ve done, some of it, and I want to give you my most sincere gratitude. From what I understand, you are the ones responsible for Octung’s weakness and sudden forced retreat.”
“How is Octung these days?” Hildra said.
“Not well,” Denaris said. “But not as bad as could be hoped. After their extradimensional weapons stopped working, many of the countries they’d conquered were able to rise up and push them back. All the countries they acquired in their last manic push to the sea were able to free themselves, and they—and we—united to drive them back, as far as we could. Finally we hit the wall of vassal states that surrounds Octung, and they were too much for us. We were weakened by war and they pushed us back. As things stand there’s an uneasy peace. Both sides have withdrawn to nurse their wounds, and there is sort of a siege around Octung and its vassals, so it’s cut off from the world. Its access down the Haag has been curtailed, and its navies in Vursul have been seized, as has Vursul itself. Even now the various countries that took possession of the ships are trying to divvy the spoils among themselves. Ourselves. We’ve all had our fleets whittled away and need the vessels badly. Both continents hit hardest by the war are in chaos. Most of the countries that had united to fight Octung are trying to keep their heads down and rebuild, but some are taking advantage of the others’ weakness, trying to grab as much as they can while they can.”
“Typical,” said Janx.
“Myrkai has already invaded Burr, and Solong is trying to annex Kivel. Don’t get me started on the colonies in the Crothegra.” She waved her hands, and Avery could sense her tiredness at even discussing such matters. “That will keep. Ghenisa is, at the moment, safe from outside interference, unless—but we’ll get to that. What concerns me more is the current state of affairs between myself and Admiral Haggarty. Listen, you’ve been away for some time. How current is your knowledge?”
“Things were bad when we left,” Avery said. “Haggarty was trying to have the Navy assume land duties, displacing the Army, and wanted to declare neutrality in the war. I understand he was jockeying for some sort of indirect military coup.”
Denaris steepled her fingers under her chin. “Things have gone far beyond that now. He’s actively trying to assassinate me and take over. He’s already killed three of my cabinet members and several patrons that contributed to my last campaign, and he’s moved against various ministers that support me and has bought off others. I haven’t allowed the Navy to usurp the Army’s duties, as the Army has remained loyal—for the most part. But I’m starting to lose them, too. General Mycroft defected with the Ninth Brigade just last week, joining Haggarty and swearing an oath to the Navy in public. His whole brigade followed suit. If I lose the Army, I lose the fight. They’re all that’s holding off Haggarty and his wolves. My government is crumbling, hanging on by its fingernails, and with it the New Dawn and everything I’ve worked for for so long.”
Denaris was under siege, Avery realized.
“Whattaya want us to do about it, Gwen ol’ girl?” Janx said. “I mean, I’d like to stick my fist down Haggarty’s throat, no mistake, but I don’t think I could get that close. I’m a fair shot, but if it’s assassins you’re lookin’ for, you could find better. Hildra here’s a good shot. A marksman.”
“I’d pop that bastard,” Hildra said.
“Oh, I’ve looked into assassination, rest assured,” Denaris said. “A year ago the notion would have appalled me, but today it seems a viable alternative. Three months ago I had some agents of mine ask around in the underground, trying to find a competent man for the job. We found one in Muscud—a sewer settlement, believe it or not—and arranged a meeting. The next day the papers had a photo of my agent meeting with the man. The caption ran DENARIS OUT FOR BLOOD and the sub-caption said AIDE OF DENARIS HIRES SEWER THUG TO MURDER ADMIR. HAGGARTY. The whole city rose in uproar against me, and I was forced to cease my inquiries.
“Haggarty’s having my every move watched, paralyzing my responses, even my desperate ones—especially my desperate ones. My options have become limited, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to win this battle. I’ve appealed to Cumnal, Ungraessot, even the Ysstrals for help, and though they promise it none arrives. They have their own problems.” She slumped back. “That isn’t why I’ve called you here. I’ll have to deal with Haggarty, or succumb to him, on my own. I’m merely acquainting you with the lay of the land so that you know what you’ve returned to.”
