[05] Elite: Reclamation (5 page)

The palace and its gardens had been specifically designed to cater for this view and to augment it as effectively as possible. The palace was oriented north, directly towards Daedalion, with the gardens dropping through tiers downwards towards the beach that edged the bay. There were no roads or access routes; the island was entirely unspoilt; supplies and visitors typically arrived at a small airport on the far side of the island directly from the mainland and were then taken via an underground transport link to the palace.

Unseen to the casual observer the island was defended by a perimeter of anti-craft batteries and surface-to-air missile launchers alongside a variety of shield technologies. Squadrons of defence craft were stationed on nearby islands just out of sight of New Ithaca, ready to scramble at a moment’s notice. The island was, in the eyes of the military, somewhat over protected; particularly as their resources were stretched thin trying to keep a handle on rising piracy and the activities of the Reclamists. The Senator had commanded it however, so it was done without question.

All this had been built in a scant couple of years following the appropriation of the system and the expulsion of the original settlers. The Lorens were nothing if not efficient.

The head of the family, Senator Algreb Loren, had inherited his grandfather’s vast fortune at an early age, after the suspicious death of his father. Algreb’s father had, by most accounts, been something of a fool and a popinjay. Many suspected wider interests had intervened to ensure the succession. In their quest to ensure that family lineage and purity continued untainted, much care had to be given to the choice of marriage partner. Genetic engineering ensured the worst anomalies were avoided, but it wasn’t possible to avoid them all.

Algreb, through uncertain means, shrewdly invested and enhanced his grandfather’s legacy, the family’s money continued to be made through mining of rare and exotic materials extracted with cheap labour. It had given him much scope for influence and put enormous power in his grasp. With the capability and the experience, the opportunity provided by Chione given the sudden and unprecedented demand for Tantalite had been one for which Algreb had been perfectly placed to take advantage.

The entire household had moved to Chione; wife and mistresses (all discreetly housed in the remoter parts of the palace), his three daughters, their tutors and a small army of guards, musicians, servants and staff. Everything the Imperial family had enjoyed back in the Empire they enjoyed here, no compromise was accepted. This was often complemented by frequent visitors from the lesser noble families on the mainland and visitors from the Empire itself.

A young woman entered through the grand foyer of the Imperial Palace and strode purposefully towards the dark panelled doors that formed the threshold of the reception hall. She knocked three times, quickly and sharply, in accordance with tradition.

There was no immediate response. The woman waited, her arms folded impatiently, glaring at the closed doors. Her fingers tapped against her forearms.

She was dressed simply, in a loosely flowing pale green robe that fell to her ankles. Her hair, straight, dark and cut at shoulder length, was braided by a thin crystal tiara. Her eyes were grey with a hint of blue, her skin pale and only lightly adorned with colour. Her stance was erect and commanding, her expression cool and aloof.

Two guards on the inside slowly pulled the doors inwards. The woman abased herself reverently, but kept her head up, with her expression unchanged.

‘Approach,’ a deep and melancholy voice intoned. It was only just audible from the opposite end of the hall.

The woman resumed her stance and walked forward, conscious of her footsteps echoing on the mosaic floor. She kept her eyes locked ahead, only peripherally noticing the murals, images and stories passing beneath her feet; tales of conquest, resistance, victories, defeats and famous last stands.

She arrived at the foot of the dais and curtseyed, reluctantly lowering her head down.

‘You summoned me, pater?’

‘Arise.’

The woman stood up and looked directly at the owner of the voice. Steel grey eyes stared back at her.

Senator Algreb Loren was still an imposing figure. Age had robbed him of some of his strength, but his stature and bearing were as intimidating as always. His face was lined and careworn, his eyes dark under heavy eyebrows. His expression was as inscrutable as it had ever been.

‘You remain a disappointment to me, my gloomily haired daughter,’ Algreb’s voice was indifferent and unconcerned. ‘I fear Chancellor T’Clow Guntat is less than enamoured with you. He claims that he fears an impure bloodline given your deformity ...’

The woman unconsciously ran her hand through her dark hair; it was in sharp contrast to Algreb’s platinum blonde locks.

‘Yet your lack of charm and grace are doubtless the real reasons for declining the match. Your worth is less with each suitor we try. Fortunately I have other daughters …’

‘My impression of him is even less flattering,’ the woman replied, her voice sharp. ‘Would you like to hear it?’

‘Your impressions of are no concern to me whatsoever, Kahina,’ Algreb continued, his voice still monotonic. ‘You have but a single purpose, to fulfil your duty in promoting the interests of the lineage by an appropriate match.’

‘Find a match for me then.’ Kahina’s voice was insolent and challenging, her own gaze unflinching. ‘All you’ve found so far are fools, lackeys and inbred idiots.’

‘The cream of Imperial families we’d do well to associate ourselves with ...’

Kahina shook her head. ‘My description is more accurate.’

‘Must I punish you once more?’ the Senator’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Compliance is all I seek. Would that you had a use like your amiable sisters. They understand their place.’

‘Punish me all you like,’ Kahina replied, unable to repress a shiver. ‘It won’t work. You won’t change me.’

‘That remains to be seen. I will consider the matter. Perhaps there is still some minor contribution you can make to our advancement. In the meantime, take this to Corine. She will succeed with T’Clow Guntat where you have failed.’

Senator Algreb handed out a commtab. Kahina snatched it from his hand.

‘Thank you for the privilege of carrying your messages,’ she said flatly. ‘The opportunity to serve gives me much honour.’

Algreb bristled, but Kahina’s words gave him no excuse to retort.

‘You will leave,’ he replied. ‘Your very presence distresses me.’

‘Your pleasure and mine, pater,’ Kahina replied.

She curtseyed once more and turned smartly on her heel. Her finely wrought shoes clicked loudly on the marble flagstones of the hall as she walked away. She turned at the threshold, looking back and catching her father’s eye.

Algreb waited for the customary and required nod of respect.

Kahina’s eyes narrowed and she whirled on her feet, walking away as the doors to the hall were closed by the guards.

Algreb’s fists clenched. He initiated a holofac call. A tall bald man appeared before him, turning around to face him and then bowing immediately. The hologram flickered for a moment before stabilising.

‘Senator, a pleasure, how might I serve?’

‘Patron Dalk, I have a task for you. My daughter Kahina is sick once more.’

Dalk’s eyes narrowed briefly. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Senator.’

‘She needs … treatment. I’m sure you understand.’

‘Indeed, Senator. I will be there as soon as I can.’

Algreb nodded and closed the link, settling back in his plush chair, surveying the hall with a satisfied sigh.

***

The maid ducked as a further piece of crockery smashed into the wall beside her. She stepped neatly to the side and waited patiently. The broken pieces tumbled to the floor, joining several more that were already lying there.

‘I said cream drapes, not tan drapes!’ a high pitched voice yelled from across the room. It was accompanied by a fierce glare and a flick of long blonde hair.

‘Do I have to repeat myself?’

Corine Loren was not an easy mistress to work for. The eldest of the Senator’s daughters, she was dazzlingly beautiful, with a perfect complexion, immaculate hair and manicured nails. She had impeccable taste in clothing, style and jewellery. At every social event she always impressed and startled the men, whilst dominating and intimidating the women. She could be charming, sophisticated, elegant and debonair.

Often she was quite the reverse.

The maid sighed, it had been tan drapes when she’d set out to complete the instructions issued by her mistress this morning. Clearly Corine had changed her mind in the interim ... again. It wouldn’t do to point this out.

‘Surely not, ma’am.’

‘And is my dress ready yet, Marie?’

‘We only gave the designs to the tailors at the midday meal, ma’am.’ Marie said cautiously, ‘I’m sure they will be working ...’

‘The Soirée is this evening. I need time to get ready, Daedalion is already waxing. How long does it take? Do you expect me to wear rags?’

‘No ma’am.’

Marie didn’t smile, she knew what would happen if she did. The last maid to have made that mistake was now working in the sewers beneath the palace. Pointing out that Corine had somewhere in the order of two thousand other alternative gowns would probably not help either.

‘Do you have the dinner layout ready?’ Corine snapped.

Marie handed her a commtab with the information she requested. Corine scanned it carefully.

‘Viceroy Guwat can’t come in after Chancellor Loquet. What we’re you thinking? He’ll interpret it as a snub! Put Madam Veilla between them and change it around. Did you arrange for hot red wine? What about the fish? You remember Admiral Tvan hates fish? He’s got to have fish after that insulting comment at the last concert.’

Marie acknowledged the changes.

‘Now, about my entrance ... grand staircase or front hall?’

‘Staircase surely, ma’am,’ Marie answered dutifully. Corine always came down the staircase; she loved watching the sea of faces arranged below in the vaulted foyer turn to look at her as she affected unconcern and surprise at their presence.

‘I think you’re right,’ Corine replied, as if thinking it through. ‘Music. You’ve got the East Coast Orchestra haven’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am. They cancelled their arrangements at your request.’

‘Tianvian old age or Sotiquan Jazz?’

‘Old age I think, most of the guests will be expecting old age music. Some absolutely hate the modern ...’

‘No, I don’t think so. It’s my evening. Instruct them to play jazz.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Marie sighed. Unlike her more artistic sister Tala, Corine had little time for music. It was a tool to entertain and delight, or to annoy and infuriate.

The entrance bells tolled; a gentle harmonious collection of notes. Someone had approached Corine’s own personal wing of the palace.

‘Now what?’ Corine exclaimed, ‘can I never have a moment’s peace?’

Marie hesitated, ‘ma’am?’

‘Well don’t just stand there, go and answer it. Or do you expect me to do it myself?’

‘No ma’am, of course not ...’

‘Stop blathering then. Go!’

Marie found Corine’s youngest sister awaiting her. Marie had felt sorry for Kahina in the past; it was no secret that she was the least favoured of the three daughters on account of her dark hair. Loren tradition held that this was a sign of impurity, of weakness and poor character. Unfortunately Kahina did herself no favours by being deliberately awkward and antagonistic to all, regardless of whether they had any sympathy for her or not.

‘Corine is not well disposed today,’ Marie whispered, with a raised eyebrow.

Kahina rolled her eyes. ‘Is anything else worthy of news?’

‘She may not receive you.’

‘I bring instructions direct from our exalted father, she has no choice.’

Marie’s eyes widened in astonishment. ‘The Senator? Has he decided …’

Kahina glared. ‘You over reach yourself, maid. This message is for Corine’s ears only.’

The maid bowed, her sympathy for Kahina eroded further. She turned and led her up to Corine’s chambers. She knocked gently.

‘Who is it?’

‘Your sister, Kahina, with a missive from the Senator, ma’am.’

There was a pause. Corine was clearly wondering the same thing as Marie was.

‘Send her in.’

Marie opened the door and showed Kahina in. She curtseyed low and awaited a signal from Corine.

‘You may rise, sister,’ Corine pronounced.

‘Most gracious of you, sister,’ Kahina replied, tartly.

Marie, satisfied that protocol had been observed, made to leave and went to close the door behind her. Corine signalled her to remain.

Kahina half turned aside.

‘My instructions were to give this message to you alone,’ she said.

‘Marie is my trusted servant,’ Corine replied.

‘Nevertheless, my instructions ...’ Kahina argued.

‘Are you suggesting I cannot choose trustworthy servants?’ Corine retorted immediately. ‘Unlike you, I treat mine well and retain their services over a considerable period.’

‘Honoured sister, I would not dare to judge such ...’ Kahina’s words were correct, but her tone was taciturn.

‘Then don’t. What is this message our father sees fit to send me at this ungodly hour?’

Kahina turned around the commtab she’d been given, taking her time to access the information contained within.

 ‘I bring a missive from Senator Algreb,’ she began.

‘I already know that,’ Corine hissed. ‘Don’t waste my valuable time, sister.’

Kahina read from the transcript.

‘The Senator demands your presence in the main hall at sundown today, there to discuss the arrangements for the long awaited alliance with the representatives of the much honoured Rebian family ...’

‘What?’ Corine shouted out immediately, making Marie flinch. ‘What about my soirée? I have three hundred dignitaries en route!’

‘This appears to be the wrong season for soirées.’ Kahina replied waspishly, with just the right amount of mirth.

Corine threw a vase at her. Kahina was able to sidestep it; she knew her sister’s tantrums well.