ROD’H
Dressed in the court clothes of a noble kithman, since his father had been the Dobro Designate, after all, Rod’h entered the skysphere audience chamber in the Prism Palace. He worked hard to exude an aura of calm respect to make certain that Prime Designate Daro’h would take him seriously.
Now that the Mage-Imperator and his entourage had departed for Theroc, Daro’h stood beside the chrysalis chair, looking lost. Even though the Prime Designate would make no major decisions that affected the Ildiran Empire, not yet, Rod’h felt it important to build his own political alliances. With Jora’h gone, this might be his chance.
When Rod’h and his halfbreed siblings were just young boys and girls, they had been the hope of the Ildiran Empire, raised on Dobro and trained to fulfill a crucial destiny. Other than Osira’h, he had been the strongest of Nira’s children.
And now that they had served their race, the five halfbreeds were oddities, and their special potential was not needed during normal, peaceful times. Oh, Osira’h had saved the Ildiran race, and the people were in awe of her abilities, but they were intimidated by her. They looked at Rod’h with similar uneasiness, and he didn’t even have that triumph to fall back on. After the end of the Elemental War, history had bypassed Nira’s children, like a river cutting a new channel and leaving only a stagnant oxbow bend.
But Rod’h wanted to make something of himself, regardless of his special genetics, with or without a “destiny.” That didn’t depend on special genetics, but on his own abilities. He had studied politics, history, diplomacy. He scrutinized the ebb and flow of interactions among all the splinter colonies in the Ildiran Empire, and he familiarized himself with the long traditions of the Solar Navy. One way or another, he wanted to make himself useful—and he felt that the Prime Designate might need his advice. They had certain things in common, even if the young man did not realize it.
And Daro’h would become Mage-Imperator one day. Rod’h had much to offer the Prime Designate, and he thought the young man might be a more receptive audience than Nira or the Mage-Imperator. He was up to the task.
The Prism Palace’s central dome was large and full of rainbows. Hanging gardens drooped from ledges, and mister nozzles filled the upper levels with wispy artificial clouds. Colorful birds and flying insects swooped about like scattered jewels.
Bureaucratic functionaries moved around the skysphere audience chamber, while busy attender kith hovered about, waiting for Daro’h to need them. Workers hung from harnesses, polishing the curved crystalline panels in the dome and upper walls.
But the business of the Ildiran Empire had dwindled with the Mage-Imperator gone, and the skysphere was much quieter than usual. Yes, the Prime Designate still had his scheduled mating appointments with a range of females from the kith index, but right now Daro’h paced nervously beside the reclining chrysalis chair. He seemed reluctant to sit in the place that belonged to the Mage-Imperator. The Prime Designate did not dream about when he would one day rule the Empire and control all the strands of the thism … in fact, Daro’h actually seemed intimidated by the idea.
Rod’h reminded himself of his abilities, his political knowledge and unique insights. He would be a worthy adviser to the Prime Designate, no matter what his mother or the Mage-Imperator thought of him. It was time to stop complaining to himself about imagined slights and the opportunities he didn’t have. While Jora’h was gone, he could show Daro’h that he would be a valuable sounding board.
By rights, Rod’h should have been an adviser to the current Mage-Imperator as well, because he could offer Jora’h a unique perspective … but he had never been invited to do so. Because Rod’h’s father had forced her into the Dobro breeding program, Nira seemed to resent her older son, even though she claimed to accept and love all her halfbreed children, not just Osira’h. His mother was always cool toward him, or maybe he was just cool toward her.…
Rod’h stepped up on the dais and presented himself to Daro’h, respectfully and with a sharp optimism, but he did not abase himself as some kiths did. He acknowledged the Prime Designate as a superior, yes, but he hoped that they could one day be friends.
“Prime Designate, I have come to offer my advice, my counsel, or just my conversation.” He forced a smile. “If you’d like the company.”
Daro’h brightened. “Yes, I would.” He looked around the skysphere and lowered his voice. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. The Empire is quiet, and I have no emergency decisions to make.”
Rod’h took a position on the opposite side of the chrysalis chair. “Be thankful for that.”
Daro’h ran his fingers along the jewel-encrusted lip of the throne. “I have so much to understand before I am fit to rule. My brother Thor’h trained all his life to become Mage-Imperator, but he failed us. I am in this position only by accident. I was never meant to be Prime Designate.”
Rod’h gave a solemn nod. “I understand what you are feeling. Neither of us has the role we expected to have. We are both … second choices. I was supposed to be next in line to save the Empire in case Osira’h failed, but since she succeeded I was not needed after all. At least you are fulfilling your role.”
Daro’h gave a quiet laugh. “Do not envy me! I would much prefer that Thor’h had not been corrupted by mad Designate Rusa’h.”
Rod’h nodded. “And I am glad that my sister achieved her destiny so that I was not needed after all … but still, I want to be relevant. I want to contribute, not just be obsolete.” He leaned closer to the chrysalis chair. “You will be the next Mage-Imperator, Daro’h. You must accept your role, not regret it.
“Some are called to have great tales written about them in the Saga of Seven Suns, but most people are just forgotten characters.” He walked around the dais to stand beside the dubious Prime Designate. “More great events are in store for us—I know it. With the return of the Shana Rei, we may face a more dangerous threat to our existence than even the hydrogues or the faeros.”
When Daro’h blanched, the burn scar on his face became more prominent. Rod’h tried to calm him. “We have much in common, Prime Designate. I offer you my assistance and my friendship, if you will take them.”
Daro’h seemed relieved. “That’s an interesting idea … and a good one.”
“You should have someone to rely on, if a crisis were to occur. With my genetics, I have powers that extend beyond the thism strands. I know how to open myself, and I may be able to communicate with the faeros as Osira’h did.” He looked at the scarred face. “I know that you have experience with the faeros yourself.”
The Prime Designate swallowed visibly. “The faeros nearly obliterated Ildira, killed hundreds of thousands, tried to kill me! If they are our only defense against the Shana Rei, then the solution may be as terrible as the enemy itself.”
Rod’h did not press the matter. “Let us hope it does not come to that choice.”
“The Mage-Imperator will return soon. I am just…” Daro’h raised his hands to indicate the nearly empty audience chamber. “I am just here.”
“And so am I.” Rod’h would revisit the conversation later, but he had begun the process of building a relationship. It might take time. “Just remember, Daro’h”—he used the familiar term on purpose—“no matter what the circumstances, you will be Mage-Imperator.” He patted the chrysalis chair.
Then he thought, but did not say aloud, And I will be something, too.