Kevin Anderson - The Ashes of Worlds

Yazra’h looked scuffed, dirty, and ready to explode with energy even though she probably hadn’t slept for some time. Anton doubted she’d ever been given so much responsibility in her life, placed in charge of so many major projects. “You look good, Yazra’h.”

“As do you, Rememberer Anton.” She touched his arm warmly, stood very close to him. Then with an almost dismissive glance at Margaret, she added, “And who is this woman?”

“My mother.”

“Ah, the xeno-archaeologist. One of the discoverers of the Klikiss Torch. Your son has told tales of you.” Yazra’h bowed slightly. “Anton is a great rememberer. He helped me see things in ourSaga that few Ildirans noticed. My father holds him in very high esteem. Come, I will take you to him.” Yazra’h marched away, giving them no opportunity for argument. The Isix cats bounded ahead of her.

Margaret asked, “Was she flirting with you?”

Anton was embarrassed. “She intimidates the hell out of me.”

“I see.”

Mijistra’s construction continued all around them. Even with the advantage of theirthism, the Ildirans seemed barely able to control the chaos of all the parallel efforts. A new headquarters camp had been set up on the outskirts of the old city. The camp held hastily assembled structures, interlinked shelters, the frameworks of new towers. Scavengers excavated raw materials from the rubble of Mijistra, while other vital components came from Ildiran colony worlds whose people had raced back to the central planet to help.

Margaret’s face was wistful as she looked at the broad impact site. “Louis and I never went to see the Ildiran Empire. I wish we had.”

After Yazra’h announced their arrival, the Mage-Imperator came out to greet them himself and led them into the new audience chamber. “Rememberer Anton, I am glad to see you safe. And I am sorry to hear about Vao’sh. I deeply regret that he was abandoned, thatI abandoned him.”

Anton had thought he was done crying, and the sudden tears welling up in his eyes surprised him. He tried to find some way to answer, but the words would not come out of his throat.

Chief Scribe Ko’sh looked distraught at the news. Anton had had previous difficulties with Ko’sh, who strenuously objected to changing theSaga, even after being shown the obvious historical errors. Now, though, Anton felt for the man whose Hall of Rememberers and all the ancient records had been smashed into dust. Ko’sh seemed overwhelmed, showing none of the hardness he had displayed before.

After a few quick formalities, the Mage-Imperator surprised Anton by offering a new assignment. “Some time ago, I asked you and Rememberer Vao’sh to perfect and rewrite our majestic story. Please stay with us now and help our rememberers reconstruct theSaga of Seven Suns. The Empire needs you.”

Anton looked awkwardly at his mother, then back toward the Ildiran leader. “I’m sorry, sir, but I am under another obligation. My mother and I have a different calling.” He glanced away. “I’ll have to leave the task to your Chief Scribe. All rememberer kithmen memorize the entireSaga, and they know the stanzas a lot better than I do. Besides, I couldn’t do it without Vao’sh.”

He lowered his gaze, swallowing a lump in his throat. “However, I would like to record Vao’sh’s place in theSaga — to tell of his final days. My friend would have been horrified to be portrayed as a hero, but he was one nevertheless. I want to make sure he’s remembered that way.”

“Tell his story,” Jora’h said. “We will remember him.”

Yazra’h squeezed his shoulder in a rough, comradely gesture. “If not to help us, then why did you come here, Rememberer Anton?”

He flushed again. “I came to say goodbye to you, for now.”

164

Adar Zan’nh

The resort world of Maratha could once again be a glorious place, and Adar Zan’nh intended to make it so. The destroyed counterpart cities of Prime and Secda would be rebuilt in opposite hemispheres, with the work taking place during alternating halves of the year. The Ildiran crews could work continually through the months-long sunlight.

After the faeros were defeated, the Solar Navy had split apart to complete numerous vital tasks across the ragged Empire. Tal Ala’nh’s cohort of warliners shuttled the Hyrillkan survivors back home with Designate Ridek’h, where they could reestablish the once-flourishing splinter colony. Other ships had gone to Dobro and to the worlds of the Horizon Cluster, helping to fortify the frayedthism. The Ildiran Empire might be changed, but it would still be strong. Perhaps even stronger than ever.

With King Peter’s blessing, Roamer skymines delivered shipments of ekti at a heavily discounted rate, providing all the stardrive fuel the Solar Navy needed for their operations; in exchange, the Mage-Imperator promised commercial concessions for centuries to come.

Now Zan’nh assessed the operations in the ruins of Maratha Prime, the first Ildiran city that had been taken over by the deceitful Klikiss robots. After months of darkness, the dawn sun hung low and bright on the horizon, and he knew that over the next week the colors of the long sunrise would fill the sky.

Maratha Secda had been heavily damaged during the Solar Navy and Klikiss bombardment, and Ildiran surveyors had combed over the wreckage to determine what could be salvaged. Administrative kithmen worked diligently to develop a reconstruction plan for Secda; during the months of darkness in the opposite hemisphere, they would determine the most efficient way to complete the monumental task and be ready to go as soon as the slow day arrived on that side of the world.

Zan’nh thought of the human engineer Tabitha Huck, who would have found better ways to guide the Ildiran crews if the faeros had not killed her along with so many others. Sullivan Gold would be a welcome addition to the crew here, but the man and his family had gone elsewhere to help both Ildirans and humans.

That meant he would have to encourage innovation from his own people. It was a task that filled him with a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration. He was certain they could do it.

The Adar stood at the doorway of his temporary command post, watching heavily laden troop transports disgorge workers, engineers, diggers, attender kithmen, and more bureaucrats. At one time, Adar Kori’nh had expressed disappointment that he was forced to devote so much of his career to civil engineering projects and rescue missions; Kori’nh had wanted to experience military glory in order to earn a place in theSaga of Seven Suns.

Now Zan’nh found himself in the opposite position. He’d had his fill of space battles and destruction, of losing ships and uncounted crewmen, of constant tragedies and atrocities. He was perfectly content to devote the capabilities of the Solar Navy to the rejuvenation of the Empire.

He savored the simple act of watching the golden light of Maratha’s protracted sunrise grow slowly brighter across the broad construction site.

165

Queen Estarra

Estarra took great pleasure in being home on Theroc and holding her baby again. Not surprisingly, Father Idriss and Mother Alexa had doted on little Reynald while his parents were gone.

“What have you been feeding him?” she asked. “He looks like he’s doubled in weight!”

Her mother’s expression puckered. “Is there something wrong with that? He’s a growing baby.”

Estarra cradled her son and looked into his bright eyes. They were brown, the natural color of Peter’s eyes, as well as her own. The child’s dark hair was already unruly.

She looked up at the magnificent worldtrees, some of which showed deep scorch wounds from the faeros flames. Now Theroc was abustle with Confederation representatives, Roamer workers, and visitors from Earth. Green priests sent excited messages back and forth to the interconnected colony worlds, disseminating news of all the positive changes. With the outpouring of support, much progress had been made in erecting a new ruling house — a combination of Roamer structure, fungus reef, and sturdy yet ornate Hansa architecture. The King and Queen felt it was important to show that the new Confederation was a synthesis of all parts of humanity.