Eradicate (Manipulate, Book 3)

Chapter 25

The Pontifex gave his pilot permission to land in the central courtyard of the palace, a thing that had not happened in nearly two centuries (aircraft were only allowed on Pontifical grounds in emergencies).

The shocked silence in the shuttle had given way to rampant speculation, ejaculation, and accusation. When the doors opened, his guests spilled down the ramp into the courtyard. The Pontifex ordered his guards to escort both the Rik to a holding cell immediately.

The Diarena was still seated in the copilot's chair, facing away from him, and as the Pontifex watched, he saw her visibly pull together her shattered poise.

She straightened her neck and shoulders, took a deep, steadying breath, and smoothed her shoulder feathers. When she rose, her legs neither shook nor wobbled. He saw the moment when she turned and realized he was observing her.

It was obvious to him that she was uncertain what his reaction to her would be – he'd had no time to respond after her shocking revelation – but she did not show fear. She inclined her head slightly. "Thank you for securing my safety so promptly."

"Of course, my dear."

Her shoulders loosened slightly at his use of the endearment, but she merely nodded. "Do you wish me to retire? Until... later?"

"No. While I'm certain you are exhausted, there are several things that must be discussed. Please await me in the small war room." He looked out over the crowd. "No – make it the large one. Please have refreshments brought in half an hour."

She bowed and withdrew.

The Pontifex stood at the top of the shuttle ramp and raised his hands. The humans had grouped themselves uncertainly under the new tree in the center of the courtyard, looking more than a little defensive. Silence quickly descended.

"I apologize most abjectly for the danger in which you were all placed. As my guests, your safety and well-being are my privilege and priority. I assure you that you are perfectly safe within the walls of the palace. Should you wish to depart, as soon as the airfield is secured, I will arrange transport. I hope, however, that you will remain and recover here. If you need medical attention, please proceed to the infirmary. It is just to the north of the hawking fields. Please make any other needs known to my staff, who will assist you in whatever way possible."

He lowered his hands, and the crowd began to buzz again. He saw several Vel help a limping comrade toward the medical quarters.

The Pontifex said, less loudly, but still in a perfectly audible voice, "If my faals would assemble in the large war room, and," he looked around for the human group, "Sam, if you and your... associates... would also join us, that would be useful."

The large war room was one of the Pontifex's favorite rooms. It had a vaulted glass ceiling that he had commissioned himself, while the marble floor had been hand-pieced nearly two millennia ago. It was a glorious depiction of the most complicated sand table pattern – the diving death. And though he did not possess a deathglass table like the Spo emperor (it was one of the only things he envied the Spo emperor for, after having seen it thirty years ago), he did have a very fine table of petrified wood from the ancient forests of Merith Prime.

The Diarena waited at the table, having satisfied both pride and discretion by placing herself behind the chair that would be at his right hand, but not sitting. By this she indicated that it was her place by right, but only at his word would she take it.

He smiled slightly and gestured for her to sit. He had not yet had time to consider the ramifications of Faal's sudden demise, but he was strongly inclined to feel that if things had been reversed, and the Diarena had died in the arena and Faal now sat before him – he would be much less pleased, though perhaps in less difficulty.