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which was formerly controlled with a derivative ofantoziae.
The next scene was an empty warehouse. At this time of year, the warehouses
on Heraculon are normally beginning to reach full capacity. As you can see,
that's far from the situation now. BrynaFre-Levin on Heraculon. As the screen
switched again, this time to an orbit scene centered on an Imperial
battlecruiser, martial trumpetsblared in the background.
Admiral of the Fleets,Jorik Ypre-Tanelorn, transferred his flag toH.M.S.Gold
Prince, which will lead the new Eleventh Fleet through its shakedown cruises
before it takes station.
Admiral Ypre-Tanelorn, and the screen featured a still shot of a
black-haired, thin-faced man with a pencil mustache and black eyes under bushy
eyebrows, a picture of perfect formality with the Admiral in his dress red and
gold uniform, thestarburst of the Empire above his left breast. The Admiral
declared the Eleventh Fleet will serve as the vanguard for continuing peace
and stability for the Empire and its allies. The screen dropped back to the
studio. Back in New Augusta, the Empress welcomed an unusual delegation, a
talking'centaur troupe from AlphaMegara
Nathaniel flicked off thefaxnews and leaned back in the swivel.
He wondered if he should let the media take another shot at Sergel's
situation. They'd probably take it, but he shook his head.
Sergel's example was tragic but not permanent. And Sergel might well turn out
better the second time around, in any case.
The late afternoon sunlight through the filtered permaglass warmed his no
longer quite so crisp diplomatic blacks, yet the selective polarization let
him see the golden disc of the sun hanging over the westernhills without
requiring him to squint.
The other towers rose, dark gold, before the westernhills, like so many
obelisks, or so many pillars of dark fire shedding flickers of reflected
light.
He put his feet up on the console, leaning further back in the chair to watch
the play of light over the towers.
The intercom buzzed, and he sat up quickly, realizing that over an hour had
passed as he had let his thoughts drift. Ms. Corwin-Smathers for you.
Lord Whaler.
Courtney was wearing a cream tunic with rust piping and banded scarlet flecks
at the cuffs. My pleasure.Lord Whaler.
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And mine also, to hear from you, although I am puzzled at the reason for
your courtesy.
No real reason.Lord Whaler. Senator Helmsworth would have liked tot all
himself, but right now things are rather hectic over here.
I heard about the Intelligence Service ...
That was just another incidental, for which, by the way, we thank you. Your
actions were most instrumental in helping the Senator, though not in the way
you probably intended. That and the synde bean problem ...
Coincidence has been helpful to many throughout history.
But that was not the reason I called on behalf of the Senator, you
understand. He did want me to convey our appreciation for the way in which the
trade negotiations have been handled and to let you know that we look forward
to an early ratification vote in the Senate.
Only doing my humble best, dear Lady, and without the help and advice you
and others have provided, indeed I would have been lost. You are most kind,
and I look forward to a successful vote.
Lord Whaler, you are too unassuming. He shrugged his now-habitual shrug.
We do what we can, and hope for the best for all.
The Empire is doing its best also, Lord Whaler, and Senator Helmsworth and
I, and the Emperor, I'm sure, look forward to the successful and peaceful
resolution of the trade talks in the weeks ahead.
Your concernand reassurance lift my spirits.
That's all I really wanted to say. The Senator wanted you to know that the
agreements will be coming before the Senate shortly and to convey that to your
government. We all understand your talents and your sense of restraint, and
wish you well.
Thank you.
Courtney nodded, and once again, Nathaniel was left looking at a blank
screen. One thing he'd never get used to, no matter how long he stayed in New
Augusta, was the abruptness with which most friendly fax calls were
terminated.
The synde bean thing...was that something the Institute was involved with? If
it were, he'd be the last to know, sitting on Earth. Certainly, that sort of
mutation was well within the capabilities of the Institute. If it had been the
work of the Ecolitans, and the Emperor thought so, so much the better.
He wondered if the offhand reference he'd made to the synde bean situation
had been construed to mean more by Courtney. Not beyond the realm of
possibility. With a quick tap, he called Mydra on the intercom. Why don't you
finish up the authentications tomorrow, Mydra?
All right, Lord Whaler. If you say so.
Is there anything special I should do?
No. Not really.
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Then to your superior judgment I defer. Nathaniel turned back to watch the
late afternoon change into evening and to watch as the evening crept from
beneath the hills toward the base of the westernmost towers like an incoming
tide of darkness. So unlikely his return to New Augusta would ever be that he
wanted to fix the spectacular images firmly in his mind.
...XXXVII...
Nathaniel took another look around the Envoy's office. His three bags and
datacase were stacked up by the exit portal, ready to be picked up.
The signing ceremony at the Emperor's Indoor Garden had gone off without a
hitch, although he'd been surprised to find himself greeting Lord Fergus,
rather than Lord Mersen or Rotoller. For whatever reason, neither Janis nor
Marcella had been at the Indoor Garden. Nor Sylvia, though there was no reason
why she should have been.
For that matter, neither had the Empress, which probably reflected her
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