Текст книги " Blood Legacy"

Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole

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5

Clan Council Chamber, Hall of the Wolves

Strana Mechty, Beyond the Periphery

5 February 3051

 

Despite a nervousness that made him nauseous, Phelan Kell kept his face impassive as he strode down the long stairway from the visitors' gallery. He stepped onto the floor of the huge, circular chamber and crossed it quickly. He managed to step up onto the slowly revolving central platform only a meter or two from the witness box to which he had been called. That act of timing, as Cyrilla had pointed out to him earlier, was no mean feat and would please many of the Clansmen gathered in the chamber.

A stern-faced clerk held out a plaque emblazoned with the old Star League crest. Above it, Phelan recognized the insignia of the Wolf Clan. At the clerk's instruction, Phelan placed his right hand over his heart and his left hand on the cool surface of the plaque. "Do you swear on the honor of the Wolf Clan to tell the entire Truth and not to rest until Justice is done in this matter?"

"I do."

The Clan Loremaster glanced over at Phelan. "Please be seated."

Slipping into the witness chair, Phelan looked out at the assembled Clan Council. Composed of those Clan members who had earned Bloodnames, the Council formed the ruling body for the Wolf Clan. It elected two Khans, who subsequently represented it on the Grand Council, though the election was more a pro-forma acknowledgement of who among the Wolves were the greatest warriors. The Council debated and passed regulations, though the true management of the Clans fell to the Khans. In the main, the Council existed to sit in judgement over matters of honor concerning the Clan and the bloodlines it controlled.

The benches allotted to the Council members filled the first ten tiers of the room, with the remaining dozen devoted to the visitors' gallery. Built along the lines of a theatre in the round, its central dais slowly rotated so everyone could look upon the Loremaster, the Khans, and anyone else involved in the matter at hand. A ring of lights and cameras that moved with the platform provided images to the array of screens hanging from the ceiling, giving each member a view of the faces of the participants.

Each of the Clan Council members had Ivoting machinery and a communications terminal. Each vote would light up a red, black, or white lucite block, at the same time being tallied as an Aye, Nay, or abstention at the Loremaster's bench. The communications terminal came equipped with a keyboard that allowed typed messages to be sent to other Council members. It also included a headset that permitted public address or private verbal exchanges with other members or, with the Loremaster during a debate.

"Phelan Wolf, you have sworn to give full and complete testimony in the matter we are discussing." The Loremaster, whose thinning brown hair matched his eyes, gave Phelan a look meant to be encouraging. "As you are new to the Clan, and the matter we are discussing is your adoption into the Clan, please feel free to ask for any clarification you need to answer the questions."

"Yes, sir." Glancing up, Phelan saw Khan Ulric Kerensky and Garth Radick, the other Wolf Clan Khan, seated above and behind the Loremaster. At first glance, Ulric's white hair, moustache, and goatee made him look older than his fellow Khan, but his leanness and the hungry look in his eyes gave him an aura of youth and vitality. Radick's mousy brown hair and thicker build suggested a man more suited to a sedentary lifestyle, but Phelan knew that could not be true of one who had won a Bloodname. Seeing how Radick's restless brown eyes scanned the crowd, Phelan decided that much went on behind the pleasant mask Radick wore.

A younger member of the Clan came around from a table on the far side of the Loremaster's tall bench. Dressed in a gray jumpsuit, she proudly wore a cluster of three 8-pointed silver stars on her epaulets. Phelan recognized them as the insignia of the Supply and Support division of the Clan's military and assumed this woman to be from the Clan's equivalent of the Adjutant General's office. As she tucked a strand of red hair behind her right ear, Phelan noticed she wore a communications receiver.

She smiled at him openly. "I am Carol Leroux and I will serve as the Inquisitor in this investigation. Were you a full-fledged warrior, you would have an Advocate, but that is not permitted in this type of proceeding. You understand that it is necessary for me to take a devil's advocate position. In addition to asking my own questions—" she touched the electronic device nestled in her right ear—"I will relay questions from members of the Council. Please take as much time as you need to answer them."

"Thank you, Star Colonel," Phelan said, drawing a smile from the Inquisitor when he used the correct form of address. Though he decided to take that as a good sign, his roiling stomach remained unconvinced.

"Very well, Phelan Wolf, please state the name under which you were known in the Successor States."

"I was Phelan Patrick Kell. When captured and made a bondsman, I was frequently addressed as Phelan Ward Kell, with my mother's maiden name substituted for my middle name."

Leroux nodded. "Good. It is best to be complete in your answers." She pressed her hand against the earphone and a strange, predatory look passed over her face as she looked up at Phelan. "As a bondsman, what sort of duties did you perform for Khan Ulric?"

Is that some sort of trick question?Phelan frowned. "As I understood my lot within the Wolf Clan, as a bondsman, every duty I performed was for the Khan."

"Please, be more specific." A hint of irritation crept into her command. "What tasks did you perform at his request?"

Phelan started to pick up Leroux's hostility and his stomach did its best to turn inside-out. Cyrilla had warned him that matters of honor often devolved into heated discussions, but he hadn't gotten the impression that the issue of his adoption would take that turn. Great. Someone obviously sold my landing zone data to the enemy. This is not going to be fun.

"I was asked by Khan Ulric to research and provide data concerning the state of preparedness of the Free Rasalhague Republic. Most specifically, I worked up that information for use in the assaults on Rasalhague, the capital world of the Republic."

Leroux's dark eyes widened. "You depict yourself as a researcher, but were you not really an advisor? Did not Ulric Kerensky consult with you exclusively before the Rasalhague assault, Quiaff?"

"Perhaps I might have been considered an advisor, but I did not see myself in that role." Phelan did his best to keep his discomfort from his expression. "As for who else Khan Ulric consulted or my exclusivity, of this I am ignorant. He never chose to confide any of his plans to me."

"Is it not true that the Khan struck a bargain with you concerning the conquest of Rasalhague, Quiaff?"

"Aff." Phelan's stomach flip-flopped again. "It was bargained well and done."

His use of the Clan expression to seal a bargaining session took Leroux aback, while Phelan saw several Council members nod approval at his words. He tried to take heart in that, but Leroux recovered in an instant and was at him again. "Did you not, upon his orders, administer a beating to a member of the Warrior caste, Quiaff?"

Phelan shook his head. "It wasn't like that ..."

"Answer the question," she snarled. "Did you or did you not beat a member of the Warrior caste in full view of the Khan and his party on the surface of Rasalhague, Quiaff?"

"Aff." Phelan immediately looked to the Loremaster and began to speak before Leroux could utter another question. "If I could be allowed to explain my answer."

The Loremaster nodded. "Star Colonel, if you please, let him explain."

Phelan cleared his throat. "My concern in the invasion of Rasalhague was for the people of the world. By that point in time, I had learned that the Clans do not wage war against civilian populations, under normal circumstances anyway. I feared, however, that because the world was the Republic's capital, the defenders might retreat into the cities. All I asked of the Khan was that the assault be as bloodless as possible in terms of civilian casualties.

"He said I might accompany him to the world after it had been pacified. He made good this promise, but during our inspection, a newly unhomed individual approached the Khan to ask for help for his family. He was an old man, but a MechWarrior from the Khan's own party began to beat him mercilessly."

Phelan rubbed his left hand across the knuckles of his right fist. "I asked the Khan to stop the beating. He replied that if it concerned me, I should stop it. The method I chose was to engage the warrior in a fight." The young warrior let a slight smile crack his otherwise serious expression. "I stopped him."

"Then you admit, as a bondsman, that you assaulted a member of the Warrior caste, Quiaff?"

"If you choose to classify a fist fight as an assault, then my answer is yes." Phelan's green eyes narrowed slyly. "But as I understand my oath, I would be remiss in not admitting that I did assault two Warriors on that occasion."

That admission brought the Inquisitor's head up, and elicited other surprised reactions from some Council members. It was clear that a number of members were feeding Leroux the same request through her earphone, and equally clear that she spoke under duress. "Explain."

"During my fight with the first Warrior, an Elemental outside her armor sought to restrain me. In the heat of battle, I did not realize what was happening and managed to stun her with a lucky series of punches. This happened just before I broke the other warrior's nose with a punch and knocked him unconscious." Phelan cringed inwardly, knowing that Evantha Fetladral had to be present in the Council Chamber, for she had earned her Bloodname well before the invasion of the Inner Sphere. I don't want to embarrass her, but it's the only way I can see to break this Inquisitor's rhythm. What's going on here? Why am I on trial?

"Excuse me, Loremaster." Garth Radick's soft voice seemed barely to carry from his throat to Phelan's ears. "I think it is obvious that these questions have little bearing on Phelan Wolf's worthiness as a member of the Wolf Clan. When we adopt someone into the Warrior caste, we require that he has proved himself, heart, mind, and soul, to be a Warrior. I would suggest that Khan Ulric's use of Phelan Wolf as a resource in the Rasalhague conquest proves he has the mind of a Warrior. His choice of personal combat to settle the problem with another Warrior on Rasalhague certainly suggests he has a Warrior's heart."

Garth looked down at Phelan. "Tell us what you did on the bridge of the Dire Wolfin the Radstadt system."

"Do you mean when I found Khan Ulric and helped him from the room?"

"No." Garth shook his head, letting a smile grow on his face. "That is a story I believe we have all heard time and again since it happened. I fear any retelling at this point, were you to adhere to your oath of truth, would merely diminish the tale we have all heard."

A mild ripple of laughter ran through the chamber. Garth let it die before he began to speak again. "What I wish to know is what you did on the bridge after that. The technicians had told you that the seal on the hole in the hull was overstressed, quiaff?"

"Aff. They had started to evacuated the few rescue teams we had in the room." Phelan shrugged. "I was headed back out, but when I saw a pair of legs move, I went over and freed that Warrior ..." He stopped abrupUy as the Khan motioned to him.

"Please, you have eliminated an important detail here." Garth looked out at the Council. "This Warrior you found lying there. He was the Warrior who captured you, Quiaff?"

"Aff."

"He participated in your interrogation, and the first time you met face to face, he assaulted you, Quiaff?And then, aside from finding the most demeaning labors for you to perform on a regular basis, he also gave you a beating with a neural lash that left your back bloody and raw, Quiaff?"

Transient tendrils of pain writhed through Phelan's back at the memory. "Aff."

Garth smiled. "And yet, when you saw your tormentor lying there with the seal about to blow on the bridge, you freed him from the debris trapping him and then hauled him out of the bridge. Why?"

"I guess, ultimately, because it was not finished between us." Phelan's head came up and he met Garth's stare evenly. "My tormentor had beaten me in a fist fight, and I returned the favor. In our first encounter, he beat me in a 'Mech duel. If I had let him get sucked out into space, I would never be able to prove who was truly better. I'd never know if he beat me because he is a superior MechWarrior or because his 'Mech was so much better than mine."

From somewhere deep inside him, Phelan's anger and outrage at the abuse he had endured at the hands of Vlad crystallized. "I saved him because if Vlad is going to die, it will be at my hands."

Garth waited as gasps of outrage and a smattering of applause echoed through the chamber. He stood and pointed a hand toward Phelan. "Can there be any doubt, my fellow Wolves, that this man possesses the soul of a Warrior? Can anyone deny him entry into the Warrior caste of the Wolf Clan?"

The Loremaster stood as Garth took his seat again. "I call for the vote on whether or not Phelan Wolf should be accorded the rights and duties of a Warrior of the Wolf Clan. As he has already been formally adopted into the Warrior caste, it would require two-thirds of the Clan Council to reject him." The Loremaster smiled coolly. "May all be advised that the Loremaster of the Smoke Jaguars and the Loremaster of the Steel Vipers have expressed an interest in this pup if we reject him."

He punched a button on his control console. "Register your votes now."

* * *

Phelan smiled broadly as Cyrilla and Natasha, stemming the tide of Wolves leaving the chamber, met him at the central dais. "Well, I made it, I think." Seeing the worried expression on their faces, but not comprehending the reason, he asked, "What did the Loremaster mean when he said I had until the end of June to prepare myself for my final acceptance as a Warrior?"

Natasha distractedly waved off his question. "Your birthday is June twenty-seventh. On that day, you will be twenty years old. That is the customary age for a Warrior to test out of his sibko. Depending on how well you do in your testing, you will be assigned duties for the Clan. Don't worry about that. I'll have you in perfect shape. You'll find your test easier than getting kicked out of the Nagelring." Though she tried to make light of the testing process, Phelan sensed apprehension in her tone.

He frowned, but decided not to press her for an elaboration at that point. "If that is not a problem, why do you both look so discouraged?"

Cyrilla pointed to the screen overhead. Phelan looked up and saw the vote still displayed for all to see: 460 Aye. 353 Nay. 187 abstention. "I don't understand. I was accepted."

"True, Phelan, and that is no small accomplishment." Cyrilla laid a reassuring hand oh his arm. "The problem is that your margin of victory was decidedly less than what I had hoped. The questions asked of you before Garth stepped in were not intended to prevent your acceptance. As Garth pointed out, those questions affirmed you as a worthy Warrior. Calling for this vote was a smoke screen."

"I'm still missing something."

Natasha's blue eyes flashed angrily. "It's simple, Phelan. Very simple. Those who oppose Ulric are going to mount an attack on him and attempt to depose him. The abstentions are enough of a swing vote to put him out of office, and the number shows that questioning Ulric's judgement the way they did was effective."

"They?"

'The Crusaders, the ones who wanted this damned invasion. If Ulric's foes do oust him, if they succeed in convincing a majority of the Council to support their candidate to replace him, we'll be looking at a major shift in the political balance within the Clans."

The dread in her voice sent a shiver down Phelan's spine and got his stomach going again. "And if that happens?"

Natasha focused her eyes somewhere far away. "Well, Phelan," she said, "you will be home for Christmas, but don't count on recognizing Arc-Royal or any world between here and there."

6

Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters, Outreach

 Sarna March, Federated Suns

5 February 3051

 

As Victor Davion watched Hohiro Kurita across the night-darkened terrace, it irritated him less that Hohiro had beaten him in all the physical exercises that day than that his rival seemed not the least stiff from the day's exertions. Victor leaned back against the cold stone balustrade and let it massage away some of the tightness in his lower back. Obstacle courses, basic weapons instructions, and a cross-country march! If that's training to beat the Clans, the Dragoons have, indeed, sold us out.

Kai Allard, dressed like Victor and Galen in the olive fatigues of the Tenth Lyran Guards, settled himself against the railing. "Well, Highness, I thought you and Hohiro hit it off well this morning."

Victor turned and gave Kai a withering stare, then cracked a slight smile at the pun. "Blood will out, I guess. It rather surprised me, after that talk about unity, that MacKenzie split us into two teams, pitting the Federated Commonwealth and St. Ives Compact against the Draconis Combine et al."

Kai rubbed his chin ruefully. "I apologize for not having made a better showing of things today."

"Don't worry about it." Victor punched Kai lightly on the shoulder. "None of us were in top form. As I saw it, as long as you beat Sun-Tzu at anything, we were ahead of the game. Zandra smoked Ragnar across the board and Galen kept trading off with Shin. Damned Hohiro beat the hell out of me. That's why we came in second-best."

Both young men fell silent as others of their class and generation moved out into the garden. Back in the reception hall, the military attaches and actual wielders of power mixed and chatted in a civilized parody of warfare. Galen Cox and Shin Yodama, both of whom had been military men before duty brought royalty into their care, stood at the center of knots of young officers clamoring to know what it was like to do battle with the Clans.

Part of Victor longed to be in that room and to move through those crowds with the same ease his aide enjoyed. He knew he could learn much from what others might have to say, but his title would get in the way. Whether they agreed with him or not, officers would accept his judgement and defer to him just because he was heir to the throne of the Federated Commonwealth. Looking across the terrace at Hohiro, he assumed the Dragon's heir must have felt much the same way.

Victor motioned back toward the ballroom. "Kai, you ought to be in there. I bet every officer in the place wants to know what it's like to be face off with a company of OmniMechs." Though he spoke lightly, Victor realized almost instantly that he'd hit a nerve with Kai. He still feels responsible for that squad of men who got killed after he ordered them back into combat on Twycross.

Kai shook his head. "No, I don't think so." He let a slight smile onto his lips and tightened the corners of his gray, almond-shaped eyes. "And it's not for the reason you think, either. Romano is cruising that crowd like a hungry shark, and I don't want to be anywhere near her." His smile broadened suddenly. "Out here, we're safe because she's got no audience."

Victor smiled at Kai's joke, but said nothing as four more people strolled out onto the terrace. Cassandra Allard-Liao and Ragnar laughed about something together, and the two women following them smiled politely. One of the two Victor recognized immediately. Except for her waist-length black hair, she was a physical copy of Cassandra. Victor knew Kuan Yin to be the quieter of the twins and saw in her natural grace the inner strength Kai so often mentioned when speaking of her.

Yet as strong and pretty as she was, Kuan Yin paled in Victor's eyes compared to the other Oriental woman walking silently alongside. It was the same one he had noticed previously among the Kurita delegation, though tonight she was not dressed in Japanese ceremonial robes. She gave Hohiro a smile, but continued her conversation with Kuan Yin.

"Kai, who is that speaking with your sister?"

"I don't know." Frowning slightly, he studied the young woman. "I think she's with the Kurita group. Perhaps she's Hohiro's wife. They tend to arrange marriages early in the Combine."

Victor scowled. Just my luck.Before he could comment, two more people stepped onto the terrace, deflecting his thoughts. "Trouble at nine o'clock."

Sun-Tzu and his sister Kali strode out onto the terrace as though they owned it, yet Victor saw Sun-Tzu hold back just enough to give the impression that it was his sister who made the big play for attention. Of Kali Liao, the only good thing Victor could think was that her diminutiveness made him no longer the shortest of the royals. In the backlight from the windows arching onto the terrace, her auburn hair took on a halo of gold, but the expression on her face and the look in her green eyes reminded Victor of her mother's wild unpredictability.

The back of Kali's sleeveless black jumpsuit plunged well below the length of her long hair. Its neckline plunged, too, making a long, tapered vee to the wide belt around her waist, accentuating her small breasts. Though no blemish was visible in the half-light, Victor recalled a file that mentioned a faint scar between her breasts. She claimed it was a result of her initiation into a Thugee cult, during which she had cut her own heart, then put it back again—proving she was loved by her namesake, the Hindu death goddess.

Kali looked around the garden, then stopped when she spotted Cassandra and Kuan Yin.

"I think I'll go over and inquire into the identity of your mystery woman," said Kai. "If you will excuse me."

"Excellent idea."

As Kai headed out toward the quartet that included his sisters, Isis Marik suddenly emerged from the ballroom and slipped her right arm through the crook of Kai's left elbow. Clad in yet another paramilitary blue outfit—this time without the cap—she and Kai looked like a proper military couple until she spoke. Her voice carrying across the terrace and possibly even back into the ballroom, Isis Marik exclaimed, "Finally! I have been looking all over for the heir to the Capellan Confederation."

Sun-Tzu stiffened sharply. "I am afraid, GospodjicaMarik, that you are mistaken." He moved to block their line of march and folded his arms across the breast of his golden tunic. "If you seek the heir to the Universal Throne, I am he."

With a look of bewilderment, Isis let her arm slip free of Kai's and stepped between the two cousins. She cocked her head quizzically at Kai. "Is not the eldest child of Maximilian Liao's eldest daughter the rightful heir to the throne?"

Sun-Tzu's eyes became like jade slivers as contempt contorted his features. "The only throne to which Kai Allard has a claim is that of the Federated Commonwealth. But that is only as a lapdog to a Davion, as the Allards have ever been."

Sun-Tzu's remark stung Victor, but he held his ground as Kai forced himself to laugh. "Service to the House of Davion is an honor. Service to the Capellan throne is dancing on the edge of a sword blade."

"Ah, but cousin, to paraphrase Milton, 'tis better to reign in Hell than to serve the court of the butcher of the Successor States. How does it feel, Kai, to know you have ordered men to die to preserve the realm of the greatest aggressor the Inner Sphere has ever known? Hanse Davion murdered 100 million people and left another half-billion casualties in the Fourth Succession War alone! And if that were not enough for him, ten years later he went to war again."

Sun-Tzu saw that his barb about Kai ordering the deaths of his men had hit home. He thrust a finger at the Diamond Sunburst ribbon on Kai's chest. "You go to war and drive men to their deaths, but you reap medals and rewards! Were you the heir, to the Universal Throne, what could my people look forward to except the butchery of their young men and women as you concocted some new military crusade to sate your thirst for blood? The Capellan Confederation has not been the aggressor. We were not in 3028, when the Federated Suns launched their attack against us, and we were not in 3030, when Andurien violated our borders."

Sun-Tzu's voice lashed Kai with its ridicule. "And the most perverse of all is that you earned that medal by treachery. You lured honorable Clan warriors into a deathtrap with the promise of single combat. No matter how expedient it might have been, the deed reveals the moral rot in your soul."

Victor saw the mask descend over Kai's face and knew his friend would not reply. That bastard's aim is true. Give Kai half a chance and he'll always doubt himself.Victor started forward to rescue his friend, but the situation changed before he could intervene.

Kali had started to drift over like a vulture to pick further at Kai, but Kuan Yin reached out and lightly touched Kali on the arm. Victor would have sworn that Kuan Yin's fingertips merely brushed Kali's flesh, but Romano's daughter jumped back as though she'd been lashed with a neural whip. Kali's eyes flashed and her hands knotted into fists, but Kuan Yin's unwavering hazel-eyed stare cowed her cousin and held her at bay.

At that moment, the lovely young Kurita woman stepped forward. "Forgive me for interrupting, gentlemen." The softness of her voice was soothing. "Perhaps it is not my place, but the intensity of this discussion has become so painful that I would ask, please, that you postpone it until another time."

"Sumimasen. Shitsurei shimash'ta."Kai gave her a respectful bow. "I have been most rude. Please forgive me." He straightened up, then turned and walked into the ballroom, leaving the field of battle to Sun-Tzu. The heir to the Capellan Confederation gave the young woman a polite nod, then let Isis Marik steer him out into the shadows of the garden surrounding the terrace.

Victor suddenly found himself face to face with the Kurita woman. The blue of her eyes was a startling contrast to the black hair that shimmered down her back. The delicate beauty of her features put Victor in mind of ancient Japanese woodcuts showing women as perfect as they were serene.

Though she stood almost twelve centimeters taller, the smile on her face did not mock his size.

"Thank you for stepping in to stop that fight." Victor shot a glance back to where he had been standing. "I was going to do something myself, but you beat me to it. And," he added with a sheepish grin, "you certainly did it more gracefully than I could have managed."

"I saw that you intended to help your friend." She hesitated, as though seeking for more precision in her English. "My fear was that you would accept the role as aggressor in the fight. My solution was to make both of them the aggressor. That way, they had to stop or else be branded my torturer. Your friend Kai has courage and strength in him, as well as manners. Sun-Tzu has cunning and strength. I do not think the resumption of this conflict will be pretty."

"Your assessment of Kai is quite accurate. I fear that your reading of his cousin is equally so. If they fight again, I will try to remember your solution to the situation." Victor smiled and gave her a half-bow. "By the way, I am ..."

She laughed lightly. "I know quite well who you are, Victor Ian Steiner-Davion, Crown Prince of the Federated Commonwealth, Duke of the Sarna March, Kommandant of the Tenth Lyran Guards."

Victor decided immediately he liked the sound of her laughter. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"I am simply Omi."

Omi. The name is familiar. I should know it from somewhere.Victor took her hand and kissed it lightly. "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Omi. I would try that in Japanese, but I am afraid languages were never my forte."

"Do itashimash'ta.The Nagelring's reputation for languages is not such that you are dishonored by not having mastered a difficult tongue."

Victor allowed himself a frown. "You seem to know a great deal about me, yet I know nothing about you. If you wish, we could remedy that in a pleasant walk through the garden."

Victor saw her about to accept the arm he proffered, but the sharp sound of clicking heels on the terrace tiles stopped her. They both glanced back to find Hohiro standing there, his expression stern.

"Please excuse me, Prince Victor," Omi said quietly, "but I must go. Perhaps we will have another opportunity for that walk."

She turned away and like a curtain descending on a play, Hohiro cut off Victor's view of her. Victor looked up at the Kuritan, but ignored the cold expression on his face. "Who is she, Hohiro? Why did she have to leave?"

The muscles of Hohiro's jaw bunched tightly as he visibly struggled for inner mastery. "She is my sister, Victor Davion, and you will never speak with her again."