"Fortune favors the reckless." Xer VIII [attributed]

Year 14 of Xer's reign

507 LE

Corlax had seen no major fighting since its conquest two years before, but it looked like a planet at war. Swathes of its capital were still scarred by unreconstructed ruin, Cronese soldiers marched in its streets, battlebirds periodically screamed though its skies, and its orbital docking stations were busy with star glaives and penteconters. These were grand tools of war, many of them fresh from the shipyards at Barancar and the factories of Oor VII, but they were not meant for Corlax. That proud world, now subjugated, had become a staging area for campaigns against the Livien League.

All too often nowadays, those star glaives and penteconters came to Corlax in need of repair. New ships were sent across the border and came back battered, limping, and sometimes in fragments. The Liviens were powerful, prepared, and determined. They were proving a match Xer and his allies; perhaps more than a match.

The conflict had been stalemated for over a year, and Jaminere could see it wearing Xim down. Those dark eyes were becoming shadowed, sullen, even haunted, not by the defeats they'd suffered but by the prospect of worse to come. The Pirate King of Argai, and by extension his son and allies, had sworn to bring the Liviens to heel and conquer the greatest power in known space. There would be no living down this failure. It might well collapse Xer's government, and Xim with it.

Nonetheless, when the pirate prince arrived at the command station spinning above Corlax, he stepped down the halls with the same long fast strides he always did. The soldiers who manned the station—mostly from Sorasca and Cadinth—saluted Xim like he was their proper commander. He saluted them back.

But it was Jaminere who had his attention. As soon as he could, the lesser prince led Xim to the private office from which he managed all forces inbound and outbound through Corlax. The bloody, harrowing conquest of this planet had taught Jaminere to avoid direct combat if possible; charging into the fray remained Xim's specialty. Thankfully, Xim needed someone with a strong eye for detail and a level head. Jaminere was proud to fill that role.

He had just finished summarizing the latest repair schedule when the office intercom sounded. His aide reported that Admiral Kadenzi had arrived, and Jaminere ordered him brought in at once.

During the short wait, Xim and Jaminere locked eyes. They both knew why Kadenzi was here; they both knew how important this meeting might be. It had been Jaminere's idea to bring the young admiral into the fold. As an officer in the Sorascan Navy, he was officially subordinate to Admiral Edolfus, a close friend of Jaminere's father. In practice, Edolfus and King Coros IX both sheltered on the homeworld and left the real fighting to younger men. In this way they could posit themselves as authors of victory if it came, while casting blame for failure on the front-line officers.

Distance made them secure; it also made them out of touch.

Kadenzi was a man in mid-late thirties, young for his rank but clearly older than Xim or Jaminere. He stood tall, with black hair swept back from his pale face. He saluted both princes and only took his seat when Jaminere gestured for him to do so.

"Prince Jaminere has been updating me on the situation at Corlax," Xim said, angling his chair to face them both. "I've spent the past two weeks with my father at Barseg and the situation is the same. I don't need to tell you that our offensives have stalled, our morale is dropping, and despite having some of the best factory worlds in the galaxy at our disposal, we're not pumping out ships and weapons fast enough."

Kadenzi nodded grimly. "We never realized how powerful the Livien industrial base was until now. They control less worlds than our combined forces, but they've put their resources to much better use."

"Now I understand how they became the richest polity in known space," Jaminere said. "Would that we'd have known it sooner."

"We all know the situation," said Xim. "Now we must decide what to do about it."

Kadenzi didn't miss the stress on that second we. Carefully, the admiral said, "Does your father have a plan going forward?"

"My father's plan is what it has always been. Attack, attack, attack. You can see where that's gotten us."

After a heartbeat, Kadenzi said, "You propose something different."

"There's strength, and there's strength." Xim held out open hands. "The Liviens have their own, and it's something we lack."

"It's something we need," Jaminere said.

Kadenzi shook his head. "They're not interested in an alliance, or a pact. They've made that very clear."

"The Livien League is a confederation of worlds, each with limited autonomy. That means each its own interests, its own goals. They're a civilization of merchants."

The admiral frowned. "Anyone who sells his loyalty once will sell out again. You might win victories that way, but you won't dominate the whole League."

"There's buying, and there's buying." Xim looked at Jaminere.

The lesser prince said, "Material wealth is the cheapest kind of currency. What we need to sell is a stake in the future. A clever man will see which way history is flowing and join the stream rather than swim against it."

Kadenzi's brows tightened slightly. He understood they were talking about him as much as any hypothetical Livien. "I can see how the League's kind of strength might be… useful."

"I marked several candidates and sent out feelers," Jaminere said. "Nothing has been set in place yet. We've not even reached the negotiating stage. But if our plan works, your fleets may end up fighting only a fraction of the League navy instead of the whole monster."

"Do you really think you can get some of their worlds to switch sides?"

"More likely they'd sit out the war," said Xim. "If they're the right worlds, it may be enough to tip the scales in our favor. Whatever happens, Admiral, you need to be ready to react quickly to a fast-changing battlefield. Can you do that for us?"

Kadenzi's face was drawn tight; his forehead wrinkled in thought. He knew what he was being asked, and he answered carefully. "In a fluid situation, I would trust the judgment of commanders closest to the front line."

Jaminere breathed out in relief. Xim smiled. "That's good, Admiral. Be prepared for the situation to become very fluid, very quickly." His lips drooped to a frown. "In fact delaying, or simply holding course, may be the worst fate of all."

The admiral tilted his head. "Meaning what?"

"My father refuses to recognize how dangerous our situation is. There are threats from inside as well as out. He thinks we've culled the Cronese nobles, but there are plenty on Chandaar who are eager to throw off the Pirate King and return to the old ways. A few more failures against the League and they'll feel bold enough to act."

Jaminere felt a chill; it was the first he'd heard of this.

Kadenzi's eyes narrowed. "Is that supposition, or fact?"

"I have a source deep within the Cronese court."

"I don't suppose you'll name that source."

"Of course not. Rest assured, I trust them trust absolutely."

His voice was quiet, but firm with conviction. Jaminere wondered who that source might be, who Xim might trust so fully. It gave him a strange feeling he couldn't name.

"If people are readying to move against your father, you should purge them as soon as you can," said Kadenzi. "Otherwise you'll put yourself at risk." His words were a statement, but his tone was a question. He wanted to know how loyal a son Xim really was.

Xim's answer was not an answer. "The Cronese plotters will be dealt with in time. They're waiting for a moment of weakness to strike. We'll leave no such opening."

"Your source assures you of this?"

Xim simply nodded.

Silence brooded in the office, which felt then very cramped. Eventually Kadenzi said, "I understand your concerns. I'll be ready for what is to come. You have my word. Is there anything else?"

"Not at this time," said Xim.

"Then thank you for the discussion. You've given me much to think about."

Kadenzi stood. So did Xim and Jaminere. The admiral saluted the princes, then spun and walked out of the room.

Xim and Jaminere stood there, looking at each other across the desk. Every shallow breath seemed to echo in the still-tight space.

Xim asked, "You're certain he won't go to Edolfus or your father about this?"

"I have the communications suite on his flagship bugged."

"But will he?"

"I've read his messages. He chafes at the old way of doing things. He'll stand with us."

"He had better," Xim murmured darkly.

Jaminere leaned forward. "Apparently I'm not the only one with a talent for subterfuge. I didn't know you had a man inside the Cronese court."

"Who said anything about a man?"

Jaminere frowned. "A woman, then? I thought you were too busy with military conquest for the romantic kind."

"It's not that either."

"Then what?"

Xim glared at him. "Is there a reason you're pressing so hard on this?"

Was there? Jaminere didn't understand himself. "I'm sorry. Even now we have to keep secrets, don't we?"

"Especially now," Xim confirmed. "We have enemies on all sides."

Jaminere sighed. "The League. The Cronese."

"Those aren't the worst." After a tiny pause, Xim asked, "What would your father do if he learned of this conversation?"

"I don't know."

"Execute you?"

Jaminere looked at his deck, chewed at his lip. "Possibly."

"Then you're taking a greater risk than I am. My father would scold me. Punish me. Probably lock me in chains for a spell and make a mockery of me. But I think he'd also be… proud." Xim's lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Proud of my audacity. Maybe even enough to forgive me."

"What was your family saying? The one about never being satisfied?"

"We have no family saying. That was his. Which means he really believes in it." The smile wilted. Silence brooded again until Xim asked, "Why does your father hate you?"

Those stunningly blunt words. Jaminere flinched and strained to respond.

"I can see that he does," Xim said. "It's a very cold, civilized, polite kind of hate. Nothing you'd ever get from my father. I didn't even recognize it at first."

Jaminere couldn't understand why Xim was asking him now, after all this time. Was he trying to drive home the severity of their actions? Perhaps he was only curious. Even after all they'd been through Xim could still be inscrutable.

Jaminere hesitated, then asked, "What happened to your mother?"

Xim frowned; now he was taken off-guard.

Jaminere pressed, "There is no Queen of Argai. I've never heard about Xer having a wife."

"He never took one. My mother was… a passing fancy."

But still a fancy, and not so passing it hadn't produced Xim. Jaminere asked, "You truly don't know where she is?"

"She and my father split ways after I was born. I never knew her. But it doesn't matter. In every way that counts, I am my father's son." He said it with a bitter smile. Dark eyes, almost soft now, held Jaminere. "What about your mother?"

Truth deserved truth in turn. He said, "My father killed her."

For a moment Xim was stunned silent. Then he asked, voice hoarse, "Why did he do that?"

"Because my mother, his concubine, was a traitor. An agent for the Viceroy of Caluula placed in my father's court as a mole. I was nine when she was found out. The punishment for treason, of course, is death. Strangling, specifically."

He still couldn't look up. Xim said, soft as Jaminere had ever heard him, "I'm surprised you weren't executed with her."

"Killing children is illegal on Sorasca. We are so very civilized."

"Disowned, then. Cast out."

"So I could come back one day, seeking revenge? No, he wanted to keep me close."

"But not close enough. Just the… proper distance."

Close enough to hurt, but not close enough to be hurt. Yes, Coros IX was a smart, civilized man. "That's my fate," Jaminere said. "Always to be the Lesser Prince. Always the disposable one."

"And do you hate your father in return?"

Jaminere couldn't say it. His hands balled to fists. Water gathered at the corners of his eyes. How long had it been since he'd last cried? Not since the awful days after his mother's execution. It seemed impossible that Xim—that cold, hard, brutal youth—had drawn them out of him. But Xim excelled at doing the impossible.

The son of Xer leaned close. His breath was light and hot on Jaminere's cheek. Soft as a whisper, strong as iron, he said, "One day we still step out of the shadow of our fathers. And do you know where we will be then?"

Jaminere dared look into those bright dark eyes. "Where?"

"Somewhere glorious."