Carnelians Read Free Page B

when she died, he would become the head of their line in place of her firstborn child. The title should have been his to start with, given his innate superiority, but she had demanded an abhorrent price for it, his signature on that godforsaken treaty. For that, he would never forgive her.
    Barthol said only, “The emperor claims that by opening trade relations with the Skolians, the treaty will make us wealthy beyond imagining.”
    Kryx snorted. “We’re already wealthy beyond imagining.”
    “Not that I would object to more,” Barthol said. “But nothing is worth trading with Skolians. Better we buy and sell them. ” The idea of treating them as equals greatly troubled him. Skolians showed their inferiority in everything they did, from their inept attempts at warfare to their sloppy “democratic” government that shared the rule of Sholia with the royal family. Hell, the fools couldn’t even figure out if they lived in a democracy or a dynastic empire.
    Kryx tapped the ivory table that separated them. A display of holicons came up, tiny holo menus, in this case a mosaic of gold and green squares floating above the table. He flicked one, and it morphed into an image about one handspan high showing a man with a massive physique and metallic skin, eyes, and hair.
    “Kelric Garlin Valdoria Skolia,” the mesh-table said. “Imperator of Skolia.”
    Barthol raised his eyebrow at Kryx. “Does your table always announce people?”
    Kryx smiled slightly. “I’m training it to anticipate my wishes.”
    A worthy goal. Barthol studied the Imperator. Kelric’s hair had greyed at the temples. Barthol loathed flawed people. If they didn’t make their appearance to his liking, he had no desire to acknowledge their existence. That he had to do so anyway with Kelric Skolia grated.
    “Show the rest of the Ruby Dynasty,” Kryx told the table.
    The mosaic morphed into a collection of extraordinarily pretty people. That irritated Barthol even more than the grey in Kelric’s hair, that even with all their flaws, the Ruby Dynasty were more beautiful than they deserved. They looked like expensive sex slaves, not interstellar potentates. Supposedly they were descended from a Eubian experiment designed to create gorgeous slaves who were also powerful psions, but of course that couldn’t be true, because if they had been created in a Eubian lab, they never could have escaped and set up their own empire.
    “What’s that for?” Barthol asked irritably.
    “I’m putting together dossiers on the Ruby Dynasty,” Kryx said.
    “We all have dossiers on them,” Barthol said. “If you figure out how to have them instead of their dossiers, let me know.” As a commander of ESComm, or Eubian Space Command, Barthol was always looking for ways to acquire a Ruby. Unfortunately, they were prodigiously well protected.
    “Look at this one.” Kryx flicked his thumb through the holo of a man with red curls streaked by gold. A full holo appeared, two handspans high, of the man standing with his thumbs hooked into his belt. He had on a sleeveless black shirt, black leather pants with silver studs, and a chain belt. His hair spilled down his neck, unruly and luxuriant. He had large eyes and a sneer, giving him an intensely sexualized look. That was certainly his most commercial asset, a blatant eroticism that could bring a high price on the pleasure slave markets.
    “Who is that?” Barthol asked. “Some thug out of a porn holovid?”
    Kryx smiled ever so slightly. “That, my dear Uncle, is the Ruby Dynasty’s greatest weakness.”
    “What, their association with surly youths of questionable character?” Barthol gave a deliberately crude laugh. “And here I thought Kelric Skolia preferred women.”
    “You know this fellow.” Kryx’s mouth quirked upward, which from a Highton was an expression of immense glee. “He’s a Ruby prince. Also something called a ‘holo-rock singer.’ ”
    “Holo-what?” Honestly, what absurdity would