I didn’t have the strength to char the man to ash, and he fell to the ground screaming. Basra silenced him with a photon blast. Even the motion of pulling the trigger cost him, judging by the wince that twisted his face. The stain was spreading, blood beginning to drip from his sleeve, but he didn’t lower the rifle.
In fact, his mouth twitched in a half smile. “Never play your hand too early,” he said.
Rubion hardly paid him any mind. He was looking at me with a hungry light in his eyes. “So, this is what you can do.” His reasonable tone was as perfectly smooth as before. “How about we all lower our weapons, you step inside, and we—”
Basra barked a laugh. “You want to try to bargain with me? Fine. How about you shoot the other Bladeguard in there, and then we’ll talk.”
I had no idea how he knew, but it was obvious he was right from the look on Rubion’s face. He glanced to the side with a disappointed twist to his lips. “Lower your weapons and stand down,” he said to someone I couldn’t see.
“Tell them to kick the weapons into the center of the room,” I said. Never mind that the room was flowing and cracking so much, like molten earth, that I wasn’t sure I would even be able to see them.
Rubion hesitated, the pistol still against Arjan’s head, and then nodded. The dim shape of a gun and then the white gleam of a Disruption Blade skittered across my vision.
“What if there are two swords?” My voice sounded too drunk for my liking, though there wasn’t much I could do about it. “Nev has two.” A hazy memory surfaced of him wielding one in either hand.
Rubion blinked in surprise. “Blademasters are rare among Bladeguards. Nevarian is the youngest in an age—I assure you, it’s not commonplace.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Basra said without hesitation, and stepped into the room. Drips of blood trailed behind him.
“How do you know?” Rubion said with a sleek, raised eyebrow.
“I learned to read faces like yours when I was five,” Basra said, keeping the rifle trained on him, obviously assuming I’d handle the unarmed Bladeguard if he—she—made a move. She stood still in her segmented armor, arms folded behind her back, as she’d been ordered.
Rubion sneered at Basra. “And just who do you think you are?”
Basra’s smile returned. He’d flipped on his emotional switch again, because his eyes were filled with nearly malicious pleasure as he stared at Rubion over the table. “You, Dracorte, might know me as Hersius Kartolus.”
Without losing his sighting down the barrel, he lifted one hand from the rifle—his uninjured one, even—shook up his sleeve, and curled up his fingertips to press his wrist. A design appeared along on his forearm, which then went a step further to project itself in a glowing holograph, hovering a few inches over his skin. It was like a double helix, all glittery blacks and blues, but with each end looped closed instead of left open.
I had no idea what the name Hersius Kartolus meant, but I’d seen holo-tattoos like these. They were often licensed for use by one particular individual, often for life, and sometimes against their will in the case of prison inmates. It was meant to prove Basra was somebody…I just didn’t know who.
Rubion did, though. The effect was instantaneous. His jaw slackened and his eyes popped. He was stunned…and quite possibly terrified. “You…That’s you?” His eyes roved the design, as if counting the number of overlapping spirals in the lineup. There looked to be around a dozen.
“Yes, and believe me when I say I will wreck you and your family beyond belief.”
“Wait, what?” I slurred, swaying. I had to reach for the wall to support myself. The Bladeguard tensed but didn’t move. “What does all this mean?”
Basra didn’t respond. To me, anyway. “That is, unless you release Arjan Uvgamut. I assure you, it’s in your best interest. Your family’s interest.”
That didn’t sound right. Maybe this, a name and a tattoo, was somehow Basra’s secret weapon. But I had seen his anger, and I knew he wouldn’t just let Rubion walk away after merely threatening him.
Rubion’s fingers tightened on Arjan’s shoulder. “No, Hersius, this boy and girl are the only things working in my family’s interest right now. If only you knew what we could do with them, I’m sure you’d be on board. With your resources—”
“Resources?” I asked, glancing at Basra.
“You didn’t even know who you had on your ship?” Rubion graced me with his attention again, if only in the form of a disdainful glance. “Hersius Kartolus is richer than the Great Unifier. A financial genius. He has major investments in every royal family, including significant stock in Dracorte Industries, never mind the top five commoner corporations in the galaxy.”
“How…,” I sputtered, glancing at Basra. “You’re only a few years older than me!”
“And you’re the best pilot in the galaxy,” Basra murmured. “Give me some credit.”
Rubion smiled at Basra like he knew yet another thing I didn’t. And he was right. “That’s the half secret that isn’t widely known beyond certain circles. The name Hersius Kartolus has existed for hundreds of years, possibly dating back to before the Great Collapse. Whoever is the current Kartolus finds a pupil to train, a rising star to take his—or her—place as the sun around which so many revolve. I haven’t known any other Kartolus but the Twelfth.”
He hesitated, then spoke directly to Basra again. Not that his eyes had ever left him. “And now I meet the Thirteenth. My father, Axandar, told me the Twelfth was considered young when he gained the name in his middle years. If you didn’t have the mark, I would never have believed. Even with his ill health, you must be very skilled indeed for the Twelfth to have considered you ready.”
There wasn’t quite insinuation in the words, more of a question.
“You have no idea,” Basra said shortly. “Now, as you know, my time is rather valuable, so what’ll it be?”
“Allow me to make you a counteroffer.” Rubion’s eyes practically glowed with eagerness from across the table. Arjan’s one remaining eye was shut. The other socket still gaped. I couldn’t stop looking at it.
My vision pulsed. Whoever Basra was, I didn’t care. We needed to end this before either I collapsed or my fury wiped us all out.
“I can’t imagine one that could interest me,” Basra said. “And I have a pretty good imagination. Outside of Arjan Uvgamut, who will already be coming back to me with less of him than there was before, I don’t need anything.”
“I will give you Arjan without fuss if you incapacitate his sister—with maybe a shot to the knee so you don’t cause too much damage—and then join me.”
Basra laughed outright, the most disdainful laugh I’d ever heard in my life.
“You don’t understand,” Rubion insisted. “With my research and your resources, we don’t even need my family. This isn’t about them. This isn’t about wealth and power either, though we will have that beyond even your wildest dreams. It’s about what we could do with her abilities. If you join my enterprise, we will be gods.”