The overall plan might take as long as a decade or two. The Mage-Imperator must do it correctly. If he succeeded, the hydrogues would listen to him. But, oh, the death and mayhem his people would endure in the meantime!

Bron’n entered the chamber, interrupting the Mage-Imperator’s thoughts, and bowed his bestial head. “Liege, the Dobro Designate has arrived, according to your summons.”

“Good. Remain close, Bron’n. I have an important task for you, as well.” As the Mage-Imperator set aside his secret documents, his long braid began to jerk and thrash with agitation. “We all have much work to do.”

106: BASIL WENCESLAS

106BASIL WENCESLAS

The Throne Hall of the Whisper Palace was a wreck. Walls had fallen down, windows shattered, support beams collapsed in the hydrogue explosion. At least there hadn’t been a fire.

Basil Wenceslas stood speechless amidst the destruction, jaw clenched tight, lips pressed together, though his hands trembled with the sheer buildup of rage and shock.

Surrounded by grim-faced royal guards, Basil inspected the areas where engineers had shored up the support walls and verified the safety of that portion of the Palace. After the attack, the Throne Hall was declared completely off-limits until Basil returned from Ildira. No one else had been allowed to see the destruction—nor would they.

Basil turned to Franz Pellidor, who had remained silent and unobtrusive while the Chairman made decisions and chose his priorities. “Give me an assessment, Mr. Pellidor. You’ve been watching the public reaction for the past several days. Have you controlled the media coverage?”

The blond man seemed surprised. “How could we control the coverage, Mr. Chairman? From start to finish, the meeting with the hydrogue emissary was a matter of public record. Are you suggesting that I should have tried to suppress information after the fact? Very dangerous, sir.”

“No, no, much too late for that. But we do need to channel the public reaction. Encourage the people to think what we want them to think.”

Pellidor gave a flat, unemotional assessment. “Rumors are running rampant. The populace is still in a state of disbelief. Some are outraged, others are terrified at the prospect of a hydrogue invasion. What is it that we want them to think? Most citizens haven’t yet grasped the long-term hardships we may face if ekti production is halted indefinitely.”

“We’ll get our ekti,” Basil said, his voice close to a growl.

“We’ve got to take advantage of public outrage, rally our citizens, and prepare an immediate response. If we form an alliance with the Ildirans, our combined might will certainly be enough to resist these aliens.”

Basil frowned, recalling his meeting with the Mage-Imperator. During the journey back to Earth, a thought had repeatedly nagged him. At the time, events had been so dramatic and horrifying that he’d forgotten the Mage-Imperator’s exact words immediately before the green priest Otema had arrived. But now he remembered.