They had entered the innermost chamber of the former hareem. The surroundings were plush and luxurious, if a bit garish for Vanbert tastes. And the shallow pool at the center of the great room was completely at variance with Confederate architecture.
Trae didn’t seem put off by it, though. He went over to the pool, squatted down, and dipped his hand in the water.
“Warm. They must have a heating system of some kind. They’re clever, Islanders, no doubt about it. They’ll make good mechanics. Better than Vanbert ones, probably.”
He eyed Demansk over his shoulder. “I don’t know, Father. The whole thing sounds weird to me. Wealth out of nothing. Well, not that exactly. But it’s still wealth just coming out of . . . of . . .” He groped for words. “Out of money spinning around. Like that ‘perpetual motion machine’ the Emerald philosophers all swear is impossible.”
Demansk decided it was time to bring Trae all the way in. “It’s not impossible, Trae. In fact, it’s been done many times before, and on many worlds. I didn’t come up with the idea myself, although I’d been groping toward it.”
He glanced at the west wall of the chamber. His own private quarters were on the opposite side of that wall, and he could visualize perfectly the writing table on which Adrian Gellert’s “letter” rested. Demansk, like Trae himself, found the title Meditations on Successful Tyranny a bit ridiculous. But, unlike Trae, he’d read it. Done much more than read it, in fact—by now, he practically had it memorized.
“Most of it is Gellert’s thinking. Helga says—”
He broke off, realizing that he would have to elaborate on the nature of Gellert’s bizarre “spirits” at a later time. Something much more pressing was on the agenda at the moment.
Princess Jirri had come into the room, emerging from the door where her own quarters lay. She practically stormed into the room actually, glaring fiercely and waving a sheet of paper clutched in two little fists. Several of her fingers were stained with ink.
“Father, you have got to put a stop to—”
She halted abruptly, staring at Trae. Then, a moment later, her jaw dropped.
Trae rose to his feet and gave Demansk a cocked eyebrow. ” ‘Father’? Is there something I don’t know? A second wife you never told us about?” He gave Jirri a careful inspection. “She doesn’t look like one of your offspring. Too gorgeous, for starters.”
Demansk coughed. “Well. Actually, Jirri’s more or less practicing, I guess you could say. I’m about to become her father. I don’t believe I’ve had a chance to mention yet that you’re getting married. The day after tomorrow, as it happens. The ceremony’s already been prepared.”
As if by cue, the sound of heavy chimes ringing somewhere in the city below wafted through the airy windows of the hareem. Through those same windows, Demansk could see the Western Ocean. The waters of the archipelago seemed especially vibrant today.
“Ah, good. I see the temples have gotten the announcement. I had to wait, of course, until you’d actually arrived.”
It would be difficult to say which of the two youngsters in the room had the widest eyes, at that moment. Both pairs looked like saucers. Trae was goggling at his father; Jirri was goggling at Trae.
“You didn’t warn me!” they both protested simultaneously.
“I’m not ready to get married!” added Trae.
Jirri’s protest was less cosmic: “I’ve got ink on my hands!”
Demansk bestowed a look upon his son which was stern enough to have satisfied the All-Father himself. “There will be no discussion, Trae, and no argument. None. In this, if nothing else, I will stand on ancient custom. I am your father, and you will do as I say. I need this marriage to solidify everything.”
He glanced at Jirri, finding it hard not to laugh at her indignation over smudged fingers. “The truth is, I even considered marrying her myself. But that would have been too much of a breach with custom, and besides, I’ve been thinking—never mind.” Firmly: “You’re perfect. As my youngest son, you’re not likely to be the Demansk heir anyway. The Council will squeal with outrage, but not for long. And, in the meantime, I’ll have welded the Islanders to our family inseparably.”
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