The Rifter's Covenant by Sherwood Smith, Dave Trowbridge Read Free Book Online Page A

the
chaos to which the former government had been reduced required such unorthodox
action. But instead, the Archon had made an unsuccessful grab for power through
the luckless Aegios Kestian Harkatsus.
    The Aerenarch
Brandon, with the help of the Praerogate Omilov, had triumphed, proving despite
detrimental rumor and record that he was a worthy heir. She’d seen then, with
awful clarity, that flawed as the Panarchy might be, it could correct itself,
which Dol’jharian cruelty and violence could not.
    Sedry had almost
turned herself in then, but her spiritual confessor had commanded her a harsher
penance: to undo, as much as possible, the damage she had done, before seeking
the catharsis of legal confession and just punishment.
    She smiled grimly
as she turned up a secluded path to avoid a group of strollers. She knew
herself unmemorable, in the unlikelihood anyone traced her footsteps here: a
short, plain woman in her middle years, wearing nondescript civilian clothing.
Her one gift was manipulation of dataspace: noderunning. She was one of the
best in the Navy, and Srivashti did not know how closely Sedry had been
monitoring his movements since his political defeat.
    Her goal today was
to find out, if she could, the identity of the noderunner whose protections of
Srivashti’s DataNet feeds had so far resisted her. The Archon still retained
enough influence to hold on to several threads’ worth of dataspace on the
couriers that now smuggled information between the Ares Net and the tattered
but still functional DataNet that linked the rest of the Thousand Suns.
    But if she could
discover his runner’s identity, the Spelunkenbuch maintained by Infonetics in
the Net might give her enough of a personality profile and style to penetrate
his or her blockade and reach the deepest levels. Given what she now knew of
the Archon’s twistiness, she had no doubt there was much there to severely
damage or even destroy his remaining influence.
    She glimpsed a tall
male silhouette, apparently absorbed in tossing food pellets to some ducks.
Grace and latent power were evident in the pose, the hands; a few meters
closer, and she recognized the exiled Archon of Timberwell’s perfectly barbered
silver hair and the chiseled profile.
    Once again, betrayals,
but each time I will come that much closer to what I need to destroy you , she promised, as she forced herself to
move slowly, her fingers clenched in her pockets.
    Srivashti appeared
to be unaware of her until she reached the rock he lounged against, and when he
looked up, his pale, almost yellow eyes were acute in their assessment.
    Sedry had never
been able to comprehend the almost telepathic awareness of subtle gesture and
movement that the Douloi were taught from infancy, but she gambled on the shock
of her news overwhelming whatever nervousness he read in her manner.
    “The Panarch is
dead,” she said bluntly.
    And knew she’d
succeeded. Not that he reacted overtly; a long breath, the widening of his
pupils, were all that she saw, but that was very revealing for a Douloi.
    “Tell me more,” he
murmured, his voice, husky by nature, made rougher by suppressed emotion.
    “Little to tell,”
she said. “Dol’jhar released the data. One of their rituals. Anaris
achreash-Eusabian—his heir—just arrived on the Suneater with the news.”
    The Archon gazed
blankly at the waddling ducks. Sedry withdrew her hand from her pocket and
tossed bits of a dried seedcake. She knew that as soon as Srivashti recovered
from his reverie he would dismiss her like one of his servants. She had to
prolong the conversation if she could.
    “Nyberg and the
Naval command surmise the Aerenarch—now the Panarch—will arrive back in four
days.” She knew he could get this information elsewhere, but she wanted to
foster the illusion of cooperation. “Are you still planning to aid him in
making a government?”
    Srivashti’s gaze
remained distant, then his eyelids drooped, shuttering his gaze. “Of