Crown Of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Shuhr. There weren't many Shuhr, but it didn't take many to frighten the Federates. "But they've pulled off three raids in the last month."
    "Against military ships." Tel glanced up, as if he expected another suicide flight to plunge through the gray cloud cover. Obviously, he'd seen the Codex tri-D.
    "Exactly," she said. "They have no military manufacturing. Why bother to build what they can steal?"
    Tel nodded again.
    "Regional command hopes that announcing RIA might buy us all a few weeks' reprieve. If that slows down their next strike, we might find out where they're headed in time to preempt it."
    "Is the Federacy going to attack Three Zed?" Tel asked, looking directly into her face. "Before they can steal RIA, too?"
    Again she thought of those sealed orders. She guessed, but she didn't know.
    Besides RIA, they would take another dangerous new weapon to Three Zed . . . if those were the orders. Ever since Firebird and Bren-nen escaped from the Golden City, Sentinel College researchers had observed the unique fusion of their epsilon carrier waves. Under certain circumstances, that fusion of mental energy released virtually uncontrollable power. Using fusion, Brennen had sent a swordlike crystace pommel-first from high over Dru Polar's head, down through his body, and into Three Zed's stone floor, blasting out a small crater and filling it with . . . Polar.
    Unfortunately, that fusion had sent Firebird into deep psychic shock. The college researchers had also learned that each fusion left scar tissue on the ayin complex deep in her brain, where her epsilon carrier arose. Genetically created by the Sentinels' ancestors, the mental-frequency epsilon wave gave rise to all their unusual abilities.
    "I'm sorry," she murmured. "We're not allowed to discuss that possibility."
    Tel leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. Two years ago, Firebird had thought him dull-witted. What sensible person would marry Phoena? In the last four months, she'd seen Tel's courage and intelligence, and his loyalty—one of the highest Netaian virtues.
    If the Federacy thought Brennen would lead an attack on Three Zed, why would Tel think otherwise?
    She barely smiled at him, then turned aside.
    Beneath the shroud of clouds, an elevated maglev rail paralleled Port Road through Citangelo's high-tech manufacturing zone, then bent west toward the fastrans station. Laser-straight avenues and narrow roadways that dated back to colonization crossed Port in the shopping district. An elegant stone bridge vaulted the Etlason River.
    "There it is," murmured Shel.
    Firebird pressed forward. From this vantage on the Etlason Bridge, she spotted a cubical building at one end of a park: the gold-sheathed Hall of Charity, where her confirmation ceremony was planned.
    She might have to leave Netaia before her scheduled confirmation if Brennen made his catch soon enough. Still, if she helped disempower the Shuhr, Netaia might proclaim her a hero even if she left Citangelo prematurely.
    . . . Might. There was no predicting the Netaian Electorate.
    They passed on into traffic, skimmers and groundcars, mostly controlled by central guidance. Brennen pressed a data chip into the media block on the car's side console. Another half-meter hologram glimmered into existence between the forward- and back-facing seats. Firebird knew every cranny and corridor of the building that appeared. The three-hundred-year-old palace had seven klicks of passways, more than a hundred stairwells and gravity lifts, and two dozen entries. Its governmental and private wings framed formal gardens behind the broad public zone. Behind that columned front, the sovereign—a regent, at present—and other public officials had day and night offices.
    Squarely centered between the palace's backswept wings, an elliptical chamber shone off-gold. It was the electoral chamber, heart of power on royal Netaia. Behind it were meeting rooms, galleries, and ballrooms. . .
    Firebird glared at the sovereign's