Journey - Book II of the Five Worlds Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page B

then, to let that greatness flower. All those years watching Prime Minister Faulkner’s clumsy rule, as proxy to the brat Dalin Shar—how Besh had longed to take the reins then! But no, he had waited and schemed, putting off his plans, whiling his hours with ones and zeroes as finance minister.
    And now that he sat in the seat he had so long coveted, it all seemed so … empty.
    Outside Besh’s window, waves of heat were already building. He could just make out the top of the trellises in what had once been the Imperial rose gardens; the petalless vines were dry and brittle, a crown of thorns. There hadn’t been roses for three years, and even then they had made it on their own, without watering. That summer had been wetter than most.
    There came a light knock—almost reverential—-on the door to Besh’s office.
    “Come in,” Besh said.
    The door opened, revealing a guard in dun-colored uniform and shaved head beneath his cap; he was young and nervous.
    “It’s time, Co-Prime Minister.”
    “Is it?” Time had passed quickly during his ruminations; it must already be nearing noon.
    “Very well,” Besh said, rising.
    Outside the window, between the Imperial Palace and the dried twigs of the rose gardens, stood a flat of ground cleared of all obstacles; at one end a wall of neatly stacked sandbags stood, before which was a single chair. Thirty paces away stood ten riflemen, checking their rasers.
    Turning away from the window, Besh smiled tiredly at the young guard in the doorway.
    “Don’t worry, son,” he said, “I won’t run away on you.”
    “No, sir,” the guard said, eyes downward.
    Besh left his office and was surprised to see Co-Prime Minister Acron, florid-faced, waiting for him in the hallway.
    “I would have thought you’d be gloating in your chambers,” Besh said.
    Acron approached him quickly, drawing a short-handled blade from his tunic with resolve. He took Besh’s arm in a tight grip while thrusting the dagger in below the breastbone and driving upward. Acron’s eyes never left Besh’s face.
    “ I wanted to do this myself ,” he hissed.
    After shocked surprise, Besh’s face began to collapse, but he managed to keep his gaze focused on Acron for a moment.
    “I’m not … surprised …”
    Acron let him go, and Besh collapsed to the ground, drawing a last breath before lying still.
    Acron turned angrily to the wide-eyed young guard.
    “Get rid of him, now,” Acron said. “And say nothing, or you’ll follow his example.”
    Without another word, Co-Prime Minister Acron turned on his heel and marched off to a prior engagement.
     
    “Y ou are here because the time for finesse is over,” Acron said. Standing with the flats of his hands on the table before him, he leveled a hard look at the four men seated around the table; three were already his own, and the fourth was needed. “Besh is gone, and I am, as of this moment, assuming the full prime minister’s mantle, with concurrent powers.”
    “It was a shame about poor Besh,” Law Minister Chang said with barely suppressed glee. “My court had no choice but to find him guilty of sedition, of course.”
    “He never made it to the firing squad,” Acron said, and watched Chang’s smile falter. Chang was a good bureaucrat, but, like the late Besh, was too subtle for his own good. “I dispatched him myself. Are there any objections?”
    Acron was pleased at the looks on their faces; and pleased that you could have heard a pin drop in the room.
    “Now that Besh is gone, our real work begins. With or without the High Leader’s help.”
    This was the big step; for a moment he thought there would be no objection, but then the one question mark of the group, Cornelian’s diplomat and spy Cal-Fen, spoke up.
    “Is that wise, Co-Prime—pardon me, Prime Minister? You are aware that the High Leader approved of your recent … realignment of power. The High Leader has every confidence in your abilities, and knows that the current