he Nova to start doing immediately. When he came out of the ground, the defense systems of the Imperial palace would see that transmission and at least give him a chance, where the fighters above would not.

To make sure of it, he again called the Imperial Palace using a frequency reserved for the _Siann_, now that he had enough spare time to pay attention to talking to someone without worrying about getting himself killed. This time, it was a pink-haired woman that answered, her image appearing under the canopy, on a hologram over the control stick. _"This is a reserved channel!"_ she protested.

"Lady, in about twenty seconds the ship they've been chasing is going to cross over the fence and land," he warned her. "It is carrying a member of the _Siann_ on official business, it is unarmed and unarmored, and is broadcasting the Truce Call. So wave the _fucking_ fighters off and let me land!"

_"How can it be the _Siann_ if _you_ are the one flying the ship?"_ she demanded, frowning at him.

"When I land I'll explain it," he snapped at her. "But I've done everything I'm supposed to do by the laws of _Siann_ to be allowed to land safely, so dammit, follow the laws! You can have a fucking _army_ of guards there to meet me, but let me _fucking_ land!"

He had no more time to argue, for the fence appeared ahead of him. The Nova burst through it, and Jason instinctively rolled the ship and banked when he saw a flash of red ahead and above him. They'd beaten him to the tunnel mouth! He evaded a cascade of plasma bolts as he weaved over an open park abutting the Imperial compound, then pushed the roll into a corkscrew that made him harder to hit as he jacked the lateral controls to slide the ship to port to avoid a pulsing series of bolts of plasma from one of the Starhawks that had figured out where he went and set up to ambush him when he came out. He ducked and wove and careened wildly, speeding up and slowing down, trying to shake them off his tail as they fired at him. He had plenty of room to maneuver, but there were five of them and one of him, and he knew it was just a matter of time until one of them finally got enough of a lead on him to hit him.

It didn't take long. The ship rocked violently as the entire control board started flashing red and sparks erupted from under a panel on the port side, spinning almost out of control. A plasma bolt had blown off the entire left wing, and Jason struggled to regain control of his crippled ship, the remains of it nearly hitting the canopy as he spun into its path. He managed to get the ship back under some semblance of control and turned it towards the palace, leaving a trail of smoke and fire behind him as the ship listed badly to port and lost altitude. Several more plasma bolts streaked towards him, missing by inches, but when the crystalline faade of the Imperial Palace came into view over the trees, all firing ceased. At this range, an errant shot might blow a hole in Empress Dahnai's crown jewel, and it would mean the head of the offender who did it.

Sagging in the air, burning, barely under control, the wounded Nova flew over the fence and entered the Imperial grounds.

Jason was aiming for a landing platform near the palace proper, but he saw already he wasn't going to make it. The engines were damaged and overheating, and he had seconds to get the ship slowed down or he'd risk plowing a nasty trough into Dahnai's neatly manicured lawn. He had the ship slow down as much as it could as he tried to extend the landing skids, but only one of them was functional. The ship came into a hover about fifteen feet above the ground, the nose skid extending, and then the ship lost all power, shuddered in midair, and dropped like a stone.

The impact was bone jarring. Jason's teeth clicked together as the ship slammed into the ground, as a _company_ of black-armored Imperial guards charged towards him, even three exomechs, but he was alive and generally unharmed outside of bruised ribs, a bloody nose, and feeling like he'd been trampled under an elephant from all the high-G maneuvers he'd done. He unhooked the restraints and tried to catch his breath as the canopy slowly opened using emergency backup power dedicated solely to the canopy, and he woozily got to his feet in the cockpit, sat on the edge, and then swung his legs over and slid off to fall six feet to the ground. His legs were a bit rubbery, and that caused him to fall when he hit the ground.

Then hands pushed him into the ground. Imperial guards held him down as others a distance away trained MPAC rifles on him, ready to shoot him if he made the faintest false move. Jason collected himself while they pressed his head against the ground. _By the laws of _Siann_, I claim the right of Martyr's Gambit!_ He sent powerfully, so powerfully that just about everyone in the palace could probably hear him. _I have done everything the law requires to get here. I broadcasted the Truce Call from my ship in orbit, but some weasel in the palace ignored the law and called the Trillanes so he could collect their reward on my head! That forced me to fly down here on my own with half the damn Navy chasing me down! But I got here in one piece! Now release me and let me strike the Gong of Morr to gain entry to the palace!_

There was a startled silence all around him. The guards obviously didn't expect this maniacal, suicidal Terran to _send_, and what was more, he knew the laws of _Siann_!

_Release him,_ came an amused, dry sending. _Let him strike the gong. He is granted his claim of Martyr's Gambit._

He didn't need anyone to tell him who _that_ was. That was Empress Dahnai _herself_, answering his sending with one of her own!

Hands instantly let go of him, and then two hands returned to help him to his feet. The hidden faces behind those helmets didn't let him see their reactions, but those helmets were a little bowed.

Protocol insisted that he remain silent. He wasn't allowed to send to the Empress, it was both in bad form and illegal. But, he really hadn't expected her to answer him personally. He really hadn't considered the possibility that she would have heard him.

"This way, please," one of the Faey said in a rich alto, pointing with an armored hand towards the gleaming crystal of the Imperial Palace.

He walked slowly, trying to recover himself. He knew that now the real fight was about to begin. Now he had to convince Dahnai that he had a rightful claim to the seat of Karinne, and then, after that, he had to challenge Trillane for Earth and get Dahnai's approval of his claim. Part of doing that was to use an old law in the _Siann_ called the Martyr's Gambit. It was one law that had two interpretations, based on who used it. A noble could use it to bring a grievance directly to the Empress, but face her wrath if she found the grievance below her, it was the last resort of a noble with an issue. But anyone could use this law, even a commoner, and if a commoner used it, she faced execution after making her case before the Empress unless the Empress so deigned to spare the commoner's life. That was why it was called the Martyr's Gambit. Even a commoner could get before the Empress and plead her case, but she could lose her life in the bargain. If she was willing to martyr herself for her cause, then that option was always available.

The modern Faey citizens probably didn't know about this law, and if they did, it would do them no good, really. The law was still binding, but the Gong of Morr, which had to be struck to enact this law, was on the Imperial grounds, and no commoner could reach it without being shot and killed by the guards or the automated defenses of the Imperial compound. That was how the Empress got around that little law, by making it impossible for any lay citizenry to actually reach the gong.

But he reached the gong. It was a ceremonial golden disc suspended by two chains from an old wooden support stand, and a cloth-covered mallet hung from a rope on a pet on the leg of it. This was the Gong of Morr. It was the ceremonial doorbell of the Imperial palace; one had to strike the gong three times as an official request to enter. He took up the mallet and struck the gong, which made a low, tinny sound. He struck it again, and then once more, and hung the mallet back on the peg and stepped up to the huge double doors, covered in crystal lattice done up in the Merrane crest of three moons surrounding a star, all within a triangle. Those doors opened, showing a stupendous entry hall filled with carpets, rich tapestries, mosaics, and a gem-encrusted ceiling glittering rainbow light down to the floor below. A stone statue of a young Faey woman, nude, her hands behind her head to tousle her long, thick hair greeted those who were at the door, placed prominently on the far side of the hall so it was the first thing one saw once the door was open. The woman was a very handsome woman, with a strong pair of cheeks and large eyes, and a pattern Faey body that was graced with all those elegant curves that men fancied, offset by muscular definition in her arms, legs, and stomach.

Even from that distance, he could identify the face on that statue, for he'd seen enough pictures of the model.

He had to give Empress Dahnai Merrane some marks for guts for posing naked for a statue that everyone entering her palace couldn't help but see.

Before he stepped in, he recalled the rules of protocol that Zaa had taught him. Sending within the palace was permissible, but it was considered extremely rude for your sending to extend past the room where you were in. Private sendings between people in different rooms were fine, but the customs of decorum demanded that a certain amount of mental silence hold firm within the palace. Filling the air with inane chatter all over the place would make it hard for someone to hear the sending of the person beside them. Since he was a man, it was unseemly for him to go anywhere unescorted. That was a stupid rule, but it had its roots way back in the antiquity of Faey history. He would go nowhere alone here. Since he came with no escort, a woman would escort him wherever he went, either a guard or one of the palace staff, a groom or chamberlain. It was expected for him to bow to any nobles, who would be identifiable by their red sashes, but he was only expected to bow _once_ when he entered a room. If other nobles entered, they would bow if higher ranking nobles were present, but those already within the room were not required to bow. Since there were so many nobles here, that rule was enacted to save time from endless bowing as nobles roamed the palace. If he was in a hallway or passage, he was not required to bow to anyone but the Empress herself, should he chance encountering her outside the audience chamber. When he stood before the Empress, he had to wait for her to speak or send first, and custom was to always reply in the method she used. One did not speak or send to Dahnai unless she did so first, and even then, if she spoke, it was custom to continue to speak until she sent once again. Only then was it permissible to send in reply.

He was led to an antechamber at first, where he was required to bathe to clean the blood off himself, a room equipped with a bath in the corner, chairs to rest upon while waiting, and a vidlink panel monitor on the wall tuned to INN, though the sound was muted. It was here where he would wait for the official call to enter audience with the Empress, but it was also a place where he could groom himself to be presentable. He knew he had to look the part, so he partook of the bath willingly. He was dirty and sweaty and his clothes were stained with his own blood from the nosebleed he suffered when doing those high-G maneuvers. His Terran clothes seemed to offend the stewards that continuously filed in and out to attend those waiting to see the Empress, and they basically stole them while he was taking the bath, and left him Faey clothes, a long, flowing shimmering black robe and soft pair of trousers to wear under it, with the right sleeve so long it fell over his hand and the left ending at his forearm, both of them with flared cuffs that made them huge.

It was then he sighed in relief that he had kept everything important with his underwear at the lip of the bath.

He hated the idea of wearing this robe, but he had to make the right impression, and it would more or less require some bending of his moral fortitude at the moment. If he offended the Empress or too many of the _Siann_, they could shoot this down. He could be strong, but he couldn't appear to be overly _arrogant_, nor could he appear to be rude. Showing up in front of the Empress wearing a tee shirt and a pair of jeans with Nikes would be very rude. She _was_ the Empress, and he had to afford her respect. He had to look his best for her, and though he would have preferred wearing a suit, they didn't have suits here on Draconis. This robe was what was formal wear here, and when in Rome, don't begrudge the toga.

He did draw the line, though, when a woman came in and announced she was Erya Zoranne, a chamberlain of the palace, and she would help him prepare for his audience. Jason remembered something of this title from Zaa's teaching. This woman would be responsible for getting him ready to see Dahnai, where she would act as a maid, helping him bathe and dress. But, while he was drying himself off, she tried to sit him down to put makeup on him. "No," he told her flatly as he scrubbed his hair dry.

"You would stand before the Empress without makeup?" she asked in sincere surprise. "Don't you want to look your absolute best?"

"I'll wear a Faey robe, but I'm not gonna paint my face, which Terran men do _not_ do. I still have my dignity. I'm bowing to Faey customs, but I won't go that far. I am _not_ a Faey."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Very well. Sit down, please, I'll help you with your hair."

"I can manage that myself."

"I know you can, but it's my duty to help you get dressed and prepared. I can do your hair in any style you prefer, sir."

He basically gave in at that point. While he put on his underwear, trousers, and a soft pair of calf boots that fit him perfectly, she combed his hair in a simple part and then used a device that looked like a miniature cricket bat to dry it into place. She then helped him put on a soft linen-like undershirt and the robe, doing its ties in the proper style while Jason fussed with the lapels of the garment, which crossed in front of him. The robe-like garment was slit up to his waist on each side, allowing him to walk freely, and it had a multitude of pockets. He placed the ring and his black master key in those pockets, then the maid helped him tweak the robe so it fell just right. "There now, you look rather handsome," she told him, looking at him with a tilted head, tilting it to and fro as she walked around him. "You look good in black. I'm glad I chose it for you."

"You did?"

"Of course I did," she told him. "I wasn't about to let you stand before her Imperial Majesty wearing bloody rags. My reputation as a chamberlain would be ruined. This robe goes well with your skin and is a perfect accent for your blond hair."

"Well, thank you," he told her sincerely. "I guess now I just wait?"

She nodded. "It shouldn't be very long, though," she told him.

It wasn't. Five minutes later, after several pages entered the room to send privately with the chamberlain, a rather regal looking woman with long silver hair stepped into the room, wearing a red sash over a dark blue robe that was flared in the front to expose a considerable amount of blue cleavage. Jason bowed to her immediately. "You are summoned to stand before the Empress," she announced. "Know that under the conditions of Martyr's Gambit, you will be taken straight from the audience chamber to the gallows to be hanged for your audacity, should the Empress not spare your life."

"Let's go," he told her evenly. "I don't have all day, you know."

It wasn't far to the audience hall. He followed this regal woman, with the chamberlain holding his left hand on her right arm to act as his escort, down a long, elegantly decorated passage, to stand before a pair of ornate gold-filled double doors, gold filigree bored into the dark, polished wood done up in the Imperial crest, which was the Merrane crest under a crown, showing that House Merrane currently sat upon the throne. Jason figured they changed the doors every time a new house came to power in the Imperium. They opened, and he found himself staring into the lion's den.

The large, cavernous room was filled with nobles. Clearly, Dahnai had been holding court when he barged in on them all. This he had not expected. He had expected maybe to be doing this in front of just the ruling heads of the _Siann_, who stayed in the palace most of the time, who no doubt would be called to the chamber once he made his claims, to debate on the matter. It was bad luck that he'd done this on a court day, when Dahnai entertained many members of the other houses in this twice-a-week gathering of the nobles in her presence, where they would talk issues, make alliances, break them, scheme, plot, and generally do what spoiled Faey nobles did when packed into the same room with each other.

All of Jason's confidence seemed to bleed out of his feet when he saw a few hundred nobles turn in his direction to look when the doors opened, as all conversation and sending died down, but Jason's eyes were instead locked on the figure at the far end of the hall. Sitting on a gold-plated throne that had a rich fur cape thrown over it, wearing a simple white robe that showed off her ample cleavage, was her Imperial Majesty, Dahnai Merrane. She was surprisingly young for an Empress, maybe only about 40 or so, still considered quite youthful by Faey standards, but she sat upon that throne like a woman who knew she owned it. She had hair the color of polished copper, a rich reddish-gold, like bronze, that was long and straight and luxuriously thick, fanning out on the throne behind her like a wave of shimmering riches. Twined into her hair was the crystal crown of the Empress of the Imperium. Her face was youthful and lovely, with strong cheeks and a slightly squared jaw, strong facial features, but with a delicate nose and lovely, large, expressive green eyes. Even though she was slouched on the throne, one leg thrown casually over an arm which displayed the fact she wore no pants under her slitted robe, showing off a great deal of shapely leg, holding a handpanel in her hand as if she were sacked out on her couch in her living room, she still just _oozed_ Imperial bearing. Even in that intimate, comfortable pose, she still radiated a strength like the Denmother Zaa, an aura of command that told anyone looking at her just who the boss was around here. She looked at him with lazy eyes, but he could tell that those eyes were quite focused, quite energetic, and they seemed quite amused by his presence there.

"Imperial Majesty!" the woman who had come to fetch him boomed in a loud voice. "I present to you Commoner Jason Augustus Fox, subject of the Crown, seeking redress under the auspices of the Martyr's Gambit!"

_Let him step forth,_ she sent in reply, going back to her panel as if he no longer interested her, proving that the woman who had intervened before truly was the Empress herself.

Jason walked with the chamberlain down the center of the room, on a blue carpet that led to the dais holding the throne, until they reached the first step, about ten feet from her. Jason bowed gracefully as the chamberlain bowed deeply to her, and then she let go of his hand and stepped away. Jason looked at her, vaguely realizing that he was living out a nightmare he had had so long ago, bowing before the Empress like a lapdog wearing a Faey robe, but there was no hope for it. The only way to kick Trillane off Earth and protect his people was to do this, to take a place within a system he hated and despised. But the sacrifice of his honor was more than worth the gain for the Terran race.

"Imperial Majesty," he began, then he took a cleansing breath with his voice wavered, betraying his fear and nervousness being here. That caused a few titters of laughter behind him, as the nobles all crowded in to watch the show, watch a commoner flounder before the Empress, and then be dragged off to be hanged for his impertinence. "Your Imperial Majesty, I must first protest my introduction. I am a married man. My proper name is Jason Augustus Fox _Shaddale_. That introduction insults the honor of my wife and the vows we share."

"Indeed," she said slowly, not doing much but glancing at him as she continued to look at her handpanel. "The scribe can make the necessary corrections," she told him with a vague wave of her empty hand. "Just hold on a second."

They waited in silence while she kept her attention on the handpanel. But she turned it off and looked at him. "Now, what's so important to you that you're willing to be hanged afterwards after you tell it to me?" she asked, showing much more interest now, putting the handpanel in the seat beside her as she took her leg off the arm and took a more normal pose, giving him her full attention.

It was a surprising change, and Jason wasn't the only one to notice it. Had she been feigning disinterest, or was she just feigning interest now? He wasn't sure, this young Faey lady was hard to read.

"I came here using the laws of Martyr's Gambit, but I have no intention of being hanged," he told her evenly. "I came here to claim my legal rights and duties under the laws of _Siann_."

"My. I don't recall ever seeing your name in the charter, goodman Fox," she said cheekily, which produced a few soft chuckles. "Let me find my panel, and we'll take a look at it, shall we?"

Ah, so she was a talker, and she had a barbed sense of humor. Well, Jason could talk too. Or more to the point, he could banter with the best of them. "Well, begging her Majesty's pardon, but it's there," he told her evenly. "It's just hiding. I guess it's not very proud of the fact that it's me coming here to drag it back out."

The corner of her mouth raised.

"I read the laws of _Siann_ so I'd understand things, your Majesty. I understand the forms and the protocols. All I need to prove my case, is _this_."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the ring of Karinne. He offered it to one of the guards flanking the dais, who would then take it up to the Empress. The guard, wearing white armor but no helmet, advanced and took it, then she stepped up onto the dais and offered it to Dahnai with a bow. She took it and looked at it, turning it over in her hands, and then she actually _smiled_. Then she _laughed_! The nobles behind him seemed uncertain of her reaction to whatever it was he had passed to her, for they hadn't seen it, and she had it in her lap. "Clever. They said you were a smart one, Terran, but this is really proving it. How did you get this? I'm impressed."

"I tracked it down after a great deal of research, your Majesty," he told her. "They tried to hide it, but they didn't hide it well enough."

"I see, it makes sense now. That explains why you're wearing that ridiculous ornament," she said pointedly. "Looking the part, are we?"

"It is my heritage, your Majesty," he said evenly.

_Now_ a few of the nobles understood, those who remembered enough of their history to get an idea of what was going on. That revelation boiled through the nobles in a cascade of private sendings.

"So, you are laying a claim on the seat of House Karinne," she said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "You've got some ovaries for a man, Terran, I'll give you that. It's a rather cunning little ploy. Why, if you can convince me you're a descendent of the Karinnes, well, it's just very convenient that you can lay claim to Terra citing the laws of first rights? You know, taking it away from that house you're fighting a private little war with right now? What happened, did they use up your box of toys, and you're using this as a way to end it?" she asked.

"Not mine," he answered easily. "As recent events profess, your Majesty, Trillane's still losing money hand over fist because my rebels went into overdrive. Capturing me was actually a really bad idea. You pissed my wife off eight ways toer, nevermind, Terran expression. Anyway, let's just say that she went nuclear, and she's been the one that's been acting in my stead since I've been off Earth. I was content to slowly bleed Trillane 'til they gave up and sold the contract to another house, but my wife Jyslin decided to go for the jugular after that attack dog you set on me tracked me down and captured me. And she's every bit as smart as me," he said honestly, heaping praise on that glorious woman who had blessed him beyond all others by marrying him.

"Indeed," she murmured, leaning back in her throne, resting an elbow on the arm and crossing her legs. "So, you've done it, Terran. You got the ring, how, I have no idea, you show up in a ship I had to have my historians look up in the database, you give INN enough footage of Pilots Gone Wild to fill an hour-long special of spectacular fighter crashes while banging holes in my city, and you managed to get right there, and now there you stand, in the final stages of some clever, meticulous plan, while your eyes linger on my legs," she said, smiling lightly. "So, convince me. I'm curious now, I want to hear this."

Jason did blush a little. It was hard _not_ to look at her legs, since they were the closest part of her to him, and she was sitting above his eye level. "Well, your Majesty, that ship your historians looked up is the biggest piece of my evidence. I salvaged it after tracking down its location in the histories of my people. It is a Karinne Scout Ship, the _Scimitar_, a research vessel. I tracked it down and salvaged it. After the fall of Karinne, ship's crew didn't sneak back to the Imperium. They went to my planet instead and established a colony, hiding from the war. Well, Terrans were already there, and I guess I'm the result. When I was trying to figure out why I had talent, I stumbled across this in the history of my people. It wasn't easy. The Faey don't appear in our history, they only appear in our folklore and myths, but it was enough for me to piece it together. Using those clues, I found the _Scimitar _and I found where they hid the ring, and, well, here I am. My ancestor was Baroness Zera Karinne of the House of Karinne, 173rd in the line for the throne by Karinne registry, which should be an archived public record your historians can research. I'm a telepath because I have a Faey ancestor, and that Faey was Zera Karinne. In fact, all the Terrans on Terra that are telepaths are only telepathic because they are descended from those Faey that landed on Earth to escape the war. Some are Karinnes, like me, but we don't know who their ancestors were, so they can't really stand here before you like I can. Some aren't; descendents of the ship's crew. I have some records to prove that, by the way, DNA records taken by one of the doctors that had been treating my people, showing that my DNA is directly related to Faey DNA. From what I read in the Charter, by the rights of noble birth, I can lay claim to the vacated House of Karinne by simply staking that claim in your Majesty's presence with the ring."

"I must protest, your Majesty!" a voice called from behind. A tall, mature Faey woman with grayish hair and a tall, willowy frame encased in a brown robe stepped forth. "The house of Karinne has been destroyed for over a thousand years! This Terran can't lay claim to a house that is no more!"

"Begging your Majesty's pardon, I can," Jason said simply, refuting the woman. "All the proof I need of that is right there."

He pointed. They all looked up, to the banners that were hanging from a beam high along the ceiling, banners that showed the crests of all the nobles houses. And right there, right where Zaa said it would be, was the banner showing the crest of the House of Karinne.

"That banner shows that the Imperium still considers the House of Karinne to exist as a noble entity. Since it is there, there _is_ a House of Karinne, it just has no nobles. It is an empty house. Well, I am claiming that house."

"They haven't changed those banners since the Third Civil War!" the woman protested.

"Actually, they have," Dahnai herself mused, looking up. "I don't see the banners of any of the _other_ houses destroyed in that war. The only one I see up there is the Karinne banner." She looked at Jason. "Very clever, Terran. You certainly prepared well for this. It might be an oversight, but it _is_ there, and that does give your claim some legal weight."

"With all due respect, your Majesty, I'm not an idiot, and I knew the price I'd pay if I didn't make a convincing argument."

She chuckled. "Indeed. But, I don't see where you're going with this, really. Even if I do grant your request and seat you as Grand Duke Karinne, and you make a legal claim on Terra, you're just going to lose it again, because there is a _contract_. You can't unmake that contract. If you replace Trillane, you must honor the terms of the contract _they_ signed with the Crown for the rights to Terra. If you can't serve me in that capacity, then I'd just strip you of Earth and give it back to Trillane, and that puts you right back where you started, doesn't it? You had to understand that, you're not a fool. So, explain to me your brilliant plan to get around that little stumbling block."

"I was of a mind to bargain a deal with another of the Highborn houses to _lease_ the farms of Terra to them, your Majesty," he told her. "I don't care about the profits, so I'm more than willing to make the terms very favorable with that partner. They provide the expertise and infrastructure, we provide the manpower. All I want out of it is direct Imperial supervision of all aspects of the operation, to ensure my people are treated fairly and well and given all the rights and protections as any other Imperial citizen. That's all that all of this has been about. This isn't about me, or getting rich, or getting a noble title, or anything like that. If I get dragged out of here and hanged, but what I've done here today forces Trillane off Terra and brings in another house that will treat us fairly, then I'll consider that a victor