Free Hellhole by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson Page B

receipt, if asked.
    “Good. Follow me, please.” At a brisk pace, Adolphus led the Diadem’s watchdog past a withdrawing room and the banquet hall, where he hosted receptions when Sophie Vence insisted. He wished she could be with him now. On a stormy night like this, it would have been good to sit by the fire, just the two of them, enjoying a fine meal and relaxing in each other’s company.
    Instead, he had this intruder . . .
    When the two men reached the front entry that led out to the open porch, General Adolphus opened the door. With a blast of wind and a crackle of blown dust, he revealed the full force of the bombastic holocaust outside. Thanks to the storm, they couldn’t even see the bright lights of Michella Town.
    Taken aback by the fury of the weather, Ishop hesitated on the threshold. He fumbled for his facemask, adjusted his gloves. Adolphus tried to nudge him forward, but the man didn’t budge.
    Adolphus said, “You have finished your work, Mr Heer – you said so yourself. I cooperated fully during the inspection, but I am not required to have anything further to do with you. Out you go. I’m not an innkeeper, and you’re no longer welcome in my home.” He gave another push, harder this time, and Ishop scrambled for footing on the porch. “Good luck finding your way back to town. It’s only a few kilometers.”
    Blinking at the wind and lightning blasts, the visitor grew pale. “You can’t possibly send me out into a storm like that.”
    “I most certainly can. As of this moment, you are trespassing. You should leave.”
    The inspector gaped at him in disbelief. “I won’t last more than five minutes out there!” Sweat stood out on his scalp again.
    “Oh, I’d guess substantially less than five minutes, but you could surprise me. Keep your head down when you run.”
    “I refuse!”
    “But you were the one who insisted on my absolute adherence to the strict exile agreement, Mr Heer. I am fully within my rights.”
    The Diadem’s man lowered his voice to an angry growl. “If you would do this to me, then you are indeed a monster.”
    “Exactly as your history books portray me. Don’t you read your own propaganda?”
    Ishop was at a loss for words, realizing his unaccustomed powerlessness in this situation. Adolphus let the tension build in the air for a few moments longer, then, having pushed the matter far enough, he relented. He took a step back and lowered his voice. “Anyone who would abandon a person to such a hostile place is indeed a monster. Wait . . . that’s exactly what Diadem Michella did to me and my followers. Do you know how many we lost during the first year here, because of storms like this and countless other hazards?”
    Ishop nodded nervously in spite of himself. “I . . . take your point, Administrator.”
    “Don’t believe everything you read about me, Mr Heer.”
    Ishop swallowed, tugged at his gloves again. “May I formally request an extension of your hospitality until such time as the weather improves?”
    “If you insist. But once the storm is over, you can walk to town and find other lodgings there.” He let the man back inside, and closed the door behind them. His ears rang from the sudden silence. “As soon as the next stringline hauler arrives, I expect you’ll be on your way back to the Diadem with your report.”

 
8
    S onjeera was the loveliest world in the Constellation, beneficial to the harmony of the human spirit. Princess Keana’s favorite residence, commonly known as the Cottage, stood on the same expansive grounds as the Diadem’s palace, but set well apart from her mother’s home. More than eight centuries ago, Philippe the Whisperer, one of the most famous diadems in the old Constellation, had built the luxurious retreat on the edge of the Pond of Birds for his beautiful wife, Aria Ongenet, who met her numerous lovers there with careful discretion, so as not to embarrass the reigning sovereign.
    Keana’s official obligations as