And it should have been her regality at stake, not the fatuous Angilki puppet show.
Somewhere garments had been found to fit Azak; perhaps they had been specially made in the night. Inos also had been gifted with suitable clothes. She did not know whose they were—obviously not Eigaze’s—but for the first time since her marriage she was traveling unveiled. Her hostess and her maids had done the best they could to mask the burns with cosmetics, but the swellings and suppuration could not be hidden. The paint was probably wearing off already. Inos was going to meet the regent and his court looking like a monster.
Epoxague was calm, but uncommunicative. He was a man of power, a confident of imperor and regent, yet he was obviously risking Imperial anger for Inos’s sake. Without his support, she would now be in some ghastly jail. She ought to feel grateful, and happy. Why could she not quash her regrets? Why, too, this strange foreboding? Suppose the horrid Kalkor actually won! Suppose the match was called off and the crowd rioted, as the senator had predicted! The day held potential for infinite disaster.
She was about to be presented at court. Even Kade had never achieved that great honor. For Kade’s sake, also, Inos mourned—poor Kade! Stranded in far-off Arakkaran, again denied her lifelong ambition to visit Hub . . . had she been present, she would have been gawking at all the great buildings and chattering like an excited starling.
Even Eigaze had fallen silent.
“Eminence,” Inos said suddenly, “tell me about the regent?”
Epoxague raised his eyebrows. “Ythbane? He has only held the position for four or five weeks . . .”
He thought for a moment, and then spoke with even greater care than he had used when talking of the wardens the previous evening.
“These are troubled times for the Impire, Inos. It would be treason to say so, of course, but there is a school of thought that says we may soon see the end of a dynasty. Agraine’s line has given us many great imperors, and perhaps the greatest impress of them all, Abnila. Emshandar was—is—a great man, but his reign has been cursed with much bad fortune. His wife and his son both died young, and now he has been taken with a great sickness.”
He sighed, and shook his head. “His grandson seems to be a weakling. His daughter, Orosea, is a kindly person, but it is hard to see her rivaling her great-grandmother.”
“The regent?” Inos asked again.
Epoxague smiled faintly at being thus cornered. “You will probably find him charming. He is charming! His origins are obscure, and he keeps them that way, but it is a common belief that he has merfolk blood in him. That is rare. Some merfolk boat was storm-wracked on a coast somewhere—it happens often, and the results are always bloody. If a merboy is washed ashore, then the local women pursue him and the men knife him in consequence. The opposite is true of a mermaid, of course. Rarely one of the resulting children will survive and be reared. When it reaches adulthood, the same results inevitably follow . . .”
He caught her eye and saw that she was not to be distracted. “Ythbane, then. In his case, apparently, there was a second generation. The story is that his father died at fifteen at the hands of a lynch mob, having already impregnated some man’s wife. That is only rumor, of course. Quarter merfolk are very rare! Or perhaps his remarkable success with women created the legend.”
Eigaze tutted. “Father, I really don’t think you should repeat such scandal.”
“Perhaps not. But if it is true, then Ythbane inherited only part of the merfolk curse—he can charm women, but men do not react badly to him. And he is undoubtedly gifted. Emshandar always preferred commoners as his confidential aides, because the great families are constantly feuding and that muddles aristocrats’ loyalties. He noted Ythbane’s talents early and used them well. The Senate was horrified when he made the man a consul—Emshandar always enjoyed shaking us up. When the fever took Emthoro, though, Ythbane went after his widow.”
“Father!”
“It’s quite true, dear. Orosea was happily married, Uomaya was mother of the heir. Ythbane knew what he was doing. He is shrewd. He is a skilled politician. Who better to be regent and guardian of the prince than his mother’s husband? Of course the imperor wasn’t expected to last quite so long . . .” The senator veered smoothly to another topic. “And today’s events . . . he may be planning to reinstate gladiatorial contests. That would be a very shrewd move!” He glanced up at Azak beside him. “You know how unpopular regents always are?”
“We never have any,” the sultan said, “but I suppose they lack the divine authority of the blood?”
“Right. Also, governments must often do unpopular things, and a newcomer will always blame the previous administration. So Ythbane is in a difficult position. He must rule for Emshandar until he dies—it can’t be long—and then, if he has not already become too hated, he can hope to become regent for the prince, until he comes to his majority. By historical precedent, the young imperor will then repudiate his former guardian and turn on him. The history books are full of such cases.”
He chuckled. “So do not be too hard on the man! A regency is a thankless and dangerous job.”
“What I don’t like,” Eigaze said suddenly, “is how he keeps dragging the old man out to every function and putting him on display like a stuffed corpse!”
Her father blinked at her in astonishment. “Now who is indulging in dangerous talk?”
“Well, it’s true! And that poor little prince!”
“Careful! A prince must learn early. He will succeed in . . . what . . . eight years only? And the presence of the imperor lends authority. Don’t repeat those remarks to others, Eigaze!”
His daughter flushed and turned to the window. Inos caught Azak’s eye, but it was unreadable. Obviously Epoxague was a Ythbane supporter, the sort of canny politico who would always be found on the winning side.
And it was none of Inos’s business. If the appeal to Four could be arranged, she might find herself back in Arakkaran within days, properly married to the sultan and legally ex-Queen of Krasnegar.
And Rap would still be dead. Neither wardens nor gods could undo that.
She, also, turned to look out the window.
2
Never before had Inos seen a truly large crowd, and she found it scary. Half a league from the Campus, the coach was blocked completely. The senator and his guests were forced to proceed on foot, with their Praetorian Hussars striving to open a path for them. The crowd’s temper was brutal, because most of those who had come were not going to see the spectacle. Crested helmets of legionaries showed all around, yet even they could not shift the struggling, rumbling sea of people, for it was solid as pack ice, with nowhere to go. Inos was well aware that any minute one of her guardian horses might trample someone and thereby spark a riot. The short walk took well over an hour.
But the Imperial army was still the most efficient organization in Pandemia, and the imperor’s compound had been demarcated and fortified as if to withstand a full-blown siege. The entire Praetorian Guard seemed to be present, bright and deadly, an unbroken cordon of steel and bronze and muscle.
Their leader was a weatherbeaten tribune, who saluted Epoxague smartly and only then registered Azak beside him. The expression that at once overran his face impressed Inos as the most memorable event of the day so far.
Greatly relieved to be out of the crush, the newcomers climbed the grassy slope, to find more guards at the top, and many civilians, but nobody very happy. A canopy of purple leather flapped mournfully over a portable throne and a dozen or so chairs. Despite a damp smell on the wind, no rain had fallen yet.
Before them lay the field, larger than Inos had anticipated. Except for two small tents at east and west, the grassy oval was bare, outlined by a solid ring of soldiers with arms locked, struggling to hold back the throng that covered the bank. Plumed hussars rode slowly around within the cordon, directing the effort.
Latecomers would be fighting to climb up on the outside, those on the flat crest were pushing inward to the edge to get a decent view, while the early birds on the inner slope were being relentlessly forced down against the human fence. Inos was very glad she was not out there among the squirming, heaving, cursing citizens of Hub.
Even the lowering sky seemed to threaten disaster. Already there were rumors of citizens being crushed. Expected festival was turning into probable calamity.