“Where? Oh, there! Well, it’s a little hard to explain . . .” She pondered for a moment. “Very hard to explain, actually.”
“Where is Rap?” the imperor asked harshly. Inosolan turned and looked at him wonderingly. “Rap? Oh, Rap. Yes, he’ll be along in a moment, Sire. Had some business to attend to, he said.”
Kadolan tried to rise, and someone laid a hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “Inos!” she cried. “Are you all right?”
Inosolan turned more, until she had gone all the way around. “Aunt? There you are. Yes. Yes, I’m fine. A little dazed, maybe.”
“Will you please tell us what happened?” the imperor asked behind her.
This time she merely twisted her head to look at him. “It isn’t easy to describe, your Majesty. Not easy at all. Maybe Rap can tell you, when he gets here. I don’t think I can. But I’m all right. And he’s all right.”
Then Azak lurched into motion. He strode over to Inos and grabbed her shoulder. “What is the meaning of this?” he roared.
Inos blinked again and peered up at him. “Meaning of what?” she asked, her voice a little firmer.
“How dare you disappear with that man like that?”
“Take your hands off me!”
“Slut!” The sultan gripped her other shoulder also and shook her. The spectators gasped and bristled. The imperor straightened. ”Sultan!”
But Azak did not seem to hear. He released Inos. “Whore!” He swung a hand at her face.
Somehow Inos dodged the blow, stepping back with extraordinary agility in a swirl of fabric. “How dare you!”
“Dare? You are my wife, and I—” Again he tried to strike her.
The imperor roared an objection, and several of the men in uniform stepped forward. But again the blow had missed, and now Inos shouted back, apparently recovered from her confusion, her face flushed with anger.
“Brute! You odious brute! Hit me, would you? Well, I’ve had quite enough of your tantrums, Azak ak’Azakar.” She spun around to face the imperor. ”Sire! You are chief magistrate of the realm, and high priest, also, are you not?”
The old man started, then nodded. “And what of it?” He seemed to have forgotten his weariness for the moment.
“My marriage to this man has never been consummated. I ask that it be annulled.”
Azak howled like a frustrated tiger and reached for her. At the touch of his fingers, Inos slipped away from him and moved nimbly to the base of the dais, as if seeking protection from the imperor. When the sultan tried to follow, a tribune stepped in front of him. He was unarmed, but his uniform made Azak hesitate.
Emshandar snapped, “Silence!” and the players seemed to freeze. ”How long since the ceremony, my dear?”
Inos hesitated. “Two months. No! Longer . . .” The old man smiled, and although it was doubtless intended as a kindly expression, his smile made Kadolan think of a skull. “One month is adequate. A bridegroom who does not consummate a marriage within one month after the wedding is deemed to be impotent, and the marriage is henceforth null and—”
“Impotent!” Azak bellowed. He tried to move, and the tribune blocked him again. “There is no such law in Arakkaran!”
“It is the law here!” Emshandar said, showing his teeth once more. ”You have our permission to withdraw, your Majesty!”
Azak was speechless.
“Good-bye, Azak,” Inos said. Her voice was soft, but there was a smile hovering around her face. “Thank you for what you did to help.”
“You are my wife!”
“No longer.” She walked forward to him and looked up sadly. ”It would not have worked. I could never have been happy.”
“You swore—”
“Yes, and I am sorry. I did not know. But I could not have been happy, and I think you would not have been happy, either. You did care that much, I am sure. You would have tried. I’m sure you would have tried. It is better this way.”
The big man clenched his fists, glaring down at her. Then he raised his gaze to the imperor on his throne. “I understood you wished peace between my land and yours?” he said threateningly.
The spectators stiffened, Emshandar flinched. Kade reflected that wars had been started for much less cause than the theft of a monarch’s wife . . .
Inos put her head on one side and regarded the sultan thoughtfully. “You don’t like sorcery, Azak, do you? I’m an adept now.”
“Adept?” He fell back a step.
“An adept. Rap told me two words of his words. He had too much power, you see? Burns out the mundane vector . . .” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Perhaps I haven’t got that quite right! Rap can explain, when he gets here. But he told me two of them, and then everything was all right. I’m an adept now, Azak.”
“Sorcery!” he muttered, as if it were an obscenity. Inos’s smile became feline. “Of course you might not be too bad as a husband—not now that I have ways to control you if you get out of hand.” Shaking his head vigorously, Azak backed away another step.
“No? Well, then—good-bye, Azak!”
She moved as if about to kiss him, and again he retreated.
“You may withdraw, your Majesty!” the imperor repeated firmly.
Azak snarled, as if planning a warlike retort.
“I know you loved me,” Inos whispered. “No one doubts that.”
Pause . . . The company seemed to hold its breath. “Love!” he muttered angrily. “I brought this on myself, you mean?” Then he bowed stiffly to the throne, spun on his heel, and stalked swiftly away, a haughty giant with his pride bleeding. The sound of his boots faded into the darkness. The spectators relaxed.
Inosolan came floating through the copse of candelabra as if dancing, heading for Kadolan, and other people moved nervously out of her path.
“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Everything’s all right.”
Kadolan rose, and this time a hand assisted her instead of stopping her.
“I’m glad, dear. Very glad.”
They hugged, and certainly Inosolan felt quite solid, and normal. There was a faint smell of burned cloth about her, that was all. Kadolan sent a secret prayer of thanks to the Gods, with a promise of many more to come—later, when she had more time.
Conversation was stirring again. Marshal Ithy bowed to Inosolan and kissed her hand. A lady senator murmured congratulations. The imperor’s head had drooped as if he was almost asleep, and some of the candles had guttered out already. Visions of a soft, warm bed floated through Kadolan’s mind like temptations of the Evil, but obviously the imperor was waiting for his sorcerer, and no one would leave be= fore he did. Weary, weary!
“Sire?” That was Senator Epoxague, bowing before the throne.
The imperor rubbed his eyes, and then said, “Your Eminence?”
“May I be so bold as to ask whether the Impire will now recognize my cousin as, Queen of Krasnegar?” Emshandar blinked, then smiled faintly. ”She does appear to have relinquished any claim to Arakkaran. The wardens . . .” He glanced around at the empty thrones in their isolated bubbles of light. “Yes! We recognize her royal state. We see no obstacle.” Inosolan sniggered playfully. Putting an arm around Kade, she dragged her over to the throne, and they both curtsyed.
The senator bowed. “Inos, you are confident that Master Rap is all right? That he will return?”
“Oh yes,” Inos said airily, as if immolation and resurrection were ordinary, everyday affairs. “He said he would. You can always trust Rap’s word. He’ll be along shortly, I’m sure.”
Epoxague’s eyes twinkled, and he turned again to the throne. “Sire? This has been a most memorable evening. If nothing else, it has surely witnessed the first divorce to be performed by a reigning imperor in . . . a very long time, shall we say? But why stop there? Why not a wedding, also?”
“Wedding?” Kadolan said, startled.
Inos clapped her hands. “Yell Yes! Can you? I mean, would you?”
The gaunt old imperor seemed to be quite as startled as Kadolan. He studied the senator darkly for a moment, and Inos also, as if suspecting mockery. Then he shrugged and bared big teeth in a smile. “If I say I can conduct a wedding, I don’t know who will argue. And if that is what your sorcerer wants, then I shall be happy to oblige him, for I am deeply in his debt.”
“Inos!” Kadolan whispered. “Not tonight! Surely this is not necessary?”
“I hope it will be!” Inos said, full of glee.
The senator coughed discreetly. “It is not a rare custom, Kade, here in Hub. Big, formal, temple weddings take time to prepare. A brief civil ceremony in advance . . . not uncommon. Not usually advertised, of course—but often thought advisable.”
Kadolan said, “Oh!” doubtfully. Of course young blood ran hot, and she could understand the logic. It just did not seem quite, er, seemly, but if that was how it was done in Hub . . .