part of it – to a greater or lesser degree.’ She turned to Talen,
who stood directly behind her, wearing his page’s knee-britches.
‘Pay very close attention to that group,’ she instructed. “I want
a report on their reactions. We should be able to determine their
degree of guilt by the looks on their faces.’
‘Yes, my Queen.’
Then Itagne appeared briefly at the massive double doors to
the throne’ -room and flicked his hand at Ulath, signaling that all
of the relevant officials had arrived.
Ulath, who stood to one side of the dais, nodded and raised
his Ogre-horn trumpet to his lips.
The room seemed to shudder into a shocked silence as the
barbaric sound of the Ogre-horn, deep-toned and rasping, reverberated
from the nacreous walls. The huge doors boomed shut,
and two armored knights, one a Cyrinic all in white, and the
other a Pandion all in black, placed themselves in front of the
entryway.
The Prime Minister rose to his feet.
Ulath banged the butt of his axe on the floor three times to
call for silence.
The Emperor winced.
‘What’s wrong, Sarabian?’ Mirtai asked him.
‘Sir Ulath just broke several of the floor-tiles.
‘We can replace them with bone.’ She shrugged. ‘There should
be quite a few bones lying around before the day’s over.’
‘Will the council please come to order?’ Pondia Subat intoned.
Ulath banged the floor again.
Sparhawk looked around the throne-room. Everyone was in
place. Sephrenia, dressed in her white Styric robe, sat with Prin-cess
Danae and Caalador on the far side of the room. Xanetia,
also in white, sat on the near side with Kalten and Berit. Melidere
sat in a small gallery with the nine imperial wives. The clever
Baroness had carefully cultivated a friendship with Sarabian’s
first wife, Cieronna, a member of one of the noblest houses of
Tamul proper, and the mother of the crown prince. The friendship
had by now grown so close that Melidere was customarily
invited to attend state functions in the company of the
empresses. Her presence among them this time had a serious
purpose, however. Sarabian had a wife from each of the nine
kingdoms, and it was entirely possible that some of them had
been subverted. Sparhawk was fairly certain that the bare-breasted
Valesian, Elysoun, was free of any political contamination.
She was simply too busy for politics. The Tegan wife,
Gahennas, a puritanical lady obsessed with her personal virtue
and her staunch republicanism, would probably not even have
been approached by conspirators. Torellia of Arjuna, and
Chacole of Cynesga, however, were highly suspect. They had
both established what might best be called personal courts, liberally
sprinkled with nobles from their homelands. Melidere had
been instructed to keep a close eye on those two in particular
for signs of unusual reactions to the revelation of Zalasta’s true
affiliation.
Sparhawk sighed. It was all so complicated. Friends and
enemies all looked the same. In the long run, it might turn out
that Xanetia’s unusual gift would prove more valuable than a
sudden offer of aid from an entire army.
Vanion, who had unobtrusively stationed himself with the
knights lining the walls, reached up and first lowered, then
raised, his visor. It was the signal that all their forces were in
place. Stragen, who was with his trumpeters behind the dais,
nodded briefly in acknowledgement.
Then Sparhawk looked rather closely at Zalasta, the unknowing
guest of honor at this affair. The Styric, his eyes apprehensive,
sat among the ministers, his white robe looking oddly out
of place among all the bright-colored silk mantles. He quite obviously
knew that something was afoot, and just as obviously had
no idea what it might be. That was something, anyway. At least
no one in the inner circle had been subverted. Sparhawk irritably
shook that thought off. Under the circumstances, a certain’
amount of wary suspicion was only natural, but left unchecked
it could become a disease. He made a sour face. About one more
day of this and he’d begin to suspect himself.
‘The council will now come to order!’ pondia Subat repeated.
Ulath broke some more tiles.
‘By command of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Sarabian, this
council is called to order!’
‘Good God, Subat,’ Sarabian groaned, half to himself, ‘will
you destroy the floor entirely?’
‘Gentlemen, his Imperial Majesty, Sarabian of Tamuli!’
A single trumpet voiced a clear, ringing theme of majestically
descending notes. Then another joined the first to repeat the
theme a third of an octave higher – then another trumpet another
third higher. Then, in a great crescendo and still higher, the
musicians all joined in to fill the throne-room with shimmering
echoes.
‘impressive,’ Sarabian noted. ‘Do we go in now?’
‘Not yet,’ Ehlana told him. ‘The music changes. That’s when
we start. Pay attention to my hand on your arm. Let me set the
pace. Don’t jump when we get to the thrones. Stragen’s got a
whole brass band hidden in various parts of the room. The
climax will be thunderous. Draw yourself up, throw your shoulders
back, and look regal. Try your very best to look like a God.’
‘Are you having fun, Ehlana?’
She grinned impishly at him and winked. ‘There,’ she said, ‘the
flutes at the back of the hall have picked up the theme. That’s our
signal. Good luck, my friend.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek
and then laid her hand on his arm. ‘One,’ she said, listening
intently to the music. ‘Two.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Now.’
And the Emperor of Tamuli and the Queen of Elenia stepped
through the archway and crossed with regal pace toward their
golden thrones as the flutes at the rear of the hall softly sang the
plaintive accompaniment of Stragen’s main theme, set now in a
minor key. Immediately behind them came Sparhawk, Mirtai,
Engessa and Bevier. Talen, Alcan and Itagne, who was still puffing
slightly from running through the halls, followed.
As the royal party reached the thrones, Stragen, who was
using his rapier as a conductor’s baton, led his hidden musicians
into a fortissimo recapitulation of his main theme. The sound
was overwhelming. It was not entirely certain whether the
members of the imperial council fell to their faces out of habit
or were knocked down by that enormous blast of sound. Stragen
cut his rapier sharply to one side, and the musicians broke off,
slashed as it were into silence, leaving the echoes shimmering
in the air like ghosts.
Pondia Subat rose to his feet. ‘Will your Majesty address some
few remarks to this assemblage before we commence?’ he asked
in an almost insultingly superior tone. The question was sheer
formality, almost ritualistic. The Emperor traditionally did not
speak at these sessions.
‘Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I believe I will, Pondia Subat,’
Sarabian replied, rising again to his feet. ‘So good of you to ask,
old boy.’
Subat gaped at him, his expression incredulous. ‘But…’
‘Was there something, Subat?’
I
This is most irregular, your Majesty.’
I know. Refreshing, isn’t it? We’ve got a lot to cover today,
Subat, so let’s get cracking.’
‘Your Majesty has not consulted with me. We cannot proceed
if I don’t know what issues are…’
‘Sit, Subat!’ Sarabian snaPPed. ‘Stay!’ His tone was one of
command. ‘You will remain silent until I give you leave to
speak.’
‘You can’t…’
“I said sit down!’
Subat quailed and sank into his chair.
‘Your head’s none too tightly attached just now, my Lord
Prime Minister,’ Sarabian said ominously, ‘and if you waggle it
at me in the wrong way, it might just fall off. You’ve been
tiptoeing right on the brink of treason, Pondia Subat, and I’m
more than a little put out with you.’
The Prime Minister’s face went deathly pale.
Sarabian began to pace up and down on the dais, his face like a
thundercloud.
‘Please, God, make him stand still,’ Ehlana said under her
breath. ‘He can’t make a decent speech if he’s loping around
the dais like a gazelle in flight.’
Then the Emperor stopped to stand at the very front of the
slightly elevated platform. ‘i’m not going to waste time with
banalities, gentlemen,’ he told his government bluntly. ‘We had
a crisis, and I depended on you to deal with it. You failed me
– probably because you were too busy playing your usual games
of politics. The Empire required giants, and all I had to serve
me were dwarves. That made it necessary for me to deal with the
crisis personally. And that’s what I’ve been doing, gentlemen for
the past several months. You are no longer relevant, my
Lords. I am the government.’
There were cries of outrage from the ministers and their subordinates.
‘He’s going too fast.’ ~Ehlana exclaimed. ‘He should have built
up to that.’
‘Don’t be such a critic,’ Sparhawk told her. “It’s his speech
Let him make it his own way.’
“I will have silence!” Sarabian declared.
The council paid no attention. They continued their excited