babbling.
The Emperor opened his mantle to reveal his Elene clothing,
and then he drew his rapier. “I said SILENCE!’ he roared.
All sound ceased.
‘I’ll pin the next man who interrupts me to the wall like a
butterfly,’ Sarabian told them. Then he cut his rapier sharply
through the air. The whistling sound of the blade’s passage was
as chill as death itself. He looked around at his cowed officials.
‘That’s a little better,’ he said. ‘Now stay that way.’ He set the
point of the rapier on the floor and lightly crossed his hands on
the pommel. ‘My family has depended on the ministries to
handle the day-to-day business of government for centuries,’ he
said. ‘Our trust has obviously been misplaced. You were
adequate – barely – in times of tranquility, but when a crisis
arose, you began to scurry around like ants, more interested in
protecting your fortunes, your personal privileges, and perpetuating
your petty interdepartmental rivalries than in the good of
my Empire – and that’s the one thing you all seem to forget,
gentlemen. It’s my Empire. My family hasn’t made a great issue
of the fact, but I think it’s time you were reminded of it. You
serve me, and you serve only at my pleasure, not at your convenience.’
The officials were all gaping at the man they had thought to
be no more than a harmless eccentric. Sparhawk saw a movement
near the middle of the throne-room. His eyes flicked back
to the front, and he saw that Teovin’s chair was conspicuously
empty. The Director of the Secret Police was more clever and
much quicker than his colleagues, and, throwing dignity to the
winds, he was busily crawling on his hands and knees toward
the nearest exit. Chancellor of the Exchequer Gashon, thin,
bloodless and wispy-haired, sat beside Teovin’s vacant chair,
staring at Sarabian in open terror.
Sparhawk looked quickly at Vanion, and the Preceptor
nodded. Vanion had seen the crawling policeman too.
‘When I perceived that I had chosen little men with little minds
to administer my Empire,’ Sarabian was saying, “I appealed to
Zalasta of Styricum for advice. Who better to deal with the supernatural
than the Styrics? It was Zalasta who recommended that
I submit a request directly to Archprelate Dolmant of the Church
of Chyrellos for assistance, and the very core of that assistance
was to be Prince Sparhawk of Elenia. We Tamuls pride ourselves
on our subtlety and our sophistication, but I assure you that we
are but children when compared to the Elenes. The state visit
of my dear sister Ehlana was little more than a subterfuge
designed to conceal the fact that our main purpose was to bring
her husband, Sir Sparhawk, to Matherion. Queen Ehlana and I
amused ourselves by deceiving you – and you were not hard to
deceive, my Lords – while Prince Sparhawk and his companions
sought the roots of the turmoil here in Tamuli. As we had anticipated,
our enemies reacted.’
There was a brief, muted disturbance at one of the side doors.
Vanion and Khalad were quite firmly preventing the Director of
the Secret Police from leaving.
‘Did you have a pressing engagement somewhere, Teovin?’
Sarabian drawled.
Teovin’s eyes were wild, and he looked at his Emperor with
open hatred.
‘if you’re discontented with me, Teovin, I’ll be more than
happy to give you satisfaction,’ Sarabian told him, flourishing
his rapier meaningfully. ‘Please return to your seat. My seconds
will call upon you when we’ve concluded here.’
Vanion took the Director of the Secret Police by one arm,
turned him round, and pointed at the empty seat. Then, with
a none too gentle shove, he started him moving.
‘This windy preamble’s beginning to bore me, gentlemen,’
Sarabian announced, ‘so why don’t we get down to cases? The
attempted coup here in Matherion was the direct response to
Sir Sparhawk’s arrival. The assorted disturbances that have kept
the Atans running from one end of the continent to the other
for the past several years have had one source and only one. We
have a single enemy, and he has formed a massive conspiracy
designed to overthrow the government and to wrest my throne
from me, and as I probably should have anticipated, given the
nature of those who pretend to serve me, he had willing helpers
in the government itself.’
Some of the dignitaries gasped; others looked guilty.
‘Pay very close attention, gentlemen,’ Sarabian told them.
‘This is where it begins to get interesting. Many of you have
wondered at the long absence of Interior Minister Kolata. I’m
sure you’ll be delighted to know that Kolata’s going to be joining
us now.’
he turned to Ulath. ‘Would you be so good as to invite the
Minister of the Interior to come in, Sir Knight?’ he asked.
Ulath bowed, and Kalten rose from his seat to join him.
‘Minister Kolata, as the chief policeman in all the Empire,
knows a great deal about criminal activities,’ Sarabian declared.
‘i’m absolutely sure that his analysis of the present situation will
be enlightening.’
Kalten and Ulath returned with the ashen-faced Minister of
the Interior between them. It was not the fact that Kolata was
in obvious distress that raised the outcry from the other officials,
however, but rather the fact that the chief policeman of the
Empire was in chains.
Emperor Sarabian stood impassively as his council members
shouted their protests. ‘How am I doing so far, Ehlana?’ he
asked out of the corner of his mouth.
‘i’d have done it differently,’ she told him, ‘but that’s only a
matter of style. I’ll give you a complete critique when it’s all
over.’ She looked out at the officials who were all on their feet
talking excitedly. ‘Don’t let that go on for too long. Remind them
who’s in charge. Be very firm about it.’
‘Yes, mother,’ he smiled. Then he looked at his government
and drew in a deep breath. ‘QUIET!’ he roared in a great voice. They fell
into a stunned silence. ‘
‘There will be no further interruptions of these proceedings,’
Sarabian told them. ‘The rules have changed, gentlemen. We’re
not going to pretend to be civilized any more. I’m going to tell
you what to do, and you’re going to do it. I’d like to remind
you that not only do you serve at my pleasure; you also continue
to live only at my pleasure. The Minister of the Interior is guilty
of high treason. You’ll note that there was no trial. Kolata is
guilty because I say that he’s guilty.’ Sarabian paused as a new
realization came to him. ‘My power in Tamuli is absolute. I am
the government, and I am the law. We are going to question
Kolata rather closely. Pay attention to his answers, gentlemen.
Your positions in government – your very lives – may hinge on
what he says. Foreign Minister Oscagne is going to question
Kolata – not about his guilt, which has already been established
– but about the involvement of others. We’re going to get to the
bottom of this once and for all. You may proceed, Oscagne.’
‘Yes, your Majesty.’ Oscagne rose to his feet and stood a
moment in deep thought as Sarabian sat again on his throne.
Oscagne wore a black silk mantle. His choice of color had been
quite deliberate. While black mantles were not common, they
were not unheard of. Judges and Imperial Prosecutors, however,
Always wore black. The somber color heightened the Foreign
Minister’s pallor, which in turn accentuated his grim expression.
Khalad came forward with a plain wooden stool and set it
down in front of the dais. Kalten and Ulath brought the Minister
of the Interior forward and plopped him unceremoniously down
on the stool.
‘Do you understand your situation here, Kolata?’ Oscagne
asked the prisoner.
‘You have no right to question me, Oscagne,’ Kolata replied
quickly.
‘Break his fingers, Khalad,’ Sparhawk instructed from his position
just behind Ehlana’s throne.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Khalad replied. ‘How many?’
‘Start out with one or two. Every time he starts talking about
Oscagne’s rights – or his own – break another one.’
‘Yes, my Lord.’ Khalad took the Interior Minister’s wrist.
‘Stop him!’ ~Kolata squealed in fright. ‘Somebody stop him!’
‘Kalten, Ulath,’ Sparhawk said, ‘kill the first man who moves.”
Kalten drew his sword, and Ulath raised his axe.
‘You see how it is, old boy,’ Oscagne said to the man on the
stool. ‘You’re not universally loved to begin with, and Prince
Sparhawk’s command has just evaporated any minuscule affection
anyone here might have had for you. You will talk, Kolata.
Sooner or later, you’ll talk. We can do this the easy way, or we
can do it the other way, but you are going to answer my questions.’
Oscagne’s expression had become implacable.
‘They’ll kill me, Oscagne!’ Kolata pleaded. ‘They’ll kill me if
I talk.’
‘You’re in a difficult situation, then, Kolata, because we’ll kill
you if you don’t. You’re taking orders from Cyrgon, aren’t you?’