The count gave a deprecating cough. “I believe there is more to it than that, Your Imperial Majesty. Our spies report that Queen Anne wants to gain the throne herself. She intended to do so, in league with this mysteriarch, Sinistrad—the boy’s father. But he died, and now neither she nor the surviving wizards are powerful enough to overthrow Stephen and take control of Volkaran themselves.”
“But I am, My Liege,” Bane said, ingenuously.
Agah’ran appeared highly diverted. He actually removed the pomander in order to get a better look. “You are, boy?” “Yes, O Radiant One,” said Bane. “I’ve been thinking this all out. What if I turned up suddenly, safe and sound, on Volkaran? I’d say publicly that you elves kidnapped me, but I had managed to escape. The people love me. I’d be a hero. Stephen and Anne would have no choice but to claim me, take me back.”
“But Stephen would only get rid of you again,” said Agah’ran, yawning and passing a fatigued hand over his brow. It was past nap time. “And, though it might gain you something, we fail to see what this would gain us,”
“A lot, My Liege,” said Bane coolly. “If the king and queen were to both suddenly die, I’d be heir to the throne.” “My, my,” murmured Agah’ran, eyes opening so wide that the paint on the lids cracked.
“Valet, summon the guards,” ordered Tretar, reading the signs. “Remove the boy.”
Bane flared. “You, sir, are speaking to a prince of Volkaran!”
Tretar glanced at the emperor, saw the painted eyelids flicker in amusement. The count bowed to the prince.
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness. His Imperial Majesty has greatly enjoyed this interview, but he now grows weary.” “We suffer from the headache,” said Agah’ran, pressing polished fingernails to his temple.
“I am sorry His Majesty is indisposed,” said Bane, with dignity. “I will withdraw.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Tretar, making a gallant effort to keep from laughing. “Guards, please escort His Royal Highness back to his quarters.”
The guards marched in, marched Bane out. Bane cast a secret, inquiring glance at Tretar. The count smiled, indicated that all was well. Bane appeared pleased, walked away between his guards with a grace and elegance not seen in many elven children.
“Remarkable,” Agah’ran said, having recourse, once again, to the smelling salts.
“I trust I have no need to remind Your Majesty that we are dealing with humans and must not allow ourselves to be shocked by their barbaric ways.”
“All very well for you to say so, Count, but we are convinced that this nauseating tale of assassins and whores has quite destroyed our inclination for lunch. We have an extremely delicate digestive system, Tretar.”
“I am sadly aware of the fact, Your Majesty, and for that I do deeply apologize.”
“Still,” the emperor mused, “if the boy were to succeed to the throne of Volkaran, he would have reason to be extremely grateful to us.”
“Indeed, O Exalted One,” said Tretar. “At the very least he would refuse to ally with Prince Rees’ahn, leave the rebels to shift for themselves, might even be persuaded to declare war on them. I further suggest that Your Imperial Majesty offer to serve in the capacity of protectorate to the young king Bane. We could send in an occupation force to keep peace among the warring factions of humans. For their own good, of course.”
Agah’ran’s lid-painted eyes glittered. “You mean, Tretar, that this boy would simply hand us Volkaran.”
“I do, indeed, My Liege. In return for rich reward, naturally.”
“And what of these wizards, these ‘mysteriarchs’?” The emperor grimaced at being forced to speak the human word.
The count shrugged. “They are dying out, Your Imperial Majesty. They’re arrogant, willful, disliked and distrusted even by those of their own race. I doubt if they will trouble us. If they do, the boy will keep them in line.”
“And the Kenkari? What of our wizards?”
“Let them do what they will, My Liege. Once the humans are conquered and subdued, you will be able to concentrate your forces on destroying the rebels. That accomplished, you wipe out the Gegs in Drevlin and take over the Kicksey-win-sey. You will then have no more need for the souls of the dead, O Exalted One. Not when you have at your command the souls of all the living in Arianus.”