by Steven Brust
“Then they ought to be recalled, don’t you think, Captain?”
“I am entirely in accord with Your Majesty on this point. However—”
“Yes, Captain? However?”
“If Your Majesty is contemplating military action against His Highness—”
“Action you recommended,” recalled the Emperor.
“Yes, Sire. If Your Majesty is contemplating action of this sort—”
“I am more than contemplating it, Captain, I am resolved upon it.”
“Then Your Majesty ought to be aware we are in no position to oppose the riots in the city that must necessarily accompany any such action.”
“How, riots?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Among the people?”
“Exactly, Sire.”
“Why is this?”
“For several reasons, Sire. First of all, Lord Adron is extremely popular—indeed, the people, and those in the city most of all, perceive him as their protector, because of his daughter’s action at the bakery, and because he is the Heir, and Your Majesty is not, at this time, popular with the masses because of the food shortages and the taxes, and—”
“Captain! How could such a state occur and I remain ignorant of it?”
“Sire, it is because some of those with a duty to keep you informed have been assassinated, and others have been distracted, and yet others—by this last, Sire, I mean myself—have been, first busy, and then wounded. This has all happened suddenly, and much of it bears the marks of conspiracy.”
The Orb had darkened steadily to the point where Khaavren feared an outburst, but Tortaalik, barely master of the Empire, scarcely master of his house, was able this time to master his emotions. He said, “How much time will be required for you to make arrangements to keep order in the city?”
“A day, Sire. It cannot be done in less time.”
“Well, Rollondar will not be setting out after Adron before to-morrow’s dawn.”
“That is true, Sire, but the army will be gathering, and the army will know why, and so the people will learn why, and, Sire, I cannot be responsible for the next thirty hours if the people learn that Your Majesty intends to send the Imperial Army after His Highness.”
The Orb darkened again, and His Majesty glared and said through clenched teeth, “What, then, do you propose, Captain?”
“Sire, Your Majesty must at once cancel the attack on His Highness.”
“Cancel it, you say?”
“Yes, Sire.”
The Emperor’s mouth worked, and he said, “His Highness is a friend of yours, is he not?”
Khaavren bowed and said coolly, “I have the honor of calling him a friend, yes, Sire.”
The Emperor met the Captain’s gaze, then dropped his eyes. “Very well,” he said. “I will suspend the attack until such a time as we believe it to be safe.”
“Sire—”
“I will announce to everyone—including Rollondar—that it is to be canceled. But we will maintain the army in the city. I assume that, should there be disorder, you would have some use for the army?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Then it will be so. And yet, Rollondar said that each day that passes allows Adron to move more horses into position.”
“Sire, the Breath of Fire Battalion cannot face all the forces Lord Rollondar commands, however much preparation His Highness has.”
“You are certain of this?”
“Entirely, Sire.”
“Well then—what is it?”
This last was addressed to a servant who appeared suddenly at the doorway.
“Sire, Sethra Lavode and Aliera e’Kieron beg the honor of an audience with Your Majesty.”
The Emperor looked at the Captain, as if expecting an explanation from him, and then looked down at his unfinished breakfast with an expression of distaste, and said, “I shall see them in the Portrait Room.”
“Yes, Sire,” said the servant.
Chapter the Twenty-fifth
Which Treats of Two Very Different Persons,
Each of Whom Reveals Plans
For the Benefit of a Very Different Audience,
And for the Reader.
HIS MAJESTY ARRIVED IN THE Portrait Room and took his seat (by which, be it clearly understood, we mean the throne, for, insofar as there was a throne in the Imperial Palace, it was the tall, soft, gilded chair which sat at the head of the Portrait Room on a slightly raised dais). Khaavren took his position at the Emperor’s elbow, after which His Majesty commanded that the visitors be admitted.
He had arrived, as it happened, only two or three minutes before the time normally set aside for meeting with High Lords and Princes, which allowed him to pretend that he was not, in fact, making an exception to established protocol—it was important to Tortaalik that everything at court appear to proceed normally; that no sign of the turmoil beneath the surface should show in the functioning of the court or in his own countenance. Therefore, when Jurabin entered just before tenth hour was signaled, and glanced in surprise at the already-occupied throne, the Emperor responded by giving him a look of reprobation, as if it were Jurabin who was late rather than himself who was, in fact, early.
Jurabin, detecting this comedy, bowed as if in apology, and took his position behind the throne just as Sethra and Aliera, having been announced, made first their appearance in the Hall, then their way to the throne.
They both executed deep courtesies, as befit nobles come before their Emperor; courtesies which His Majesty graciously acknowledged with lowered head and sweep of hand and which he punctuated with the words, “We welcome you both to our presence, and hope that you have had a journey hither that was neither too tiring nor too difficult, and that, moreover, you will both enjoy your visit to our home and that your errand, if any, will have a satisfactory conclusion.”
Sethra, speaking for both, said, “The journey, Sire, was not tiring, and was only difficult when we confronted the throngs at the Dragon Gate itself. Yet, Sire, we came with all speed, and we thank Your Majesty for the alacrity, as well as for the kindness and courtesy, with which we have been received.”
“You came, you say, with all speed,” said Tortaalik. “From this, then, may we presume that you have an errand to us?”
“We have the honor of coming before Your Majesty with certain proposals,” said Sethra. “Proposals to which we humbly beseech Your Majesty to condescend to listen.”
“I shall indeed be only too happy to listen to any proposals delivered by two such messengers—one famous through all of history, the other a High Lord of the most esteemed line of the House of the Dragon. But tell us, first—on whose behalf come these proposals?”
As Tortaalik gave this speech, Khaavren, standing in his accustomed place next to and slightly behind the throne, stroked his cheeks with his hand. If, as he suspected, the “proposals” they were about to hear came from Lord Adron, then he might have work to do at once. (We should note, for those who are worried about guardsmen still uselessly on duty, that, as they walked to the hall, Khaavren had written out a note to his corporal, Thack, in which he commanded that the extraordinary forces he had called out be relieved at once.) Aliera, we should note, had still not said a word, but rather had remained mute, and had looked at His Majesty with a gaze that only barely indicated the respect due her Sovereign.
“Sire,” said Sethra, “I come on no one’s behalf but my own. The Lady Aliera accompanies me from choice, and to indicate support for the proposals I am about to have the honor of laying before Your Majesty.”
“Very well,” said the Emperor, who seemed to Khaavren a little disappointed with the answer, as if he had expected to hear Adron’s name, and had prepared a scathing reply should this name be pronounced. “We are ready to listen; let us hear these proposals. What is it they address?”
“They address many issues, Sire.”
“Well?”
“Among them the food shortages in the city, the taxes upon the
merchants, the rebellion on the part of His Highness, Adron, the Dragon Heir—”
“Ah!” said Tortaalik. “Pardon me, but I believe you have pronounced the word, rebellion.”
“Yes, Sire, that is the very word.”
“And you, Lady Aliera—do you also use this word?”
“I do, Sire, for it describes the case admirably. Your Majesty ought to note, however, that in my mind, I do not condemn the act by so naming it, but, rather, I only identify it accurately.”
The Emperor looked at her carefully, as if undecided whether to become angry, but the Orb didn’t change from its neutral, placid, pale rose, and His Majesty merely said, “Very well, continue.”
“Yes, Sire,” said Sethra, after a brief glance at her companion.
“I wonder what it is they are doing,” said Khaavren to himself. “Have they true proposals, are they about to effect an elaborate insult, or is it part of some deep strategy? And, whatever they think they are doing, how will it be received? Cha! What point speculation? I will find out soon enough, I think.”
Sethra continued, saying, “These problems, in addition to those I have already had the honor of enumerating, include the confusion, assassinations, and conspiracies at court which were the reason I was first asked to temporarily forsake my home in exchange for taking up residence in Your Majesty’s.”
“Very well,” said His Majesty. “Those are the problems you wish to address. To be sure, they are no small issues, but, rather, are deep, broad, and powerful. And yet you say you have proposals which will cure all of these ills?”
“To cure all of these ills, Sire, is too much to ask of anyone, or any one idea. Yet I believe that, should Your Majesty take the step I have the honor of suggesting, it will make a good start to finding remedies for them all.”
“In that case, I can hardly contain my impatience to learn of what this step consists, and I beg you will do me the honor of informing me this very instant.”
“I am about to do so, Sire.”
“Well?”
“This is it: I suggest that Your Majesty at once abdicate the throne and give the Orb to the House of the Dragon, accepting that the Cycle has turned and the House of the Phoenix has honorably fulfilled its destiny.”
His Majesty stared at her, as if unable to believe what he had heard. Meanwhile, Sethra continued speaking as coolly as if she were explaining to His Majesty the best weather in which to hunt the brightbird.
“I have reached agreement with His Highness Lord Adron that, should Your Majesty agree to step down as Emperor, he will at once step down as Dragon Heir, so that no rebel will sit upon the throne, which I know may cause Your Majesty some concern. Moreover—”
“That will do,” cried His Majesty. The Orb was a bright, pulsating red—so bright, in fact, that Khaavren found that he was squinting against its glare. The Emperor’s hands gripped the ornate gold filigree on the arms of the throne, and Khaavren, though he was behind His Majesty, could imagine the flared nostrils, and the eyes that managed to widen and narrow at the same time.
“You dare,” said His Majesty. “You dare to suggest that I—that I step down from the throne? That the way to treat with rebels is to give in to their demands? And to give in, moreover, when I have the power to crush them? You dare to suggest that I will be so weak, so cowardly, as to run from the first hint of trouble in the realm? You dare to say that the rebel will be willing—willing—to relinquish his claim, when with a single order I can cause him to relinquish his head?”
Sethra remained mute; the Emperor continued.
“And come to that, Sethra Lavode, are you aware that I can perform this same service for you and your companion? What you have suggested amounts to treason—can you give me a reason why you should not both be arrested forthwith?”
Khaavren, standing behind the throne and reckoning that he could, by stripping the Palace of everyone with a guard post and emptying the Sub-wing of the Red Boot Battalion, have produced perhaps a score of guardsmen, could have found several good reasons why Sethra Lavode and Aliera e’Kieron ought not to be arrested just at that moment, but, as he was not asked for his opinion, he did not venture to speak.
Sethra said, “I had expected no other answer from Your Majesty, wherefore I am not disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Your disappointment, or lack, is not at issue. The question is whether the two of you are to be arrested.”
At this point, Sergeant (who, as we recall, was not, in fact, a sergeant) entered the room looking both nervous and tired (he, as it happened, was one of the unlucky ones who had not yet had a chance to sleep); being on duty, he was able to ignore both protocol and His Majesty, which he did in the course of making his way around the side of the room, clearly intending to speak to Khaavren.
Meanwhile, Sethra said, “That is Your Majesty’s decision, and, as Your Majesty has not deigned to listen to my advice on matters of far more importance, well, I shall offer no advice on this question, but, rather, leave it to Your Majesty’s best judgment.”
As the reader might imagine, this did nothing to calm Tortaalik’s temper; he turned to Aliera and said, “Well? And what have you say, daughter of a rebel?”
Aliera gave him deep courtesy, smiling the while, and said, “I am pleased, Sire, to see everything my father has said confirmed, and to know that I now have an easy conscience regarding the choices he has made. Your Majesty may, of course, arrest whomever Your Majesty wishes to arrest; and, Sire, I am convinced that Your Majesty needs no lesson from me on living with consequences.”
As she was speaking, Khaavren had noticed Jurabin, who, in turn, was staring at Aliera in rapt fascination—fascination so obvious that Khaavren became embarrassed for him. He was considering the implications of this unhealthy and possibly dangerous obsession on Jurabin’s part when Sergeant reached him, and whispered in his ear, “Captain, there are some nineteen or twenty persons gathered outside the several doors of the hall, all of them wearing black, armed with sword and dagger, and carrying the sort of rods one might associate with wizards. The group seems to be of no one single House, though many of them appear to be Dzurlords, and one or two are without doubt Dragonlords.”
“Very well,” said Khaavren.
“But, Captain, what shall we do?”
“Nothing,” said Khaavren, who understood that, should the Lavodes descend in force to rescue their leader, nothing that the Red Boot Battalion did could make any difference in the fray. He looked at Sethra, speculating.
Sergeant said, “Nothing, Captain?”
“Exactly. Continue with your duties. They will leave presently.”
“But, Captain, they have picked up Sethra’s weapon, and Aliera’s, and seem ready to enter the Hall of Portraits, where weapons are forbidden.”
“Should they attempt to enter the room, you will allow them to do so, but, in any case, they will not, I assure you—soon they will put down the weapons they have picked up and walk away, peaceful as monks, silent as Discreets.”
“Yes, Captain,” whispered Sergeant doubtfully, and went back the way he’d come. Khaavren, meanwhile, was thinking, “If they do, in fact, just go away, I shall improve my reputation among my command for wisdom, coolness, and perspicacity; if they do not, then I shall at least have saved the lives of several guardsmen who would have fallen trying to arrest Sethra and Aliera; and for my own task, that of protecting His Majesty, I have, at any rate, the Orb on my side, and that is no ally to take lightly.”
As these thoughts were flitting through the Captain’s head, the Emperor had been ranting at Aliera—a rant of which Khaavren had perforce missed the bulk, although he did not believe there was likely to have been any vital information contained therein—and he had not yet, in any case, been given the order to make the arrest. Aliera, for her part, appeared to be listening to the Emperor with great attention. His Majesty was saying, “I shall not arrest you now, either one of you; but if you have any wisdom, you will remove yourselves from my pr
esence, from the Palace, and from the city, for I warn you that I am holding my temper in check only with great difficulty, and you have both set your feet upon the road that leads to Justicer’s Square.”
Aliera said nothing, acknowledging His Majesty’s words with only the slightest bow of her head.
Sethra said, “Sire, Your Majesty cannot believe I am frightened, wherefore I am not worried that Your Majesty will take my words in any but the manner in which I mean them: Because Your Majesty has not attempted to have us arrested, and in spite of Your Majesty’s attitude toward my suggestion, in the coming confrontation, which my experience tells me will entail the greatest threat to the Cycle and to the Orb our Empire has ever seen, I, as Captain once more, offer the Lavodes to the Empire during the crisis. I do this, not for Your Majesty, but for the Empire; and if Your Majesty believes I make this offer for any reason but conviction that it is in the best interest of the Empire, Your Majesty makes a grave error.
“Sire,” she continued, “I shall be remaining here, in the Palace, in those quarters in the Dragon Wing that were lately occupied by Gyorg—should Your Majesty take it in mind to arrest me, well, it is there Your Majesty shall find me. Should Your Majesty wish to accept my offer, it is still there that Your Majesty shall find me. I leave this choice, with my respects, at Your Majesty’s feet.”
With this she bowed respectfully, as did Aliera, and they backed away from the throne, still bowing; then, after seventeen steps, they turned and walked coolly together out of the Hall of Portraits.
Khaavren remained where he was, saying nothing. Jurabin, said, “Sire, Your Majesty ought to consider—”
“Keep still, Beespatch,” said His Majesty. “I shall ask for your advice when I require it.”
Jurabin straightened with a start, started to speak, sputtered, and ended by saying, “Yes, Sire,” in a small, choked voice.
At this point, we can almost hear the reader saying to himself, “How, that was it? That was Sethra Lavode’s plan, to ask His Majesty to abdicate? Impossible! There was something deeper concealed within that calculating mind, and we shall see, by and by, what it was.”