Heroes' Reward

by Moira J. Moore

  “Pretty arrogant. I doubt he’s afraid of us. Maybe he just wants to intimidate us.”

  “Well, it’s working.” I sat on the bed.

  Taro sat beside me and put my hand on his thigh, covering my hand with his. “Maybe he doesn’t want us here for long.”

  “It’s an awful long way to drag us for a short visit.”

  “He’s a monarch. I doubt he’s used to considering the convenience of other people.”

  “I suppose that’s possible.”

  No, I didn’t suppose, but I tried to avoid contradicting other people when I didn’t have a valid counterargument to offer.

  “I’m not having sex in this building,” I warned him.

  “No kidding.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It was a week before we received word that the Emperor expected to see us. A week of being followed by Imperial Guards, who made it clear where we were and weren’t allowed to go. We could walk along the public areas of the palace and out about the grounds. There were parts of the palace we had been allowed to enter during prior visits that we could no longer access. We weren’t allowed leave the property. And in contrast to earlier visits to the palace, no one came to see us, and no one would talk to us, even the few acquaintances we passed in the corridors.

  I didn’t see Tarce, and we weren’t allowed to visit his home. No one could – or would – give us any news of him.

  It worried me and I couldn’t think of anything to do about it.

  We were irritated that no one would tell us anything, so, out of spite, we pretended we were having the time of our lives. We spoke loudly and laughed even louder. We pretended to drink a lot more than we did. A lot of plants died because of us. We joked about how awful the art was, and indulged in lengthy kisses anywhere we could find a crowd.

  We received sharp looks and overheard muttered comments of a derisive nature. So, it was working.

  I was almost relieved when we received Gifford’s summons. Finally, we were to find out why we were there. And, hey, maybe it was for something short and trivial.

  I had as much of a right to indulge in unrealistic expectations as anyone else.

  We were escorted to the throne room by an Imperial Guard instead of a servant. This was customary. It made me nervous.

  On a dais at the far end of the room stood an ostentatious throne of silver and gold and at least eight different kinds of gems. Gifford, a thin man of nearly fifty with a dark complexion, sat on the throne. He was draped in robes of purple velvet. He was wearing three gold necklaces with thick chains and heavy, square, jewelled medallions, and a thick gold ring, each with a large gem, on every finger and thumb. A tacky display of Imperial wealth.

  He looked tired, his face much more lined than the last time I’d seen him.

  Beside the throne of state was a chair of black walnut wood, with a high back and thick, solid armrests. Occupying the chair was a woman in her early thirties, of common height, thin, with bland shades of brown hair and blue eyes and nothing remarkable about her face. I assumed she was Willa Newscomb, Lady Green.

  My brother had written to me of her. She’d risen out of obscurity and managed to find a place at Gifford’s side as an advisor.

  And his fiancé. They’d become betrothed a few years before. I wondered why they hadn’t married yet.

  The Erstwhile Pair weren’t standing with them. This was odd.

  There were a collection of others in the room, all in fine garments. I recognized some of them. They stood strangely, each maintaining a certain distance from the others. No one spoke. It was disturbing, seeing so many people without hearing a word.

  Others were brought in after our entrance, all accompanied by Guards.

  And then, all of the doors were closed with the usual ominous thuds, followed by the sounds of locks being slid into place. Imperial Guards stood at each door, keeping us in.

  This was the Emperor’s chosen signal, it seemed. The herald standing beside him pounded the floor with his mace three times. It was an unnecessary display, everyone’s attention had already been focused on the Emperor, but Gifford had always enjoyed ritual.

  “Good day, loyal gentles,” he said. “We thank you for accepting Our invitations.”

  Taro and I hadn’t had a choice. Had anyone else?

  It didn’t look like it.

  “Stability demands the complete loyalty of those serving the Crown,” said Gifford. “Those with titles and all of the responsibilities that come with them have a higher duty to provide an example to the lower ranks.”

  Something seemed off about the Emperor. His words were slightly slurred and the whites of his eyes were pink.

  “If you recall the words of the great philosopher Isa Denith, chaos will always be the result without the strong hand of a single authority who must be recognized … Must be recognized ….” The Emperor frowned. “Must be recognized ….”

  He’d memorized something and had lost his place in the speech. Despite the grim circumstances, I found this entertaining, and I pressed my lips together to keep myself from expressing this inappropriate reaction.

  The Emperor chose to abandon the rest of the quote. “The continual failure of so many to recognize this necessity is both dangerous and disappointing, and we have all suffered the disorganization caused by this failure. We have decided it would be beneficial to all to remind you of your obligations. It will also provide you with the perfect opportunity to swear your fealty to Lady Green, Our Consort.”

  Swear our fealty to Green? She wasn’t anyone to be swearing to, yet. ‘Consort’ referred to the spouse of the monarch, and she wasn’t, yet.

  “Shall we begin?”

  The last time I had attended such a ritual, there had been a solicitor in attendance. There didn’t seem to be one present. I wondered if that was significant.

  “Lord Red Greaves.” The Emperor stood.

  A young man walked through the crowd and knelt on the hard floor before the Emperor. If he felt any apprehension, I couldn’t discern it from his face or movement.

  “Lord Red Greaves,” the Emperor said very loudly. “You have sworn to offer Us and Our heirs your eternal faithfulness, and that of your descendants, to offer the best portion of your land and stock, the might of your servants, and the enforcement of the laws of the land, have you not?”

  “I have, Your Majesty.”

  “And in exchange, We promised you protection against danger and want, did We not?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And We have honoured Our vows, have We not?”

  Was there a small hesitation before Red Greave’s answer? “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Do you feel you have honoured your oath in its entirety?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “We do not agree.”

  Red Greaves obviously couldn’t refute this.

  “In order to correct these failings, We have devised a new oath, to enforce the oath you pledged before. After you take your oath, all will be forgiven. This is generous of Us, is it not?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “So, let Us begin.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I wondered if his knees were starting to hurt.

  “Repeat after me,” Gifford ordered. “I, Lord Red Greaves, Baron of Ilk, offer to You and Your heirs in perpetuity my loyalty.”

  “I, Lord Red Greaves , Baron of Ilk, offer to You and Your heirs in perpetuity my loyalty.”

  “I offer the best portion of my land and stock, the might of my servants, and the enforcement of the laws of the land.”

  “I offer the best portion of my land and stock, the might of my servants, and the enforcement of the laws of the land.”

  “We, Emperor Gifford, accept the offers of Lord Red Greaves and give in return protection against danger and want.”

  That was the entirety of the usual oath, but Gifford wasn’t finished. “Your land is of the north.”

  Red Greaves looked c
onfused, but he dutifully stated, “My land is of the north.”

  “Your strength is in the ground.”

  “My strength is in the ground.”

  What kind of oath was this?

  “Your gaze is to the distance.”

  “My gaze is to the distance.”

  “Your bonds are to the Crown.”

  “My bonds are to the Crown.”

  And I felt the jittery sensation of a spell being cast.

  I had known Gifford was a caster. He’d imposed casts on everyone when they swore their oaths at his coronation. I had felt it work.

  But perhaps not well enough, if Gifford was going through the ceremony again.

  The Emperor held out a hand to Lady Green, who stepped forward to take it.

  And then, the Emperor stepped back. An astounding violation of protocol.

  “I, Lord Red Greaves,” said Green, “Hold second only to the Emperor, the Lady Green.”

  “I, Lord Red Greaves, hold second only to the Emperor, the Lady Green.”

  “Her words are those of His Imperial Majesty.”

  What?

  I looked at Gifford. Did he know the implications of that sentence? Green could say anything and Red Greaves would have to assume she was giving him an order from the Emperor. What if she tried to use that to her advantage, manipulate affairs behind Gifford’s back?

  Gifford didn’t appear disturbed.

  “Her words are those of His Imperial Majesty.”

  “My life I shall lay for hers.”

  “My life I shall lay for hers.”

  To my knowledge, titleholders were never required to put themselves in physical danger on behalf of the monarch. They were expected to throw tenants and servants into any battles.

  “I, Lady Green, accept the offers of Lord Red Greaves, and give in return the Council position of Minister of Waterworks.”

  Only the monarch could assign positions in the Imperial Council.

  Taking advantage of everyone’s distraction, their attention on Green, Gifford was still speaking, far too low for anyone to hear. I thought he was using another cast, perhaps binding Red Greaves to Green as well.

  Once Lady Green had finished speaking, the Emperor pulled a knife from his belt. “Your hand, Lord Red Greaves.”

  Lord Red Greaves raised his hand, palm up.

  Showing no hesitation or care, the Emperor slashed Red Greaves’ palm with his blade. “It’s done. You may retreat.”

  Lord Red Greaves rose to his feet and turned. He looked befuddled. Apparently the cast had been powerful enough to work on him.

  “Lady Velot.”

  One by one, everyone was called to the dais to swear fealty to the Emperor and to Lady Green. Always they were required to recite the little poem, which would be given minor adjustments to reflect the assets of the swearer of the oath. Each was then given a position in the government. Some were positions I’d never heard of, and I suspected they had no real authority. Those I had, I wondered what had happened to the original holders.

  Each one turned back to us with an air of disorientation.

  And then, of course, Taro was called. “Source Shintaro Karish.”

  I hated seeing Taro kneel before such a person.

  Gifford prompted him. “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to Your Majesty.”

  “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to Your Majesty.”

  “Putting my services to the use of the Emperor and that of His heirs in perpetuity.”

  “Putting my services to the use of the Emperor and that of His heirs in perpetuity.”

  This was so wrong. Members of the Triple S were not to be forced to make such oaths.

  As he had during the coronation, Gifford offered nothing in exchange. Perhaps this was why, when Taro recited his poem, I felt no trace of a spell being cast.

  And then it was Lady Green’s turn. “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to you, Lady Green.”

  “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to you, Lady Green.”

  “I, Lady Green, accept the offers of Source Shintaro Karish, and give in return the position of Source of the Emperor of Erstwhile.”

  My throat clenched. We were to be the Erstwhile Pair? We were expected to stay in Erstwhile indefinitely?

  Where was the previous Erstwhile Pair?

  Lady Green didn’t have the authority to choose the Pair of Erstwhile, either. Why had she made that offer instead of Gifford? It didn’t make sense.

  When Taro’s palm was slashed, there was still no buzz.

  It could be merely a matter of Taro being resistant to casts. Some people were, and Taro was the sort who’d be among their fortunate number. Fiona had been required to swear loyalty to Gifford at his coronation, and I’d seen no sign of compliance in her, either. It could be something in the blood.

  But there was another possibility.

  Browne, who knew everything about everything, had once told me that according to legal principles, an agreement wasn’t binding unless each party gave the other something both considered of value, something real. Some legal agreements were casts in their own right, but if they demanded reciprocity and there was none, they might, just possibly, fail.

  Perhaps the laws had been changed to enable Green to grant positions to the Council, but choosing an Erstwhile Pair, that needed the consent of the Triple S. Which Green didn’t have, because the council hadn’t known why we’d been summoned.

  When Taro turned around, he had the same expression of confusion as the others, and my stomach dropped. Oh, hell.

  He returned to stand beside me and I quietly panicked. Was he going to start obeying the orders of the Emperor and Lady Green, no matter how dangerous or stupid?

  Then he put my hand through the crook of his arm. With his other hand, he patted and squeezed mine.

  Oh, thank Zaire. He was fine.

  “We are delighted We are able to come to a proper understanding,” said the Emperor, with a smile that looked weak and crooked. “We must celebrate.”

  Those words were another cue, and the Imperial Guards opened the doors and musicians swept in, followed by servers with trays of food and wine. All of a sudden, people were talking again. They seemed calm, but it wasn’t a natural sort of calm. It was as though something, some form of behaviour, was being imposed upon them. It was no more comfortable to observe than the silence had been.

  The nearest to me turned and said, “This is a most glorious day, is it not?”

  In what way? I had no idea. “Lovely.” That was safe enough.

  “It is almost as though the Emperor can call the very sun itself.”

  Oh, he was talking about the weather. And being nauseating and ridiculous about it. I bit down a laugh that would have been both dangerous and inappropriate. “Truly, it is wondrous.”

  Was that too much? The speaker didn’t seem to think so.

  Was that spell able to create that kind of opinion, or had he had shades of it previously and his oath had brought them close to the surface?

  “Isn’t Lady Green beautiful?” a woman asked.

  Lady Green and the Emperor had returned to their thrones and were watching us. I noticed neither of them was touching the food on their plates or the wine in their goblets. This made me wonder if there was something in the food or drink that most would prefer not to consume. I decided to follow their example.

  “It’s her mind that astonishes me,” another commented. “That is what the Emperor needs most in a consort. While he performs actions, she will give him the direction he needs to know to perform those actions well.”

  If I’d had a goblet in my hand, I surely would have dropped it. Did she realise what she was saying? That Green would be the mind behind the power? Not that it was a truly terrible thing for a monarch and consort to operate according to their strengths, but I would want the monarch to have some intelligence of his own.

  I wondere
d how Gifford would feel if he learned that people thought Lady Green was the smart one.

  The celebration, or whatever it was, dragged on. People talked about the most trivial things, fashion and theatre and who would win the next derby. It was tortuous.

  Finally, Lady Green announced, “You may all depart. We require, however, that Source Karish and his Shield remain.”

  Of course. We couldn’t be allowed to leave and figure out how Taro was going to act brainless before having to convince Gifford and Green that the casts had taken hold. Not that Taro had difficulty acting brainless: he did it for convenience and sometimes entertainment. It was just that he’d have to appear a different kind of brainless this time.

  Everyone else, the servers and the musicians and all the titleholders, silently shifted in a wave out of the room.

  I wasted another moment wondering about the prior Erstwhile Pair. Had they already left? Were they currently packing up? Where were they going to go? Did they resent being replaced or were they laughing in relief and referring to us as those poor bastards?

  “We are not aware of your understanding of the scope of the duties of the Erstwhile Pair,” Gifford said to Taro.

  “None, Your Majesty.”

  Gifford scowled. “That the Triple S fails to instruct its Pairs in such essential matters will be swiftly addressed,” he said sternly. “In the meantime, We will grant you the honour of explaining these duties Ourselves.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes because that was such a pompous thing to say.

  “First, you will provide an example to all Sources and Shields of the necessity of loyalty to the Crown above all others.”

  Aye, good luck with that.

  “You are at Our disposal. You will never ignore Our summons.”

  We weren’t servants.

  “You’re expected to be Our ears. You will report to us any words concerning any of Our laws, any gatherings, any plans you hear of.”

  We were to be spies for the Triple S, and we were to be spies for Gifford. Both of them overestimated our abilities.

  “Shield Mallorough.”

  I was surprised to be addressed directly.

  “We are given to understand that you often don apparel unsuitable to your station.”

  This was a priority for the Emperor? Was there anyone who wasn’t going to harass me about the perfectly logical habit of wearing practical clothing?