Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  The desertman nodded. ‘Perhaps more. This level reaches down and embraces the floor below, like arms surrounding a body. At the distant end we will be a full hundred feet below the Empress’s throne. Come, let me show you more.’

  The desertman, wearing robes of the darkest blue and starkest white for the formal ceremonies, led them to a railing looking down upon another level. As they walked, nobles who would proceed Erland’s party in being presented to the Empress hurried past, a very few taking a moment to offer the Prince of the Kingdom of the Isles a slight bow. Erland noted the half-dozen tunnels that opened onto the broad walkway behind the boxes. ‘All of these can’t originate in the palace alone, can they?’

  Kafi nodded. ‘Ah, but they do.’

  Erland said, ‘I would think the safety of the Empress would supersede the convenience of those nobles needing to come down here once or twice a year. Those tunnels are an invitation to any invader seeking to enter the palace.’

  Kafi shrugged. ‘It is academic, my young friend. For you must understand, that for an invader to threaten the tunnels, they must hold the lower city, and should any invader hold the lower city, the Empire is already lost. For if they hold the lower city, the might of Kesh is already dust. This is the heart of the Empire, and a hundred thousand Keshian soldiers would lie dead before an invader came within sight of the city. Do you see?’

  Erland considered this, then nodded. ‘I guess you’re right. Being a nation born upon an island, in a sea sailed by a dozen other nations … we look at things differently.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Kafi. He pointed to the area between the down-sweeping boxes and the floor of the amphitheatre. The stone had been cut in descending, concentric crescents, so that a grandstand had been chiselled from the rock of the plateau. A dozen stairways from the floor upward to the level just below the boxes were already filled to capacity with colourfully dressed citizens. ‘There is where the lesser nobles, masters of guilds, and influential merchants of the city will sit, upon cushions or the bare stone, all around. The centre is kept clear for those being presented to the Empress.’

  Kafi said, ‘You and your party will enter there, Highness, after the nobles of Kesh and before the commoners, as Ambassadors of all nations will. The Empress has favoured you by placing your delegation before all others, an admission that the Kingdom of the Isles stands second only to the Empire of Great Kesh in majesty upon Midkemia.’

  Erland cast James a wry look at the offhanded complement, but only said, ‘We thank Her Majesty for the courtesy.’

  If Kafi shared the sarcasm, he kept that fact well hidden. Moving on as if nothing impolitic had been said, he continued, ‘The common people of Kesh are permitted to view the festivities from across the entrance, atop roofs, and many other vantage points.’

  Erland looked out over the lower city, where thousands of commoners were held back by a line of soldiers. Beyond the street that crossed before the amphitheatre people crowded upon the rooftops of buildings and into every window providing a vantage point. Erland found the sheer number of people in one place breathtaking.

  Gamina, who had been silently walking beside her husband, said, ‘I doubt they can see much.’

  Kafi shook his head. ‘Perhaps, but then, before the rule of Sujinrani Kanafi, they saw nothing of court ceremony.’

  ‘My lord Abu Harez,’ said Locklear, ‘before we continue, could you and I discuss the speech my Prince has prepared for this day, so that we might not inadvertently give offence?’

  Kafi saw the transparent request for his absence, but given there was no reason not to agree, he let Locklear lead him away, leaving James, Gamina, and Erland relatively alone. Several Keshian servants hovered nearby, taking care of the many details of preparation. A few of them were agents of the Imperial Court, no doubt, thought Erland as he regarded James. ‘What?’

  James turned and leaned upon the marble railing of the gallery, as if looking out over the vast amphitheatre. ‘Gamina?’ he said softly.

  Gamina closed her eyes, then her voice came into Erland’s head. We are being watched.

  Erland had to force himself not to look around. We expected that, he replied.

  No, by magic arts.

  Erland forced himself not to swear. Can they hear us speaking this way?

  I don’t know, she replied. My father could, but there are few with his power. I don’t think so.

  James’s voice said, ‘Spectacular, isn’t it?’ while his mental message was, I’m going to assume they can’t or you’d sense it. And I don’t think we’re going to be under any less scrutiny any time soon, so we might as well hope that we’re right.

  Yes, agreed Gamina. I wasn’t aware of the magic until I went looking for it. It’s very subtle. And good. I think whoever is using it can hear what we say, perhaps even see how we act. But if they could hear our thoughts, I think I would know.

  Gamina closed her eyes a moment, as if dizzy from the heat. James steadied her for a moment. I don’t think it’s a mind, or I would have sensed purpose behind it.

  What do you mean? asked Erland.

  I think we are under the focus of a device. Perhaps a crystal or mirror. My father has used several in his studies over the years. If that is so, then we can be seen for certain, and either our lip movement is being read by one so trained or we are being heard aloud. Our thoughts are safe, I’m certain.

  Good, said James. I’ve finally gotten word from our agents down here. It was a demon’s own time getting word to me.

  ‘I wonder how long we’ll be expected to stand during this ceremony?’ said Gamina absently.

  ‘Hours, no doubt,’ commented James. To Erland he said, We’ve walked into a stew and it’s rapidly coming to a boil. There’s a plot to overthrow the Empress’s rule, that’s our agents’ best guess.

  Feigning a yawn of boredom, the Prince said, ‘I hope I can be alert throughout.’ Mentally, he said, What does that have to do with plunging Kesh and the Kingdom into war?

  If we knew that, we’d have a better idea who’s trying to start this revolt. I have a bad feeling about this, Erland.

  Why?

  Besides the obvious dangers, there are going to be a lot of soldiers in this city this afternoon. Each subject ruler will be bringing companies of honour guards. There will be thousands of soldiers not under the Empress’s direct command within the walls of Kesh for the next two months.

  Charming, was Erland’s response. ‘Well, perhaps we should rest before this ordeal begins.’

  James said, ‘Yes, that would be best, I think.’

  Gamina spoke in both men’s minds. What should we do, James?

  Wait. That’s all we can do, was his reply. And remain alert.

  Kafi returns, observed Gamina.

  The desertman, followed by Baron Locklear, approached and said, ‘Highness, your remarks will be doubly appreciated for their sincerity and brevity. After the ceremonies of this day, I fear you shall see that economy of speech is not an Imperial trait.’

  Erland was about to answer, when Kafi said, ‘Look! It begins.’

  A tall man, old but still muscular, entered the Imperial box, and came to the very edge. He was dressed as all trueblood, in kilt and sandals, but he also wore a solid gold torque, which Erland estimated had to weigh as much as a suit of leather armour. He carried what looked to be a wooden staff covered in gold leaf, with an odd-looking golden design at the top. A falcon perched upon a golden disc.

  Kafi whispered, though it seemed impossible to Erland anyone would overhear them, ‘The Falcon of Kesh, the royal insignia. It is only seen publicly at the highest festivals. The falcon gripping the sun’s orb is holy to the trueblood.’

  The old man lifted the staff and brought it down upon the stones, and Erland was astonished at how loud the sound was. Then he spoke. ‘O Kesh, Greatest of Nations, harken to me!’

  The acoustics were perfect in the amphitheatre. Even those across the boulevard, sitting atop the buildings, could hear t
he man perfectly as the sounds of the crowd died away to a hush.

  ‘She is come! She is come! She Who Is Kesh has come, and she graces your lives by her presence!’ At this a procession of hundreds of the trueblood began slowly entering the Imperial box. ‘She walks and the stars yield to her splendour, for she is the heart of glory! She speaks and the birds cease their singing, for her words are knowledge! She considers and scholars weep, for her wisdom is certain. She judges and the guilty despair, for her gazes see into the hearts of men!’ The enumerations of the Empress’s wondrous virtues continued in similar vein as more and more truebloods, of all ages and ranks, entered the Imperial box.

  The men and women of the royal blood continued to enter the box and take their places as the Master of Ceremonies continued to intone the Empress’s virtues. Impressive, Erland thought, trying to establish contact with Gamina.

  James’s wife lightly touched him on the arm, as she answered. Yes. James thinks so, as well.

  ‘Kafi,’ said Erland.

  ‘Your Highness?’

  ‘Would it be permitted for us to remain here a while?’

  ‘As long as you make a timely entrance, there is no reason why not, Highness.’

  ‘Good,’ said Erland, smiling for the desertman’s benefit. ‘Would you answer a few more questions?’

  ‘If I am able,’ he answered.

  And if you could chime in with what you know, James, he added.

  Gamina relayed the message, for James nodded.

  ‘How is it there are so many in the Imperial box, yet I have not seen any of the great lords and masters yet?’

  Kafi said, ‘Only those related to the Empress by blood may join her in the Imperial box, servants and guards notwithstanding, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Erland.

  Which means that there are at least a hundred or more people with a recognized, legitimate claim to the throne, added James.

  Providing enough people die in the proper order, Erland added drily.

  There is that, chimed-in Locklear.

  Erland thought he had met a great many of those who were important to the Empire, but just the Imperial party alone numbered dozens of strangers. And the only one he had spoken to on more than one occasion was Lord Nirome, the stout and inadvertently comic noble who had greeted them at the boundary of the upper city as aide-de-camp to Prince Awari. Erland had been surprised when he discovered Nirome was related to the royal family. Then, upon reflection, it seemed a reasonable explanation for why a man so obviously maladroit would have a high post in the government.

  The oddest thing about the man, however, was his being frequently in the company of many of the Empire’s most important men. ‘Kafi?

  ‘Yes, Highness?’

  ‘What exactly is Lord Nirome’s function in the court? I notice he’s fairly close to the Empress’s family.’

  Kafi said, ‘He has no formal position within the government, rather he’s something of an informal advisor to … well, nearly everyone. He has tutored both the prince and princess in the past, and he often is in council with the Empress, as well as with various functionaries. He’s … ubiquitous, I guess one could say. I know that he has kept the peace within the palace by acting as a conciliator on many occasions. He has a knack for building consensus, despite his comic manner. He is the only man I know who is on intimate speaking terms with Lord Ravi, General Beruck, and Lord Jaka; he seems to be a part of no particular faction. As for his place in the family, he stands second only to the immediate family, being the eldest child of the Empress’s dead younger brother, Lord Shakon, blessings upon his memory.’

  James glanced at Erland and Locklear, and said, ‘After Awari, Sharana, and Sojiana, that would make him forth in line for the throne?’

  Kafi nodded, saying, ‘He would be, if it came to that. But I fear many more ambitious men than Nirome would push forth their claims to the throne if the two royal princesses and the royal prince were to fall.’

  Erland said, ‘Like General Beruck?’

  Kafi said, ‘Among many others. But his claim would be … clouded.’

  James nodded. ‘The question of parentage?’

  ‘Yes. But even if that were not the case, there are at least a dozen other cousins with claims as good or better.’

  Drily, Locklear said, ‘But none of them command the Inner Legions.’

  Kafi said, ‘That is certainly true.’

  Erland said, ‘Then for the sake of the Empire’s peace, we should pray for the health of Prince Awari and his mother and sister.’

  With no hint of humour, Kafi said, ‘So I pray every night, my Prince.’

  When the relatives had entered, the first discordant note intruded: suddenly black-clad warriors appeared. Each wore turbans of black, with face coverings that left only the eyes exposed. Long flowing robes were designed for easy, quick movement, and each had a black scabbard scimitar at his belt. Erland had heard tell of these: Izmalis, the nearly legendary Shadow Warriors of Kesh. Tales had grown in the telling until they were regarded as almost supernatural. Only those most highly placed in the Empire could afford such as bodyguards. They were counted superior warriors, as well as spies of superior ability, and assassins if needs be, it was whispered.

  James attempted to sound casual as he said, ‘My lord Kafi, wouldn’t it be usual for the Empress to be surrounded by her own Imperial Guards?’

  The desertman’s eyes narrowed slightly, but without any change in inflection he said, ‘It is considered more prudent to use Izmalis. They are without peer.’

  Erland caught a strange emotion from James, followed by, Without peer is nonsense, thought Locklear through Gamina.

  James’s thoughts came to Erland: Your Cousin Willie and I had run-ins with them before, back when you were a little boy. They are not mystical warriors. But they are fanatics; when they pledge to kill or protect someone, they’ll die before they’ll shame their clan with failure.

  It was Locklear who added, What this really means is the Empress can no longer trust even her own Imperial Guards.

  When the Izmalis were in place, a dozen husky slaves, bodies oiled, entered carrying a litter, upon which sat the Empress. Throughout the entrance of the Imperial party, the old man with the golden staff had been intoning a long ritual introduction, citing great feats accomplished under Lakeisha, the Empress. Suddenly Erland caught a shift in tension and began listening to the introduction.

  ‘… crushed the rebellion of Lesser Kesh,’ intoned the old man. Erland remembered from his study of Keshian history that about the time of his birth all of the nations south of the two mountain ranges that transverse the continent—the Girdle of Kesh—had been brought to heel after twenty years of successful revolt. The self-proclaimed Keshian Confederacy had been made to pay dearly for their rebellion. Thousands had been put to death and from the few reports that had made their way to the Kingdom, the devastation had been unequalled by anything in Kingdom history—entire cities were put to the torch and their populations sold into slavery. Entire peoples, races, languages, and cultures had ceased to exist, except among the slaves And from the angry muttering that could be heard from the crowd—not just the commoners in the street, but from many of the lesser nobles in the amphitheatre below—bad blood still existed between those subject peoples and their ruler.

  Gamina went pale, and Kafi noticed. ‘Is my lady feeling ill?’

  Gamina gripped James’s arm and stood on wobbly legs a moment. She shook her head, and said, ‘The heat, my lord. If I could please have some water.’

  Kafi merely motioned and instantly a servant was at their side. Kafi instructed him, and a moment later the servant offered a cool cup of water to Gamina. She sipped it, while speaking silently to James, Locklear, and Erland. I was caught unprepared for that. The sudden flow of anger and hatred. Many of those here would happily murder the Empress. And many, many of the angry minds are in the Imperial box.

  James made comforting sounds as he patted
his wife on the arm, and Locklear said, ‘If you think it would be too much for you to stand here for the rest of the day, Gamina …’

  ‘No, Locky. I’m fine. I just need to drink a bit more water, I think.’

  Kafi said, ‘That is wise.’

  Erland returned his attention to the next group to enter. The Prince and both Princesses of Kesh had entered after their mother, and now the most powerful lords and masters in the Empire were being announced.

  Lord Jaka, Commander of the Imperial Charioteers, entered. ‘How important are the charioteers, Kafi?’ asked Erland.

  ‘I’m not certain I understand, Highness.’

  ‘I mean, is their position only tradition, or do they really stand as the heart of the army? On those occasions in the past where our two nations have … had differences, we’ve always faced your dreaded Dog Soldiers.’

  Kafi shrugged. ‘The Charioteers were the vanguard of those who crushed the Confederacy, Highness. But your borders lie far to the north and the Charioteers would be dispatched that far from the capital upon only the greatest need.’

  Jaka’s the man who can make or break any attempt to overthrow the Empress, offered James.

  Erland nodded, as if considering Kafi’s words. To Gamina, Locklear, and James he thought. He seems pretty solid, from outward appearances.

  He’s an important man, Erland, answered James. No coups d’etat would succeed without him either participating or neutralized.

  Kafi touched Erland upon the arm. ‘Speaking of the Dog Soldiers, here is their master. Sula Jafi Butar, Prince Regent of the Armies, and hereditary ruler of Kistan, Isan, Paji, and the other states where our armies are recruited.’

  The man who entered was fairly nondescript, save that he looked a black-skinned version of the trueblood, even darker than General Beruck. His dress was identical, white kilt, sandals, and shaved head, but his skin shone like ebony in the sun. Most of his followers were equally dark, though a few could pass as trueblood to Erland’s inexperienced eye.

  Erland looked at James, who answered, He’s an unknown player, Erland. He seems openly loyal. His peoples were the first to be conquered by their neighbours, so they are among the oldest lines in the nation, second only to the trueblood. Aber Bukar, Lord of the Armies is the true commander, but this man has a lot of influence with the army.