A Parliament of Owls

by Beth Hilgartner

  There was a stunned silence. Then Enghan Mebhare said, "It is difficult to imagine, Your Majesty, how to ensure an unbiased judiciary as long as the judges are appointed by each Council House. No matter how scrupulous the choices, the appointees cannot help but feel some residual loyalty to the interests of the ones who appointed them. I always thought that each Council House had its opportunity to appoint a judge in one of the nine courts precisely so that there would be some balance among the conflicting interests of the clans."

  "Yes," the Emperor agreed, very dryly. "I believe that is the traditional rationale. However, when the interests in question are not obvious, or when a matter touches issues involving more than one Council House, even that theoretical balance is impossible to achieve."

  "In the Federated States," Bishop Anakher began portentously, "all judicial matters are resolved by the Church. Perhaps such a system might be adapted for use, here in Bharaghlaf."

  Khycalle Ynghorezh Ythande fixed her inscrutable eyes on the prelate. "Amarta is a theocracy. The State and the Church are essentially the same. And there is, as well, only one faith and one god. I, for one, would not be eager to invite the Amartans bring their idea of god—or justice—to Bharaghlaf."

  "I suggested we adapt their system, not import it," he retorted sharply.

  She laughed. "I cannot see you and Kerigden Windsinger and whomever the Dark Lady's sect chooses to succeed Thyzhecci yoked comfortably together in the pursuit of justice."

  "Besides," the Emperor put in, hoping to forestall the diatribe the Horselord's bishop was clearly ready to deliver, "even though the sects represented in our Temple District are the main sects of the Empire, they are hardly the only ones. It would be even more complicated to achieve balance among the multiplicity of religions in the Empire than among the Council Houses. I am seeking a solution which is simple and clearly equitable, not one so complex it is impossible to assess the extent of the biases."

  "You could hear every case yourself, Your Majesty," the Warlord remarked.

  "There are far too many cases for that to be practical," Cithanekh replied mildly.

  "You could, however," Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave spoke up, "appoint the judges yourself, Your Majesty—and make it clear to them that you expect their first loyalty to be to the Truth. I suspect you would also have to make sure there were serious penalties for bribery and corruption, and that they were enforced."

  "You can't mean to suggest, Venykhar, that the Council Houses no longer appoint judges," Ymlakh Glakhyre protested. "Who else but the clan lords know who of their people can be trusted?"

  "The question is, what can they be trusted to do?" Mylazhe Ambhere remarked.

  "I know very well what my people can be trusted to do, Councilor Mylazhe," Ymlakh retorted stiffly. "And they know it."

  Mylazhe's lips quirked in a wry grimace, but she did not pursue the argument with the Duke of the wool clans.

  "Perhaps, Your Majesty," Dhyrakh Dhenykhare suggested quietly, "you should reexamine Owl Ghytteve's experience in our judicial system. He is innocent; he has been exonerated. Isn't it possible that the situation is not as dire as you fear? You must realize how much…resistance the Council Houses will have to such drastic changes in our traditional rights and responsibilities. Wouldn't it be better to leave well enough alone?"

  "The Council Houses may be happy with the way the courts are run," Master Dharyan of the Caravan Guild retorted. "At least they should be, considering how it all works to their advantage! But the petty nobility and the commoners would be all too glad to see some reforms."

  "Some reforms may well be in order," Rhydev Azhere said suavely. "Certainly, safeguards against bribery and corruption are—mmm—obvious places to start. The questions, Your Majesty, seem to be ones of scale and time: how many changes, and how quickly. It would seem to me that if people have the opportunity to see the first program of modest reforms successfully implemented, they'll be much more—mmm—amenable to a comprehensive restructuring."

  Enghan Mebhare smiled sourly. "If I had a gangrenous limb, Rhydev, would you suggest we amputate a little at a time?"

  Rhydev glared at the younger man, but his voice was without rancor. "The current court system is hardly gangrenous, Enghan."

  He laughed aloud. "No. It's two weeks dead: bloated and stinking."

  There were angry murmurs, but the Emperor raised one hand. "This is not a matter I expect us to settle today, or even this week. I would ask you all to consider the subject. Pull your thoughts and ideas together into a cohesive plan, as I would be very interested in seeing your vision of how to put judicial reform into effect. We'll discuss this further at our next meeting. Now, there were two other matters I wished to make known to you. I have, after due consideration, decided to appoint Councilor Cithanekh Anzhibhar-Ghytteve Prime Minister. And with Duke Alghaffen's full support and blessing, Lord Owl Ghytteve will succeed to the Ghytteve Council seat."

  Rhydev could feel the color leave his face. In his wildest imaginings, he had not foreseen this. Cithanekh was simply too young! Granted, he'd managed well enough, to date, but in many ways he was untried, unseasoned. What could the Emperor be thinking? And Owl? He forced his mind away from dangerous outrage. He needed to be calm, cool, and suave. He would even need to congratulate the man, as his colleagues were doing. He struggled to mask his inner seething with a pleasant expression. When he felt his control was adequate to the task, he managed to offer his congratulations and best wishes to the young lord.

  "There will be a formal investiture for both Cithanekh and Owl tomorrow, at the public audience," the Emperor said, after the Councilors were finished making their congratulatory noises. "If there's nothing further, Council is dismissed."

  As the Councilors departed in two's and three's, Rhydev found himself with Enghan Mebhare and Mylazhe Ambhere. "What would your Uncle have thought of his successor, Rhydev?" Enghan asked.

  "I have no idea. I never discussed the matter with him," Rhydev lied.

  "I did," Mylazhe said, unexpectedly. "I asked him, once, if he'd thought about who might succeed him. He asked me if I fancied the appointment and I laughed, since I couldn't imagine the Dhenykhare or the Khyghafe accepting a woman as Prime Minister. Zherekhaf indicated that I shouldn't underestimate the Emperor's determination—or skill—to facilitate change, but then he said that when he retired, he rather hoped Khethyran would have the courage to appoint 'young Cithanekh.'"

  "So do you think it's a good appointment, Mylazhe?" Enghan pressed.

  She sighed. "He'll do a good job, of that I have no doubt—so will Owl; but I doubt that any of them have realized what it will cost them."

  "What about you, Rhydev?" Enghan asked. "Were you surprised?"

  "I would have expected the Emperor to appoint someone more—mmm—seasoned to such an important post."

  "Like you?" the Mebhare Councilor suggested; there was nothing snide in his tone or expression, but nonetheless, Rhydev felt stung.

  "Or Mylazhe, or…or Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave. Someone with a longer history of navigating the shoals of Bharaghlafi power; someone with more experience."

  Mylazhe was shaking her head. "Don't you see, Rhydev? None of us has any experience at all in the kind of thing Emperor Khethyran wants to do." She spread her hands. "He intends to reform the courts. Does that sound like any Emperor you can remember?"

  Enghan grinned. "He's not going to try to navigate the shoals and narrows, Rhydev; he's going to guide us across the uncharted ocean."

  Even with all his expertise, Rhydev could not keep the mellow suaveness in his tone; instead, his voice was stark and forbidding. "He's going to run the ship of state aground and the realm will break up into civil war."

  "It's a possibility," Mylazhe agreed gravely. "But surely you don't imagine it's a possibility Khethyran hasn't anticipated? Frankly, I think we're in for an interesting ride—and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have at the helm for it, either."

  Rhydev didn't trust himself to an
swer, so he took his leave at the next corridor crossing.

  Chapter Thirty-eight—Reaction

  When Rhydev reached his apartments, Ghorran took one look at his master's expression and said, "What happened?"

  Rhydev's tone was clipped. "He's appointed Cithanekh to succeed my uncle, and Owl to the Ghytteve Council seat. And if that weren't enough, he's announced his intention to reform the courts. Where's Ancith?"

  "He's in the sitting room. He was hoping to see you before lunch."

  Rhydev gave a nearly soundless sigh. "I'd better go find him. These tidings won't be improved by delay."

  When Rhydev let himself into the sitting room, Ancith looked up with a smile. "How was Council?"

  "Not good." He sat down beside the youth. "I feel an utter fool for not having anticipated this."

  "What happened?" Ancith demanded.

  "The Emperor announced his choice for Prime Minister."

  "Oh, dear; and it wasn't you. I'm sorry, Rhydev. I know how much you wanted it."

  "It should have been me," Rhydev said bitterly. "But no. That young fool of an Emperor passed over all my years and experience to appoint someone nearly as green as he is. He named your brother, Cithanekh, Prime Minister."

  Ancith sprang to his feet with an inarticulate cry of protest. "How could he?" he sputtered, finally. "It was bad enough when he was appointed to the Council—but this is…is…outrageous! What did the rest of the Council do? Did they protest his choice?"

  Rhydev shook his head. "No. But then, it isn't really the Council's pattern to protest, openly—at least, not when the Emperor announces that he's already made his decision. If he had asked us for our advice, the members might have voiced—mmm—dissent; but he didn't ask. He informed us of his decision, and that there would be a formal investiture tomorrow at the public audience."

  "It isn't fair!" Ancith cried passionately. "Cithanekh gets everything! Oh, Rhydev—how can you bear it?"

  "With great difficulty, my dear," he replied. "But Ancith, that's not all. The Emperor also announced that—with your Duke's approval and blessing—he is appointing Owl to the Ghytteve Council seat."

  Ancith paled; then, color flooded back. "NO!" he shouted. He spun on his heel and stormed over to the window, where he stood looking out over the city while his rage pounded like a pulse in his ears.

  "I'm sorry, Ancith. It's an outrage."

  "That wretched, low-born Slum-rat is no Ghytteve," Ancith growled. "He has no business accepting a position so far above his proper station. What could have Duke Alghaffen possibly been thinking?"

  "Don't be too hard on your Duke, my dear. Doubtless, the Emperor let him know, in no uncertain terms, where his royal—mmm—preferences lay. It's unwise to defy the ruling monarch, and Alghaffen isn't one to fling himself uselessly into the breach."

  "What are we going to do, Rhydev?" Ancith turned away from the city vista and looked anxiously at his mentor. "Do you have a plan?"

  "Not yet—but together, I expect we can devise one. This latest indignation is just one more reason why that damned Seer is marked for death—but so far, he's proven remarkably difficult to kill. We have to be very—mmm—judicious. When we make our move against him, we cannot afford to fail." Rhydev got up and went to the window. He laid one arm gently across his young protégé's shoulders and infused his tone with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I wish I hadn't had to tell you such—mmm—appalling news, but I didn't want you to hear it from anyone else. I promise you, Ancith, we will avenge the—mmm—affront to your family honor, which Owl represents, very, very thoroughly."

  "Can you make him suffer, Rhydev?" Ancith whispered. "I want him to suffer."

  "We will both make him suffer. Before we are through with him, my clever treasure, Owl will wish he had never been born."

  "Good," Ancith said through clenched teeth. "As long as I know he'll taste the anguish he deserves in the end, I can be very patient."

  "Be patient, then, my dear; but also, be inventive, ruthless and vicious." Rhydev advised. "I'm counting on you, my Ancith, to help me craft our revenge."

  ***

  At the tap on his door, Morekheth looked up from the book he was reading. He closed the volume and slid it under a scale drawing spread out on his desk. "Who is it?"

  "Dhyrakh."

  "Come in."

  The Dhenykhare Duke came in and, closing the door behind him, took a seat across from Morekheth's desk. "You'll never believe what that Royal hothead has done, now."

  Morekheth shrugged. "Appointed Cithanekh Prime Minister?"

  "Yes, but that's not all."

  "And Owl to Council?"

  Dhyrakh stared at him. "You anticipated this?"

  Morekheth shrugged again. "Let's just say I'm not entirely surprised. Be honest, Dhyrakh: you didn't really believe he'd be fool enough to appoint Rhydev to replace Zherekhaf?"

  "No," Dhyrakh admitted. "I was expecting him to try to foist that Ambhere bitch on us all. But Rhydev was surprised; I've never seen him so close to losing control in public. He was gray, Morekheth, absolutely gray."

  Morekheth's smile was poisonous. "I wish I could be a fly on the wall when he tells his…protégé, Ancith."

  Dhyrakh laughed. "Oh, yes; that would be fun." Then he sobered. "But do you know what else Khethyran is up to? He's going to reform the courts!"

  "Really?" Morekheth replied. Suddenly, he sounded as though his thoughts were beyond the horizon. "Interesting to see him try," he added at last. "Did he tell you what he plans?"

  Dhyrakh shook his head. "He asked us to come up with ideas."

  "Did he? Are you going to give him any?"

  "No! I'll be damned before I'll waste my time coming up with a plan to wrest away the ancient rights of the Nobility."

  Morekheth raised one eyebrow. "That sounds like Ymlakh's ranting. What if I came up with some suggestions? You could look them over, of course, but if you didn't see anything objectionable in them, would you present them to the Emperor?"

  "I suppose so," Dhyrakh agreed. "Though why you want to waste your time drawing up some plan he's sure to reject…"

  "Because if I'm clever enough, maybe he won't reject it."

  Dhyrakh got up. "Well, suit yourself."

  "Thank you," Morekheth said to his retreating back. When the door was closed again, he pulled the book out from under the drawing and caressed its smooth leather cover. The title was worn to illegibility on the spine, but on the title page, the letters were still crisp: A Treatise on the Subtler Methods of Influence and Mind Control. Morekheth's eyelids drifted closed as he sent his mental call tentatively toward his mentor. Hassyth?

  The answer was immediate. What is it?

  As you thought, the Emperor has appointed Cithanekh to succeed Zherekhaf and Owl to the Ghytteve Council seat. Further, he is planning to reform the courts.

  Reform the courts? How ambitious. Then there's no point in continuing efforts to cultivate our tame judges; they will all be out of power before the tiger can lick his whiskers. You haven't found anyone…suggestible among the Dark Lady's priestesses?

  No. There was bitterness in Morekheth's mental tone. Thanks to that Ykhave bitch, they're on their guard against me.

  Don't let your anger distract you. Just keep track; we'll settle the score with all of them by and by. Trust me for that.

  Of course, Morekheth replied and broke contact. He fingered the book's cover again. There would be time, later, to pay his debts; indeed, there would be time.

  ***

  Thantor looked up from his reports as one of his men cleared his throat. It was late; he had meant to be finished hours ago, but somehow, no matter how many reports he dealt with, there was always one more thing that needed immediate attention.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," the Imperial Guard began, "but he knew the code word."

  "You did exactly right. You may leave us." Then, as the guard withdrew, Thantor gestured to a chair. "Sit down, Sharkbait. What brings you to the Palace?"r />
  "Ferret sent me up. She said you'd want to know this: there was an argument and a knife fight in the Replete Feline. One of her bravos saw it. Two men were killed, and at least one other was marked. The dead men were Court folk: Captain Ysmenarr and a Dhenykhare bodyguard."

  "Which Dhenykhare bodyguard?"

  Sharkbait shook his head. "Rhodh didn't recognize his face—just the livery."

  Thantor's eyebrows rose. "Livery? They weren't being very careful, then. Was Ysmenarr in uniform?"

  "No. The men were casting the ysmath bones, and the Dhenykhare accused Ysmenarr of cheating. He denied it and someone drew a knife. The rest happened pretty quickly, Rhodh said. Ysmenarr managed to kill one of his assailants, but the outcome was never in doubt. Donkey, you don't seem terribly surprised."

  The spymaster shrugged, then he extracted a page from the neat stack in front of him and passed it to Sharkbait. The longshoreman read it and whistled. "Ysmenarr resigned? Why—Oh. He sold his loyalty once too often, didn't he?"

  "I would have said he sold it at least two times too often," Thantor replied dryly, "but then, I'm known to disapprove of selling one's loyalty even once."

  "What will you do?"

  "It's the City Watch's jurisdiction; I doubt I'll even hear about it, officially." He smiled crookedly. "After Ysmenarr's resignation, I had word from Her Majesty. She wants me to suggest a replacement. She said if I gave her someone, at least she'd know to whom—besides herself—he was reporting."

  "Have you decided whom to recommend?"

  Thantor shook his head. "Bhenekh has some good men; I thought I'd talk with him. Why? Do you have a suggestion?"