The Emperor

by Norman, John;

  Viviana winced expecting to hear the striking of flesh and a cry of pain, as though she herself might have been so bold, so forward, so unwise, but the denouement of this tiny interaction was both prompt and unexpected.

  “Rejoice, lovely collar slut,” said the master. “Be glad. You and your sisters are incredibly fortunate. First, you have been accepted as goods worthy of Varick’s Market; on that you may congratulate yourselves; from what block might you be better vended; second, the regime has survived and holidays are proclaimed. It is a time of celebration and victory. There will be fetes and banquets throughout the city. Gold, silver, jewels, and hundreds of girls will be distributed, lavishly bestowed, and, where you are concerned, the palace itself, recognizing the quality of our house, has patronized us, in search of a small number of girls who, in addition to other gifts, special prizes, awards, and such, are deemed worthy of being distributed amongst the high victors, the heroes and favorites of the throne.”

  Sounds mingled. There were cries of joy from most who heard the master’s words but this unrestrained irruption of gladness and relief was penetrated by a cry of anguish from Viviana.

  “Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master!” cried the girl behind Viviana. “No, no, no!” wept Viviana. “Not the palace! Not the palace!”

  Viviana tried to leap to her feet but she had scarcely half risen when the fellow, dropping the chain and collars, seized her by the hair, and forced her down, again, on her knees.

  The master’s hand was cruelly tight in her hair and he shook her head angrily. Her head seemed to burst with blinding fire.

  “No!” she wept. “Please, no! Not the palace! Not the palace!”

  “Are you mad, slave?” asked the girl behind her. “What could be better than the palace?”

  “Yes, yes!” said other girls, who had heard.

  Viviana tried to struggle to her feet once more, to run, though there was nowhere to run, but she was thrown by the hair to the sand on her right side. Indeed, her shoulder was thrust deep in the sand, and she was aware, on her side, of the master’s hands somewhere near her throat, and, an instant later, she heard the heavy, definitive snap of the collar, and she knew herself added to the chain. “No, no!” she wept. The master pulled her rudely up to her knees again. She became aware of a robed figure near her, and, looking up, saw that it was Varick himself. Instantly she threw herself to her belly in the sand, seized an ankle, and, sobbing, began to cover his sandaled foot with kisses, again and again, frantically, desperately. “Please, Master,” she begged. “Free me from the chain. Do not let me be taken to the palace! I will do anything, not to go to the palace.”

  “You are a slave,” said Varick. “You will do anything, and everything, immediately and unquestioningly, which a Master might wish.”

  “Master!” wept Viviana.

  “Do you seek to bargain?” inquired Varick.

  “No, Master. No, Master,” wept Viviana. “I am a slave.”

  “She is in terror of the palace,” said one of Varick’s men.

  “Good,” said another. “Let us hope her terror is well justified.”

  “She must know something of the palace, or its occupants,” said another.

  “And they of her,” laughed another, he who had collared her.

  “Excellent,” said another. “That might make her somewhat special as a gift, to someone or other.”

  “True, it might well add flavor and spice to her bestowal,” said he who had collared her.

  “Mercy, Master,” begged Viviana. “I am a poor slave who begs mercy! I beg mercy! Mercy! Do not let me be taken to the palace! Please, Master, do not let me be taken to the palace, not the palace!”

  “Proceed,” said Varick to the fellow who had been forming the coffle. The girl before Viviana was then collared, and the fellow moved forward, to the next in line. Shortly thereafter the last collar was snapped shut, and the coffle was formed.

  It remained on its knees while Varick spoke with his men.

  Viviana, on her knees, in the sand, in the coffle, shuddered, miserable with shame. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  When Varick turned again to the line, Viviana again appealed to him. “Please, Master,” she wept, “do not have me taken to the palace!”

  “You have been selected,” said Varick.

  “Please, Master,” begged Viviana. “Free me of the chain.”

  “You have been selected,” said Varick. “You are on the chain.”

  “Up, curvaceous beasts,” said he who had formed the coffle.

  The coffle then rose to its feet.

  “Stand well, be proud,” said Varick.

  “The slave girl is surely the most desirable form of livestock,” said one of Varick’s men, admiringly.

  “Yes,” said another.

  “Remove the coffle,” said Varick.

  He who had formed the coffle then conducted it from the court.

  “When is delivery to be made?” asked he who had borne the lantern earlier.

  “We will be notified,” said Varick.

  “But soon?” asked he who had borne the lantern earlier.

  “I think quite soon,” said Varick.

  “How are they to be presented?” asked his fellow.

  “That has been specified,” said Varick. “Things are to be simple, plain, even demure. There must be nothing to distract from the slave herself. She is to be presented clothed, but in such a way that it is clear that she is a slave. She is to be almost nude. There is to be little doubt as to the nature of her lineaments.”

  “May I then suggest,” said his fellow, “brief tunics of white silk?”

  “I think that will do very nicely,” said Varick.

  “Quite brief?” asked his fellow.

  “Of course,” said Varick.

  Varick and his men then prepared to leave the court.

  At the interior gate, that leading into the house, Varick hesitated. “Oh,” he said, “do you recall the blonde, the one who made such a nuisance of herself?”

  “Surely,” said he who had earlier borne the lantern.

  “See that she is given ten lashes,” said Varick.

  “It will be done,” said he who had earlier borne the lantern.

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Corelius, in the garb of a slave, on his hands and knees, his ankles shackled, was scrubbing tiles in one of the corridors of the palace, a task typical of those to which he was commonly put. The bucket of water was at his side. His head was down. He became suddenly aware that a mighty figure stood over him. He did not dare raise his head.

  “Such work is commonly done by slave girls,” said Abrogastes, called the Far-Grasper, king of the Drisriaks. “On the worlds of the Alemanni, it is done, ideally, by female slaves who were formerly of high birth in the empire, scions of families wealthy in the empire, and such. How interestingly the emperor deals with you, keeping you a free man, but putting you to the shameful tasks of the slave.”

  Corelius kept his head down.

  Then Corelius cried out as Abrogastes seized his hair and pulled his head up, and turned it from side to side. Then Abrogastes thrust his head down, again, rudely, and released it. “You are not so handsome now as before,” said Abrogastes. “Few women would now be interested in buying you for a male couch slave.”

  The left side of Corelius’ face was deeply scarred. It had been furrowed by the claws of a gardening implement wielded by an angry woman. This had taken place several days ago when he was being conducted through the gantlet of an angry, abusive crowd to the steps of a punishment platform, that on which the emperor and certain others, he amongst them, were to be put to death.

  “It was you who betrayed me, and others,” said Abrogastes. “You betrayed Telnar to its enemies, and its enemies to Telnar. Your treasons, ignoble filch, draw no distinctions;
they do not discriminate; they are manifest, frequent, and opportunistic. What will be done with you? The horse death on Tenguthaxichai would be too good for you. It is too quick. Better to tie you in a cage with starving filchen. It might take them days to eat you.”

  Corelius, trembling, did not speak.

  “I will petition the emperor, to acquire you,” said Abrogastes. “I will buy you from him.”

  “Mercy, great lord,” whispered Corelius.

  But Abrogastes had strode away.

  Corelius then, trembling, returned to his work.

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  “Your majesty,” said Mujinn, respectfully.

  “Noble rider, noble Herul,” said Otto, rising from the throne on its dais, and descending to sit behind a black-lacquered, marble-topped table set near the throne. He knew that Heruls did not care to raise their head to a human. Heruls commonly addressed humans from horseback, lance in hand. Mujinn remained standing.

  “Arrangements have been made,” said Otto, “to return your people, and beasts, to the Plains of Barrionuevo, given the conclusion of the days of holiday.”

  “We look forward to having the turf of the Flats of Tung once more beneath the paws of our horses,” said Mujinn.

  “How is noble Hunlaki, skilled commander of the Herul cavalry, to whom we owe so much?” asked Otto.

  “Old, but otherwise quite well,” said Mujinn.

  “I am pleased to hear it,” said Otto.

  “He thinks to conclude his life suitably,” said Mujinn.

  “He did not fall in the action in the great square,” said Otto.

  “No,” said Mujinn.

  “You understand,” said Otto, “that we cannot permit a large force of armed Heruls to remain in Telnar.”

  “Nor would we wish to do so,” said Mujinn, “there is no grazing for our herds in the streets of Telnar.”

  “Your people, and mounts, and many Otungs, and their mounts, will be returned to Tangara at the same time.”

  “On the same ships, differently housed,” said Mujinn.

  “Yes,” said Otto. “In that way Heruls need not fear that Otungs will arrive first to harvest meat from poorly defended herds and Otungs need not fear that Heruls will arrive first to raid and burn poorly defended Otung villages, halls, and encampments. Too, Heruls need not fear that ships will be deliberately crashed or destroyed, for in such an act prize Otung forces would find themselves likewise destroyed.”

  “Some Otungs will remain in Telnar,” said Mujinn.

  “Yes,” said Otto, “some, to keep order in the city.”

  “We shall look forward to further days of celebration and then to our triumphal return to Tangara,” said Mujinn.

  “I shall hope that you, and other high officers of the Heruls, will honor us with your presence at the culminating victory celebration, the great banquet in the palace.”

  “That is our intention,” said Mujinn.

  “I suspect,” said Otto, “that this visit to the palace is little motivated by a wish to confirm details as to your return to Tangara.”

  “True, your majesty,” said Mujinn. “I come on behalf of my mentor and tutor, my friend and fellow, one with whom I have ridden for many years, in hunting, in herding, and in battle, Hunlaki.”

  “That was my conjecture,” said Otto.

  “Perhaps you suspect the nature of the commission with which I have been entrusted,” said Mujinn.

  “I fear so,” said Otto.

  “At the great feast, Hunlaki will make a request of you. He will ask of you a boon, a favor.”

  “I do not think,” said Otto, “I will grant Hunlaki his favor.”

  “You realize,” said Mujinn, “things are not so simple.”

  “I know,” said Otto.

  Mujinn then bowed and withdrew.

  Otto remained seated at the table for a long time. Eventually, Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol, entered the throne room.

  “What is wrong, your majesty?” asked Iaachus.

  “Hunlaki,” said Otto, “wants a favor.”

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  “What word,” inquired Otto, “of Ingeld, prince of the Drisriaks?”

  “The search continues,” said Rurik, Tenth Consul of Larial VII, of the Larial Farnichi.

  “Perhaps he has escaped the city,” said Otto.

  “Unlikely,” said Rurik. “In any event, his power is broken. Drisriaks allied with him have been pardoned and recalled to the banner of Abrogastes.”

  “How goes the temple?” asked Otto.

  “The temple guard has been disbanded,” said Titus Gelinus, attorney and rhetor. “The temple has been denied its exemptions and subsidies. It is thought appropriate that it support itself, on its own resources, such as they may be. No longer is there danger that the might of the state will be enlisted to coerce and murder citizens who do not subscribe to its witless verbalisms.”

  “And what of the many other faiths of Floon?”

  “They are now safe, to prosper or falter, as the case may be,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “And the faiths in the thousands of other gods, on the hundreds of other worlds?” asked Otto.

  “They, too, are now safe, to prosper or falter, as the case may be,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Has aught been heard of the exarch and deputy exarch, ponderous Sidonicus and smooth-cheeked Fulvius?” asked Otto.

  “In a way, “No,” and, in a way, “Yes,”” said Titus Gelinus.

  “I do not understand,” said Otto.

  “In a way, we have heard nothing,” said Titus Gelinus. “We have had no word from them, have had no verifiable appearances of them, have had no traces of them, have had no discoveries of bodies, or such. On the other hand, in another way, we have heard much. Thousands of men claim to have seen them flying through the air to the table of Karch.”

  “How is it determined that they were flying to the table of Karch and not somewhere else?” asked Otto.

  “I do not know,” said Titus Gelinus.

  “Where is the table of Karch?” asked Otto.

  “The table of Karch is perhaps up, and to the east,” said Titus Gelinus. “Yet some say they were flying in another direction, and, indeed, in several other directions. It is very confusing.”

  “This was witnessed by thousands of men?” asked Otto.

  “And more, later on, at least until recently, came forward, attesting to the same phenomenon,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Interesting,” said Otto.

  “Who were the first to note this remarkable phenomenon?” asked Iaachus.

  “Two fellows, of little fame and obscure antecedents,” said Titus Gelinus, “a Buthar and a Grissus, both of Telnar.”

  “I do not know them,” said Iaachus.

  “Nor I,” said Otto.

  “I regret to inform you,” said Rurik, “we have been unable to determine the whereabouts of Timon Safarius Rhodius, of the Telnar Rhodii, primarius of the senate.”

  “I think we shall have to appoint, or see to it that the senate nominates and elects, a new primarius,” said Iaachus, “one acceptable to us.”

  “Clearchus Pyrides, senator from Inez IV, current moderator of the senate,” said Otto.

  “Very good,” said Iaachus.

  “He is invited to the great banquet,” said Otto. “That will be time enough for him to learn that he is to be freely elected the new primarius.”

  “Very good,” said Titus Gelinus, envoy to the senate, and envoy from the senate to the throne.

  “Will Atalana, the empress mother, and Aesilesius, now deposed as emperor, be invited to the victory banquet?” asked Iaachus.

  “Of course,” said Otto.

  “Is that wise?” asked Iaachus.

  “Of that the future will decide,” s
aid Otto.

  “The infant which was to be proposed as the offspring of Viviana,” said Julian, “has been located, as you requested. It is a foundling. It has been traced to somewhere in the Inez system.”

  “Settle it on some civilized world,” said Otto, “and let no records be kept of its disposition.”

  “What is this strange business on Tangara?” asked Iaachus.

  “That dealing with the Heights of Barrionuevo?” asked Otto.

  “Yes,” said Iaachus.

  “I am having the festung of Sim Giadini rebuilt,” said Otto.

  “How is that compatible with the proclaimed policy of the throne?” asked Iaachus. “The festung was a citadel of Emanationist brothers, and Emanationism is one of the many Floonian faiths.”

  “The emperor,” said Julian, “was raised in the festung village.”

  “That is immaterial,” said Iaachus.

  “The festung was destroyed by imperial cruisers,” said Julian. “Doubtless then, the emperor feels it is appropriate, in this case, that restitution be made.”

  “Is that it, your majesty?” inquired Iaachus.

  “I have my reasons,” said Otto.

  “Rumors have reached us,” said Rurik, “that Alacida, spouse of Hrothgar, third son of Abrogastes, on Tenguthaxichai, is pregnant.”

  “May things proceed apace and well,” said Otto.

  “What if the child is a male?” said Iaachus. “It would be of royal blood and a grandson of Abrogastes.”

  “So it would be,” said Otto.

  “It would have a claim on the throne,” said Iaachus.

  “Only in its turn,” said Otto.

  “I do not understand,” said Iaachus.

  “How, dear Rurik,” asked Otto, “is your slave, Cornhair?”

  “She licks, kisses, moans, and squirms well,” said Rurik. “I am not yet tired of her. I think I shall keep her, at least for the present.”