Moira J. Moore - Heroes at Risk

by Moira J. Moore

  The floats were unbelievable. One was a huge horse, about four men high, black with blazing red eyes, pulled by four enormous live black horses. Visually stunning and a little menacing. I wondered what kind of message the Prince was trying to give with that float. Maybe I was reading too much into it. It wasn’t likely that the Prince had made any of those decisions.

  The next float was of the sun rising, a huge ball of metallic yellow—that wasn’t gold, was it?—rising over waves of purple and dark blue, surrounded by creeping white smoke released by the various people walking around the float, dressed in frothy gowns of light blue.

  It reminded me of the tacky decorations in the homes of Fines and Cree. And lords, I didn’t need to be reminded of them. Taro and I had received several more invitations from them and the others of their group. We had turned all of them down. I hoped they would lose interest in us soon. I didn’t know what I was going to do if they didn’t.

  At least I hadn’t yet received news from my family describing business difficulties.

  The next float was a large three-dimensional replica of the royal seal, a gaudy thing of red, purple and blue ribbons surrounding a round black shield, topped by a thick book, on which stood a white horse wearing a gold crown at a jaunty angle. I’d always thought that a hideous emblem, and learning what it all meant in history class didn’t improve my opinion. The ribbons represented royal blood and the seas, the two being mastered by the monarch. The shield represented military might; the horse represented wealth. The crown represented wisdom, and the book represented law and, therefore, in theory, justice.

  Ben Veritas had had his trial. He had been convicted of attempted murder and a string of magic-related offenses. That pleased me, at least as far as attempted murder was concerned. He was sentenced to one hundred and twenty lashes followed by death by hanging, which disgusted me. There had to be a better way to punish people. As a victim, I’d been offered a reserved seat to witness the execution of the sentence, but I’d turned it down. A large part of me felt morally obligated to watch the results of my actions, but I knew I wouldn’t last through the flogging. It was such a cruel form of punishment, and totally unnecessary.

  Veritas hadn’t survived the flogging, but his body had been hanged anyway, because that was what the sentence had dictated.

  Ben Veritas was dead, as was his daughter, Sara Copper, who had also been found guilty at her trial. And from what Risa told me, people were still digging up ashes. I assumed people were still buying them. I certainly had no reason to believe Fines and his group weren’t still using them.

  A loud crash shocked me from my thoughts. Cymbals. Cymbals were too popular in parades as far as I was concerned.

  The musicians were followed by a troupe of acrobats determined to kill themselves, if the way they flung themselves off high surfaces was any indication. And then another float followed, this one an elaborate throne propped high on a dais of gold. I was surprised the Prince wasn’t sitting on it. For him to do so before being crowned would be a horrible violation of etiquette, but I’d never known that to stop him before. The float was pulled by dozens of men, marching in time to the music, which brought a disquieting uniformity to the display.

  And following the float was the man himself, the Crown Prince, a space maintained between him and everything else by a perfect square of his personal guard marching around him, marred only by the two pretty young men who carried the trail of his long red cape. Aside from the cape, he was dressed entirely in black. He had small brooches or the like pinned to his chest. I knew they were symbols related to the military and the justice system, but I didn’t know exactly what they signified.

  The parade was progressing up the center street of Erstwhile, which was wide and white and led straight up to the steps of the palace. I thought it a rather stupid setup, allowing invaders a direct path to a vulnerable part of the palace despite the tall iron gates that had been pushed open for the occasion. But I didn’t know anything about such things, except that there hadn’t been a large-scale attack on the palace in centuries.

  The participants of the parade didn’t cross into the palace grounds, instead splitting off into the crowds. The Prince and his attendants did cross over, heading toward the small stage set up in front of the steps to the palace. On the stage was an elderly man who I’d been informed was the solicitor to the royal family. The solicitor formally held the title of ruler between monarchs and kept the secret code that identified the next sovereign. A series of spectacularly brutal executions had made clear the fate of solicitors who attempted to abuse the trust placed on them by trying to claim the title for the long term.

  The solicitor stood beside a table. From where I sat, I couldn’t see the articles on them, but I knew what they were.

  Once the Prince stood before the stage, the music stopped and all the murmured conversations were cut short. In silence, the Prince ascended the steps to the stage. The solicitor bowed to him, the Prince offering no gesture of his own, which I thought rude.

  I could hear Taro’s teeth chattering beside me, and I glanced at him. He was trying to keep his teeth still, but his shivering was noticeable. His stiff black garments stood out among the colored finery of the others, and they weren’t suitable for the weather. I wasn’t going to remind him that I’d warned him to wear a cloak. I didn’t want to turn into a nag.

  The Prince faced the masses.

  “State your name,” the solicitor ordered.

  The Prince didn’t seem to react to the tone. “Gifford William Hiroshi Madas,” the Prince announced, loudly enough to be heard by everyone seated and, I was sure, a good many who were standing. I wondered if he’d practiced.

  “State your lineage.”

  “Son of Constia Alexandra Fiona Madas, who was daughter of Kemmeth Elisia Yuuki Madas, who was daughter of Aneck Randolf Emery Madas, who was son of Benik Chapry James Madas, and stretching back into the mists of time.”

  It was Benik who stole the throne from Emperor Koitchi through means both legitimate and not. I supposed it wasn’t regal to admit to that.

  “How have you proven your right to the position of high commander of the legions of the empire?”

  “Through tests of strength and strategy.”

  Test of strength could mean anything. Lifting a weighty object. And perhaps he’d won a game of chess or two. I was fairly sure the Prince had never been in any kind of combat.

  “How have you proven your right to the position of high justice of the empire?”

  “Through study and reflection.”

  Fortunately, the Emperor didn’t actually hear cases. The monarch used to, ages ago, and apparently it was a nightmare. The title, like that of high commander, was purely ceremonial. In theory, people who actually knew what they were doing ran the military and the judiciary.

  “Who will attest to your character?”

  A man in the front row rose. “I do,” he said in a voice I could hear even though the man was facing in the other direction. These people must have been chosen for their ability to bellow.

  “And you are?”

  “Lord Gray, the Duke of Conrad.”

  “And what say you, my lord?”

  “I attest that the Crown Prince is a man of honor, of honesty, of valor and of sound mind.”

  Well, to be strictly honest, I couldn’t dispute any of that, not really. Just because I didn’t like what he did didn’t mean it wasn’t all aboveboard. His mother was just sneakier about what she did. I wondered why I had liked her better.

  “Why should you be our Emperor?” the solicitor asked.

  “I have been born and bred in the knowledge of my responsibility to the people, and tutored in the honor to be found in the service of others. I am prepared to spend my life in the service of others. Always will I know that every decision I make must be made with the best interests of the people in mind, that their needs come before my own, that I am merely the most visible of servants to the people.”

&nb
sp; I wondered how hard that last phrase made him want to choke.

  “I have been privileged to have had before me, my entire life, the best example of what a ruler should be. A ruler who never took a single action without first thinking how that action would affect her people, who put the needs of her people before her own, whose every action was one of compassion, of mercy, of justice. She was the model of all that was good and strong and right.”

  It alarmed me that he could lie so convincingly. At least, his praise of his mother sharply contradicted all the rumors I’d heard about how much he’d despised her. Maybe he’d really admired her and no one knew about it. Or maybe he just wished he’d been able to admire her.

  “With this understanding of the needs of the people, I will dedicate myself to the peace and prosperity of all. This shall be my guiding principle for the rest of my life.”

  From the table beside him, the solicitor picked up the monarch’s sword, said to have been carried by the first emperor and never used again. I wasn’t sure if that story was true or not. Certainly it was a very shiny sword, thinner than the ones I sometimes saw the Runners wear, and it was reputed to be stronger than any sword any contemporary blacksmith could make. “Do you affirm,” the solicitor asked, “on your name, your life and your lineage, that you will keep the position of high commander of the empire with all honor, putting aside personal connection and favor where it may conflict with duty, for as long as you shall live?”

  “I so affirm,” said the Prince.

  The solicitor presented the sword to the Prince over his forearm, hilt first. “I bestow upon you the rank of high commander.”

  The Prince took the sword in his right hand, holding it rather awkwardly and making sure no part of it touched anything else.

  The solicitor then picked up the staff, standing as high as the average man’s shoulder and as wide as a thumb, a slim, plain rod made of gold that was, for some reason, the symbol of the justice system. “Do you affirm on your name, your life and your lineage that you will keep the position of high justice with all honor, putting aside personal connection and favor where it may conflict with duty, for as long as you shall live?”

  “I so affirm.”

  Like the sword, the solicitor presented the staff over his forearm. “I bestow upon you the rank of high justice.”

  Due to the length of the staff and the lack of natural grace in either man, the transfer of the staff looked cumbersome, and the Prince held it at an unwieldy angle.

  Finally, the solicitor held up the crown, a band of gold with no decoration or finesse. I’d never seen it before. It looked bulky and heavy and was probably uncomfortable to wear.

  “Do you affirm on your name, your life and your lineage that you will keep the position of emperor with all honor, putting aside personal connection and favor when it may conflict with duty, for as long as you shall live?”

  “I so affirm.”

  And standing behind him, the solicitor carefully placed the crown on the Prince’s head. I imagined if he got the angle wrong, the thing would have slid off and hit the floor with a clang. That would have been fun to see. “I bestow upon you the rank of emperor.”

  May the gods save us all.

  The crowd roared. I wondered how they could. Perhaps they had no idea what the Prince was like and what his new position would mean for them. Perhaps his ascension really did mean nothing to them, one ruler being pretty much the same as another. Perhaps they were just happy they hadn’t had to work for the past few days.

  The Prince, now Emperor, wearing the crown and holding the sword and the staff, looked unfortunately impressive, awkwardness notwithstanding. Clothing could lie so well. Anyone would look regal with such costumes and props.

  “Troubling influences have been creeping into our great cities,” he announced once the cheering faded away. “Our beloved Empress stood firm against all that was divisive and destructive, yet over the course of her failing health a darkness has begun to poison the land, attacking our traditions and our laws, endangering the peace and prosperity of all. To restore the world to its proper path will be Our first and most important task. To return glory to the people will be Our just reward.”

  The crowd cheered again. I hoped they understood what the Emperor had just said, because it had sounded like nothing more than gibberish to me. Ominous gibberish.

  Lord Gray stood and climbed the few steps to the stage, lowering with some difficulty to one knee and bowing his head. “I, Lord Gray, Duke of Conrad, offer to the Emperor and his heirs my eternal faithfulness, and that of my descendants. 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 Gray and give in return protection against danger and want.” That, I knew, was the traditional oath of the monarch to one of his vassals, meaning not a whole lot since the powers of the monarch were given boundaries by the Council. The following words were not traditional. “In honor of your recent services to the Crown, it is Our duty and Our honor to grant to you the lands of Vast Greens, yours and your heirs’ in perpetuity.”

  That caused some gasps. I’d never heard of the place myself. Gray’s expression as he returned to his seat was blank, so I couldn’t tell if the boon was expected or not, an advantage or not.

  Gray was only the first of many titled landowners to swear their fealty. The second was the new Duchess of Westsea, Taro’s cousin, Fiona. She swore her oath in the flattest voice I’d ever heard in a regular, which made me think I might really like her.

  The titleholders were followed by the heads of the guilds, a judge, a representative from the Runners of Erstwhile, and various other important people. Most of them merely gave their oaths and returned to their seats. A few were granted boons as Gray had been. It was all excruciatingly boring.

  And as time wore on, I felt that distinctive jittery sensation. Someone was casting a spell. Right then and there. Who was it? I looked around, but no one and nothing seemed out of place. Certainly no one was waving any symbols around.

  Except for the Emperor. Holy hell.

  Aye, the Emperor’s lips moved at times other than when he was responding to the oaths. And he was looking around a lot. My gods. The Emperor was performing a spell. He who had increased the sanctions against spell books and the tools of casting. What a hypocrite.

  I couldn’t figure out what the spell was meant to do. I couldn’t see anything happening. Was it a spell to bind people, the people swearing the oaths, to him? That would be horrible. It had to be wrong.

  So what was all that about increasing the sanctions against people casting spells? Or, excuse me, pretending to cast spells. Did he really find it a dark poison? Or did he just want to keep all that potential to himself?

  What else had he accomplished by casting spells?

  Hell.

  And then I was horrified to hear the Emperor say, “Source Karish may approach.”

  I looked at Taro. His shock was clear to see. And the Emperor was looking right at him, perhaps having been aware of his location throughout the entire ceremony.

  Taro recovered himself, easing out from the chairs before striding up to the stage, looking all dark and gorgeous. If he was feeling frantic and out of his depth, no one would know it by looking at him.

  I really never wanted to be him.

  He bowed, which I supposed was correct, instead of kneeling. I couldn’t imagine Taro ever being incorrect. Yet the Emperor frowned. “You may kneel.”

  I clenched my teeth. It was unreasonable, I knew, to be offended on Taro’s behalf, that the Emperor would make him kneel when he had no oath to give. We were all required to show deference to the Emperor. It was just that Taro was by far the worthier man.

  Taro knelt, as demanded.

  “There is an oath We would have from you,” the Emperor announced.

  Taro couldn’t speak for the Triple S, who were not required to give fealty to any
monarch. Nor could he speak for the duchy of Westsea. He could speak only for himself.

  “We are aware you have not come prepared to speak,” said the Emperor. “And indeed, why would you? A mere Source, at an occasion of this magnitude. But We are aware of your loyalty to Our Honored Mother, and We would enjoy the comfort of sharing such a worthy gift. Solicitor Tarin, if you will.”

  The solicitor stepped forward, and if Taro wasn’t panicking, I was. He couldn’t swear an oath of loyalty as Source Shintaro Karish. It was essential that a Source remained above and beyond influence. If people thought a Source’s skills could be controlled by anyone outside the Triple S, the results would be . . . well, unimaginable by me right then, but definitely negative. One of the reasons everyone was expected to help support members of the Triple S was to avoid the perception that anyone owned us.

  “If you would repeat after me, Source Karish . . .”

  And yet, Taro could hardly refuse to give whatever oath the Emperor might demand, especially in front of all these people. Those repercussions would be highly negative as well. No doubt that was one of the reasons the Emperor chose to do it at this time. And damn him for doing this. What was he playing at?

  “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish”—and the solicitor thought Taro was an idiot, because he paused there so Taro could repeat his own name—“do swear personal loyalty to you, the Emperor.” Taro hesitated just long enough to be noticeable to everyone, and when he did speak the words, it was in a voice so low I couldn’t hear them. But I didn’t doubt they had been said. I was sure the Emperor wouldn’t feel too ashamed to berate Taro, loudly and at length, should my Source fail to give the oath.

  “Putting my services to the use of the Emperor . . .”

  That got a reaction from the crowd, those that understood the significance of what was going on. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  “. . . and his heirs in perpetuity . . .”