Lord Oswald probably came to the same conclusion, I thought, noticing the color deepening on his neck, in contrast to the ashen complexion most of the heirs had acquired after Noir’s pronouncement.
Of course, Prince Vere, probably the only heir beyond Lord Noir’s influence with the emperor, showed no change.
The emperor swayed a little and leaned on his cane. “Good. Tell them, Noir. I’m tired.” He plopped back down in his chair, breathing erratically from the exertion of standing after the long walk to the dining room.
In the Roman days of Old Earth, the ancient emperor would have been conducted about by a litter by his age, borne by four slaves about my general build. I wondered idly if Emperor Seraphim planned to do the same anytime soon.
Lord Noir cleared his throat loudly and the left side of his face twitched, a characteristic tic he’d reportedly acquired after a stroke several years back. When the room fell silent, he continued. “The emperor will be hosting a party tomorrow, in order to honor all of you who have consented to join us today.” He smiled thinly and slowly waved a hand around the room. “There will be a very important announcement and His Grace hopes you’ll all find the time to attend.”
Noir sounded diplomatic, but it was clear that there was little choice in the matter of attending — at least if one wished to remain an heir.
The room was so silent I thought I could hear the empress’s dress rustling. We watched Lord Noir stride from the room, his age belied by his strong gait.
“Hunter, my lad,” the emperor wheezed, leaning over toward Prince Vere. “How are you?”
The emperor’s favorite heir smiled and exchanged small talk with the old man, which for the prince consisted mainly of boasting about trophies he’d acquired recently. Prince Hunter Vere was aptly named — if he were stranded on a desolate asteroid, he’d organize a hunt for the air he needed to survive. He lived, breathed and ate hunting.
Beside the emperor, Jewel smiled slyly and ignored the two’s chatter, playing with her earring. She was looking directly at me when I glanced at her, and for a moment she looked startled, then something shiny dropped from her hand, tinkling to the floor at her feet.
The emperor and prince Vere stopped talking momentarily, then returned to their conversation, apparently unconcerned with the outcome.
Instantly, Lord Oswald, the first person around her corner of the table, scooted back his chair in order to retrieve the fallen cutlery. “You’ve dropped your earring, Majesty. Permit me to get it for you.”
“No,” Jewel said quickly. “I think it’s slid too far under the table.” There was the unmistakable scrape of a shoe on the floor, which only my Lord and I could hear over the low hum of whispered conversations that had begun as soon as the emperor had engaged his favorite heir. “Have your man do it; a prince should not crawl under tables.” She smiled at Lord Oswald.
My Lord’s guard reseated him, and I pushed back my chair enough to gain entrance under the table. I was not, however, prepared for what I saw under there.
The earring was far under the table, all right, and resting comfortably under Jewel’s gold and black velvet shoe. I crawled to her foot and attempted to pry the sapphire from under her heel, but she pushed harder to keep it there. Slowly, the hem of her dress rose, until it exposed her legs completely. She held the fabric in both hands, which rested in her lap, then parted her legs slightly, surrendering the earring in the process.
She wore red silk panties, and it was clear she wanted me to see that they were crotchless.
I retrieved the errant jewelry quickly, before she thought to trap it again, and returned to the surface, offering the earring to the empress with trembling hands.
My Lord looked at me strangely, then remarked, “You’re pale, Euclid. Is anything wrong?”
For me to appear pale was certainly an achievement, but the reason for my embarrassment wasn’t something I could discuss in a public setting.
“Yes, Euclid, what is it?” the empress said, batting her eyelashes at me innocently, a slight smile tugging at her lips.
“I hit my head,” I said, thinking quickly, and raising a hand to my blue hair. “I thought I might be bleeding.”
Lord Oswald snapped his fingers for a guard, who stepped forward and inspected my head casually. The guard shook his head and stepped back.
My Lord smiled at me. “No harm, my boy. But do try to be more careful the next time.”
I sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be a next time, but I nodded anyway, happy to escape the subject.
It’s not that I didn’t find the empress appealing, and I certainly would have considering rising to the occasion had I been called to do so in private — by the right woman. Jewel had a reputation for a certain looseness of virtue, and, like a siren, had little trouble luring errant sailors into her harbor. Considering her age, and that of her husband, I could hardly blame her seeking her pleasures elsewhere, but in this case her husband was Emperor Seraphim VI of the Eternal Empire of Eighty Three Worlds, who was well known to execute men who were both brave enough to sail into his wife’s harbor and foolish enough to get caught dropping anchor there.
I had no wish to visit the Empress Jewel’s port. My survival instincts were far too developed to take the risk.
The empress batted her eyelashes at me, then looked down demurely. “I understood, Oz, that Phoenix Redwing had accompanied you. Where is she?”
The emperor stopped at the mention of Lady Redwing and looked over at my Lord. “Yes, yes, where is she? Her father said she’d be coming along.”
“L-Lord Redwing?” the prince stammered, clearly surprised. “You know him?”
“Yes, yes,” the emperor said, impatiently. “Her grandfather and I were in the war together. Great man, that Redwing.” He bounced a little in his chair, as if he’d suddenly remembered something extremely pleasant. “Yes, Redwing always knew where to find the best—”
He broke off, apparently gauging the inappropriateness of the setting, and cleared his throat. “Saved my butt a few times, too.” He looked at my Lord, those unfathomable black eyes clouding with memories. “Well, where is she?”
Lord Oswald opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“She was a bit late this morning,” I said quickly. “She wanted to look her best for Your Grace.” I spread my hands, palms upward, and smiled apologetically. “Alas, we could wait no longer. Undoubtedly she’ll be outside even now, waiting for us to finish our breakfast.”
The empress nodded, apparently satisfied with my explanation.
Lady Redwing was always late, one of her few real character flaws, so her reputation would bear out my lie if questioned.
The very first night Lady Redwing spent in Lord Oswald’s palace, she was late for dinner. It was a Thursday — before she started her weekly appointments with my Lord — and she sauntered in after delaying dinner for nearly an hour.
Lord Oswald was furious. “You’re late,” he said, fuming.
“I know,” she answered him casually. She clearly didn’t expect her lateness to be a problem for anybody else. “I was ... busy with ... female things.”
The age-old female excuse stopped my Lord in his tracks, and he dropped the subject for the remainder of the evening, but he snapped at anyone who spoke to him.
At the conclusion of the meal, Lady Phoenix rose and announced her intention to retire to her bedchamber, tired from a long day of moving. She fixed a sultry look on Lord Oswald and said nothing more.
It had been a while since my Lord and I had been to The Lucky Lady, whose specialty was a rousing night’s play at cat and mouse in the context of a “chance” encounter of the client’s choosing, which always ended with the cat capturing the mouse. I’m sure his interest piqued at her implication, unjustly as he’d found in another week, after he’d discovered her true intentions. Despite his anger, Lord Oswald’s growing frustrations were clearly heightened by this new addition to our household.
It came as no surpr
ise to me that Lady Redwing was late to breakfast the next morning, and she’d been late for practically everything ever since.
For this breakfast, though, she was missing entirely, a fact which the Eternal Empire’s emperor apparently found inexcusable. “I expect she’ll join us tomorrow then,” the emperor said, and went back to his conversation with Prince Vere.
Empress Jewel nodded in agreement.
From someone else, the remark could have been taken as a statement of hope, an idle wish. From the emperor of eighty three worlds, it could only be taken as a command.
The only problem was that we had no idea where to find Lady Phoenix Redwing.
***
The main problem with the emperor’s party only a day away was that neither my Lord nor I had suitable clothing for such a high visibility party. Directly after breakfast, it fell to me to find such clothes. Mentioning a tailor whose name I’d overheard from one of Prince Vere’s retinue, I tried to borrow a jumper, but the palace administrator insisted on providing a chauffeured jumper for me instead.
“Absolutely not,” the administrator sniffed. “Guests of the emperor do not do these things themselves.” He smoothed the collar on his impeccable uniform and resumed his work, the discussion, for him, ended.
I thanked him and asked the driver take me to Vere’s tailor. He laughed and told me the man was a joke. “I’ll take you to the administrator’s tailor, Peabody.” I had to admit the uniform had done the man justice, so I agreed readily.
Peabody the tailor was an unremarkable man, short with gray eyes, thinning gray hair and a thickening paunch. But he agreed to the rush job — at an astronomical premium, of course — and I was sure Lord Oswald would be happy to pay whatever he asked.
I gave the tailor my Lord’s measurements from my notes — a personal secretary who can’t get his Lord a tailored suit without having him fitted personally is a poor secretary indeed — but Peabody insisted on measuring me himself. I suspected it was more the novelty of my blue hair, which had already caused more than one customer to enter Peabody’s out of curiosity. The tailor seemed delighted to have me in his shop, and apparently decided that the longer he could delay me, the more added business he could drum up from the curiosity seekers.
Eventually, I made my escape, but only after paying half the bill in advance and exacting from Peabody a promise to have the preliminary fittings ready for Lord Oswald and myself after dinner. I would pick up the final garments first thing in the morning, hopefully well before the emperor’s party.
The problem with events organized by the palace in New Rome was that there were never exact times given for them. We had stumbled into breakfast at the palace that morning on time pretty much by coincidence, not having had any formal advance warning, just an understanding of the way the palace operated. Guests of the emperor were expected to be at the emperor’s beck and call at all times. The party the next day could begin at dawn or at dusk, we had no way of knowing which, and we were expected to sit around the palace for the entire day, if necessary, until the emperor deigned the party should begin.
As I returned to the jumper, I chanced to see a shop nearby with exquisite dresses on display. Ignoring my mission temporarily, I ducked into the shop for a moment and looked around. Still feeling guilty about the dresses I’d destroyed, I decided to replace at least one of them, as a kind of apology to Lady Redwing, should we manage to find her again. If need be, I’d be happy to pay for it myself.
I’d always been an observant man, especially when it came to women, and I’d had the opportunity recently to observe Lady Phoenix more intimately than I’d dreamed possible. Closing my eyes, I imagined her standing before me again in her négligée, and mentally combined that image with the dresses I saw in the shop. It took only a few minutes to find what I wanted, a lovely silver gown much like the one I’d destroyed. It would need the blue accents added, but I doubted the establishment would balk.
I was about to inquire about the price when the dressmaker stole the garment from me. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, “that one was sold just a few minutes ago.”
I apologized and picked out another dress, fancier but not as elegant, yet still acceptable for the emperor’s party — if we found Lady Phoenix, that was.
Another customer came in the shop at that moment, and the dressmaker rushed to attend to her, leaving me to complete the transaction with her underling.
“Oh,” she said, surprised, when I provided Lord Oswald’s credit chit. “Shall I put it on your account?”
I stared at her, equally surprised. Obviously, she was confusing my Lord with someone else. I’d never been in the shop before, and as far as I knew, the prince hadn’t been here since I started working for him, so any credit information the shop would have would have been a decade old. I didn’t have the time to figure out her error, so I just shook my head and told her, “Settle it to this,” pointing at the credit chit I’d provided.
She boxed the dress for me quickly, and I dashed out of the shop, stuffing the receipt into my pocket without looking at it.
As I was running later than I’d anticipated, the driver took me back to the Phoenix directly without checking in at the palace first. Had I been with the prince, I wouldn’t have taken that liberty — guests were expected to check in and out fastidiously with the palace administrator — but the driver assured me he’d check me in himself.
Before the driver left, I made arrangements to have the jumper come for Lord Oswald and me after dinner, so that we could return to the tailor’s. I took the dress into the Phoenix and left it in the lady’s empty quarters, just in case she returned, then went back to the palace.
Checking in with the administrator, I received a stern lecture on protocol and a grave assurance that the driver had certainly overstepped his bounds — if the driver had actually advised me as I had claimed, which the administrator highly doubted. The administrator insisted that I promise not to deviate from the rules again, which I did, and asked after my Lord.
His expression changed instantly. “Why, of course, sir. He’s undoubtedly at lunch, which is being served in the dining hall at this very moment.”
Once again, I’d manage to get Lord Oswald to a secretly-scheduled event in the palace just under the wire — if I hurried and didn’t have to launch an all-out search for him. Hoping my Lord was lucky enough in discovering lunch already, I dashed past the mingling retinues to the dining hall where we’d had breakfast and stopped outside the door, panting, waiting to catch my breath before stepping inside in full view of the court.
All the heirs were in the room again, with their companions and guards. In fact, with the exception of the emperor and empress, who were missing, it looked as though nobody had moved since breakfast. Relieved to see my prince already seated, I strode casually to my chair and sat down.
Lady Vere’s stare was unmistakably following me, but then so was everyone else’s. Even so, I stumbled again when our eyes locked.
“Good to see you, Euclid,” Lord Oswald whispered to me as I pulled my chair closer to the table. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.”
Still slightly out of breath, I dabbed my forehead with my napkin, so that the beads of sweat gathering there didn’t shine so much, and nodded.
“You look a little ... moist.”
I nodded again. “Been running.”
“Ah,” my Lord said, nodding agreeably. “Next time wait until after lunch to do your exercises.”
“Thanks,” I said, and left it at that.
Prince Vere stood up and rapped the table for attention, saying, “Gentlemen, gentlemen.” As he was the emperor’s favorite, his plea was answered almost instantly with silence and rapt attention.
“Thank you,” he said, and threw his arms wide. “Welcome. I have a special surprise for you.”
“That would be a hunt,” Lord Oswald whispered in my ear.
“A hunt,” Prince Vere said, beaming uncontrollably.
Judging
from his self-satisfied grin, I’d say something with lots of antlers would look good on his trophy wall. “Something with sixteen point antlers,” I whispered back to my Lord, inclining my head only slightly.
“The local tigerdeer are exceptional this year,” Prince Vere said, looking especially pleased with himself. “They say the stags are nearly eighteen points.”
There was a general murmur of appreciation and a scattering of applause, the kind that came from over-enthusiastic young men who’d never yet hunted.
“It’s settled then,” Prince Vere said. “Directly after this exceptional lunch.”
He sat down and looked directly at Lord Oswald, his piercing sapphire eyes twinkling. “We’ll have a grand time, Adrian, I promise you,” he said, and laughed.
Lord Oswald smiled at the other prince, but I saw his fingers grip his chair like a vice while he gritted his teeth and breathed, “Oz.”
Prince Vere hadn’t actually asked my Lord if he’d go on the hunt, he just assumed that Lord Oswald would accept his invitation.
I knew that Lord Oswald would rather take his chances getting caught admiring the empress’s jewels rather than go hunting with Prince Vere, but after Vere’s comment directly to my Lord, Prince Oswald couldn’t refuse without seeming rude. In the likely event that Prince Vere inherited the empire, such an impoliteness would not go unpunished.
And the standard method of retribution for a new emperor tended to involve rather sharp blades.
I’m sure my Lord was thinking the same things while he gripped his chair in anger, and I’m sure he decided that the danger was too great if he refused to participate, but it seemed to me that, given recent events, the danger still might be greater if he went on the hunt.
The heirs that had dropped dead recently all had one thing in common — Prince Vere or one of his men had been nearby at the time. Only a few days ago, somebody had made an attempt on Lord Oswald’s claim to the imperial throne, with the unspoken promise that the next time it would be his life. Could the hunt be an excuse for that next time?
Ninth Euclid's Prince Page 8