Ninth Euclid's Prince

by Daniel M. Hoyt

  By the time I’d return, Hannah would be back, with Mama and Daddy. Mama would mutter a scolding, too, and the two women would stand in the kitchen for a minute, arms folded, looking at us as though we were lazy puppies.

  “Well, we might as well feed the hogs, Hannah,” Mama said, and then the two of them set about like cyclones, making breakfast. They talked a good game, but anyone could see they actually enjoyed cooking breakfast, so we Euclids just kept out of their way and let them do it.

  Generally, we all helped in the cooking, and no Euclid ever left the Ancel household without knowing how to cook at least three types of each meal — a simple, everyday one; a special meal for special occasions; and a fancy meal for guests. With breakfast, lunch and dinner, we all knew how to cook a minimum of nine meals, suitable for any occasion or time of day.

  But breakfast at home was Hannah’s chosen responsibility. I tried to help once, but she shooed me away, saying, “It’s okay, Nine, I don’t mind,” just before turning to upbraid Second Euclid for not helping her.

  More Euclids would trickle into the kitchen, but we’d all be there before the first plate hit the table — literally hit the table, to wake up Fifth.

  The emperor’s heirs trickled in for breakfast like we Euclids would, except that the heirs were dressed in their finest, and nobody rested a sleepy head on the table. To a man, they arrived flustered, but relaxed once they determined their lateness hadn’t offended the royal couple.

  On the whole, none of the heirs treated Lord Oswald differently than they had before the hunt. The subject of the murder was forgotten, or at least ignored, until Lord Noir was ready to make a pronouncement. Even my Lord seemed to have forgotten the incident.

  I would have thought, when faced with a suspected murderer, that most people would have been suspicious, eyes darting around in fear, nervously shifting in their seats, shooting accusing looks occasionally. But there was none of that; just the normal conviviality between old friends at the breakfast table.

  A few times, I thought I caught Lady Vere eyeing me, but I don’t think her interest was in the hunt. She sat directly across the table from me, sitting regally in a light green gown, tight across her small breasts, but loose everywhere else, effectively concealing her slim hips and narrow waist. Her blonde hair hung loose, falling just past her shoulders, and her melted-chocolate eyes tended downward, looking up every now and then to catch my gaze fully.

  I smiled weakly once, and she blushed furiously and looked away. I found it hard not to stare at her for the remainder of the meal after that. She was even more … everything than the last time I’d seen her.

  Lady Vere picked at her fruit salad delicately, looking aloof and unconcerned. She was the very image of the princess that she was entitled to claim herself.

  For me, however, despite my calm exterior, it was a meal filled with tension. The food was excellent, but it soured in my stomach instantly, as I thought of the mortal peril awaiting my Lord at Noir’s discretion. At a time like this, my Lord needed my supportive presence more than ever, yet he also needed me to hear the palace gossip, which was impossible without his retinue.

  I felt impotent.

  Just then, as if in response to my fears, a shrill female voice boomed from the doorway, “Of course I’m invited, you dolt. Now stand aside.”

  The imperial guards blocked the doorway with their ornamental swords, denying someone entrance. Of course, if the intruder actually made it past the guards, it wouldn’t be the guards’ swords that would kill her, it would be the burners hidden in their sword hilts cutting her down.

  I saw a flash of brilliant red hair in a momentary space between the guards, and, coupled with the intruder’s familiar voice, I recognized the woman at the doorway instantly.

  Lady Phoenix Redwing.

  My heart skipped a beat or two, giddy with anticipation of the ensuing tangle of wills.

  Lord Oswald whispered something to the empress, who nodded to her guard and whispered something to him after he appeared by her side. The room fell deathly silent as he trotted off to whisper something to the door guards, too, whereupon the door guards uncrossed their swords for Lady Phoenix.

  I saw several members of her retinue looking over her shoulders. After she entered the room, the door guards resumed their positions and her retinue disappeared. Hopefully, they were on their way to mingle with the other retinues, listening and learning, gathering the information my Lord needed to clear his name before Lord Noir decided his fate.

  Lady Redwing glided alongside the table, dressed elegantly in a silver gown that looked exactly like the one I had tried to buy for her after visiting the tailor, Peabody — with blue accents.

  I’m sure I blanched when I realized we’d missed our appointment with Peabody due to my Lord’s house arrest. I looked away from Lady Redwing to find Lady Vere staring at me curiously. She probably thought my reaction had something to do with Lady Redwing, rather than my natural concern for what Lord Oswald would wear to the succession announcement party — assuming Lord Noir allowed the prince to attend.

  Clumsily, I pushed back my chair, scraping the floor audibly, and shot to my feet just before Lady Redwing reached the end of the table. I offered her my seat; instantly, my half-eaten plate was cleared away and replaced with a fresh entrée for the lady, even before I’d backed up to the wall to stand with the guards.

  I noticed Lady Vere watching me again as I retreated into the shadows.

  Lady Redwing smiled broadly, ignoring the absolute silence and rapt attention to her every movement. “Jewel, dear, it’s so good to see you again,” she said conversationally to the empress of eighty three worlds. “And how’s His Grace doing?”

  Emperor Seraphim glanced up from his food at Lady Redwing and mumbled something unintelligible while grinning wolfishly. Lady Phoenix blew him a kiss and winked at him. The emperor blushed scarlet and looked down again.

  To my amazement — and my Lord’s and I’m fairly certain every other heir’s, too — the empress stretched out her hands over Lord Oswald’s plate to grasp Lady Redwing’s hands momentarily and chatted blithely as though they were sisters meeting at a family reunion.

  Periodically throughout the affectionate display, the emperor looked up briefly, at least as far as Lady Redwing’s ample displayed cleavage, and blushed before dropping his gaze again.

  The heirs slowly began to return to their conversations, all the while staring at Lady Phoenix. Most of them were probably trying to figure out exactly who this ravishing lady was that had the empress’s ear.

  After a few minutes of listening between the two ladies, Lord Oswald graciously offered to swap seats with Lady Phoenix, who accepted his offer enthusiastically.

  As I watched the two ladies gossiping, I realized with a start how much Lady Phoenix had managed to accomplish without my Lord’s assistance. Somewhere along the line, without our noticing, she’d become friends with the royal couple, to an extent that appeared even closer than some of the heirs.

  But she wasn’t an heir.

  It occurred to me then that my Lord and I had both underestimated the advantages of an alliance with Lady Redwing. We’d considered her a minor nuisance around the palace, to be sure, but an annoyance that paid for itself and more. And with potential romantic fringe benefits, at least for my Lord.

  Of course, I had my own reasons for not wanting to dissolve the Redwing alliance, as I considered the Lady to be a close friend, and friends were always useful in the Eternal Empire, but now here was a tremendously strong reason for my Lord to want to keep Lady Phoenix happy.

  The lady, of course, knew this, too, as evidenced by her frequent I-told-you-so glances directed at the prince.

  Breakfast dragged on, nonetheless, lasting well into midmorning. The royal couple rose to leave, which involved several attempts by the emperor, even with his cane, so the event took a few minutes, during which Lady Redwing took the opportunity to motion me over to the table again.

  �
��Thank you for the dress, Euclid,” she said to me and kissed me briefly on the cheek. “It’s lovely, but I couldn’t wear it today; I hope you understand.” She wore a worried expression, as if our attire was her greatest concern.

  Recalling the dressmaker’s confusing comment, I realized then what had happened in town the day before. Somehow, I had stumbled on the very same dressmaker where Lady Phoenix had shopped, using my Lord’s name to set up an account for payment. Unwittingly, I happened by almost immediately after her with payment. I had stuffed the receipt in my pocket in my haste to leave the dress shop, but I was fairly sure that I’d find the amount was for somewhat more than the clothing I’d purchased. Evidently, Lady Phoenix had been informed of my gift when she picked up her other purchases.

  I smiled at Lady Redwing. “This gown is breathtaking, my lady. I quite understand your preference for this one.”

  Lord Oswald patted her hand. “Yes, it’s exquisite, my dear. Wherever did you find it?”

  Lady Redwing giggled. “Oh, it’s just something I found in town to replace a special gown that I’d somehow forgotten to bring along.” Her eyes looked absolutely innocent, as if she hadn’t known about the theft of some of her clothing.

  Did she really believe that she’d forgotten to pack the gown? If so, why did she leave the ship with the remainder of her wardrobe?

  “Oh,” she said suddenly. “I almost forgot. My chauffeur mentioned that you’d missed your tailor’s appointment, so I stopped by Peabody’s to pick up your clothes.”

  I looked at Lady Phoenix with renewed admiration. Beneath her sometimes fiery disposition beat a heart with a great capacity for forgiveness, which seemed to me what my Lord needed most in a woman.

  With new hope, I resolved then to ensure Lady Redwing would win Lord Oswald’s heart.

  ***

  My Lord and I returned to our palace suite to find Peabody’s suits deposited in the small receiving room we shared. Along with them were Lady Redwing’s matched suits and a note suggesting they’d look better than Peabody’s.

  Lord Oswald scoffed at the note and tossed it aside. He grabbed Peabody’s suit and growled, “Get dressed,” before disappearing into his room. I took my own suit from Peabody into my room, pondering how they found their way to our suite.

  How did Lady Redwing know we were staying in the palace? She knew my Lord preferred to stay on the starship. Did she know about my Lord’s alleged involvement in Lord Sumter’s murder? If so, she didn’t give any indications of such knowledge. If not, how did she know to send the clothes to our suite? Had she been to the Phoenix first? Had she moved back in, or was she now in a palace suite of her own?

  I longed to know the lady’s whereabouts as we dressed. She could be just next door, for all I knew. At this point, she might be the prince’s only ally in the palace; I vowed to keep better track of her.

  Struggling with the pants, I found them a bit too tight in the crotch, which meant that I would be unable to sit down without risking a tear. I stepped carefully into the receiving room to beg my Lord his indulgence and reconsider wearing Lady Redwing’s suits.

  “Good, you’re ready,” Lord Oswald said as soon as I appeared in the doorway. “Let’s go, then. It’s been nearly a half hour since breakfast; they’re probably already serving lunch by now.” He grinned at me.

  I was about to make my protest about the suit, but he turned away and headed for the door, his Angels following him. I limped behind as quickly as I could.

  We arrived in the great room again, to a scene not unlike what we experienced every time we came to New Rome, with a few minor changes. Some musicians played in one corner, the music floating around the loud conversations, and some jugglers and magicians wove in and out of the crowd. Other, more specialized and private entertainers, made their way around, too. One such lady reminded me of a lady I knew at the Fire in the Hole, a less-than-discriminating establishment back on Oasis known for its anything-goes policy. I was almost tempted to follow her into one of the private rooms, but I wanted to make sure I was available at a moment’s notice for my Lord, should he need me.

  I recognized several of Lady Redwing’s retinue in attendance. I still hadn’t had the time to coach them on the kind of information we needed to discover, but I hoped they had a good enough idea to ensure their effort wasn’t wasted.

  In good time, I’d get a chance to speak to each of them personally and explain my Lord’s version of imperial court politics. But for now, I wasn’t worried. This was clearly not the first visit Lady Redwing had made to New Rome, and I trusted that her retinue had been able to handle themselves appropriately in the past.

  Lady Phoenix herself was missing, although that didn’t surprise me. Lord Oswald and I made our way around the room separately — a task which would have been far more pleasant in the lady’s sparkling presence — meeting new heirs, chatting about home planets and official duties, speculating about the emperor’s important announcement.

  Nobody mentioned Lord Sumter’s murder.

  In due time, the royal couple appeared, this time accompanied by Lady Redwing, still gorgeous in her silver and blue gown, as well as Prince and Lady Vere. A wave of whispered speculations washed over the assembly as they slowly made their way to the dining room. The emperor’s hobbling set a glacial pace, his walking cane tapping to each step of the slow motion march like one of Old Earth’s Roman galley drummers beating out each stroke of the oars.

  As the procession reached us, the royal couple paused.

  “Adrian, lad, what are you standing there for?” the emperor said vaguely in our direction. “Come and join your delightful fiancée.” He gestured at Lady Redwing.

  Lord Oswald went pale.

  I took a deep breath and waited.

  My Lord looked as though he’d swallowed his tongue, but he recovered quickly, some of the color returning to his face. “Yes, of course, Your Grace.” He rushed to Lady Redwing’s side and locked her arm in his. “She is delightful, isn’t she?”

  Lady Phoenix beamed, a wide smile across her face. She leaned her head onto the prince’s shoulder.

  The royal procession continued on to the dining room for lunch, while I limped along a short distance away, trying desperately not to burst the seams on my ill-fitting pants.

  Lunch played out much the same as the other meals, with one notable exception. My seat, thankfully, had been given up to Lord Oswald, his own having been vacated for Lady Redwing, so that the empress and Lady Redwing could chat.

  I stood behind my Lord and his lady, along with the guards. Apparently, it was expected that I would lunch with the guards. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt that some of the heirs were relieved to see the big blue-haired monstrosity sent away from the table. I didn’t mind; I wasn’t sure I could sit down without embarrassing myself and my Lord, anyway.

  Most of the heirs let me fade into the background, but I thought Lady Vere glanced over at me every now and again, a smoldering look in her eyes as her gaze dropped to my waist. I got the impression a few times that Empress Jewel was discussing me with Lady Redwing, who’d glance over her shoulder conspiratorially just before the two of them started giggling.

  It was probably the pants. I blushed, thinking how many others in the room noticed the poor fit.

  As I was standing uncomfortably in the shadows against the wall, listening to the idle conversation, I realized that I never saw the guards eat. They faded into the background, and I didn’t notice them any more, so I never saw them have their own lunch. It turned out that they ate at the same time as the heirs, just not in the same place, and not all simultaneously. By some type of convention I wasn’t privy to, a few guards would leave the dining hall for only a few minutes at a time, presumably to lunch at the buffet set up in the great room for the retinues. They slipped out noiselessly, unnoticed by the heirs, and returned equally ignored. A few more would leave, and so on, until the entire contingent of guards had cycled out for lunch.

  Th
en they cycled through again, presumably for more food, a bathroom trip, or just a break in the tedium.

  Since I was uninitiated, one of the Angels had to tell me when my turn was, and I slipped out then — not very gracefully, given my pants, but at least noiselessly.

  I wondered how many times we had been left with only one Angel as a guard without even realizing our protection had diminished. I made a mental note to pay more attention to their whereabouts.

  I had just returned from my second trip when Lord Noir arrived with an uncharacteristic flourish.

  The noise in the dining room died down slowly over the course of a minute, as the heirs registered Lord Noir’s presence one by one and turned their attention to Prince Oswald.

  They had not forgotten about the murder.

  Lord Noir scanned the heirs in silence, as if he were performing a silent roll call in his head. He nodded when he was finished. “Good,” he announced loudly, “it appears that we aren’t missing any more people today.” He stared directly at Lord Oswald. “A vast improvement over yesterday.”

  Slowly, Lord Noir walked toward the head of the table, where the royal couple sat. He didn’t say another word during the walk, but Noir took his time getting there, milking the suspense for all it was worth. Eventually, he reached the emperor, and stood directly behind him, grasping the back of the emperor’s gilded chair with both hands.

  “As you know, the emperor has asked you here to make an important announcement.” He pulled the emperor’s chair back, with the emperor still on it. “The Emperor Seraphim VI,” he announced, bowing his head.

  We waited while the emperor struggled to his feet, refusing all attempts to help him up faster. Finally, he gained relatively stable footing. “I am getting old,” he said, flatly, and ignored some token protests. “One week from today I will announce my successor.”