Sterren bowed. “As you wish, my lady,” he said. “If you need me, I expect to be at Semma Castle.”
She bowed in return, and Sterren left the room.
As he strolled down the hill on one of Vond’s fine paved roads, he whistled quietly to himself.
It was over. He had discharged his responsibilities. He had cleaned up the mess he had created.
He had won Semma’s war, but in the process of winning it he had unleashed Vond and destroyed Semma. Now he had removed Vond, but had kept his good works, his empire, intact. He could not be warlord of Semma, since Semma was gone, and now he was no longer chancellor of Vond.
He was free. He could go home to Ethshar if he wanted, or he could stay where he was.
He was crossing the market before the castle gate when a soldier spotted him and waved. He waved back.
“Lord Sterren,” the man called in Semmat, “what about a game of three-bone?”
Sterren looked over, thinking of the feel of the dice in his fingers. At that thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a faint silent buzz—or perhaps even a whisper.
He shuddered.
“No, thanks,” he called. He turned his gaze away, up toward the castle.
He saw Princess Shirrin standing on the battlements, watching him approach. He waved.
She smiled, and waved back.
Startled, he stumbled and almost fell, then caught himself and walked on.
She must finally have forgiven him for allowing her father to be deposed, he realized. She could not possibly know yet that Vond was gone.
He could explain it all to her now, explain how he had known Vond was doomed, and that to resist him would only lead to disaster. She would welcome this explanation, he was sure. She would welcome him.
He thought he just might stay in Semma after all.
Epilogue
Sterren lay on his bed, enjoying the view of warm afternoon sunlight and contemplating his future. Marriage to Princess Shirrin seemed delightfully inevitable. Nobody seemed disposed to evict him from his comfortable tower room in Semma Castle, and nobody objected to his presence at the table at meals, so he had free food and shelter and was in no great hurry to find another home, or any genuine occupation.
Life was good.
A polite knock sounded.
He ignored it for a moment, too comfortable to want to move.
A much less polite knock sounded.
He sighed and sat up as the second knock was followed by someone pounding on his door and calling, “Lord Sterren! We must speak with you!”
“I’m coming!” he shouted in reply.
Reluctantly, he rolled off the bed and onto his feet, crossed the room, and opened the door.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Then he saw who was in the corridor beyond.
The entire Imperial Council was standing there.
For a moment he stared at them silently, and they stared back.
“What is it?” he asked again. “What do you want?”
Lady Kalira spoke, while the others remained grimly silent.
“Lord Sterren,” she said, “for the past two sixnights we have tried to do as you suggested, running the Empire ourselves. For the most part, I think we have succeeded. However, some problems have arisen that we find ourselves unable to deal with. We spend our time in pointless bickering over the most trivial issues, and when we try to vote, someone invariably abstains and we find ourselves in a tie, and the arguments start all over again.”
Sterren blinked, and said, “So what?”
“So,” Lady Kalira said, glaring balefully at him, “your system is not working.”
Sterren felt a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.
She paused for a moment, and then continued, “Furthermore, we have some doubts about the nature of our authority. We are all accustomed to living under monarchy, where one person holds the final say. We aren’t comfortable having that power divided—particularly when it stays divided because our votes end in ties.”
“What does this have to do with me?” he asked, afraid that he knew.
“Lord Sterren,” Lady Kalira said, “you brought the warlock here, and in doing so you destroyed all the established hierarchies. You served as his chancellor, which gave you an authority nobody else in the Empire now possesses. We need an authority, a king or an emperor, who can settle these endless little disputes, and the only authority we can all agree on is yours.”
“But I don’t want it!” Sterren protested.
“That’s exactly why we chose you as emperor,” Lady Kalira explained. “How could we trust someone who hungered after power?”
“I won’t do it,” Sterren said.
“Lord Sterren,” Lady Kalira said, “you have little choice. You arranged for your Imperial Council to have absolute power, did you not?”
“Yes, I did,” Sterren began, “and I...”
“In that case, your Majesty,” she interrupted, “if the Council’s power is absolute, you must yield to it—and it is the will of the Council, determined by unanimous vote, that you, Sterren of Semma, be named emperor of Vond.”
Sterren stared at her. He realized what he had just done. In admitting that he had arranged for the Council to have absolute power, he had tacitly admitted that he, himself, had the authority to grant such power, and he could hardly deny the Council’s right to return it. He fumed for a moment, and then burst out, “I am not going to be an emperor!”
“As you wish, your Majesty,” she said, bowing. “Tell us then what title you prefer.”
“Vond is the emperor,” he pointed out. “I can’t be emperor.”
“Vond is gone,” Lady Kalira replied.
He looked over the seven faces before him, all of them determined. “You all want me in charge?” he demanded.
All seven nodded, but he thought one or two might have hesitated.
“Suppose I refuse?”
“If you refuse, your Majesty,” Lady Kalira said, “I’m afraid that I will be forced to resign from the Council, and I believe several others will resign as well.”
He looked over the faces and saw no hint of yielding.
Lady Kalira said, “Need I point out that if the Council resigns, the Empire will fall apart? I expect that the old kingdoms would revive, and that you would probably be considered a traitor by the nobility of Semma.”
That was true enough, and Princess Shirrin was one of those nobles.
Besides, he thought the Empire was a good thing—he saw no point to all the petty little kingdoms it had replaced.
“Oh, hell,” he said. “You could appoint me regent, I suppose.”
Smiles of varying intensity appeared on four of the seven faces; the other three he couldn’t read.
“Lady Kalira will serve as my chancellor and vice-regent, of course,” he said.
Her smile had been an intermediate one; it vanished completely, and she opened her mouth to protest.
Then she stopped as she saw the look of satisfaction on his face.
“As your Majesty wishes,” she said, reluctantly. She hesitated. “Will you be moving back into the Imperial Palace?”
“Let me think it over,” he said. He stepped back into the room, and waved in dismissal. “You may go,” he said.
The councillors turned away, when a thought occurred to him. “Lady Kalira!” he called.
She turned and waited as the others continued down the stairs.
“That vote,” he asked. “Was it really unanimous?”
She smiled. “On the second ballot,” she said.
Then she turned and headed for the stairs.
About the Author
Lawrence Watt-Evans is the author of more than two dozen novels, and more than a hundred short stories. Further information can be found on his webpage at http://www.watt-evans.com/.
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