The Road to Hell - eARC

by David Weber

  Still, Howan Fai couldn’t help wondering if Imperial Crown Princess Andrin might not like a pair of earrings made up with these. There was no way he could make such a present without also making himself a fool, but he imagined she might very much like them. They weren’t the absolute highest quality rubies, so maybe to a Calirath they wouldn’t seem so expensive and could be worn almost everyday. And a certain something about the way the fire glinted inside the gems reminded him of her spirit.

  With a sigh, he pushed away the beauties and selected a broach formed in the shape of a butterfly with a clever combination of worked silver and dyed pearls.

  As he handed the shopkeeper his choice, Howan Fai examined the glass behind the jewelry counter to check his human shadow. The suspicious man was standing in front of a set of ladies’ bracelets in a large glass case with a mirrored back side. The man showed remarkably little interest in similar bracelets laid out on velvet without mirroring. And when Howan Fai produced his wallet to pay, the man seemed to decide he couldn’t afford the jewelry and wandered out of the store. If the trend continued, the man would find a nice outdoor spot and pass the tail on to a less familiar face.

  The shopkeeper wrapped the purchase carefully in a dozen layers of fine cloth, and Howan Fai tucked the package into an interior pocket secure from the quick fingers of the city’s clever street criminals. Then he leaned in to exchange a few words with the shopkeeper.

  “Master Jeweler. Did you see the large man behind me by the gold bracelets? He was not a regular customer, I don’t think?”

  The owner shook his head with wry disgust. “Haven’t seen him before, Your Lordship. Not someone I knew, but begging Your Lordship’s pardon, there’ve been customers come for this Conclave with the look of desert bandits who turned out to be foreign princes. That one had the look of a thief, so I kept an eye out. My goods are all still here.”

  Howan Fai nodded and didn’t correct his title. Tajvana was teaming with foreign nobles these days, and most in the gemsellers’ district had taken to greeting everyone as a lord, just to be safe. Some of his own ancestors had become sea nomads to avoid the land wars which had raged between some of the other Conclave attendees’ ancestors—and many of those attendees did look like desert bandits even in Eniathian eyes, far less from the perspective of cosmopolitan Tajvana.

  Thievery wasn’t an explanation Howan Fai had considered likely, but it made sense from the shopkeeper’s perspective, so he adjusted his story slightly.

  “That man seems to have been following me, and I’d like to keep the fine jewelry I just bought. There was another one—his partner, perhaps—across the street.…

  The shopkeeper lifted the side of his coat to reveal the revolver that looked like the shorter-barreled, lighter civilian version of the Ternathian H&W. It had a well-worn grip, and there were two speedloader pouches on his belt. Howan Fai had expected the owner of a shop with so much valuable merchandise to have guards on staff, and he’d wondered why he hadn’t seen any; now he knew why.

  “They won’t rob Your Lordship in my store. But I could send for an escort if you’d like?”

  Howan Fai caught a blatantly skeptical glance from his own guardsman, Munn Lii, which made Lii’s opinion about the value of city police for dealing with the brutes the Empire of Uromathia usually hired as intimidators quite clear. A few extra bodies would make it easier for the two of them to escape a bruising if that was all they faced, but unsuspecting men on the police force could easily be maimed or killed in a serious attack by the kind of criminals Uromathia could buy.

  Howan Fai shared his guardsman’s views in that regard and demurred as politely as he could.

  “I’ll stay out of dark alleys and my own guard should be sufficient. I just worry that the next customer might not be so wary. Do you think you could provide the city watch with the man’s description? If you come to the front I can point out the watcher too.”

  The shopkeeper readily agreed, and Howan Fai hoped it would at least make this particular criminal’s life more difficult if he continued to sell his services to the likes of Chava Busar. Of course when they came to the front of the store both the possible thief and the shivering cafe man were gone.

  The shopkeeper claimed the police must have already run them off, but he added after an uncomfortable pause, “At least I hope they did.”

  He seemed less than certain of that, unfortunately, and Howan Fai found himself regretting that he’d raised the specter of thieves operating with impunity in such a prosperous area of the city. Tajvana might not be the glorious city it had once been under the Old Ternathian Empire, but he began to wonder just how thoroughly the Order of Bergahl had undermined respect for justice in the city if even gemsellers weren’t certain criminals would be stopped by the police.

  He didn’t think his shadows were regular criminals, but now he wondered if the shopkeeper hadn’t also noted the excellent musculature and guessed at some more professional organization than the loose bonds avarice would form among common criminals. A check at the doorframe showed the Bergahl emblem was affixed with gold wire next to the certificate of business sealed by the Seneschal.

  The establishment certainly seemed paid up with whatever tithes or taxes the Order demanded. Howan Fai’s own variant of the Uromathian faith placed the onus for piety on the individual, but some church fathers charged civilian leaders to mandate externally imposed religious observances instead. The quarterly stamps around the Bergahl emblem hinted strongly at a fiscal piety extracted from the well-to-do of Tajvana with the force of law.

  “We all pay our dues to the Seneschal, Your Lordship.” The shopkeeper acknowledged Howan Fai’s careful inspection of the posted certificates. “It’ll be better for all of us when this Conclave is over,” the man said. “We dearly love the city’s visitors, of course, but the Seneschal is Tajvana.”

  Munn Lii stepped quickly out the front door to check the street more thoroughly. Howan Fai stayed inside, waiting for his guard’s all clear and intrigued by the shopkeeper’s comments.

  “Visitors? I suspect many of us will be staying for quite some time. After the Conclave, we’ll have to set up residences for officials coordinating with the unified empire. I’ll likely be going home soon, but it’ll be good for Tajvana to grow don’t you think?”

  “As Your Lordship says, that’d be well enough, of course. But the Caliraths, won’t they want to get back to Hawkwing in the Ternathian Isles again? They left once, you know.”

  Through the shop’s broad windows Munn Lii gave him the sign to wait and Howan Fai examined the shopkeeper’s face. The man didn’t seem to believe his own words, quite, but the way he leaned in and pressed his lips together did seem to imply he hoped Howan Fai would confirm them.

  “I believe Tajvana should prepare itself to be the imperial seat for the Winged Crown once again,” he said finally.

  “Oh.” The man deflated. “And Your Lordship is quite sure?”

  “Yes.” He read fear in the shopkeeper’s eyes, so he added, “The Caliraths will be good for Tajvana. You’ve seen the carpenters and masons repairing the Grand Palace.” He seized on a point he expected a local merchant to appreciate. “There’ll be more fine work ordered after the worst of the damages are seen to. The gilding over the common entry way to the audience hall is missing for instance.”

  “They’d gild the commoner’s entrance?” The man dry swallowed. “Would Your Lordship have heard when the tax for that is scheduled to begin?” When he didn’t have an immediate answer, the man continued, “I’ll need to sell my gold work before the confiscation. Perhaps Your Lordship has a few friends who’d like to come buy at a discount?”

  “The Caliraths aren’t thieves,” Munn Lii put in as he re-entered the shop. “And our thieves are long gone, Highness.”

  The shopkeeper flustered through an apology that left Howan Fai wondering what sort of policing Tajvana was accustomed to under the Order of Bergahl. He didn’t have to wonder about the tax burden
the Order had imposed, though, and he supposed it was inevitable that the shopkeeper would be anticipating the worst. It would be too much to expect him to realize how utterly different from Faroayn Raynarg, the current Seneschal, a man like Zindel chan Calirath truly was. Besides, Zindel wouldn’t need to inflate his treasury just to repair the palace. The Imperial Suite had suffered an explosion of gilded surfaces under the Order of Bergahl stewardship. A few chairs from that chamber would provide more than enough gold leaf to set the entire main entranceway to rights; if the bathroom fixtures were replaced with mere solid silver, the Caliraths could build an entire new façade for the north wing! He seriously considered pointing that out, but the proprietor clearly had too many negative experiences to believe him.

  Howan Fai gave up calming the man and left the store.

  “There’s little difference between banditry and taxes in some places, Highness,” was all Munn Lii had to say about it.

  “This won’t be tolerated for long.” Howan Fai couldn’t help giving a pair of city guardsmen patrolling the street a look of disgust. “I wouldn’t tolerate it, and I don’t believe Emperor Zindel will accept it either.”

  Munn Lii was right about their tail and his watcher having disappeared. Howan Fai wasn’t sure the two men hadn’t simply realized they’d been recognized and left. The crowd filling the street now showed no one who stood out or appeared to be lingering anywhere too long. He sincerely hoped the shopkeeper wasn’t too frightened of the criminals’ possible Order affiliation to make a report when the city guard eventually stopped by.

  Chapter Eight

  December 13

  Andrin listened with rapt attention during the afternoon gathering of the Privy Council. Technically it wasn’t a formal meeting since neither Emperor Zindel nor a councilors’ quorum was present, but the working session was vitally important. And her father would be receiving a detailed report of everything they uncovered.

  Privy Voice Ulantha Jastyr, formerly the Assistant Privy Voice, sat in the corner making a human record of everything said. She was surrounded by physical reports and notices Andrin vaguely recognized as the routine work of the Privy Voice’s aide. Alazon Yanamar’s resignation was for public consumption, not reality, and Andrin knew her father intended to have the exceptional Talent back in formal service once Darcel Kinlafia was elected. But Jastyr was an excellent Voice in her own right, and Andrin appreciated having one person on the Privy Council who was closer to her age than her father’s.

  Andrin added to her very long list of things to accomplish someday, a mental note to find a way to see Jastyr was rewarded for her term as Privy Voice with more than just a thank you and a resumption of her former duties as Alazon Yanamar’s aide and protégé. In fact, she supposed it was time she began assembling her own staff—that was another thing Janaki would have been doing if she hadn’t been thrust into his rightful place—and one member of that staff ought to be a Voice of her own.…

  The papers and notes Jastyr was shuffling through at the moment had nothing at all to do with Crown Prince Howan Fai Goutin or any of the other Uromathian marriage candidates, however. The Privy Voice was managing all the other reports and notices that had been forwarded to her father’s attention relating to the war, the administration of the empire, and the minutia of coordinating a multi-universe unification.

  The other council members focused on the detailed discovery and analysis of marriageable candidates, freeing Jastyr to limit her involvement to making a perfect mental record of the proceedings, and Andrin was deeply thankful for the Privy Voice’s ability to multitask. Having heard her recall before, Andrin had no doubt at all Jastyr would be able to provide the Emperor with a perfect recitation of everything they discussed when she briefed him at the end of the day. But even more important than updating Zindel, Jastyr kept the secret. No one else could be allowed to know they were working on a way around Emperor Chava’s demand until the moment they announced the wedding and Jastyr was playing her part flawlessly. Voices working with the media and serving other royals knew Alazon Yanamar’s mind intimately, but Jastyr was new. The change in Privy Voices would certainly help Darcel’s chances of securing a seat in the new Imperial House of Talents, but perhaps even more importantly, it also protected the secret. Even Voicecasters who might have realized Alazon was hiding something in one of the countless interviews and Voice briefings expected of her position were unlikely to detect those same nuances in Jastyr’s Voice. Not until they’d had longer to become accustomed to Hearing her, at any rate.

  First Councilor Taje, at the end of the table opposite Andrin, checked off the agenda items and called on Brithum Dulan to handle the presentation on prospective consorts.

  “Your Highness.” Councilor Dulan nodded to her. “I think we have some useful information to present today. We’ve had men investigating every candidate Uromathian prince in Tajvana and a few more who didn’t come for the Conclave. I’ll remind everyone that while every member of the Imperial Guard is loyal, none of the men testifying about their investigations know why they were assigned the task.”

  The first councilor and the few other council members in the room acknowledged the warning amicably. Andrin—who suspected the real reason he’d mentioned the point had more to do with her presence than with the councilors who’d been working with him since the beginning of the effort—thanked him politely and they began the day’s work.

  The subject of the day was the Eniath Crown Prince: Howan Fai Goutin, his family, his background, his connections to Emperor Chava Busar, and perhaps most critically, the detailed minutia of their claim that his qualifications met the terms of the Unification Treaty.

  That final piece was easiest to confirm. Everything Darcel Kinlafia and Alazon Yanamar had pointed out about the treaty and Howan Fai was absolutely accurate. The terms of the original treaty called for a Princess of Uromathia to wed the Crown Prince of Ternathia. With Janaki dead, Chava had accepted the modification of Prince of Uromathia and Crown Princess. And as Darcel had pointed out, even though the implication had been Prince of the Uromathian Empire—which could be interpreted only as Chava’s sons—the treaty itself said only Prince of Uromathia…and Uromathia was a continent, not simply a single empire which happened to be located upon it. Howan Fai was a prince, and Howan Fai was Uromathian. All that remained was to ensure he was also a good candidate for consort.

  At a nod from the first councilor, Dulan ushered in the first of his men.

  Tolleran chan Lofti, a tall, well-muscled man with the extreme physical fitness common in the Imperial Guard, reported with sheepish detail his recent investigation of the eligible Uromathian prince.

  “So you said you think the Eniath Crown Prince recognized you this morning even with the disguise change?” Taje asked.

  “I don’t think so, My Lord,” chan Lofti replied. “I know so. He made me, and it could’ve gotten quite awkward if I hadn’t seen the look he passed to Munn Lii, his guard, and used the back exit instead of the front. In fairness, he didn’t guess who was actually having him followed. He seems to have assumed I was a Bergahl hireling, or possibly someone working for Emperor Chava. I’d barely started writing up the report when Munn Lii stopped by headquarters to ask if we’d had warning of any threats against Conclave members from Chava’s supporters.”

  Andrin blanched. “Emperor Chava knows?”

  “Knows what?” chan Lofti looked genuinely confused, then quickly amended his question. “My apologies, Your Highness. But I work outside the Palace most of the time and I certainly don’t want to know any more than I need to.”

  Andrin swallowed her questions and let Taje answer the man.

  “We’ll take the rest of your report now, I think,” the first councilor said smoothly. “If we need to call you back for more questions later, we’ll do so.”

  “Of course, First Councilor.” chan Lofti took a moment to regather his thoughts and then continued. “There was an Order thug at a cafe playing lookout for some ki
nd of strong arm antics on Gem Street. Either the Prince or the merchant, possibly both, associated me with that operation.”

  “My actual backup, Dorelle chan Whalen, was posing as City Watch for the morning, so he got a full report from the jewelry merchant. It seems the young Prince talked the merchant into reporting me in spite of the man’s obvious fear of the Order. He gave a pretty good description, too. If I were a criminal, I wouldn’t be able to work in Tajvana again.”

  “Is that some sort of Talent?” Taje asked.

  “Hard to say. In the merchant, definitely not. In the Prince, maybe. But I think, no. I suspect Prince Howan Fai is simply more observant than usual and something’s happened to put him enough on edge that he’s paying attention to the crowd even when his mind is wandering.”

  “Oh?” Andrin leaned in.

  “Dorelle said—and he wrote it up in the report if you want his exact words, Your Highness—he said the merchant thought the Prince was quite taken with a princess and had trouble making a selection. It could just have been a storekeeper talking up his wares, but there’d be no reason for the man to add that to the telling.”

  Andrin listened with rapt attention.

  “He could have been buying for a girlfriend back on Eniath or even a fiancé,” the Privy Voice suggested, glancing up from her stack of paperwork with a concerned glance at Andrin.

  The crown princess sat back, disturbed at this new thought. Could her perfect solution be the ruin of Howan Fai’s life? His father was a close ally of her father, and with the importance of the Sharona Unification on the line, Howan Fai could be forced to give up a previously formed attachment to become her unwilling groom.

  Chan Lofti actually laughed. “I hardly think so. He bought a broach for his mother. The search of his apartments while he was out revealed only letters to his father about the Conclave. And out with his friends last night he was teased mercilessly for not having a prospect for future Queen of Eniath.”