by Tony Roberts
Lalaas said nothing, wondering what in the name of Kastan it would be. They got to her small day room, a tiny office with a desk, three chairs and papers or parchments arranged untidily on the desk. Lalaas stood formally until Amne irritably waved him to relax and sit.
“The recent plot to kill me at my wedding, Lalaas, that is what I wish to discuss with you. My darling husband,” she said with an edge to her words, “has not mentioned it to me nor anyone else, so I understand. I want you to follow it up.”
Lalaas looked thoughtful. He rubbed his chin. “Captain Vosgaris said he’d interrogated the archer the Fokis had contracted and it would appear he was merely a decoy. He was supposed to be found out so we would think we had the man and not look for the real agent, the priest.”
“Yes, and it was fortunate Vosgaris got the right man and forced the truth out of him, just in time. It was a very skilful shot, by the way, Lalaas. Did you ever think you’d miss and hit me?”
Lalaas smiled briefly. “No, ma’am. It was close, and there was no wind. It was an easy shot.”
Amne looked at the man gratefully for a moment, then composed herself. “So, the Fokis. Nobody has even tried to arrest them! We have the definite connection to their House, and the man Vosgaris interrogated confessed he had been paid by his masters to set up the whole thing. That woman, Sela Fokis, was employing their man Philas when Vosgaris took him from their house in Cloth Street. If that’s not evidence, then I don’t know what is!”
Lalaas shrugged. “When we went to the house it was vacated. They had left in a hurry. Even Vacan Fokis has gone. We don’t know where. No doubt they are at large in the city somewhere, protected by their friends, plotting some new devious scheme, but unless we find where they are I don’t see what we can do.”
“Well that simply is not good enough, Lalaas,” Amne said with a frown. “I certainly do not wish to carry on here with the Fokis or their allies the Kanzet or Falanges or whatever House scheming against me. I need an assurance that they are no longer a threat!”
Lalaas rubbed his chin. “I was under the impression that any heavy-handed move against a noble House might cause a reaction from the others. The Council have not made any protest against the moves made on the Duras but that was only because their plot was so disgraceful it even turned their stomachs. They all swiftly distanced themselves from the Duras, if I recall rightly, ma’am.”
“Amne, when we’re alone together, remember?”
“Sorry, yes, Amne. You yourself know I cannot go around looking to arrest the Fokis without firm evidence that the other Houses can see. What am I? A mere commoner! I have no authority over these people.”
Amne waved an irritable arm. “Phoo-ey! You’re acting on behalf of me or my father, and that’s good enough. Oh, all right, I see what you’re saying, Lalaas; it just makes me angry that these beasts can plot like this and then scuttle away to safety and the other Houses move to protect them.”
“Your father knows he has to walk a careful line. He alienated many of the Houses when he took power and caused a reaction. Now things are more settled it’s even harder to make a move against another House. What Houses can you count upon for support?”
Amne drummed her manicured fingers into the desk top. “The Taboz, the Pelgion, the Nicate and maybe the Varaz.”
Lalaas shrugged. “Apart from the Pelgion, aren’t they all minor Houses?”
Amne nodded. “Most of the major Houses have ambitions themselves and father decided it was better to build a power base away from them. The other major families have their own power bases and may look to promote their own emperor if they feel strong enough, so it’s vital we get enough support in the Council to block any such move.”
Lalaas spread his hands wide. “So moving on the Fokis, for example, will cause them to react along with whatever Houses support them, and maybe bring other Houses over to their side if they feel the Koros are getting too powerful. I think the one thing in your favour at the moment is your relative weakness in the Council; with such a small power base the others don’t feel you’re a danger. Astiras is making things better – the trade is certainly on the up and everyone is benefitting, aren’t they?”
“You’re well informed, Lalaas.”
“It’s my job, Amne; you’ve been the one mostly responsible for putting me here and I’ve had to learn fast how to be your ears.”
Amne smiled and relaxed in the chair. “You are right. You work for me, you know that?”
Lalaas nodded and smiled.
“So, Lalaas, I want you to set up a network of informants in Kastan City to keep a watch on the other Houses. We need a really good spy network here working for me. Yes, yes, I know mother’s got one but she’s no longer here, and they’re looking at the entire empire, not just Frasia. I want you to have a special group answerable to you only, and you answerable to me, only. Can you do that, for me, Lalaas?” she smiled.
“Well, yes, but isn’t that underhand?”
Amne pouted. “Maybe, but we need to be in order to combat the underhand ways of our enemies. I must know what they’re planning and have an answer even before they ask the questions.”
Lalaas looked dubious. “Spies cost money.”
“Use those employed by Vosgaris before he left. I’m sure they are still there. Add a few of your own. Look at it like this: you’re a hunter. Hunt the enemies of the Koros. The environment is the city, not the countryside, but the prey is the same. Track them, use your skills.”
Lalaas puffed out his cheeks. “And the funding?”
Amne got out of her chair and slid up to Lalaas and sat on the desk next to him, leaning forward. Her breasts loomed before him enticingly and Lalaas looked away from them up at her blue eyes. “I’ll provide the funding. You’ll do it, won’t you, Lalaas?” she parted her lips and looked at him longingly.
Lalaas put his hand to his eyes. “Yes, yes, Amne, I’ll do it! You’re such a scheming manipulative woman, you know.”
Amne giggled and stood up. “Of course; I’m the emperor’s daughter. Thank you Lalaas,” and she kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the room, pleased to have got the guard captain to do her bidding. Lalaas sighed and followed her out but went in a different direction. He had to admit to himself that organising a new network would be better than the boring schedule of seeing to the guard rotas in the palace. There simply wasn’t enough in the day to fill his time. At least doing this would give him something to do. Perhaps, he mused to himself, it might even reap some benefits.
____
Zofela was a dirty, small, smelly place, or so it seemed to Istan. He was sulking. His room was nothing like it had been in Kastan and he didn’t like it. The journey had been tiring and hot and full of stupid people and stupid animals. Now here in this place in some stupid part of the empire he was going to have to live. His mother and father were stupid.
The only good thing was his stupid brother Argan was not there. He couldn’t think of anyone who was more stupid. Everything he did was stupid. So now he had his room, a small wooden space just big enough for a bed, wardrobe and chest and a small rug, and he was looking out of the single window from the castle out onto the square below. It was dirty and smelly. No pavements for him to walk safely on. Instead here they had mud and animal poo.
The castle was smelly too. It had a funny smell to it that he couldn’t work out but he didn’t like it. The castle was a wooden place and had lots of flags and wall hangings around it, both inside and outside. It did make it look better but it didn’t hide all of the dirt or take away the smell. He was supposed to stay in the castle but he wanted to go out and see all the stupid people doing their stupid things so he could laugh at them. He was a prince and they were not and so he was better than they were. They had to bow to him even if he poked his tongue out at them or called them names, which sounded fun. Stupid Argan never did that – he was too stupid to realise how much fun being a prince was. Once he was emperor he would be horrible to everyone an
d there was nothing any of them would be able to do about it. He might even beat a few up for fun. He would put Argan in the dungeon and make him eat poo every day. He would do that to everyone who didn’t do as he wanted.
His tutor Gallis was very annoying; he hated the man, always telling him how to behave and what he should learn and not learn. One day he’d throw the stupid old man off the top of the castle and that would be the end of it.
Today he was shown into the main room his father used. It was a warm room, looking out onto the countryside with its view of the mountains and forests, a much better view than the one from his own bedroom. Istan didn’t know why his father couldn’t let him have this room as his own. Once he was emperor he’d have the best for himself and nobody would be able to stop him.
Astiras sat and regarded his son for a while, noting the way Istan held his look defiantly, standing there with his fists clenched and the hostile expression on his face. He really had a bad attitude, and there emperor wondered how in Kastan it had come about. Maybe he was just a bad one; it happened. “Istan,” he said, “I have been informed about your bad behaviour from the various staff here. I have to tell you I won’t tolerate that. You are to behave in a much better way than that! As a member of the Koros family, you must show people you are a worthy prince of Kastan.”
Istan said nothing. He wanted his father to shut up and go away, and leave him to behave as he wished. He looked away and spotted an arachnid slowly making its way up one of the walls. It was much more interesting than any old silly telling off. He’d had so many tellings off he no longer took notice of them.
“Istan, look at me when I speak to you!”
Istan refused to do so. He stared fixedly at the arachnid and sneered.
Astiras’s jaw worked. “Get out, all of you,” he said to the guards and Pepil, standing behind him. The three men did so quickly, not wanting to witness what they knew was coming.
Now alone with his insubordinate son, Astiras got up slowly. “I have warned you, Istan. You will not defy me, you’re getting too big for your boots. I’ll teach you to obey me as your emperor.” He took Istan by the shoulder, turned him round and landed a heavy hand on his upper leg.
Istan hissed and danced a few steps but said nothing. He still looked away, even when Astiras forced his head round. Another slap landed on Istan’s bottom, an even heavier one. The boy clutched his stinging rump and squeezed his eyes shut. It hurt a lot. He hated his father. Another whack finally got a cry out of him.
“You will not disgrace this family, Istan Koros,” Astiras said, forcing his voice through his throat. He spanked the boy a half dozen times before releasing him. “If you continue with your disgraceful attitude I’ll punish you every day. Now look at me!” he shouted.
Istan flinched and stared into his father’s eyes, his lower lip trembling, nostrils flaring. He would not cry; it was not going to happen. His legs and bottom throbbed painfully and he knew he would not be able to sit down for some time. He would find someone to punish for this.
Astiras returned to his seat. “You are to learn your lessons from Gallis. You are to attend the functions I decide you are to attend. You are to be polite, sensible and kind. I do not want bad words, spitting, face-pulling and name-calling. If you carry on with that, I shall put you in the dungeons until you change. Do you understand me, boy?”
Istan glowered at the emperor. He said nothing.
Astiras pointed a thick finger at him. “And you will address me as ‘sire’ or ‘your majesty’ from now on! If you have any plans on becoming someone important in Kastania then you’ll have to learn to fit into the existing structure. I don’t care if you like it or not – you just do it, understand? You’re going to have to change your ways, boy, or I’m going to have nothing to do with you and neither will anyone else, and you can forget about having any benefits of being in our family.”
Istan stared at his father. Did he mean he wouldn’t be emperor? He wanted to be emperor, more than anything! He wanted to be emperor so he could have his own way and put stupid Argan in a big dungeon forever. He nodded stiffly to Astrias. “Yes, sire.”
Astiras stared at Istan for a moment, taken aback. Then he cleared his throat. “Ah, well that’s better, boy. Know who your lord is, and remember that in return for your support you will get it back. And since I’m emperor, I can support you much better than anyone else! This is the way our world works. Keep that in mind! Now get to your studies; I want to see an improvement!”
Istan turned and walked stiffly off, still trying to ease his aching buttocks. He might have to wait a long time but he would get his own back on everyone who made him cross. He stamped past Vosgaris who was making his way to the emperor, and he exchanged looks with Pepil who was standing outside the door. “Trouble?”
“Nothing unusual, Captain,” Pepil said, looking as if there was a bad smell under his nose.
“I’m to see the emperor,” Vosgaris said, looking down the dark passageway at the vanishing figure of Istan, on his way to the small classroom where Gallis would be waiting.
“Yes, you’re next,” Pepil admitted, examining his parchment critically. “Follow me.”
The major domo knocked on the door and got a gruff response to enter. Pepil announced Vosgaris’ arrival and the captain edged past the courtier, thinking that there wasn’t room to perform these courtly procedures in the narrow castle of Zofela. Astiras looked up at Vosgaris who stood smartly to attention.
“Captain. I trust you’ve settled in well?”
“Sire.”
“Any problems?”
“None that can’t be sorted out with a little common sense; space is a premium, sire, but we’re getting round that problem.”
The emperor grunted. He got to his feet and looked out over the fields and hills beyond. “Captain, this is going to be a major part of our defences, therefore it must be built up to reflect that. I know the cramped conditions here are not good enough for the Court or the garrison, but I’ve set aside a pot of money to rebuild Bragal and Zofela. We desperately need to get this province back up and working efficiently very, very quickly. We have Mazag to the south and Venn to the south-east, and both could feasibly make a move on us once they realise the Bragal threat has gone. We’re seen as a far softer proposition.”
“I know, sire. My father’s reports on the supply stock in Rhan speaks of a Venn mobilisation. They’re going to move somewhere fairly soon, if my feelings are anything to go by.”
“My feeling too, damn it! we’re not ready!” Astiras whirled. “I need some damned incident in Rhan to delay them!”
“Sire?”
“An accident to their supplies. I want something to happen to all those bows, swords, ladders, arrows, packs, shoes, suits of armour. You understand?”
“Sire….. you’re asking me to send someone in to sabotage Venn’s arsenal?”
Astiras smiled, his hands behind his back.
Vosgaris cleared his throat. “Ah, I get it, sire. You won’t say anything but wish it. Very well. I’ll see what can be done.” He scratched his jaw. “Someone unexpected.”
“Whatever you do and how it is done, I don’t wish to know. I never said anything.” He changed the subject, sitting back down. “So, how is the Duras woman settling in?”
“Fine sire, but wondering what her role is now. She is not used to doing any hard work, as you may well understand, and is lonely and bored.”
“Employ her, man. Get her to scribe for you; she would have done something similar in her own family, so have her as your assistant. You need someone to keep the paperwork in order, since I’m going to want you to run the garrison here as well as keeping an eye on security. Teduskis isn’t getting any younger and I’m taking some of the responsibilities away from him. You’re going to have to step into his boots in many of his functions, understand? That means an efficient commissariat; I don’t want you bogging yourself down with paperwork when you could be doing proper work. So use Alenna to
keep everything in order.”
Vosgaris slapped his left chest. He had two tasks to do; one was easy, but the other was a very sensitive and complicated one. Who could he use? He would have to think on it. Leaving the emperor, he returned to the sleeping quarters and knocked on the door of Alenna’s room. She gave permission for him to enter and Vosgaris stood in the small room looking at the girl. Alenna hadn’t enjoyed the move to Zofela but she had no idea where it would all end.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked listlessly.
“Ma’am, I’ve got a post for you here in Zofela. A permanent one.”
Alenna looked at him in surprise. “A job? For me?”
“Yes,” Vosgaris said, relaxing. “May I?” he indicated the only chair in the room. Alenna nodded and he sat in it, taking the weight off his feet with a sigh. “The emperor has suggested, and I agree with him, that the new office looking after the garrison and security needs organising. There will be lots of records to be kept, and you’re the perfect one to fill that role. It’ll even be a paid job, something I bet you didn’t expect,” he smiled slightly.
Alenna looked surprised. “You mean – I’m not to be sentenced to the mines or to death?”
“Oh, by the gods, no. Prince Jorqel was insistent enough, but wanted you away as far as possible from your family. Here in Zofela I think its as far as one can get! No, you’re to be my assistant from now on, keeping me appraised of what’s what.”
Alenna looked relieved. For too long now she’d been living under the shadow of a possible death sentence. She wasn’t sure whether confessing to the imperial family of her family’s treachery had been such a good idea after all, but what was done was done. Now it seemed she was to be forgiven and allowed to help with the infrastructure of the province. It was more than she could have hoped for. All she was still concerned about however was her proximity to the emperor, someone she was terrified of, and hearing him roaring on occasion down the corridors had scared her to death.
“Will the emperor wish to speak to me as part of my job?” she asked.