by Sharon Green
“If they do, it will hardly be their major possession,” Bron pointed out, gesturing with his teacup. “And if it is, then they’ll be ruined. Is that something we really need to worry about?”
“Since it doesn’t involve us, of course not,” Kambil said with a small laugh. “Isn’t it marvelous that we don’t have to worry about the support of fools? There are certain to be complaints by the dozen, but we’rethe Seated Five. If the complainants leave even angrier than they were when they came, what can they do about it? The only people who knew we had help in winning the throne are no longer among the living.”
“Which is one small thing to thank Delin for,” Bron said, still speaking wryly. “There’s no way of knowing how long it will be before the confusion over who handled what is straightened out, but at least no one can step forward to announce in ringing tones that we have to do something for them because they helped us get what we have.”
“But that means we also don’t have those who will support us because it’s in their best interests to do so,” Kambil warned. “That support, in the form of letting us know what’s going on among our peers and in the city, would have been invaluable help, and I’ve had to substitute a cadre of spies in its place. They should find out what we need to know, and I’ll send for the rest of you when one or more of them comes to report.”
“Have you decided when we’ll practice some of the things you found in that journal?” Selendi asked. “If they give us more power over everyone, they’ll be worth whatever effort we have to put into them.”
“We have nothing scheduled for tomorrow morning, so we’ll start then,” Kambil replied, shifting in his chair. “Delin will have to be with us, of course, so you’d all better brace yourselves. His hatred and anger have grown quite a lot in the last few days, and most of the time I have to block him out. But I’m actually delighted to see that anger and hatred. If not for them, he’d probably go even more insane than he is. A pity I haven’t been able to find a replacement for him as yet. Our former Advisors did too good a job ridding themselves of those of our class whom they feared. Since I refuse to settle for one of the peasants who might have been overlooked, I’ll just have to keep searching.”
“You’ve been using Delin to measure the strength of those you’ve found, I know,” Homin said. “Is it possible Delin himself doesn’t know why you’redoing what you’redoing?”
“I’m sure he’s understood each of the three times I used him, but so what?” Kambil asked as he readied himself to stand and get another cup of tea. “At the end of each session I ordered him to forget about what went on, and also to forget any conclusions he might have come to. Delin is now the least of our worries, and we still have other things to discuss. I’ve arranged some traps just outside of the city that the rest of you don’t yet know about, so I’ll tell you about them as soon as I get more tea. If any of the rest of you need refills, please get them now.”
All three of them got to their feet as he did, so Kambil led the way to the tea service. He also decided that at the next meeting he would bring along one of his controlled servants, so that there would be no need for them to serve themselves while they talked. He and the others were too important for such menial tasks, and it was time that everyone understood that. It was also time for another public audience, and that should be held as soon as possible. After that, news from the west might start coming in, and if it came at an inconvenient time they would have to be unavailable.
A pity, Kambil thought as he stepped aside to let his followers get tea of their own. He did so love public audiences, with everyone bowing and scraping to show who their superiors were. He’d have to make a short list of invitees to the next audience, so that the proper people were seen bowing and scraping. Those he meant to invite would never live down the humiliation of having to show public deference to people they’d once disdained, which would make the whole thing even more marvelous…
CHAPTER FIVE
Delin Moord ran his hands over the arms of the chair he sat in, luxuriating in the silken feel of the fabric. His body also reveled in being held firmly but comfortably, his back no longer aching and his leg muscles no longer stiff from an incorrect height in the chair legs. He allowed himself to sit in that chair only five minutes each day, but he savored those five minutes as much as he’d savored the one decent meal he’d had since Kambil had enslaved him. And he was fairly certain that no one suspected he’d had that one decent meal…
His five minutes being up, Delin rose from the chair and returned to the hard wooden one which had been moved into that tiny sitting room in his wing of the palace. His groupmates still believed that that chair was the only one he could use, just as he was forbidden decent food and a comfortable place to sleep, not to mention use of any other room in the wing. They thought they were punishing him for what they chose to call his insanity, but it wasn’t he who was insane—or duped. Kambil was behind it all, Kambil and his Spirit magic having taken over the minds of their other groupmates, making them more slavelike than he’d been able to do with Delin.
“He wasn’t able to break my will, so he called me insane and enslaved me with drugs,” Delin muttered, letting his hatred of that wooden chair and his condition in general take over his outer thoughts again. “He still believes I’m helpless and can therefore be dismissed from consideration, but he forgets that I’ve had experience with this sort of thing before.”
A small smile curved Delin’s lips, the only outward sign of how pleased he was. Did Kambil know that Delin’s father had also had Spirit magic? The elder Moord hadn’t been nearly as strong as Kambil, but he’d had enough strength that Delin had had to learn how to think out of sight of the man’s talent at a very early age. That was why he’d developed that … separate inner self, the one which Kambil hadn’t been able to penetrate to. It had let him use that foolish female servant to escape, without anyone else knowing that he was free.
Delin’s smile widened very briefly at the memory of that female servant. After she’d freed him she’d gone and gotten him that one decent meal he’d allowed himself, and then she’d stood there beaming as she watched him swallow it down almost in a single gulp. When he’d finished every last crumb he’d sent her back with the tray, asking her to tell the cook and the other servants that Delin had refused the meal so she’d eaten it herself to keep it from going to waste. He’d followed carefully behind her, and once she’d made that announcement he’d caused her to have a fatal heart attack. The other servants had fluttered and clustered about, not knowing what to do, not knowing there was nothing for them to do. Delin’s secret had had to be preserved, and the cost of a single peasant life was a small one to pay for that preservation.
That had been just a few short days ago, but Delin had filled the following time with quite a bit of work. He’d been able to leave the palace only when his groupmates were asleep, but at least he’d been able to use the secret exits he’d learned about that Kambil apparently hadn’t yet found. The man really was an incompetent fool, and all the intrigues he imagined himself in the middle of were nothing but childish dabblings. Delin had been finding out about those things, and he wasn’t in the least happy with Kambil’s arrangements.
“But I’m not doing anything to change them,” he muttered aloud again, still pleased with the actionless course of action. “I intend to be there when all his marvelous plans come crashing down on his head, and it turns out that there’s no one to blame but himself. The scene will be pure delight, and he won’t even have someone to go to for comfort and support.”
That thought made Delin laugh soundlessly, so delightfully delicious was it. Kambil had made the mistake of boasting about the help he’d gotten from his grandmother, the marvelous “Grammi” he felt so close to. Well, dear Grammi’s days were numbered, and in fact were down to a mere few hours. When Delin left the palace tonight, his first task would be settling her hash in the most permanent and painful way. But it would look perfectly natural, and there
fore be considered an unfortunate but ordinary death.
“But the same won’t happen to Kambil’s enemies, no indeed,” Delin murmured, watching his hands as he fit the tips of his fingers together in various patterns and poses. Kambil’s enemies would not only live but thrive, especially since Delin was prepared to heal them wherever necessary. And Delin knew just who those enemies were, thanks to the scribes who wrote down everything the Five did, even including things said at the most private meetings. That was another thing Kambil didn’t know about, the detailed history that had been kept for each and every Seated Five for the last hundred years or more.
Again Delin laughed, finding it impossible to argue the contention that some people just should not drink. It had been at a party right here in the palace some years ago that Delin had learned about the scribes, after starting a conversation with an old man who had been well on the way to being completely in his cups. The old man had sat alone, ignored by the glittering guests at the party, and Delin had discovered that the man was a minor noble and secretary to one of the most important Advisors on the board. He’d wheedled an invitation to the party, expecting to be treated as an equal by those who also attended, and had been most upset that that long-desired acceptance hadn’t come.
“It’s ’cause they don’ know how ’mportant I am,” the old man had mumbled, waving his wine glass at the partying crowd. “Took over th’ whole thing all by m’self, I did, an’ made it even better’n it was. The fools don’ know who they’resnubbin’, an’ me th’ man who knows every move th’ Five make.”
Delin, who had made it a habit to befriend all apparent outcasts for whatever secrets they might have, had been intrigued. He’d coaxed and flattered the man to explain what he meant, and so had gotten the story about the scribes. The walls of the palace were honeycombed with service passageways, with no area or room being left without at least one. From the time the first chosen Five had been Seated, nothing the Five did was unknown to the ones who had put them in their exalted place. Mute scribes were scattered throughout the passageways in the places the Five frequented the most, and any and all conversation and happenings were written down for the powerful men of the empire to peruse later.
Which was why Delin had done away with the scribes watching him before he’d dealt with his parents. That Lord Advisor Ephaim Noll had probably been furious that he lacked details when he confronted Kambil about the incident, and Kambil had shown his usual stupidity by assuming that Noll had had ordinary spies. No, the spies weren’t ordinary or out in plain sight, and Delin had caused the new one listening beyond the walls of his tiny room to go into a permanent paralysis after tearing up what he’d just written down. That was right after Delin had been freed, of course, and his skulking around had kept any other of them from following him to the kitchens where he’d killed the servant woman with a heart attack.
He’d had to kill only one more of the scribes, the one he’d forced to bring him all the transcripts of what had been going on since the new Five had taken over. Those transcripts had been piling up, since the only Advisors who knew about them were now dead, and Delin had actually done the scribes a favor by reading them. The scribes could have gone on until the last one died of old age, piling up pages that no one knew about and therefore could not read. There was no one for the scribes to report to, but Delin had killed the last one anyway, to keep the man from finding someone to report to…
So Delin knew exactly who Kambil’s enemies were, and of course the fool had left them alive. The man seemed to think that power was for waving in the faces of people you disliked, and then you simply took your power and walked away from those people. It seemed that Delin alone knew that power enabled you to bring before you those who merited death, a fate you gave them after causing them the additional agony of telling them about it beforehand. That way they were not left able to store up resentment against you while they plotted your downfall.
Too many members of the nobility knew in their bones that any noble Blending on the Throne had been put there rather than having won to the place, and that despite their supposed win. That meant most of the nobility thought of the Five as servants of the empire and therefore of themselves, rather than the rulers of it and them the way Kambil believed. The fool had no idea how many plots were being hatched against him by those he’d exercised his kind of power against, and Delin wouldn’t have told him even if he’d asked. It would be much more amusing to watch to see which of those plots actually managed to succeed.
But he, of course, would keep himself out of the path of them. If the others of his groupmates were taken down along with Kambil, well, that would just be too bad. They’d all had a hand in adding to his torture, and even though they couldn’t really be considered responsible, they’d still had that hand in. If they ended up savaged, Delin would shed no tears of remorse.
And now, he thought as he stretched just a little, it’s time for my evening gruel. After that he would sit thinking for a while, and then he would go to bed as usual. The new scribe watching him would also settle down for the night, but would stay awake even though nothing would be expected to happen. Delin would put the man to sleep when he was ready to get up again, and would waken him again after he’d finished his night’s work.
And he’d have to do the same thing to the scribes watching his groupmates, assuming he decided to present the four with a small gift. If he did, a time would come for Delin to mention those gifts openly, but for now it would be enough that he gave them—if he did. And if he did then one day the four would learn about the gifts, and then it would be Delin’s turn to laugh…
* * *
Lady Eltrina Razas walked into the small suite in the very exclusive inn she had frequented many times, glancing around to see how the sitting room was furnished. Each of the inn’s suites were furnished differently, of course, but the one she usually occupied was unfortunately already taken. This one was a bit gaudier than she liked, but for her purposes it would do nicely.
“All right, I’ll just have to put up with it,” she said with faint annoyance to the hovering landlord who had followed her to the door of the sitting room, making no effort to turn and look at the man. “Have that meal sent to me without delay, and don’t forget that I’m not here tonight if anyone comes looking for me. I’ve had a ghastly few days, and I need some peace and quiet with nothing in the way of disturbance.”
“Of course, Lady Eltrina, you may count on me as usual,” the landlord said smoothly, probably with a bow. “I’ll have the food brought to you as soon as it’s prepared, and in the meanwhile the tea in the service is fresh and hot. Thank you for gracing us again with your presence.”
Eltrina made some vague sound that apparently satisfied the man, as he quietly closed the door as he left. That was a great relief, as Eltrina was very tired of either standing in shadow or keeping her face turned away from people. There was only a single bruise on her face, but it wasn’t something one cared to advertise the presence of.
A deep sigh accompanied Eltrina’s careful lowering of herself into a chair, something she had to do even before she poured herself a cup of tea. She was still in pain, of course, thanks to her husband Grall and his beatings, not to mention the way he’d given her to every male servant in the house. Most of those peasants had been too nervous to do more than enter her before they lost control, but even so the time hadn’t been pleasant. But that very unpleasantness had been the key to her freedom, as one of those servants had been the kitchen boy who felt himself madly in love with her. She’d encouraged the boy’s feelings out of amusement, never dreaming at the time how important that childish love would turn out to be.
“Torlin, please help me!” she’d whispered when the boy had finally been allowed his turn, having no trouble making tears flow from her eyes. “He means to keep me like this until I die, which won’t be long in coming if I cannot regain my freedom. Give me your love one final time, to say goodbye if helping me escape is beyond you…”
“No, m’ lady, don’t say thet!” the boy had begged, tears in his own eyes. “I’ll help ya, ’r die in the tryin’!”
And so Torlin had helped her, sneaking back to untie her in mid afternoon, not long after Grall had left the house. She’d had trouble moving around, naturally, but hadn’t let the pain stop her from doing what was necessary. She’d crept up to her own apartment to dress, and after that had paid Grall’s apartment a visit. The man was a creature of habit, and so Eltrina knew that the first thing he would do when he returned would be to pour himself a drink from the excellent wine he kept only for himself in his sitting room. None of the servants was allowed to touch those bottles of wine, so he would serve himself. In the first glass coming to hand, which was also his habit…
“Which means that once he closes his eyes tonight, he’ll never open them again,” Eltrina murmured, delighting in the thought of that. She’d bought the poison she’d used quite some time ago, intending to employ it once she’d gained a high enough career position, but that time had never come. But the time to use the poison had come, and Eltrina had smeared it around the rim of the first glass of the small diamond arrangement of glasses Grall kept near the bottles of wine. He would drink from the glass and swallow the poison all unknowingly, and once he retired and fell asleep, the poison would slow his bodily processes to the point of death and then beyond. And then the poison would evaporate or something, she’d been assured, making it impossible for anyone to know it had ever been present. It was a tool of the great and powerful which she’d managed to wheedle out of an admirer, a tool which most people knew nothing about.