Taji From Beyond the Rings

by R. Cooper

  He glanced to the weapons, focusing on the long, heavy-looking sword with one serrated edge. That sword meant business, as an IPTC bureaucrat might say, and it was directly behind Eriat at the head of the table.

  Eriat was still talking, but for once, the words were not what Taji needed to pay attention to. This was about something else.

  The nobles ignored IPTC because they were probably aware that if they truly wanted to, IPTC would take the planet, and that pierced their image of themselves. They couldn’t be all-powerful rulers who should be accepted by the lower classes as a natural force if they were one country on one planet among hundreds that supported sentient life. The more offworlders IPTC brought here, the more everyone would see that. Even Larin Emperor, rarely seen in public, but the subject of more gossip than adulation, had to be aware of that. Larin had never invited the ambassador to a single function at his home.

  Koel Eriat acknowledging IPTC meant something. Perhaps he was more willing to trade with IPTC if it made his family money. Or—and Taji wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining things—the Koel were subtly applying for the job of emperor, with IPTC’s permission or backing.

  He replayed the conversation so far, mostly pleasantries until Phyta had been prodded into mentioning the tensions in the capital. No one had spoken of the reasons for the tensions, but that didn’t really matter. The situation had reached a point where one of the oldest noble families had chosen to speak directly to the I.P.T.C. and to offer their services, or their prestige, in exchange for money, or more power, or possibly the throne itself—figuratively.

  Although, as far as Taji knew, the position of emperor was not available. It could, however, be made available.

  Taji skimmed through the files in his DD without reading them. He knew what was there. Sha emperors who had failed to follow Sha ideals did not last long, or hadn’t, in their more warlike past. At one point, a quiet assassination had been almost the norm for a peaceful imperial succession. Many an emperor did not seem to be directly related to the previous ones. Many reigns were short. One story that he’d thought was part legend had an emperor murdered by his staff and his head, hands, and feet displayed throughout the city. It finally made sense why they had included the emperor’s feet.

  “Oh, shit,” Taji whispered under his breath, then looked up guiltily. Several pairs of ears had turned in his direction. Hopefully, none of the Shavians present spoke Anglisky.

  The ambassador did not so much as twitch. “The coalition has many records of that first meeting between our representatives and yours.”

  They did not. There was a brief mention of it, and then a bunch of contracts. Taji had them on file. What was clear from that data, was that Emperor Iost—or Iost Emperor, as it was written—had approved of the meeting, even if she had not attended.

  Taji had not been forced down to this planet just to witness some sort of coup. That could not be real. Although, from the viewpoint of a scholar, it was very interesting.

  “The Koel did what needed to be done.” Gia, for all her talk, was as proud of the family as Eriat. Phyta was very still, another giveaway that he was tense. Trenne would have never been so obvious.

  Trenne. It took a lot of effort not to look for Trenne out of habit. Taji heard the ambassador praising the wisdom of Iost, before easily steering the conversation to the current emperor, Larin. “I am saddened I have not had a chance to speak with him.”

  “He has been very busy,” Phyta almost spat the words. Taji didn’t care anymore—he looked up. Phyta smoothed out the line of tension from his shoulders but did not apologize for his tone.

  “Phyta’s concern is one shared by many.” Eriat turned a stare on Phyta that was reminiscent of Trenne with Lin that morning. Phyta tried and failed to erase the hint of anger in his expression. “But,” Eriat did not elaborate on those concerns, “our great Larin Emperor has never been interested in business matters.”

  “I understand,” the ambassador said, as if they truly did. “We are content to wait.”

  “Yes,” Eriat answered calmly. Taji would have thought he’d imagined every undercurrent if not for Phyta, quiet and stiff, and Talfa, watching with interest. “Tell us more about what innovations are available in all the other star systems that might make their way to our home. Talfa tells me that the students, as well as the artists of the Fires, are becoming increasingly interested in the vids your traders brought with them. Someone adapted them to our devices and copies seem to be everywhere. Tule finds this a corrupting influence, but, if Sha wishes to take its place with the other star systems, then knowledge of other cultures cannot hurt.”

  Taji was not sure that vids meant for entertainment could be considered helpful cultural exchange without some sort of explanations or footnotes, and idly wondered if Shavians were going to expect all humans to behave like actors in fantastic stories.

  “Tradition is what held us together after the fall. Traditions have allowed us to survive.” Old man Tule was possibly Taji’s second favorite at the table. He was stuffy and probably had strong opinions on Phyta’s pants, but he was right about Shavian traditions keeping their country together. But someone ought to explain to him that surviving wasn’t living, and that their traditions were already falling apart.

  “It is not impossible to find a balance between these things.” Endri inclined their head. “Perhaps if the new technologies and information were only in the right hands.”

  Taji opened his mouth but caught himself before the snapping rebuttal left him. Most of the Koel at the table nodded as if that was a great idea, and not ludicrous and insulting to their own people. The ambassador made a small noise Taji couldn’t interpret, and then there was a flurry of movement as several servants streamed into the room.

  Well, Taji thought they were servants. They were barefoot and more plainly dressed, but the one in the center was older and wore a vibrant long soria over a thin golden skirt. Eriat stood up when he saw her, and the rest of the Koel quickly followed.

  “Eriat, farinx. The emperor is here,” said the one in the golden skirt, as close to breathless as Taji had ever seen a Shavian be.

  Taji’s translator stalled on that word, farinx, but Taji hardly noticed. The way the Koel glanced at each other without moving was not promising. He leaned forward to whisper to the ambassador in Anglisky. “The emperor is here? Is he supposed to be here?”

  “Help me to stand,” the ambassador answered, as if Taji wasn’t going to have to first spend a minute putting away his data device and then climbing clumsily to his own feet. He could feel some of the Koel watching him wince and stretch and rub his back. But they soon focused on straightening their clothing and licking midye from their lips.

  The servants and the woman with them fluttered out of the way. Eriat stepped out from the table.

  Taji had a hand beneath the ambassador’s arm and was gently helping them up when two Shavians appeared at the partition dividing the rooms and began to approach. They both wore soria like Taji had only seen in faded records and murals, unbelted and brushing against the floor. Beneath that, each had on a tunic shirt, loose pants, and a sash. Their sashes held many knives, and their feet were bare.

  Behind them were three more Shavians, in equally old-fashioned sorias, although these carried only one knife, or none. They were also barefoot.

  Taji realized he was looking at members of the Imperial Guard and then the emperor’s personal servants. The Shavians who followed them were dressed in a dizzying array of colors, in the most modern of sorias, complete with the occasional pair of tighter pants.

  It did not seem necessary to take an entire retinue to a friendly visit, but Taji had never encountered royalty before and couldn’t tell if this was normal. The other nobles seemed to know the Koel at any rate, and for a few moments there were brief greetings. Then one of the nobles stood away from the others, or maybe they fell away from him on command.

  The noble ringed by admirers, servants, and Guards stopped in front
of the table, and all conversation halted. Koel Eriat bent his head in respect and the rest of his family followed suit. Some of the Shavians around them smiled like humans, brief and practiced and cool. They smiled like they didn’t understand smiles were meant to be friendly or assuring.

  Taji studied them, then darted a look to the man in the middle of everything.

  Larin Emperor could not have been older than Trenne. He was tall, even for a Shavian, with rich, dark coloring, ribbons of cream and tan visible along his upper arms and the side of his neck. His hair was short, and a shiny black hue that matched the white and black pattern of his soria. His pants were tight, although not formfitting, and tucked into short boots.

  The large knife in his belt had a hilt of carved hardstone. The hardstone was gray, with the rare flecks of emerald green that Taji understood was much sought after. The emperor had no scabbard, so the slightly curved blade with the serrated edge was very visible.

  Taji had never seen any Shavian wear their knife in that way. He tightened his hold on the ambassador and glanced beyond the assembled crowd for any sign of Trenne.

  “Eriat.” The emperor’s greeting was friendly enough. He had a plush mouth and a slightly bent nose, but his eyes were pale and striking because of it. The color was between brown and gold, and combined with his thick eyebrows, made his eyes difficult to look away from.

  Eriat slowly raised his head, and after a pause, the rest of the Koel did the same. “It is our honor to host the Pride of the Olea. Would you like to sit and join us in a cup of midye?”

  “The offer is a pleasant one.” The emperor acknowledged Eriat, but turned those remarkable eyes toward the ambassador. “But would you first like to know why I am here?”

  Taji’s heart started to beat faster. Nothing today had been secret that he knew of, and yet he was tense. He couldn’t look away from the emperor to see if anyone else was, all those Shavian ears pointed and alert. Fuck, Trenne wasn’t even close. The emperor’s security probably kept him out of the room, and he wouldn’t like that any more than Taji did.

  There was absolutely no threat in Larin’s words or tone. But he was here, the first time anyone of significance had met with Ambassador Tsomyal. Taji was going to listen to his instincts and say that was not a coincidence, and it probably wasn’t good. Maybe this IPTC expedition wouldn’t be jailed and executed, but he had to wonder about the Koel.

  Nothing had happened. In fact, Taji had probably imagined the possible power grab. The emperor might just be pissed that no one had invited him. Taji didn’t know royalty, but he’d seen a few IPTC executives and officers, and an inflated sense of self-importance seemed to be common with anyone in power.

  Gia raised her voice, as if needing to be heard over a crowd when the room was mostly silent. Maybe it was the silence that had Taji’s nerves on edge. “It has been so many years since you have honored us, Larin. You are welcome to sit with us.”

  “Yes, I am.” Larin joked, or at least, some of the nobles with him laughed, so Taji assumed it was meant to be funny. Larin looked at Gia. “It has been a long time since I have graced a Koel table.” He said the words, but he didn’t make a move to sit down, or to indicate that a servant should bring a cushion so that he might. The other nobles stopped laughing. “It has been too long. Which is why I am here.”

  Eriat was a lot less affected than Taji would have been at that vague announcement. If anything, his stillness was a master class in self-control, almost defiantly so. Taji had spent too much time with Shavians if he could tell that.

  Eriat tipped his head slightly to one side. “I am pleased I could get the emperor to leave his…gardens.” He paused before the word, Taji hadn’t imagined it. The ambassador took a sharp breath.

  The emperor’s ears flicked in the ambassador’s direction. Several of his friends or courtiers closed their mouths or firmed their lips into unhappy lines. They were a treasure trove of information Taji didn’t know how to read yet.

  “Oh, not for you. Although it has been too long since I have heard the sound of your voice, Gia.” Larin considered the walls and then Gia, but not Eriat, before focusing once again on the ambassador. “You have company.”

  Taji tried to avert his gaze like a dutiful servant, even if Trenne had said Taji was considered an official, too. Coming here hadn’t been a secret. They had driven through the streets in the light of day to come here. But someone had talked about it. Someone had told the emperor.

  Taji gripped the ambassador’s arm so tightly that they shoved him off. He was left with his hands dangling at his sides, feeling like a knife wouldn’t be so out of place now. Not that anyone was looking at him or remotely interested in him and his lowkey panic.

  Larin’s sudden warmth made Taji blink. “I.P.T.C. Ambassador Tsomyal, we finally meet. Should I say the pleasure is mine? Is that how your collection of different offworlders does it?”

  Collection, Taji noted absently, was an odd word to choose to describe the multi-national, multi-planetary, multi-system empire that was the I.P.T.C. IPTC was an empire, a real one, even if it was a business first and had no king, queen, khan, or caesar.

  Ambassador Tsomyal bent in a careful half-bow. “The pleasure is ours. I have wanted to speak with you for some time, Larin Emperor.”

  “Yes.” Larin said the word in Anglisky and Taji nearly jumped. But then the emperor returned to ‘Asha, either for convenience, or because he didn’t know any more words in IPTC’s dominant language. “I am sure you have. That is why I wanted to see you today. My reunion with the Koel was an added pleasure.”

  “How fortunate then, to find us together.” The ambassador was so good at this. They didn’t sound worried or even inconvenienced.

  Larin seemed pleased. “May I share a secret?” he asked, before inclining his head as if he was anywhere near the ambassador and wouldn’t have towered over them in any event. Holy fucking gods of all cities, he was tall. And whether he meant to be amusing or intimidating was impossible to say—until Taji glanced down to that knife again.

  “It was not fortune that I found you together,” the emperor confided, to the entire room and possibly even Trenne outside. “Or luck—a concept the humans who first came here brought with them. I am Larin, an Olea from before the sea, son of the last emperor, who was the child of the emperor before her. I do not need fortune or luck.”

  That was a lot of titles. At any other time, Taji would have been fascinated by the pomp and tradition. He was the son of a struggling farmer on a planet barely clinging to its recent terraforming. But he’d already sat through the Koel version of that, and the titles were all from a time long ago.

  “I am flattered you would want to speak to me.” Ambassador Tsomyal remained unruffled, perhaps more unimpressed by those titles than Taji.

  “There is so much to talk about. Agreed, Eriat?” Larin didn’t allow Eriat to answer. “But I do not have the time. Tomorrow, I leave to visit my sister—at last I will set myself the task of seeing to her future.”

  Phyta—it had to be Phyta—gasped. Taji turned, but the Koel were largely expressionless. Phyta had his jaw clenched hard.

  Larin dismissed Phyta with barely a glance. “Give Phyta no attention. He and Rinnah played together as children, and so he forgets himself in his excitement to hear of her happiness.” He paused, and lifted his chin as if making an announcement. “I will be going to Laviias.” The name was familiar. Taji had probably seen it on a map in his studies. “I have earned a few days of festivity and relaxation, and no Olea must ever stray from our home for too long. Have you ever been to Laviias?” Larin inquired of the ambassador.

  “My duties have not taken me from this city.” Tsomyal politely didn’t say anything about whatever work the emperor needed to relax from doing, or how everyone kept hinting that the emperor hadn’t been doing any work at all.

  “Tell me, Tsomyal Arte,” the emperor continued, once again more informed than Taji would have thought. “Where do you come from? Can
it be any place as marvelous as Laviias? It is the place the Olea call home, and there is no place as beautiful. Nikay,” he briefly twisted toward one of his courtiers. “Nikay, would you say it is a sight everyone must see if they are to call my empire home?”

  Taji felt his eyebrows go up and tried to control them. Nikay agreed eagerly, which Larin must have expected.

  “Ambassador Tsomyal, this means you must see it. The feasting as well. Do you doubt my sister will be pleased?” He did not appear to want or need an answer. “Eriat, you will see to that? The ambassador should come and stay with us. And you as well. And dear Gia and Talfa, the silly. I would ask precious Phyta, but he cannot stray far from home, can he? Of course, he could always bring—”

  “No,” Phyta interrupted, then quickly bowed his head. “No, thank you, Larin. You honor me, but you are right. I cannot stray far from home now.”

  “I understand,” Larin told him sympathetically and turned away. He didn’t witness Phyta’s ears almost going flat.

  The ambassador hesitated. Taji’s heart skipped into a faster rhythm again. He opened his mouth to ask a question, then bit his lip to keep quiet. The ambassador glanced to him anyway before speaking. “I am deeply flattered, but my staff must have time to prepare for any trip.”