“Mahzi, your Majesty. I had a report from Keshti today. She isn’t submitting well to the harem regimen. Like all mountain folk, she’s too independent. They allow their females too much freedom.”
“Tell him she must be tamed within the next few days. I want Lord Nayash in the palm of my hand, and she is a key element of achieving this. If Keshti can’t do it his way, then have her beaten or drugged into compliance.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
K’hedduk pushed his chair back from his desk and got to his feet. “That will be all for tonight, Zerdish. I’m turning in. Good night.”
“Good night, Majesty.”
When the door had closed behind the Emperor, Zerdish went over to the desk to examine the scores in the surface. He ran his fingers thoughtfully over them. There were only three of them, but they had rough edges and had gone deep. He’d better call the carpenters to see to repairing this before dawn. The Emperor, Long Life and Health to Him, would not be pleased to be reminded of his row with Ziosh in the morning.
Exiting the Emperor’s office, he headed out through the executive office and security post to the main open space, euphemistically known as the central courtyard. From there, he made his way across it diagonally to his main security office on the other side of the huge cavern.
M’zullian Palace, Dawn, Zhal-Zhalwae 18th (May)
With Rezac on one side and Noolgoi on the other, both walking the requisite few steps behind him, Kusac made his way to the central courtyard where others, dressed in similar long white robes, were gathered.
You think you have it bad, Kusac? sent Rezac, a rumble of amusement in his mental tone as Kusac pulled at the wide beaded collar round his neck and tried to adjust the skirts of the long robe. This short kilt outfit reminds me of what we wore in the past as pets of the Emperor back then!
Kusac glanced briefly back at him. It looks good on you. This, though . . .
Everyone else is wearing it. I suppose it stops us from carrying weapons.
A raised hand caught his attention and moments later, Lord Telmaar and his entourage were threading their way through the waiting throng to his side.
“I see you made it, Nayash. And got outfitted, too. Our Emperor, Health and Long Life to Him, seems to enjoy the rituals of the past.”
“A loaned outfit only,” murmured Kusac. “Apparently my own robes will be ready within the week.”
Telmaar leaned forward to flick the edge of the beaded collar. “Your own robe will be woven to fit you, rather than one size fits all. You’ll also get your own colors and device for this. For the moment, it’s a stock one.”
Kusac looked at the other’s collar. “Reds and blue,” he said, “and is that a norrta?”
Telmaar laughed as he looked down at the beast picked out in various colors on his wide collar. “Yes. Stupid bastards imported them a long time ago, and they became the top predator very quickly. M’zull is populated with creatures that once walked on the home world. There’s the odd indigenous ones, but they tend to be smaller and good at hiding. Yours will be a gold flying beast, rampant, with red claws, if I remember rightly. Your father didn’t choose to come to Court often, it wasn’t mandatory then, nor were these ceremonial robes expected to be worn at all events.”
Around them, the throng had started to move slowly toward the now open door.
“Looks like we’re ready to go in. I’ll maybe catch you afterward? Have breakfast together?”
“I have to meet with the Emperor,” said Kusac. “Perhaps we can meet later?”
“Ah, your audience. I hope you’ve managed to memorize the rules,” frowned Telmaar. “He hasn’t given you long. Good luck!”
I am liking this meeting with K’hedduk less and less, sent Kusac.
Don’t let it get you all tensed up, sent Rezac. That’s what he intends. Just relax.
Easier to say than do! retorted Kusac, trying to slow his breathing as he joined the line making its way down the corridor and into the temple. Did Cheelar manage to find out anything about Telmaar?
There was a slight delay, then: Cheelar says he found out that it’s known that Telmaar is looking to find a higher posting in the fleet. That is likely at the back of his interest and apparent helpfulness to you.
That I can deal with, sent Kusac, turning his attention to his surroundings.
Two lines of pillars decorated with colorful scenes supported the roof. Between them, nearer the walls, lit braziers glowed, sending small clouds of scented incense rising toward the carved stone roof. Beside each, an acolyte in a short red robe tended the glowing coals.
As the court spread itself out through the wood-floored hall, Kusac moved slowly nearer to the front.
Does this bring back any memories, Rezac?
Some. Certainly the clothing is the same. It was a long time ago, and not something I want to remember.
Kusac edged closer to one of the pillars as a group of individuals wearing short red kilts and carrying trumpets emerged on either side of the massive stone statue of the Emperor. They lined up, forming an honor guard. The low hum of conversation stopped abruptly as a group of young males in elaborately pleated long crimson skirts entered, swinging censers.
The Head Inquisitor, then K’hedduk should be next, sent Rezac. They are probably the choir.
Stifling a yawn hurriedly behind his hand, Kusac tried not to shiver. Although heated, the temple was not that warm, and he wasn’t yet used enough to his Valtegan form to feel comfortable.
Do I have to attend every morning?
Only when you haven’t got other duties to perform.
Then I’d better get some, and fast!
Inquisitor Ziosh, when he glided into the temple, wore a plain gold band round his forehead. At the front, it bore a single, small gold feather.
That’s new, sent Rezac. They were bareheaded back in my time.
The trumpeters began to sound their fanfare as Ziosh took up a position at the left of the altar. Around them, everyone began to drop down onto one knee and lower their heads. Kusac quickly tried to do the same and got briefly tangled in the wraparound garment. It was impossible to get a glimpse of his old enemy through the crowd of people around him. He’d have to be patient, bide his time.
Ziosh began to speak, his voice taking on a lyrical quality as he recited some prayer to the dying of the night, and the rising of the sun.
The voice was hypnotic, but after some ten minutes, Kusac could feel everyone around him getting as restless as he was. Then, suddenly, they were all able to look up. One of the young priests moved forward to the Emperor, carrying a golden bowl of some liquid and a ritual cloth. Bowing low, he offered both to K’hedduk.
It was on K’hedduk that Kusac’s eyes were fixed. He stood some forty feet away, dressed in a long white pleated robe bound round the waist by an elaborate wide blue-and-gold belt. The front of his chest was bared, showing off the tattoo he had last seen on King Zsurtul—an open egg with flames emerging from it, and underneath that, a pair of stylized protective wings. Wings like those of the raptor on the long staff he carried: wings spread wide, head stretched forward alertly, it seemed to glare at all before it.
He has the royal tattoo! No, wait. It’s different. He frowned. The wings, they’re not the same as Zsurtul’s. He must have just guessed at where they went!
You’re right. They should be on either side, attached to the egg shells, not under them! He’s wearing the war crown, sent Rezac. Not good, not good at all, if it means the same here. And the Inquisitor is mad at him for wearing it.
Kusac tore his gaze away from the tattoo and looked up at K’hedduk’s face. It was in profile now, and on his head, he could see he wore a fitted blue headdress, like a cap or an ancient helmet, decorated with small disks of gold. From the front band reared the head of a hissing snake.
Taking the cloth, K’heddu
k dipped it in the water and turned to wipe the feet of the giant statue behind him, intoning some prayer that went right over Kusac’s head. All he could see right now was the person he most wanted to kill. His vision was darkening, and a redness was creeping over everything in front of him until Rezac’s hand grasped his bare arm like a vice, pulling him abruptly back to the here and now.
Don’t, Rezac sent. We’ll get him, in our own good time. Not now, not here. He will pay, Kusac.
Kusac took a breath, forcing the red rage back. “Yes,” he whispered. “He will.” He began mentally reciting the litany for Clear Thought. If he let his rage take over, then this mission would be finished before it had properly begun.
K’hedduk was turning back toward the congregation now, and around him the choir broke into chanting.
“Homage to our glorious Lord, sovereign over all of us! Glorious you rise, O Living Light of the World!” the young priests chanted.
“Your dawn rays light up all the earth,” the congregation intoned.
“When you rise in the horizon, a cry of joy goes forth,” chanted the priests.
“Every heart beats loudly at the sight of their Lord rising!”
* * *
Finally it was over and K’hedduk had left. The choir, trumpeters, and Ziosh, all followed him out.
“We can’t leave yet,” muttered Kusac, leaning against the pillar. “I’m supposed to meet with him now, but I have no idea where.”
“Ah, there you are, Lord Nayash,” said Garrik, bustling up to him. “Follow me, if you please!”
Kusac rolled his eyes at Rezac and moved after Garrik. The crowd parted as soon as they saw the Chamberlain, leaving his way to the exit clear.
“You have indeed been favored today,” said Garrik, slowing down slightly as he led him out into the courtyard then across it to another corridor. “Emperor K’hedduk, Long Life and Health be His, wishes you to join him for breakfast. After that, there will be a Council meeting that you must attend.”
“I need to change, Garrik,” said Kusac. “These clothes are not suitable for such a meeting.”
“Of course! May I suggest that you send your aides now to fetch your uniform? You will have time to change after you have eaten.”
Kusac glanced at Rezac, and with a murmur of assent, the other headed off at a swift walk for the apartment.
“Lord Nayash,” a voice from behind called out.
Kusac stopped abruptly and turned round to face the Head Inquisitor. Light glinted off the gold feather in his headdress.
“We haven’t yet been introduced. I am Inquisitor Ziosh. Since I hear you are meeting with his Majesty, perhaps you would wait behind after the Council meeting? There are some matters I wish to discuss with you.”
“Certainly, Inquisitor,” Kusac murmured, inclining his head to the other in respect.
“Then I will see you later,” said Ziosh, taking his leave.
“You can change in the room there,” said Garrik, indicating a door on their left. “Your aides can also wait there for you.”
“What about food for them?”
Garrik sighed. “Very well, I will have something basic brought for them. Come, the Emperor, Long Life be His, is waiting for you,” he said, leading him to a door on his right. Stopping, he rapped firmly on it, then waited for it to be opened.
“Remember, do nothing till the Emperor, May He Live Forever, does it first,” he said very quietly. “Don’t raise your eyes to his unless he tells you to do so.”
The door was opened by a black-uniformed M’zullian.
“Lord Nayash, Lieutenant Zerdish,” Garrick said, inclining his head before turning to leave.
“The Emperor, Long Life to Him, will be with you shortly,” said Zerdish, gesturing to him to enter.
Kusac entered the room. At his right, a curtain divided the room off into the smaller, more intimate, area he now stood in. A circular dining table, with two chairs set opposite each other, dominated the room. To his left stood a dresser with several covered dishes on it. He moved farther in and Zerdish indicated a chair placed just in front of the dividing curtain.
“You can take that seat there,” he said, closing the door and positioning himself in front of it.
The room was warmer than either the temple or the corridors, but still not comfortable for the lightweight clothing he was wearing. He stepped over to the chair and tried to sit down, but the way the garment was wrapped around him made it difficult at best. He felt the smirk from Zerdish as he swore silently. This outfit had probably been designed to make the wearer feel as uncomfortable as possible, to put them at a disadvantage. It was certainly working!
Reaching for the side of the garment, he tugged at the folds under the wide belt, easing them toward the center to give him more room, then tried sitting down again. This time it was much easier.
K’hedduk kept him waiting for about ten minutes, then, dressed in his uniform, breezed in, followed by a servant. Kusac leaped to his feet, aware he had to play the part of someone unfamiliar with the new and restrictive court protocols, someone afraid to put a foot wrong.
“Ah, you’re here. Good,” said K’hedduk.
He bowed low, crossing his forearms across his chest. “Long Life and Health be yours, my Emperor,” he said quietly, waiting to be told he could rise.
“Breakfast, I think,” said K’hedduk. “Take a seat, Lord Nayash. I thought it would be useful for us to have this . . . informal little chat.”
Standing up again, Kusac moved toward the table, waiting until the servant had seated K’hedduk before reaching out for his chair.
“Please, let me, my Lord,” said the servant, bustling round to pull the chair out for him.
So he was being treated with courtesy. Then this meeting wasn’t primarily to intimidate him. K’hedduk wanted something.
Two more servants entered, carrying plates of cooked meat which they placed in front of them. While the main servant began serving them both hot maush, K’hedduk picked up his bowl and sat back in his chair, obviously trying to appear at ease. However, Kusac could sense the underlying tension in the other’s mood which he couldn’t hide.
“That’s enough, We’ll serve the rest ourselves,” said K’hedduk, waving them away after the covered dishes of vegetables and slices of warm bread had been offered to them. “Best meal of the day, I always think,” he continued, picking up his fork and knife and beginning to cut up his meat as the servants bowed and left the room. “Zerdish, get yours now, I want you at the Council meeting.”
Silently the other male left the room.
“So are you settling in at the Palace?”
“Yes, Majesty,” said Kusac, realizing how hungry he was as he cut a chunk off his piece of meat. Cooked just as he liked it, it was tender and tasty.
“You’ll probably want to redecorate. I’m sure the apartments are rather old-fashioned to you.”
He took advantage of a full mouth to assess the room they were in. “A little, Majesty. They need brightening up somewhat. Less dark colors, that kind of thing. I prefer my quarters to look bright and more invigorating.”
“Quite. I think best in surroundings that don’t look like a mausoleum! So today will be your first Council meeting. I have several of the Generals on the Council. Sadly, the oldest ones, not the up and coming younger males with new ideas. Still, doubtless, they will get their turn. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Your father was one of my Generals, though as you know, his health didn’t allow him to leave his estate very often.”
“Indeed, Majesty.” Kusac paused to take a drink of maush, making sure to keep his eyes on the table and his food.
“His seat is now open, and I am thinking of promoting you to it.” K’hedduk’s hand waved in a dismissive gesture. “Before you tell me you are too young for such a position, perhaps you are, perhaps not. If w
e don’t try you out, we’ll never know. However, much as I want new perspectives, new ideas, I need people utterly loyal to me on the Council. Many of the incumbent members are still fossils from my brother’s reign, and my brother didn’t often attend the meetings.”
“You are my Emperor, I am loyal to you,” began Kusac.
“I’m sure you are,” K’hedduk interrupted. “We need loyal people like yourself around the Court, and on the Council. My people, not those who were loyal to my brother . . . or to Inquisitor Ziosh.”
The dislike in the way K’hedduk said the name was palpable.
“Ziosh will likely approach you with offers of favors he thinks he can grant you,” said K’hedduk, taking another forkful of meat. “Don’t be fooled by him. There is one power on this world and that is me. Ziosh has yet to test my mettle.”
Unable to prevent the shudder of apprehension running through him, Kusac put down his fork. So they’d come into the middle of a civil war in the Palace. Knowing K’hedduk, he had no illusions as to who would win, and just how dirty the fight would get.
“Majesty, I would never accept anything offered to me by Head Inquisitor Ziosh,” he said quietly. “To do so would be treason. Our family has always been counted among the most loyal of the Emperor’s people.”
“To date, you have. We would like to count on your support on the Council, Nayash. Those who support us in our ventures and policies will find it to their own personal benefit. What do you say?”
“I know nothing about Council matters, your Majesty. I’m willing to learn from those who do . . .”
“Learn? There’s nothing to learn! All you need to do is support my wishes! Can you do that?”
“Majesty . . .”
“Look at me, dammit!” hissed K’hedduk, leaning intimidatingly across the table.
Kusac looked up for the first time. K’hedduk’s color was heightened, and there were more lines around his eyes and mouth than when last they’d met, but he’d have known him anywhere.
He locked eyes with the M’zullian, suppressing the quite genuine fear he felt lest the other could scent it. “Majesty, I will, of course, support you in the Council, but I need an understanding of the issues. I need to be able to speak convincingly of your plans to others if I am to be an effective advocate on your behalf.”
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