“Dast’s teeth!” I could buy my own bakery with the stacks of white gold packed tight with scraps of silk tucked in each hollow. I could buy the land to grow the wheat and a mill to turn the grain to flour and still have silver to squander.
My spirits rose. Messire always said there’s no point repining over what’s already done, didn’t he? Livak and I had set ourselves to his service at the turn of the year in order to earn the coin that would give us choices for our future. Well, I had a whole casket full of choices here, and if Livak had won any aetheric lore from her travels whatever Planir or D’Olbriot owed her could only widen our options still further.
Before I made any decisions, whether to buy that flour mill or outfit a mercenary troop and go off to claim the throne of Lescar, I needed to talk to Livak. I locked my box and tucked it securely under my arm, trying to remember where Casuel had said he was going to be today. He could bespeak Usara, I decided. Usara would know where Livak was and what she was up to. Then I’d go back to the gatehouse and finish off that roster; I could at least take my leave of that duty on my own terms.
The Imperial Menagerie, Toremal
20th of Aft-Summer in the Third Year of Tadriol the Provident
You have a remarkable collection of animals.” Temar hoped this was the right thing to say, and more, that he didn’t sound as bored as he felt. Doubtless polite chitchat with the Emperor was a duty of his new rank but he’d rather be getting on with the five score and one things he had to organise before sailing back to Kel Ar’Ayen.
“Though it’s not quite what one expects in such a nicely Rational garden, is it?” The Emperor tossed a nut at a tiny, white-faced, copper-haired ape sitting quietly in the corner of a cage. It watched the treat land without visible change in its expression. “But it’s become rather a contest between the Houses, to send me some beast never before seen in Toremal, some exotic rarity bought from an Aldabreshin warlord or some hairy curio snared in the Great Forest.”
Temar looked at the morose little ape and it glared balefully back at him. “I will have to see what oddities Kel Ar’Ayen can offer.” Was that what was expected of him?
“That’s one rivalry with the Names on this side of the ocean that I think you could enter into without too much danger.” The Emperor bowed politely at two distant Demoiselles who were looking with interest into an aviary where brightly coloured songbirds flitted above lavishly tailed fowl scratching around the floor. “It’s almost certainly what people will imagine we’re discussing, which is why I asked you to meet me here.”
Temar looked around the gardens, seeing couples, young and old, sauntering between cages and enclosures, veils of lace drawn forward to shade sensitive skin from the sun and feathered fans busy in the heat.
“Some of those birds must be worth ten times their weight in gold, just for the plumes in their tails,” he commented.
The Emperor nodded. “We have the occasional break-in but we give mastiffs the run of the place after dark. It’s a shame we don’t still have wolves to let loose. That would keep the chancers out for certain!”
“You have no such larger beasts then?” Temar wondered when Tadriol was going to come to whatever point he was aiming for.
The Emperor chuckled. “It was a fashion in the days of Aleonne the Gallant for Houses to send the Emperor whatever beast they had on their badge. D’Olbriot sent a lynx, my forefathers a bull, that kind of thing.”
“At least a holm oak will not prove too difficult to catch,” Temar said with heavy humour.
“By all means send me one.” Tadriol waved a hand at a nearby tree laden with long, flame-coloured blossoms. “That was planted by Den Bruern, before they were subsumed into D’Olbriot. No, the whole game fell into disfavour when superstition started running rife. The Sieur Den Haurient died two days after the wolf he’d sent to be reared from a pup dropped dead, and then half the Esquires of Den Somaer drowned when their ship went down not ten days after a flock of their pheasants all died of some cough.”
“So everyone watched the health of their beast as if it were their own?” guessed Temar. Was there some hint he should be picking up in all this inconsequentiality? He really had more important things to do.
“Quite so.” The Emperor walked on, pausing to throw a nut into an apparently empty enclosure. A small furry animal Temar couldn’t identify darted out of a hole and vanished with its prize. “Then some rumour started about the Tor Leoreil fox barking at any woman who wasn’t a virgin and a handful of betrothals were broken off because of it. The final disaster was a wild boar D’Istrac sent down from Dalasor. Some Demoiselle or other tried to stroke it and it bit one of her fingers off.”
“How awful,” Temar said with feeling. He looked round the extensive garden. “There was a menagerie in the Old Palace. Castan the Shrewd drained the moat, planted it with grass and fenced it off into sections. Houses would send him wolves and bears as a sign of Tormalin might taming the wilds of Dalasor, so my grandsire told me.”
“There’s no record of that,” said the Emperor with some surprise.
“Lost in the Chaos, no doubt.” Temar smiled tightly. “Anyway there were no beasts left by the end of Nemith the Last’s fourth year on the throne. He wasn’t prepared to pay for their keep so he had all the animals set against each other in baiting contests.”
“The more I learn about that man, the more I loathe him,” remarked the Emperor.
“It did him no credit, even with his sycophants,” Temar nodded. “And he looked a fool more than once, like the time when nine lynxes refused to attack a bear.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” The Emperor ate one of his own hazelnuts. “I’ve had Nemith the Last’s example held up as a warning since before I was out of soft shoes.”
“What need have you to learn about such a sorry specimen?” Temar wondered aloud.
“Every boy who might one day lead his Name is taught about Nemith’s reign. It’s an object lesson on how to bring the Empire to its knees by favouring one faction over another, by disregarding the dignity of the Houses, by plundering the wealth of the rich and paying no heed to the trade and labours of the poor that support us all.” The Emperor spoke with evident sincerity, not merely reciting the rote of his youth.
Temar walked along the path, feeling the sun hot on his back. “Kreve Tor Bezaemar cannot have paid much attention to the lesson.”
The Emperor sighed. “It’d have been better for him if he had. But I’ve no idea what notions dear Dirindal addled his wits with. He’s saying nothing to anyone, not to the Justiciar, not to his visitors, not to his jailers.”
“He will not escape justice, swear that much to me?” Temar caught the Emperor by the arm, courtesy be cursed.
Tadriol looked grim. “He’ll not escape. When the Justiciar has completed his enquiries, the Esquire Tor Bezaemar will face the fairest trial that Tormalin justice can display and thereafter the swiftest execution. Believe me, I’ve had my eye on Kreve, just as my father always suspected Dirindal of some collusion in his brother’s death. Our enquiry agents turn up something to make us suspicious every couple of seasons, but we’ve never’had anything that would stand the test of argument before the courts.”
“Thank you.” The words sounded inadequate to Temar but it was all he could find to say.
“No, thank you.” The Emperor started walking slowly. “That’s one of the reasons I asked you here today, to convey my gratitude. This whole sorry episode has offered me opportunities to do things it might have taken me ten years to achieve. Now I’ve the chance to be the kind of Emperor I want to be, the ruler my uncle would have been.”
“I do not understand,” Temar said cautiously. Now they’d finally reached the substance of this summons he was going to tread very carefully indeed.
“Think about it.” Tadriol stuck his hands in his breeches pockets as they walked. “In putting a stop to those quarrels by making Imperial decrees, I’ve shown everyone I’m no D’Olbriot puppet danc
ing on the throne while the Sieur stands behind and pulls my strings. That suspicion’s always been the price of his counsel.” He glanced at Temar. “I was chosen as Emperor over my elder brothers because they were already married and deemed too closely committed to their wives’ Names. That was a major concern to the Princes in the Convocation. On the other hand I was reckoned young enough to be easily manipulated, especially by those patrons used to giving the Emperor advice and seeing it taken without question. You’ll come up against attitudes like this sooner or later.”
“I believe I already have,” Temar said drily. He’d learned to expect two visits from any Name he hoped to deal with, one from Designates hopeful he was some simpleton to be gently duped, and one from their Sieurs to talk serious terms.
The Emperor smiled knowingly. “Later, in executing Kreve, I’ll show the commonalty and the merchantry in the plainest way possible that I’m not going to defend noble privilege from the consequences of its actions. That’s something you must take back to Kellarin with you, a sensibility to all your people, from highest to lowest.”
“I was raised in a tradition of far closer ties between noble and humble.” Temar thought he managed to swallow his indignation fairly well. Tadriol could learn a lot more from the Old Empire besides how not to make Nemith’s mistakes.
“I’m only trying to offer advice,” said the Emperor mildly. “My decrees have cut you off from D’Olbriot assistance and I’m concerned that’ll hamstring you. Another reason I asked you here today was to offer my help. Let me know if you need an unbiased appraisal of any House for example, some discreet assessment of merchants you intend dealing with. I understand D’Olbriot’s turned that chosen man of his loose but you’ll need other servants soon enough, especially ones you can trust to manage your affairs on this side of the ocean without you here to keep an eye on them. I can have a Justiciar make enquiries about anyone you’re thinking of swearing to your service.”
“My thanks again.” Temar’s gratitude was unfeigned this time. “I confess I do find the prospect before me daunting.”
“Almost as daunting as my acclamation to the throne, I don’t doubt.” Tadriol took a seat on a bench shaded by a broad-leaved tree. “In some ways, you and I have much in common.”
“Perhaps,” Temar said warily.
“So perhaps we can help each other as we go on,” suggested the Emperor with an innocent air. “Have you managed to retrieve all the artefacts you were seeking?”
“All but a handful, and we believe we know where those are to be found.” Temar couldn’t disguise his relief. “When we have everyone awakened, families reunited, Kel Ar’Ayen will be far better able to look to the future.”
“Good.” The Emperor’s warm approval was unfeigned. “I’ve been meaning to ask, did my ring turn out to be one you needed?”
“No, as it proved.” Temar was a little embarrassed to have to admit this.
The Emperor laughed. “It was a long-odds wager. That was the only heirloom I could find that was sufficiently old and obscure that people might believe it was from Kellarin.”
“I have it here,” Temar worked the heavy silver ring off his finger. “And we cannot thank you enough for that decree.”
“Don’t thank me too much.” The Emperor waved Temar’s offer of the ring away. “That whole business of enchantment, minds lost insensible among the Shades, it was giving me sleepless nights. More seriously, bickering over who held what gem or trinket had the potential to be highly divisive. There’s a lot disturbing the settled order that I can’t influence — new trade, new wealth, new ideas—but that was one wrangle I could settle. I’ll be honest with you, one of the reasons I’ll help you get Kellarin set fair for the future is to make sure your concerns disrupt life here as little as possible. We can afford to hand over jewels and trifles five times the value you’ve claimed; we cannot afford a tenth of this turmoil among the ruling Houses. Keep that ring to remind you.”
“And as a reminder of what we owe you?” ventured Temar.
“That too,” the Emperor agreed blithely. “And as token of my pledge to always deal honestly with you, even when semblance and gesture might run counter to reality. But you’ve unique assistance when it comes to determining truth from sham, haven’t you? I believe Demoiselle Tor Arrial can perform signal service in that regard.”
Here it came, Temar realised, the demand for payment. But wasn’t that how the world had always worked? And settling a debt of coin or honour set a man free, didn’t it? That wasn’t so bad, as long as the price was one Temar was willing to meet. “You’d appreciate some such service in return for all the help you’ve given us?”
“You’ve learned a great deal about the way Toremal works,” the Emperor approved. “Let’s just say I’d appreciate some of the Demoiselle’s time, so she can tell me just what Artifice might offer. I’d welcome a meeting with Demoiselle Guinalle if she ever visits these shores. Artifice held together a Tormalin Empire that reached from the ocean to the Great Forest, and while our boundaries are much reduced our affairs grow more complicated with every passing season. If an Emperor’s duties in your day were largely military my concerns are almost all to do with commerce. It’s my task to keep this great trading vessel on an even keel, balancing privilege and obligation, managing the conflicting interests of high and low alike. If you can offer me some means to help, I’ll owe you more than I can say.”
Temar looked into Tadriol’s eyes but saw nothing but sincerity. “I will discuss it with Avila and Guinalle,” he promised. “But I thought you did not like magic?”
“I don’t like wizards,” the Emperor said firmly. “But that’s a different matter entirely. It’s not their sorcery I mistrust, Saedrin be my witness, though the notion of people flinging handfuls of fire around certainly scares me. Any rational man would fear it. No, what I mistrust is wizards with political ambitions, that man Kalion for one, Hearth-Master or whatever he calls himself. He’s someone else you’d be wise to be on your guard against.”
“Kel Ar’Ayen needs the mages of Hadrumal,” said Temar soberly. “If the Elietimm attack, we will need their magic to defend us.”
“And if Ice Island ships turn up on our shores, I’ll be the one calling loudest for Planir to blast them to splinters with whatever wizardry he likes,” the Emperor agreed. “What I will not tolerate is any mage believing he can trade on that expectation for influence in Toremal’s affairs. Wizards were a factor in the Chaos and I won’t have them stirring the pot while I tend the fire hereabouts. I suggest you make the same thing clear in Kellarin.”
“I think Hadrumal will be looking to its own affairs for some while,” Temar said with some sadness. “Cloud-Master Otrick, one of their senior mages, has finally died from the enchantment that struck him down last year.”
“I’d heard something of that.” The Emperor fell silent for a moment. “Still, that’s the Archmage’s concern. You and I have our separate realms to manage on either side of the ocean. Shall we do what we can to help each other?”
Temar looked into the Emperor’s eyes again and saw an appealing honesty. “Yes,” he said simply.
The Southern Docks, Toremal
35th of Aft-Summer in the Third Year of Tadriol the Provident
I’d been rehearsing what I might say to Livak for the best part of half a season but every word left me when I saw her standing on the gangplank of the ship. Dast save us, what had happened to her hair? When I’d last seen her, just after Winter Solstice, it had been long enough to her shoulders for my mother to hint at fond hopes of plaiting it for a summer wedding. Now it was cropped close to her head and the vivid red was tawny with mottled blonde.
She saw me and came running, the single satchel that was all she ever seemed to need slung over one shoulder. I caught her in my arms and held her tight, burying my face in her shoulder and wishing I need never let her go. Then her bag swung round and caught me under the ribs with a solid thump.
“What have you got
in there — bricks?” I set her back on her feet. “And what in Dastennin’s name happened to your hair?”
She grinned up at me. “Remind me to let Shiv know he owes me a gold Mark.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Why?”
“He said the first thing you’d ask about was my hair. Anyway, hello to you.”
“Hello.” I stood there, grinning foolishly. “And what did happen to your hair?”
“I had to lighten it, to pass for Mountain-born,” she said carelessly. She laughed. “Do you recall, when we first met in Inglis we were talking about hair and disguises when we were both trying to track the Elietimm?”
“Are you trying to change the subject?” I teased her.
“What do you want to talk about?” she countered.
“How was the voyage?” I knew better than most just how much Livak hated ships.
“Not so bad,” she said shortly.
“It’s just that I wanted you with me as soon as possible.” I felt a little guilty about not suggesting she make the shorter crossing to Caladhria and come the rest of the way overland. I’d have waited.
She smiled again. “I wanted to be here. It was worth a little queasiness.”
I took her hand and we walked along the dockside. The rope walk was busy now, runners back and forth rigging yarn between the posts, ropemakers sweating as they wound handles to turn cogs and ratchets round and round, twisting the strands of hemp round each other and back against themselves so that one trying to unwind would tighten all the others and so hold it twisted in turn.
“After all those polite conversations relayed by wizards I’d have expected you to have more to say than this, now we’re finally alone.” Livak tilted her head on one side and looked quizzically at me.
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