An Emperor's Fury: The Frayed Rope

by Paul Heisel

  Feln laughed. “You think me a fool?”

  “Not at all.”

  Feln looked down the avenue and saw four of the Emperor’s soldiers walking toward him. From the other direction walked Emato with two Safun guards, both groups heading for Feln in hurried steps.

  “Looks like you’re being summoned,” Nar said. “Remember, agree to nothing but do as you’re told.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  The soldiers were getting closer, as was Emato and the guards.

  Nar sighed. “Years ago I served a young woman named Sari-un-Xialao-Ling, Most Favored of Safun. For twenty years, our family has not had a leader. For twenty years Pyndira has been in strife. We have had civil conflicts and no balance. Families fight each other. We have forgotten ancient threats and the reason we need a Warlord of Pyndira. You must restore order. You must restore our family name to greatness.”

  “Nar, off with you!” Emato bellowed as he arrived. “Stop bothering the Most Favored with your stories of drunkenness and depravity! Save those for the stable hands who have a love of your lowbrow tales!”

  Nar departed immediately and without retort, and he picked up a bundle of waste branches in his arms. Feln watched him walk away, noting the strong strides and perfect cadence of a military man. Nar wasn’t a gardener, that was for sure, he figured that now. If he wasn’t a gardener, then who was he? He would have to talk to him and find out more about his mother who he claimed to have served. At this point, he decided he should at least consider Nar’s advice of doing as he was told, but not agreeing with anything the Emperor proposed. Perhaps the gardener did know what he was talking about.

  The soldiers escorted Feln to the front of the grounds where a horse-drawn carriage with the Emperor’s gold dragon standard was waiting. More soldiers on horseback accompanied the carriage and the entourage would ensure Feln's safe arrival at the palace. Two black draft horses stamped as they waited for their precious cargo. Emato insisted Safun guards accompany him, but Feln declined the additional protection. The invitation was for him and he didn’t want to put himself in an awkward position by bringing other persons that he presumed wouldn't be welcome. With the belt tied securely to his waist and hidden by his plain robes, Feln stepped into the waiting carriage and they set off to the outer gates of the palace. The inside of the carriage was plush, decorated in golden felt, and it was comfortable but worn from use. The ebony panels lining the interior were lacquered with no less than ten layers, Feln guessed based upon the depth and shine. The carriage creaked and jolted along the cobbled stones, the beginning of a familiar rhythm he would experience all the way to the palace.

  The carriage moved along the main avenue at a moderate pace. Feln gazed out the window, not keeping the curtains closed. Some citizens stared back at him with interest; it was after all a carriage from the palace. Children waved. None ventured close though, the soldiers on horseback were deterrent enough. Around he could see great wealth and prosperity. Well-established businesses and elegant fenced estates lined the main avenue. Patrolling militia was commonplace, no less than two men for each five city blocks they traveled. The streets were clear of the filth and trash commonplace in other cities he had been in. Ahead the palace loomed, the outer walls and gates higher than any Feln had seen protecting a fortress. As they approached, the surrounding lands gave way to the outer gate, and once inside he saw more affluence. Even larger estates lined the streets, and he figured a few were as big as his manor. The people here were dressed in rich clothing and they traveled by small carriage around the exclusive community. This was where the privileged lived. Children played in their finery while nannies chased them in landscaped parks. There were crystal clear ponds with fish and walking bridges like the one at his manor. He saw a child holding onto string that was connected to a kite designed to look like a redfish, a proper looking manservant assisting him with the operation of the contraption. The wind kept it aloft for a few fleeting moments, then it took a dive and smashed into the grassy ground. The carriage continued along the smooth pavers toward the next wall and they came to a halt at the gate. The left side of the double gate was open, the other side remained shut with massive metal posts fastening it securely to the ground. Guards questioned the travelers who didn't have the required papers or invitations, turning them away with stern looks and firmer voices. His carriage, after a thorough search, was let through. After seeing the complex defenses of Chang’s palace, the inner grounds of the Emperor’s palace were not what Feln had previously envisioned.

  The Emperor’s palace was a massive structure, stretching in front of Feln like a stationary beast. It was the biggest building he had ever seen. The features were dark and sharp, filled with angles, hardly welcoming. The carved stone was black and shiny in places, dull in others, the sunlight playing tricks on his eyes as he tried to determine purposeful shapes. The flat area in front of him was paved with black stones, all even, all set with care. Feln hadn’t seen so much paving in all his life. A few weeds, probably overlooked, sprouted in cracks. There were worn areas, obvious from the small tilted angles the pavers had settled into. There were vast open spaces with – nothing. A whole army could assemble here or a mass of people could gather if needed. Up close the palace was overwhelming, intimidating. To build a structure this big, Feln estimated it would have taken thousands upon thousands of laborers many years, and it would have taken unlimited resources. Ahead was where the other carriages were stopping and letting their occupants out. From there an intermittent stream of people walked to and from the palace, strolling in the open on a marked path. Boys bustled around scooping up dung left by the horses. Girls carried buckets and scrub brushes to clean the pavers. The area smelled strongly of horse. Not far away was an area where the drivers and horses could rest and take water. Feln noticed different symbols and crests on the carriages - bears, eagles, wolves, a balance, a mortar and pestle - and he stopped counting the carriages at twenty. Set back farther was a rather long stable that could hold hundreds of horses, if not more.

  Feln huddled under his robe, checking the Most Favored belt again. He wasn’t sure if it was the unknown meeting he was to have that made him so anxious, or if it was the brooding presence of the palace that darkened his spirits. As he walked with a small group who had emerged from another carriage, Feln noted there were no places to hide. Except for the stable and a few small buildings nestled against the walls, the whole inner grounds on this side were bare. Empty. As he recalled from his brief flight over the palace, there were other structures in the back half and what had looked like army barracks on one side. This empty space was for assembly, and he wondered, did they have festivals or events here? There was plenty of room to build subordinate structures, so the possibilities were endless.

  Marching feet echoed off the black pavers, coming from his right. A platoon of spear carrying soldiers marched in time shouting ‘ho’s’ and ‘ha’s.’ Their armor was black leather and had a golden dragon etched on each breastplate. Their helms were swept on the sides, coming close to their shoulders. More soldiers followed in line, then the cavalry paraded by. Feln overheard a man headed for the palace say that the army would be on display in the city after they passed inspection. To the right Feln saw where the troops were assembling in columns against the inner wall. He slowed to get a better look and lost his place in line. There were hundreds upon hundreds and more coming from the other side of the palace, perhaps more than a thousand men. Feln watched briefly, then he scurried behind another group of people. They came to a wide and steep staircase at the entrance of the black monolith. Ahead was an elegant entry arch overshadowed by an intimidating dragon made of the purest inlaid gold. People struggled to get up the staircase and those that needed assistance received it from the guards. Feln tackled it rather easily and made his way to the top ahead of the group. He didn't know if jumping line was universally rude, but he couldn't help it if he was fit and they weren't. He heard a disgruntled woman make a disparagin
g comment about his common robes, but he paid no mind. The black front doors of the palace were open, and the next part of this strange journey awaited him.

  #

  They were expecting him. He was ushered, quickly, away from the groups of people who were breathing hard and recovering from the long ascent on the stairs. The walls of the reception area were lavishly decorated with additional inlaid gold dragons, beasts, and what appeared to be important people. There were statues made of alabaster of men and women in various haughty poses, and historical or not, Feln knew they were created by a master craftsman. White marble floors sparkled with fresh wax and to him it radiated feelings of comfort and welcome. As with Chang’s palace, there were administrators and staff taking care of the guests. To the side they asked him, politely, to remove his weapons. Feln complied and they took the Dragonfly blade and stored it for him, giving him a small red placard with the number ten on it so he could retrieve it when he departed.

  He followed a well-dressed man through two doors and into the deeper parts of the palace, taking corridors decorated in a simple manner. When he saw a notice board and lines of pegs with robes, he figured he was in the servant’s passages. They whisked him through unknown parts of the palace and emerged through a door into decorated corridors. It must have been a shortcut or they were trying to disorient him, he wasn't sure which. The worn marble floors in this area, despite the age they displayed, were cared for. Paintings of regal men and lovely women were here and they were depicted in the same haughty poses as the atrium statues, the name plates indicating they were past Emperors and Empresses. As they made their way to a wide staircase, Feln noted guard niches at unpredictable intervals. Guards holding tightly on to their spears watched them with interest, as they should. At the stairs, there were more guards. The man told him that they would take this to the top, and when they got to the uppermost floor, another guard there would take him the rest of the way.

  Feln went up the stairs, pacing himself, noting his escort was rather fit and wearing a looser fitting uniform than his previous escort. If the stairs led up one of the spires, they were in for a long journey. After seven or eight levels of stairs and traversing the same number of vacant levels in a confused pattern, he lost count and gave up trying to figure where he was in the palace. He started to feel the ache in his side from the ascent and the quick pace, disappointed he wasn't faring better. He hoped they would stop soon at least so he could catch his breath. He noted there were additional guards at the entrances to the deserted levels, but no other roaming patrols. Even though there were few furnishings in the open areas, there were plenty of living spaces with doors where someone could hide or at least remain hidden. He doubted the guards checked each room each day. He arrived at the top of the last staircase winded and in need of water, and while he caught his breath he wiped sweat from his brow. His escort bowed and started the reverse journey. He was standing in a crescent moon-shaped atrium with black boards polished so brightly as to put to shame the lacquered panels he had seen inside the carriage. Three oversized wooden doors with golden handles awaited him, one left, one center, and one right. Each door had two capable looking guards with sharp spears. The guards at the center door rapped on it with the butt end of their spears in unison, tap tap, tap tap. A man, dressed in silky black robes, came through the door, approached, took Feln by the arm, and gently led him to the partially open doorway. His voice, barely above a whisper, quietly asked for Feln’s name. The man pushed open the door and stepped inside. He cleared his throat and stood tall.

  “Feln-en-Xialao-Narneth, Most Favored of Safun,” he bellowed, then he departed immediately. The door thudded behind, shutting Feln inside.

  The room was a narrow, thirty feet wide and at least a hundred long, and had three different levels. There were no windows here, he assumed, for security. Oil lanterns lined the walls high up out of a man’s reach and large chandeliers dipped from the ceiling, there must have been hundreds of candles ablaze. At the end of the room on a golden throne sat the Emperor. From this distance it was difficult to see him clearly.

  “Approach,” the seated man said, commandingly.

  Feln walked forward slowly, taking note of the gold furnishings and platinum accents on the wood furniture. There were paintings on the walls and detailed sculptures of men and women dedicated to different areas, but the collection seemed rather eclectic with no overlying theme. Were these spoils of war? Gifts? Feln was certain there was a story behind every piece, stories he would never get to hear – he was sure of that. He was guessing this reception would be cold, indifferent. He went up several stairs to the next level. A stout teak table, overstuffed lounges, and functional chairs were to the side, keeping the main aisle to the Emperor clear. There were no additional guards, but he didn’t see any other doors. There was one entrance and one exit to this royal chamber unless you could walk through stone. At last he reached the final level, trudging up the stairs with slight fatigue in his legs and thirst in his throat. He reminded himself to train harder in the coming days. Elevated on a dais, the Emperor sat in a high-backed throne that was gilded with gold scrollwork that resembled more dragons. To the Emperor’s left was a portly man dressed in rich silk red robes who had a look of arrogance about him. Several scribes with writing instruments and parchment were at a table to the side. They all had the same black hat fit snuggly against their bald heads. Another man, stocky and with short dark hair, stood to one side with his arms crossed. He wore a black uniform with a golden dragon emblem and the uniform, despite the non-functionality of it, could not hide the abundance of muscles. A fancy belt with red designs was around his waist. The Emperor stood.

  Feln bowed, holding it for two more beats than he normally would.

  “Welcome to my home,” the Emperor said. “I trust your transportation to the palace was adequate.”

  Feln paused for a moment, noting how everyone was studying him, particularly the stocky man. He wondered, what had he got himself into? Would he make a mistake? “The transportation by horse carriage was adequate, and I must say the lacquered panels on the interior were exquisite. As for the transportation by dragon, it was both fortunate and unfortunate.”

  The Emperor didn’t react to the statement or give any hint he had feelings one way or another about what he said. Feln could see the Emperor was a solid man, but not very tall, and had the same build as the younger man who had his arms crossed, but not the musculature. He did have a round face that was tan and similar to the younger man. Father and son, he guessed, Emperor and the Warlord of Pyndira. Lines of age were prominent on the Emperor's face, and Feln guessed he had to be sixty years old if not more. The rich, colorful robes he wore hid the rest of his body. He did seem to have weight to him, but it was hard to tell if it was muscle or fat. Feln thought it was the latter as the Emperor's hands looked soft. In contrast, the one hand he could see of the Emperor's son was nicked and scabbed.

  The portly man in the red robes to the Emperor’s left gasped at Feln’s comment, his face screwed into a scowl as if he couldn’t contain his contempt. “That was foolish,” the man said. “Do you know who you are addressing?”

  “I do,” Feln replied. “He asked a question and I answered it.”

  “Sit,” the Emperor said, motioning to the other man to stand aside. “I am Toro-et-Nutahi-Shimoyu, Emperor of Pyndira. When you address me, you will call me Emperor.”

  Feln acknowledged with a deep bow that he didn't hold for the additional beats. “Emperor.”

  “To my right is my son, Dett-al-Nutahi-Shiyuki, the Warlord of Pyndira, Protector of the Provinces. You will address him as Warlord.”

  Feln bowed to the Warlord. “Warlord.”

  The Warlord bowed in kind, but it was curt.

  “To my left is my Chamberlain, Wotako-al-Nutahi-Yan.”

  Yan bowed quickly.

  Feln returned the curt bow. “What do I call him?”

  “Chamberlain,” Yan said quickly.

  “Yan,
you may leave us to our business,” the Emperor said.

  “Emperor, with all due respect, as Chamberlain I should remain here while you speak with this Most Favored. And given the circumstances surrounding his arrival, I think you should have me here. With his obvious lack of decorum and lacking knowledge of protocol, you may need me to interpret his intentions.”

  “I can speak well enough for myself,” Feln said, feeling the ire rise in his blood. “Chamberlain,” he added.

  “Your tone is mocking,” Yan spat. “I perceive threats behind those sinister eyes.”

  “He is no threat,” the Emperor spoke as he looked at Feln. “You have another task to attend to anyway.”

  Yan protested, throwing his hands in the air. “What you have asked me to do can be done by another. Don't dismiss me from this council!”

  “Yan, leave us!” the Emperor spoke, his voice harsh and impatient.

  The Chamberlain recoiled as if struck by an unseen stone flung from sling.

  “We’ll be fine,” the Emperor said, his voice calmer. “You are the only one I trust negotiating with the Koluns, particularly in this circumstance. Go, you are needed elsewhere.”

  “Yes Emperor,” he replied, head bowed in defeat.

  The Emperor motioned toward the scribes. “The rest of you may leave as well. You aren’t needed for this meeting.”

  The scribes, unlike Yan, scattered for the front door like rats from a cellar. Yan, still reluctant to depart, took his time leaving the chamber. Only the Emperor and the Warlord remained and the hall fell silent.

  “I have heard disturbing news from many sources,” the Emperor stated. “The Most Favored of Emesia, my old friend Chang, is dead.”

  “Murdered by Hiru and his collection of Furies,” Feln spoke without hesitation.

  “You claim you had no hand in it?”

  “I did not kill him, nor did I plot to kill him.” Feln's tone was firm and calm. He concluded Sli must have briefed the Emperor on their conversations they had during the journey to the palace. That information, coupled with any messages Hiru sent, would cause confusion. He would get the blame, though, no matter how he argued. He would stick with the truth and not embellish.