There were further pleasantries before the formal phrases of closure and the Emperor's signature and seal.
When he had finished reading, Cithanekh laid the letter down and stared at the Emperor. "Your Majesty," he began, "I have neither the years nor the experience of Zherekhaf. Do you really think I am the best choice for the Prime Minister's office?"
"I have no fears on that score, Cithanekh. You were born breathing intrigue, and your time on the Council has certainly given you experience with all the players in this vicious game. You certainly have the skill—and I know you to be loyal to me, forthright and outspoken. The only question in my mind is this: will you do it?"
"You honor me with your trust and confidence. How could I refuse you?"
"Rhydev will probably try to poison you," Thantor said sourly.
"Or Ancith," Cithanekh added sadly. "Ancith. Gods above and below, but he'll be livid if Owl is made Councilor."
"Surely Ancith will recognize that he is too young and too inexperienced to have any reasonable expectation of a Council appointment," Khethyran protested.
"He's only two years younger than Owl, Your Majesty, and—as he will be quick to point out—better born," Thantor put in.
"Surely even Ancith will admit that I can hardly appoint to the Council someone whose first official appearance at Court was so memorable—and so desperately inappropriate."
"It seems to me," Thantor retorted grimly, "that Ancith Ghytteve is not of the disposition to admit to any fault whatever in himself. I'm sorry, Cithanekh. I know he's your brother and that you are fond of him, but Your Majesty, if you make Cithanekh Prime Minister and appoint Owl to Council, I shall have to increase my efforts to keep them both safe."
"Then do so," the Emperor said crisply. "If you need to hire more agents, or want to requisition some personnel from the Imperials, you have my authorization." Then he turned to Cithanekh. "Will Owl be willing to serve, do you think?"
"I should think so," Cithanekh responded. "But you might want to ask him yourself."
The Emperor extricated another letter from the stack of papers. This one was folded and sealed and bore Owl's name on the outside. "Would you take this to him, please? I want this matter of the pastry cook resolved before I pay a formal visit on him, and if I summoned him to my presence right now, the requisite escort of Imperial Guards would give rise to a great deal of poisonous speculation." As Cithanekh took the letter, the Emperor went on, "I am not announcing these appointments for at least a few days. I need to give Alghaffen a chance to respond, and there are these spurious charges to address. You may discuss the matter among your household, as long as everyone understands it is to be kept in confidence until I have informed the Council."
"I understand," Cithanekh assured him. "Thank you, Your Majesty." He got to his feet. To his surprise, the Emperor rose and came around the table to his side.
He put his hand on the young lord's shoulder. "I'm afraid it's more a burden than an honor, Cithanekh."
Cithanekh smile quirked wryly. "I never asked for a walk in the park, Kheth. Arre said something, once, which comes to mind; she said she would rather dodge fangs in this snake pit beside you than stroll serenely without you. That's what I feel, too."
Khethyran hugged him. "I am so fortunate to have you all. Now, go back to Owl—and assure him I'm working on his difficulty."
As the door closed behind Cithanekh, the Emperor turned his amber eyes on his spymaster. "Well? What have you found?"
"On two occasions when the pastry cook said he met with Owl and Lynx, the Ghytteve records indicate that Owl was actually out with Lynx and a second person. Once it was Arre, and once Cezhar."
"Ah. And where did they really go? The Windbringer Temple? The Free School? Shopping? Are there other people who would have seen them, whom we could use as witnesses?"
"The instance where Arre is the auxiliary witness is the time the three of them were kidnapped. I'm sure we can find witnesses who remember that incident—there were bodies, after all, for the Watch to deal with, but I'm not sure it's wise to draw attention to that incident."
"Hmm. No. Probably not. But at least I know Owl couldn't have been chatting with a poisoner. What about the other time?"
"They went to the Windbringer's Temple, then into the Slums to talk with Ferret and Sharkbait, and home by way of the Free School. Cezhar says they met Mouse and Yverri Ambhere at the Free School. Again, I'm not sure any of those interviews are things we want to make public."
"No. But it's enough for me." He stretched, trying to roll the tension out of his shoulders. Then he sighed. "Now, I just have to decide how best to quash the charges. Thoughts, Thantor?"
"I spoke with Klarhynne Dhenykhare this morning, Your Majesty. She's at the Windbringer's Temple under the goddess's protection now that Hassyth is no longer Bodywalking in her. She would not admit anything to me, but I do believe she knows more about both poisonings—Owl's and the Queen's marzipan—than she has admitted. I think it is quite possible that the Adept Hassyth committed the crimes while he was controlling Klarhynne's body."
The Emperor whistled softly. "Gods and fish—as Ferret would say. Even if Klarhynne admitted she had administered the poisons, how could she hope to prove that it was under the Adept's control?"
"I don't see how she can—and I don't see that she should. Think of the precedent it would set if she were acquitted by means of such a tale. But there is more to consider, Your Majesty," Thantor warned. "Lynx suggested to me that it is possible, now that Klarhynne is free, that Hassyth is Bodywalking in the pastry cook. If her suspicions are correct, then it may be that the pastry cook had nothing to do with the poisoning, but that Hassyth is forcing him to confess to something he did not do. Klarhynne Dhenykhare certainly did not believe Tharhyll would poison anyone."
"But she didn't give you her confession to clear him."
Thantor smiled wryly. "He's only a pastry cook, no matter how kind he was to her when she first came to Court."
The Emperor was silent for several moments. "I wish I dared to lay the matter before Celave. She would doubtless devise some suitably underhanded way to protect everyone involved."
Thantor looked dubious. "The Queen has no reason whatever to protect Owl—or Arre. Do you think she would even want to help you?"
The Scholar-King's eyes narrowed as he studied Thantor's unrevealing face. "Donkey. You don't want me to talk to her. Why not?"
"I suspect, Your Majesty, that the Queen has already been put into play."
"Did you talk to her?"
"Heavens, no! She'd never trust me. I think, however, that Lyssemarhe Ghytteve may have spoken to her about Klarhynne's situation; and if we're very lucky, perhaps Lysse will have enlisted Yverri Ambhere's assistance before she went to Her Majesty."
"Lyssemarhe Ghytteve is—what? Fourteen? Donkey, did you ask her to talk to the Queen?"
"No! But she's not a fool, no matter how young she is. She was worried about Klarhynne. I thought she might be more persuasive on that front than I was, so I implied that Your Majesty would be more inclined to protect her if she were able to provide some information of use. She pressed me on it, and I ventured to suggest that if you were grateful, you would be more likely to see that whatever banishment is decided upon for Klarhynne would be comfortable. Lysse response was to chide me: 'That line of reasoning might work on Klarhynne, but I know better,' she told me. So I simply advised her not to let on. It seemed then—and seems still, I fear—that the Queen is more likely to act in this matter if she thinks you're trying to fix the blame on Klarhynne."
"I'm not a monster, Thantor. If Hassyth poured the poison—using Klarhynne's unwilling hands—how could I punish the woman for his crime?"
"I know you're not a monster. Lyssemarhe Ghytteve knows you're not a monster. But if the Queen thinks her friend is really threatened, she's far more likely to take some sort of action—and Celave Azhere-Anzhibhar is resourceful, devious and ruthless. If Lysse—and Yverri, I hope—ca
n convince her that it won't work for her to protect Klarhynne at Owl's expense, it's possible she'll be able to resolve the situation for us."
"Without bloodshed?"
"No. I am reasonably certain that the pastry cook is doomed, no matter how this plays out. That Klarhynne survives is practically a miracle. I do not expect Hassyth to make the same mistake again."
The Emperor touched the tips of his fingers and thumbs together and stared into the space they enclosed. "So," he said after a moment. "Your advice is to do nothing?"
"Wait for the Queen to make her move. I don't believe it will be long."
Khethyran raised his eyes to the spymaster's face. The spymaster showed no emotion, but bore the scrutiny patiently. "All right," Khethyran said at last, his voice low and even. "The pastry cook is a casualty—I can bear that. But Donkey, is there anything else in this that I'm not going to like?"
"I truly don't know what Her Majesty plans," Donkey told him. "But beyond taking a menacing tone with Klarhynne, I haven't done anything you would find objectionable."
"Good. You know," he added in a much lighter tone, "I didn't ask you, earlier, whether you approve of my appointments. Do you?"
The spymaster's face melted into its rare, sweet smile. "Wholeheartedly, Your Majesty."
"Even though it means more work for you?"
"Even so."
"I'm glad. Now, take Alghaffen's letter and dispatch a messenger to Kharymasse with it. Then come back. I'm meeting with the Ambassador from the Federated States in an hour and I'll need you to listen in."
***
In the late hours of the fourth watch, Captain Ysmenarr looked in on the pastry cook. He was not altogether surprised to find that the little man had hanged himself with a rope of braided cloth he had made from his tunic. Wasting no time, the Captain produced a scrap of poor paper and a twig with a burned end. Working quickly, he printed a message in rough letters, then laid the paper and twig on the bunk in plain view. Then, checking carefully to make sure the duty officer was occupied elsewhere, he let himself out of the cell and relocked the door. Tharhyll's body would be found, he knew, when the soldiers of the first watch came on.
***
"He killed himself," the Queen repeated icily, "and left a note? How providentially convenient he could write. Where is this note?"
"The Imperial Guard gave it to the Emperor's spymaster, Your Majesty."
"Did they? And what did this note say, Ysmenarr?"
"It said: It was me who tried to poison the Queen. I lied about Owl Ghytteve because he spoiled my plan. Can't face torture—this is better."
"Well. Very tidy. With a confessed culprit, the case is closed. Owl Ghytteve's good name is cleared, and your good name is…safe—or at least, safe from me. How annoyed will your other employers be, Ysmenarr?"
"What 'other employers,' Majesty?" he replied carefully. "You must know I live only to serve you."
She spread her hands. "Very well; have it your way. And good luck. You may go, Captain Ysmenarr."
He bowed and left the Queen's presence. She watched him go with a sour smile. "I suppose," she said quietly, "I shall have to ask that pestilent spymaster to find a new Captain of my Guard when this one turns up knifed in some tavern brawl."
"Well," Lady Azhine replied, emerging from her seat in the alcove behind the lacquered screen, "at least then you'll know he isn't in anyone else's pay. Thantor is said to be quite good at keeping his people loyal."
"That's a point," Queen Celave agreed dryly. "Now, fetch my writing case. I have some letters to compose."
Chapter Thirty-seven—Decisions
Klarhynne had been staying in the guest quarters of the Windbringer's Temple for nearly a week when one of the priests brought her word that she had a visitor who was waiting for her in the High Priest's office. The only person she could imagine wanting to visit her was the Emperor's spymaster. With a resigned sigh, Klarhynne got up and followed the priest through the maze of corridors. As she entered the room, her eyes widened and the perfunctory curtsey she had begun turned suddenly into a deep and formal one.
"Your Majesty," she murmured.
"Get up," the Queen bade her, smiling. "You've caused quite a deal of trouble, Klarhynne, but I think I've gotten it all straightened out, now. There's someone here I want you to meet."
Klarhynne, who had had eyes only for her Queen, suddenly looked around the chamber with interest. In addition to the obligatory collection of Queen's Guards and ladies-in-waiting, there was a prosperous looking gentleman whom she could not place.
"This is Orandhar Mebhare; he owns an estate three day's ride north of Cynteffarhe, deep in Mebhare lands. He has asked for your hand in marriage, and at my urging, your Duke has given his permission. Orandhar has sworn to do everything in his power to make you happy in your new home—and he knows that if you but send me word that he is not honoring his bargain, he shall feel the weight of my displeasure."
As the Queen spoke, Klarhynne studied the man. He was perhaps five years older than she was, and though his face was serious now, she could see lines that marked the track of laughter. When he caught her staring at him, his mouth softened into a hint of a smile.
"I hope you'll come, Lady Klarhynne," he said, and his voice had the faint lilt of the northwestern reaches of the Empire. "It's a lovely place, our valley. It's cooler than the capital, and we have rich croplands and beautiful orchards. It's not a grand house, Lady, but it has its own charm and it's comfortable. I do think we could be very happy together."
"I'm honored by your proposal," Klarhynne replied, managing a smile for the man. "And I am quite overwhelmed, Your Majesty, by your attention and the effort you have clearly expended upon my behalf. I shall be happy to marry Lord Orandhar—and I will do my best to make you a good wife, my lord."
The Queen's smile was beatific. "Good. Now, Klarhynne, I hope you won't be disappointed by this, but the ship to bear you north to your new home leaves on the afternoon tide. We have planned a private ceremony, with only a few of your closest friends in attendance." She waved a hand towards some of her ladies. "Azhine, Yverri, Lyssemarhe. Go make Klarhynne presentable and bring her back here as soon as you may. We don't want to keep High Priest Kerigden waiting."
The three women gathered up parcels and cases and then, taking Klarhynne by the elbow, whisked her out of the room. In a shorter time than Klarhynne would ever have believed, she was dressed in a magnificent gown of leaf-green brocade, and her hair, elegantly coifed, was held in place by a fabulous net of seed pearls and citrine. Lysse held the mirror up for her to see.
"I can't believe this," she said. "I look like a princess. What can Her Majesty be thinking?"
"She wants you to be safe," Lysse said. "And happy. She knows you have to leave Court, but she doesn't want you to feel cast off."
"She was very worried for you," Lady Azhine put in. "We all were."
"Orandhar is a good man," Yverri added. "And it's in his interests to make you happy. If you complain, she'll take the dowry back."
"I don't have a dowry!" Klarhynne exclaimed.
Lysse grinned wickedly. "You do, now. The Queen acquired the farm in the neighboring valley for you, and a purebred Khyghafe stallion and eight beautiful mares. You always said you wished you could have good horses."
"Don't cry now, Klarhynne," Yverri advised, producing a handkerchief. "We're going to the chapel any moment now, and you don't want Orandhar to be afraid you're displeased."
***
Kharymasse
To His most gracious Royal Majesty, Khethyran Anzhibhar, Supreme Emperor of Bharaghlaf, greetings and fealty:
Doubtless I should try to make this all flowery and high-flown, but I'm a plain man, Majesty, given to plain speaking. So let me simply say if you want my young Cousin Cithanekh as your Prime Minister, then by all means you should have him. As for Owl, the boy is shrewder than a market full of moneylenders, and for all that he's blind, he has more foresight than most any I could name.
There's no 'superior candidate' in the whole, blasted clan—and though the boy doesn't have a drop of my blood, I'm proud to call him kin. So: make him the Ghytteve Councilor with my blessing.
Now, I've been so frank my poor secretary is having kittens, but nonetheless, I remain your obedient servant,
Alghaffen, Duke of Ghytteve
***
At the Council meetings following the death of Prime Minister Zherekhaf Azhere, the Councilors wore black armbands and his empty chair remained in its accustomed place beside the Emperor. Most of the Council's attention had been taken up with smoothing the last wrinkles out of the new agreement among the Caravan Guild, the Wool clans and the Cavalry, though there had been time for the Emperor to inform them of developments in the matter of the Queen's poisoning. The final item in the case had been the formal exoneration of Owl Ghytteve, which the Emperor had read to them before he made it public at one of his formal audiences. There had been little comment from the Councilors, and if Thantor, listening at his hidden post, had heard undercurrents of anger and disappointment on the part of some of the Council members, nothing overtly objectionable was actually said.
Today's meeting had been taken up, so far, with the question of how to fund some much-needed repairs to the system of cisterns and aqueducts, which provided water to the Palace and the tannery district. Rhydev Azhere had ceased to devote his whole attention to the discussion as he turned over a question in his mind: was it too soon to begin—gently and subtly, of course—encouraging the Emperor to consider the matter of appointing a successor to Zherekhaf? He had progressed to the point of trying out different opening gambits in his head when, quite suddenly, he was recalled to full attention by a shift in the Emperor's manner.
"Thank you, all. I certainly appreciate your astute comments and advice in the matter at hand. But now, I would like to apprise you of several decisions I have made. In the first matter, you must understand that I am committed to the goal I will announce, but I would be most grateful for your comments and suggestions about how best to implement it. It is my firm intention to reform the court system. In the treatment of Lord Owl Ghytteve, I have seen only too well how malice and bribery can make a travesty of justice. This I will not tolerate. My Empire will have a judicial system where everyone, regardless of his birth, is entitled to fair representation in an unbiased court. The only question in my mind is how best to achieve this laudable aim."
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