The Emperor

by Norman, John;

  “And for our part in this?” asked Sidonicus.

  “The new emperor, Ingeld, the First,” said Ingeld, “will decree that your particular version of Floonianism, and none other, is the official religion of the empire.”

  “And all other faiths will be outlawed and their adherents will, by means of the secular authority, to which alone violence is permitted, be forcibly converted or slain?”

  “Let us not do too much too soon,” said Ingeld.

  “Surely, later,” said Sidonicus. “To save the koos of thousands, of millions, perhaps billions, false faiths, misleading and pernicious faiths, must be rooted out and their recalcitrant adherents exterminated.”

  “We shall see,” said Ingeld. “I would be reluctant to pass a law under which I myself, as things are twisted about, might somehow be prosecuted.”

  “It is easy enough to be smudged with sacred oil from the pools of Zirus,” said Sidonicus. “Beyond that you may do as you please.”

  “One must be careful,” said Ingeld. “One step into quicksand might prove to be one’s last.”

  “Things should work out nicely,” said Sidonicus. “You will rule by the sword. We will rule by the koos.”

  “Two coffers,” said Ingeld.

  “One for the state, one for the temple,” said Fulvius.

  “I leave the details to you, my dear exarch,” said Ingeld.

  “We shall begin to arrange matters,” said Sidonicus. He glanced to Safarius and Corelius. Both had paled.

  “Do not delay,” said Ingeld. “The sooner Abrogastes and Ortog are dead, the safer we shall be.”

  “We shall not delay, noble prince,” said Sidonicus.

  “I take my leave,” said Ingeld, rising.

  “Matters shall proceed apace,” said Sidonicus.

  Ingeld then threw his cloak about his shoulders and left the room.

  “Gross boor,” said Fulvius.

  “Let us be mild and courteous,” said Sidonicus.

  “Insufferable barbarian,” said Fulvius.

  “He will prove of use,” said Sidonicus. “We can dispose of him later.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Abrogastes strode the confines of his cell like a nervous vi-cat. “As we are alive,” he said to Ortog in the cell across the corridor, the words like blasts, “I do not understand why our captors have not interrogated us, have not challenged us, attempted to frighten, cajole, and influence us, given us terms and demands, striven to negotiate with us. Surely that would have been expected.”

  “Yes,” said Ortog, standing at the bars, “if they wished to keep us alive.”

  “What?” said Abrogastes, stopping his tour, and facing Ortog.

  “I think something has changed,” said Ortog.

  The two war dogs, serving as corridor guards, lay quietly in the corridor, sleeping. They had earlier been fed by portions of the meals given to Abrogastes and Ortog.

  “What?” asked Abrogastes.

  “I am not sure,” said Ortog.

  “Otungs must have contrived with Telnarians to have us imprisoned here,” said Abrogastes.

  “Otungs do the work of Otungs,” said Ortog, “not hirelings.”

  “Otungs, somehow,” said Abrogastes.

  “Secret cells far below the street are not the way of Otungs,” said Ortog. “We would be chained to a stake in some public place.”

  “Who then?” asked Abrogastes.

  “Another, or others,” said Ortog.

  “We must soon be located, must soon be found,” said Abrogastes.

  “How so?” asked Ortog.

  “Ingeld, even now, he, my loyal son, must be assiduously seeking me. In my absence he has the resources of the Drisriaks behind him. A thousand spies must be seeking this place.”

  “Ingeld may know more of this than you know,” said Ortog.

  “What do you mean?” demanded Abrogastes.

  “I suspect treachery in high places,” said Ortog. “I do not think your detention could have been accomplished without collusion.”

  “Such would violate the spear oaths,” said Abrogastes.

  “True,” said Ortog.

  “You speak without thinking,” said Abrogastes, menacingly.

  “I thought, I spoke,” said Ortog.

  “Renegade,” said Abrogastes.

  “One has long looked, this not known to you, with envy on the high seat of the Drisriaks,” said Ortog.

  “Who?” asked Abrogastes.

  “Ingeld,” said Ortog.

  “I did not know you so hated your brother,” said Abrogastes.

  “I do not hate him,” said Ortog. “I have never hated him. But long I have understood him, and feared him.”

  “Dare not, foul traitor,” snarled Abrogastes, “to slander blood nobler than your own.”

  “He looks with desire upon the high seat of the Drisriaks,” said Ortog.

  “It is you who betrayed the Drisriaks,” said Abrogastes.

  “I did not betray the Drisriaks,” said Ortog. “I left the Drisriaks. I did not want your high seat. I wanted my own.”

  “Treason!” roared Abrogastes.

  “Departure,” said Ortog.

  “Would that I had you within my reach,” said Abrogates.

  “Or within the span of that slender, flexible, coiled band of metal you wrestled from your cot, now concealed in your tunic,” said Ortog.

  “Why have we not been approached, not dealt with?” muttered Abrogastes, turning angrily away.

  “Plans have been changed,” said Ortog. “If you were dealt with, on whatever terms, whatever bargains might be struck, whatever conditions might have been negotiated, you would still be king of the Drisriaks. That this has not taken place, no negotiation, or such, tells me that someone wishes the high seat of the Drisriaks to be vacant.”

  “Ingeld?” said Abrogates.

  “I fear so, father,” said Ortog.

  “You called me ‘father’,” said Abrogastes.

  “I came to Telnar to find you, and free you,” said Ortog.

  “Why?” said Abrogastes.

  “I have challenged you, I have stood against you, I have defied you,” said Ortog, “possibly because I am so much like you, for my blood, like yours, is hot, fierce, and deep, but, too, and I beg forgiveness for my weakness, I have always loved you, and do love you now.”

  “Liar!” said Abrogastes.

  “And on Tenguthaxichai, I learned you loved me, too.”

  “I tried to slay you,” said Abrogastes.

  “You spared my life,” said Ortog.

  “What a fool you are,” said Abrogastes.

  “And I am an even greater fool than you think,” said Ortog. “I have been betrayed by Otungs. A plot was formed. I was to permit myself to be apprehended, to seem to be trapped, even stupidly, but my apprehension, my feigned trapping, was to take place under the cognizance of Otungs who would thus, following my captors, be led to my place of incarceration, which, presumably, to abet their intrigues and policies, would be yours, as well. Thus, you would be found and freed.”

  “A most intelligent plan,” said Abrogastes, “save for a grievous misplacement of trust.”

  “I think they will soon come to kill us,” said Ortog. “Three were masked, to conceal their identity, he who was first amongst our captors, their leader, and two who were armed servitors, presumably ones commonly, publicly, associated with him. If they arrive unmasked, they deem their disguise no longer necessary. If they deem their disguise no longer necessary, they have come to kill us.”

  The two war dogs stirred, growling softly, almost inaudibly, lifting their heads.

  “I hear footsteps outside, on the stairs,” said Abrogastes.

  A key was inserted in the lock of the corridor gate, and
the gate was opened. Several men, each armed, entered.

  Timon Safarius Rhodius, of the Telnar Rhodii, primarius of the senate of Telnaria, glanced at Ortog, and then stopped before the cell of Abrogastes, and faced its occupant.

  “Greetings,” said Abrogastes. “I see that you are not masked.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “Greetings,” had said Abrogastes. “I see that you are not masked.”

  “It is not now necessary,” said Timon Safarius Rhodius, of the Telnar Rhodii, primarius of the senate of Telnaria.

  About him were several men, who had served as jailers. Back in the corridor, just outside the gate, waited two large men, standing, their arms folded, bodyguards of Safarius, once feared by competitors on the sands of imperial arenas, once favorites of parties and factions amongst excited, roaring crowds.

  “That you are not masked,” said Abrogastes, “informs us that you are now ready to deal openly with us.”

  “Precisely,” said Safarius.

  Several of the men about him smiled.

  The two war dogs, with a soft scratching of claws on the corridor tiles, rose up, manes stiffening, to a crouching position.

  One of the jailers regarded them, apprehensively.

  “I now know your face,” said Abrogastes. “I would know your name, as well.”

  “I am Timon Safarius Rhodius, of the Telnar Rhodii,” said Safarius, “primarius of the senate of Telnaria.

  “I shall strive to remember that,” said Abrogastes.

  “I do not think you will remember it long,” said Safarius.

  “Are you so forgettable?” asked Abrogastes.

  “Rather,” said Safarius, “I think your memory will prove short.”

  There was a soft growl from one of the war dogs, which was seconded by his fellow.

  “The dogs are uneasy,” said the jailer who had earlier suspected a subtle disquietude in the beasts.

  Safarius paid him no attention.

  “I take it,” said Abrogastes, “that we are now to be freed.”

  “Yes,” said Safarius, “in a manner of speaking.”

  Two of the attendant jailers laughed.

  At this point a bowman, equipped with a long bow, a heavy, strong-drawing bow, of the sort that might be used for hunting lion and vi-cat, even the massive arn bear, on worlds such as Tangara or Varna, entered through the opened gate. At his hip was a sheaf of arrows.

  Safarius motioned the newcomer forward.

  “Behold, dear king and dear prince,” said Safarius to the two separately incarcerated prisoners, “your liberator.”

  “King and king,” said Abrogastes, “king of the Drisriaks, and king of the Ortungen.”

  “Father!” said Ortog.

  “I recognize the Ortungen as a tribe of the Alemanni,” said Abrogastes.

  “We accept the recognition of the Drisriaks, high tribe, hegemonic tribe, of the Alemanni nation,” said Ortog, his voice breaking.

  “It is done,” said Abrogastes.

  “This is all very touching,” said Safarius, “a glad day for the Aatii, but I fear, too, a dark day for the Aatii, as on this day two kings of the Aatii perish.”

  “Speak,” said Abrogastes.

  “Behold,” said Safarius, “the bowman’s quiver.”

  Both war dogs growled, their bodies tensed, their eyes bright, their heads raised.

  “What is wrong with the dogs?” asked Safarius.

  “They are agitated,” said the jailer.

  “I have seen quivers before,” said Abrogastes.

  “But arrows such as these you have seldom seen, save in war,” said Safarius. “Please,” said Safarius to the bowman, “draw forth an arrow.”

  The bowman drew forth an arrow, and fitted it to the string.

  The dogs growled, again.

  “Behold the coloring of the arrow, the nature of the fletching,” said Safarius.

  “I see,” said Abrogastes.

  “It is an Otung arrow,” said Ortog.

  “So you are in the pay of Otungs,” said Abrogastes.

  “Scarcely,” said Safarius.

  “That is an Otung arrow,” said Abrogastes.

  “It seems so,” said Safarius. “And we have no doubt but what it will be taken for an Otung arrow.”

  “These arrows, I take it,” said Abrogastes, “are meant for us.”

  “Although you are a barbarian,” said Safarius, “you are perceptive.”

  “Before you have your minion demonstrate his prowess and courage by shooting a caged vi-cat, I would that you might unfold your design to two barbarians who, otherwise, in their simplicity, might fail to understand it.”

  “Willingly,” said Safarius. “Your lives were preserved until we could consult with an interested party. We had hitherto intended to work out a beneficial alliance, exchanging favors, your life, and then your lives, for political concessions. But we have recently been informed that you both might prove, or would prove, uncooperative, and even recalcitrant. It is apparently easier to deal with civilized parties than with those afflicted with primitive mentalities. Honor, for example, might prove a troubling obstacle, impeding mutually satisfactory arrangements. We became recently convinced that our goals might be more easily reached with a different monarch on the high seat of the Drisriaks. The problem remained of accounting for your prolonged absence, and now that of your son, in a way that would prove useful to our ends. It would also be helpful to shake, or remove, the Otung usurper, bringing a new barbarian to the throne, say, a Drisriak, or restoring the drooling, mindless dolt, Aesilesius, to the throne and ruling through him, until a royal birth occurs, the son of a princess, following which a regency would be emplaced, the regent being, naturally, the father of the royal heir. It will be arranged to appear that you and your son were held by Otungs, who then disposed of your bodies, clumsily, of course, which will be found in a field, or near the carnariums, heavy with Otung arrows. This would precipitate open warfare, a war of vengeance, between the Drisriaks and the Otungs, a war in which the mobs of Telnar, suitably aroused, would participate, on behalf of the Drisriaks. We would seize Telnar, and, as Telnar goes, so will the empire. Many gambling stones, handfuls, will be shaken and cast, but the odds are much in our favor.”

  “You have planned well,” said Abrogastes.

  “We have considered, I think, all plausible contingencies.”

  “Sometimes,”’ said Abrogastes, “a contingency arises which was not plausible.”

  “I trust that your questions have been answered, and your curiosity satisfied,” said Safarius.

  “Quite,” said Abrogastes.

  “We may then proceed,” said Safarius. “What is wrong with the dogs?”

  “Nothing,” said the jailer, uneasily.

  “Why this business of arrows?” asked Abrogastes. “Simply enter the cells, and kill us. You can then fill our bodies with arrows later, at your leisure.”

  “Who, who was sane,” asked Safarius, “would enter the cage of living vi-cat?”

  “Yes,” said Abrogastes, “it is easier to kill it in its cage.”

  “I do not like it,” said the jailer. “The dogs are uneasy.”

  “And much safer, as well,” said Safarius.

  “Kings,” said Abrogastes, “may not be as easy to kill as you think.”

  “We shall see,” said Safarius. He then turned to the bowman. “Kill them,” he said.

  When he turned back to face Abrogastes, there was a sudden flash of metal, almost invisible, like a striking snake of steel, and Safarius screamed, his face cut open, streaming with blood, and he stumbled back, striking into the bars of Ortog’s cell, and a loop of metal flashed forth about his throat and pulled him back, tight against the bars, and he could not move lest his throat be crushed, or, should the span be turne
d, he cut his own throat, and, at the same time, Abrogastes, screaming, and pointing wildly at the bowman and the men in the corridor, cried out to the trembling, excited, tensed war dogs, “Kill, kill, kill!”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The first dog lunged toward the bowman, seized an arm, and, shaking its head viciously, tore it from the bowman’s body. There were shouts of consternation and alarm. The second dog, frenzied and violent, beside itself with hate for those who, to hone its murderous instincts, had starved and abused it, the door of its fury now flung open, its pent-up hatred unleashed, thrust itself into the midst of the small crowd of confused, twisting, screaming, stumbling, falling jailers, biting, tearing, and clawing. The jailers’ motions were impeded by one another’s bodies. Blades remained sheathed. Men thought only of escape. Flesh was torn, and a hand lost. Blood from the howling bowman rushed out, in arcs, as he spun about, it spurting, spattering men and bars. And this blood was joined by new blood, from a myriad cuts and bites. The robes of Safarius, his face streaming blood from his own wound, he pinned by the throat, back to the bars of Ortog’s cell, were drenched. He could not speak. He closed his eyes, tightly, in horror, half-blinded, his eyes dashed with scarlet fluid. Men slipped on wet tiles. More than one fell, and was trampled by others, hurrying toward the corridor gate. A leg and neck were broken. The gate, which had been opened, was flung back, and men crowded through, struggling, some preventing others from entering. One fellow was pulled back by a foot into the corridor by the first dog. Another, pounced upon, had his neck bitten through, from behind, by the second dog, its long, curved claws, a half foot long, anchored in the body. Then a handful of men had passed through the gate, and joined the two gladiators in the hall behind the gate. One jailer still in the corridor, seized the bars of the shut gate, screaming to be admitted, and he was then pulled back into the corridor by the first dog. The bowman lay dead in the corridor, from loss of blood. Inert bodies were about him. Two jailers, sat, backed against bars, bleeding, fearfully eying the dogs, as they lapped blood, and fed.