“We do not know,” said Julian.
“Perhaps most importantly,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “he was not, following the testimony of Boris and Andak, present at the meeting of Ingeld with Timon Safarius Rhodius, the exarch, Sidonicus, and the exarch’s deputy, Fulvius.”
“That is true,” said Julian.
“I think,” said Rurik, “Corelius is dead.”
“How so?” asked Julian.
“Corelius was involved, and importantly, in various affairs, as you noted,” said Rurik, “indeed, I think in too many.”
“Speak further,” said Julian.
“He was importantly involved,” said Rurik, “but always as a minion, a minor figure, a figure with no standing, no power, no wealth, no men of his own.”
“I see,” said Julian.
“Therefore,” said Rurik, “he, with a track of betrayals behind him, he, with little power, and expendable, knows too much of too many dark secrets.”
“Such men are unnecessary and dangerous,” said Iaachus.
“Of course,” said Rurik, “so I expect our conspirators, long ago, must have noted his dispensability.”
“He is dead,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I would think so,” said Rurik.
“Surely his dispensability and peril must have occurred to him,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“One would suppose so,” said Rurik. “One does not know.”
“Some men,” said Julian, “ignore the most obvious signs of a prowling vi-cat, not wishing to understand them, even refusing to understand them, and some cling to a sack of gold even when it impedes their flight from a lion.”
“Much proceeds, unseen,” said Rurik.
“It is quiet now,” said Julian.
“When the dam breaks,” said Rurik, “a torrent of events will occur.”
“In any event,” said Iaachus, “we now have a signal advantage. By means of Timon Safarius Rhodius, primarius of the senate, we have access to the inner circle of our enemies, to their most secret plans.”
“Unless the primarius is suspected,” said Julian.
“Of course,” said Iaachus.
“Ingeld will rouse the Aatii,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“But they will not attack until the batteries are silenced, either overwhelmed, suborned, or destroyed,” said Iaachus.
“The defenses of the batteries are being strengthened,” said Julian. “The emperor has placed Otungs in command.”
“It is late, gentlemen,” said Rurik.
“I would,” said Julian, “that the emperor spoke more frequently with us.”
“He keeps his own council,” said Iaachus.
“He is deep,” said Julian.
“Surely he has plans,” said Rurik. “A thousand things could occur.”
“For which,” said Julian, “he may have a thousand plans.”
“Let us adjourn our meeting,” said Rurik. “By now the slaves, following our instructions, will be waiting, having chained themselves naked, to the foot of our couches.”
“I noted earlier the preferred slaves of the emperor,” said Iaachus, “Janina, Flora, and Renata. They were still in their cages. Usually the emperor has one or more sent to his chamber.”
“I think not for three or four days,” said Julian.
“I do not understand,” said Iaachus.
“Nor do I,” said Julian.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“Greetings,” said Otto, rising, sitting up on his side couch, turning, facing the panel which had just slid open, the darkness behind it. “I have been waiting for you.”
A figure appeared from the darkness, bent over, clutching a small, stuffed animal, a yellow torodont.
“Did you hear the small coin that dropped, dislodged from its place, when you opened the panel?” asked Otto. “You must have heard it, and yet you did not immediately withdraw. Why is that? Or perhaps you thought that I, so asleep, would not hear it fall? Should you have risked that? Or should you have rushed forward, to strike instantly, hopefully before any possible response? In the darkness, or poor light, for the lamp is very dim, you would presumably attack the seeming figure on the great couch, but you would find it naught but curled cushions, wrapped in blankets.”
The bent-over figure now appeared fully in the portal, clutching the stuffed animal to its chest.
“Surely you heard the dropping of the coin, as tiny a sound as it might have produced,” said Otto. “Would not your every sense be keenly alert, at such a time? Might your hand not tremble in anticipation? Might you not wonder if the beating of your heart, like throbbing thunder in your breast, might be heard afar, from wall to wall? This would not be old business for you, as it might be for a controlled, cold, practiced assassin.”
A small, childlike noise emanated from the figure.
“The falling of that coin,” said Otto, “in such a place, at such a time, should have rivaled the clash of cymbals, the beating of drums, the blare of trumpets. Did you not hear it? Death seldom announces itself, approaching loudly. Commonly it comes on soft feet, like night, unseen like air. Were you camped on the Plains of Barrionuevo, on the Flats of Tung, with Heruls about, or resting in the forests of Varna or Tangara, roamed by the vi-cat, the forest panther, the hroth, the arn bear, the lion, you would become aware, if you were to survive, of small noises, the stirring of a pebble, the snapping of a stick, and aware, too, of the lack of noise, the sudden silence of night creatures.”
A pathetic, snuffling, mewling sound escaped the figure.
“Ah,” said Otto, “I see that it is the noble, tragic Aesilesius, puzzled and confused, who has somehow stumbled on clandestine avenues within the palace and has, wandering about, fortuitously, unwittingly, stumbled into my chamber.”
An unintelligible mumble, a soft, soblike gurgle, came from the creature.
“I see you have your stuffed torodont,” said Otto. “I hear you are fond of it. I hope you liked the other toy I gave you, as well, the small, red-headed, pretty toy.”
The figure looked up, angrily.
“I assume the torodont, held as it is, serves to conceal a weapon,” said Otto, “presumably the knife reported missing from the kitchen.”
Aesilesius released the torodont, letting it slip to the floor.
“I thought so,” said Otto.
Aesilesius faced Otto, the knife in view.
“That is not a toy, to be played with,” said Otto.
Wavering, gurgling like demented child, Aesilesius, raised the knife over his head, awkwardly.
“I see you are innocent, and have no idea of what you are doing,” said Otto. “Surely, if you did, you would not attempt an over-the-head downward stroke, as it is easy to block. You would do better to hold the knife down, edge up, and rip to the belly, following which you may go for the heart or throat.”
Aesilesius, crouching, held the knife lower, edge up.
“Better,” said Otto. “But it is safest, if less honorable, to attack, unnoted, from the rear, across the throat or into the back. To be sure, that option is no longer available to you, at least at present.”
Aesilesius did not respond.
“You realize, of course,” said Otto, “that you can be summarily killed, or killed unpleasantly, for entering this chamber, unannounced, without permission, let alone while bearing a weapon.”
Aesilesius regarded Otto balefully.
“Discard your mask of imbecility,” said Otto.
The creature raised its head.
“It is not necessary here,” said Otto.
“You know?” said Aesilesius.
“Of course,” said Otto.
“Your spy, Nika, has reported to you,” said Aesilesius. “She has informed on me. She has betrayed me.”
“No,” said Otto, “she would die before
she would betray you. I suspected the matter long ago, from missing volumes in the library, having to do with the plans of the palace, with politics, economics, statecraft, and war. And clearly your love of your mother and her weaknesses gave you away. Who else would be so concerned for her but a loving son, she to many a vain, tiresome old woman, and how could she be secretly provided with gifts in the absence of unrecognized corridors and passageways, doubtless recorded in one of the missing volumes from the library?”
“You put the slave into my chambers to spy on me,” said Aesilesius.
“I put her there for two reasons,” said Otto, “first, to spy not on you, but for you, that you might be better informed, and, second, a subsidiary reason, to teach you the delights and joys of the most beautiful, exciting, and precious possession a man can own, wholly, absolutely, and perfectly, a woman.”
“She attempted to dissuade me from coming here,” said Aesilesius.
“She is terrified for your safety,” said Otto.
“Why should that be?” asked Aesilesius.
“Who knows?” said Otto.
“Call your guards,” said Aesilesius.
“I would rather not,” said Otto.
“They may arrive in time,” said Aesilesius.
“Perhaps to remove your body,” said Otto.
“I have a knife,” said Aesilesius.
“If you will not return it to the kitchen,” said Otto, “at least return it to your chamber and hide it, as before.”
“Surely you understand why I have come here, in stealth, and armed,” said Aesilesius.
“It is easy to have one’s suspicions,” said Otto.
“I must kill you,” said Aesilesius.
“You are mistaken,” said Otto.
“At least,” said Aesilesius, “I must try to do so.”
“Not at all,” said Otto.
“You had two barbarian kings killed, needlessly and cruelly, even shaming their bodies,” said Aesilesius. “A war of vengeance is now imminent. In this war Telnaria, and neighboring worlds, will be the battleground. Telnar itself, seat of the empire, may be destroyed. The empire will totter, and may fall. It is your dark, tyrannical blood which will be sought. If I can rid the empire of so heinous a perpetrator, war may be averted. If vengeance is obtained, it should no longer be sought.”
“I suspect you have learned much from books and little from life,” said Otto. “One lesson is that many things are not what they seem, and that much which is said is not what is meant. One who seems your friend may not be your friend, and one who seems your enemy may not be your enemy, and your friend may become your enemy and your enemy may become your friend. One who speaks much of honor may not be honorable, and one who speaks little of honor may die for it. Men are commonly aware of their own interest; it is then up to you to understand their interest, for that, far better than what they speak, is a guide to how they will act.”
“I understand little or nothing of this,” said Aesilesius.
“Words can illuminate reality,” said Otto, “but too, they can darken and conceal reality. Try to look behind them.”
“How can one look behind a word?” asked Aesilesius.
“Like an animal, like the lion and vi-cat,” said Otto.
“I do not understand,” said Aesilesius.
“See, smell, listen, taste, touch,” said Otto. “Be alive, be aware, and when you think, think reality, what is, and what is not, and what may be, and how it may be, not words.”
“This is hard to understand,” said Aesilesius.
“Learn your books,” said Otto, “but learn things, and men, and animals, and seasons and weathers, as well.”
“If vengeance is obtained, it should no longer be sought,” said Aesilesius. “If I slay you, I may avert a war. Thus, I must slay you, or, at least, try to do so.”
“Some men who desire cities, lands, gold, and women,” said Otto, “march out and seize them. Others invent reasons for doing so. Which are the more honest?”
“My knife is sharp,” said Aesilesius.
“I could seize your wrist,” said Otto, “and break it. I could crush your throat with either hand. I could break your neck beneath my foot.”
“I fear it is so,” said Aesilesius.
“I assure you it is so,” said Otto.
Aesilesius sobbed, and handed Otto the knife, which Otto returned to him.
“I am a coward, a fraud, and failure,” said Aesilesius, putting the knife in his belt.
“You are no coward,” said Otto. “If you were a coward, you would never have come here. Too, I do not see you as a fraud. Rather I salute your brilliance, even from childhood. Deception and deceit, masking movements, misleading the enemy, are part of war, and the palace is at war. Such things are virtues of war, but there comes a time when one must, the place and time being propitious, put aside deception and deceit, and reveal oneself.”
“I am a failure,” said Aesilesius.
“You have succeeded, in your way, admirably until now,” said Otto.
“I am a failure,” insisted Aesilesius.
“Perhaps later,” said Otto. “But not now, not yet.”
“I do not understand,” said Aesilesius.
“Now,” said Otto, “if I were you I would return to your chamber.”
“What shall I tell lovely Nika?” asked Aesilesius.
“You need tell her nothing,” said Otto. “She is a slave.”
Aesilesius regarded Otto.
“You may tell her that we met, amiably, and exchanged pleasantries,” said Otto.
“She will not believe that,” said Aesilesius.
“No,” said Otto, “but she will understand.”
“What of my secret?” asked Aesilesius.
“You may retain the clever, if dreadful, persona you have cultivated so carefully over the years,” said Otto. “The future is uncertain. You may have need of it.”
“My secret is safe with you?” asked Aesilesius.
“For now,” said Otto.
“I may leave?” asked Aesilesius.
“Wait,” said Otto, who then removed a bottle of kana from a cabinet to the side, which he placed in the hands of Aesilesius. “See the purple seal,” he said. “This is the emperor’s private stock. This will prove to your slave, should you wish to do so, that you were in my chamber.”
“I hope this is not poison,” said Aesilesius.
“I hope so, as well,” said Otto, “for I might have drunk it. If you are concerned, have your slave drink first.”
“No,” said Aesilesius. “I would not do that.”
“Interesting,” said Otto.
“Should I permit her to have some?” asked Aesilesius.
“It is up to you,” said Otto. “She is a slave.”
“I think she would like some,” said Aesilesius.
“The decision is yours,” said Otto. “She is a slave.”
“I take my leave,” said Aesilesius.
“Take with you the stuffed toy, the torodont,” said Otto. “It would not do for it to be found here.”
Aesilesius picked up the toy, and turned to leave.
“I need not tell you this,” said Otto, “but I choose to do so. It may lend solace to your concerns. I did not command, nor am I responsible for, in any way, the death of the two kings, Abrogastes and Ortog.”
“Who then?” asked Aesilesius, turning back.
“Neither is dead,” said Otto. “Both live.”
“But,” said Aesilesius, “the bodies?”
“Those of others,” said Otto, “selected to perpetrate an illusion.”
“I do not understand,” said Aesilesius.
“Deceit and deception are part of war,” said Otto.
“The kings live?” said Aesilesius.
“I understand,” said Aesilesius.
“Nothing is to be said to Nika, nor to any other,” said Otto.
“Accepted,” said Aesilesius.
“My spies inform me,” said Otto. “That some men in taverns drink the health of Aesilesius.”
“Have you something to do with this?” asked Aesilesius.
“Who knows?” said Otto.
“Sometimes, I have heard,” said Aesilesius, “an enemy is not an enemy.”
“I have heard that, as well,” said Otto.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Are the rumors true?” asked Lars Red Sleeves, of the Borkons, the third largest tribe of the Alemanni nation. He was of the Lidanian Borkons, the Coastal Borkons.
“We shall soon know,” said Farrix, of the Teragars, or Long-River Borkons.
“Representatives of the Eleven Tribes are here,” said Herman Two Ax. “I have counted the shields on the gate. Herman Two Ax was a Dangar, one of four on the Spear Council. The Dangars were the second largest tribe of the Alemanni nation, the Drisriaks being the largest.
“It is time,” said Granath, “that the lion ships clawed at Telnar itself.” He was of the Long-Toothed People, an allied tribe of the Alemanni. Representatives of several of the allied tribes were present.
“No wise lion charges into the muzzle of a gun,” said Farrix.
“Better to nibble at the outer worlds,” said an Aratar, “until Telnaria, harassed and bled, starved, succumbs, opening her gates to our grain ships.”
“What if the guns are jammed, unloaded, or destroyed?” asked Granath.
“Excellent,” said Farrix. “Accomplish it.”
On the rude dais in the stoutly-timbered, high-roofed hall on the Alemanni Meeting World, Tenguthaxichai, loomed the high seat of the Drisriaks, unoccupied. Tables and benches lined the walls. There were more than four hundred men and nonmen present, delegates of more than a dozen species. In the long fire pit, the roasting racks and poles were cold, and in the pit lay inert, sullen ashes.
“I can remember,” said Lars Red Sleeves, “when this hall was bright with laughter, with song, with shouting, with slaves, with fire and feasting.”
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