by David Weber
The silence was deafening as he resumed his seat, and Andrin heaved a huge mental sigh of relief. She could hardly believe it, even now, but Taje and her father had been right. Chava Busar was as calculating as he was ambitious. The Conclave’s thunderous response showed only too clearly how the rest of its members would respond to any tirade in his part, and the letter of the treaty was against him. It said exactly what Taje had just said it did. If he protested now, tried to set aside her choice, it would only make him look ridiculous and petulant. Worse, it would make him look incompetent by simply emphasizing his failure to recognize the ambiguity of the language he himself had insisted be inserted into the treaty. And, worse yet, it was entirely probable that that treaty’s other signatories would not hesitate to enforce it anyway—by force of arms, if necessary—and his empire could never stand against an entire world united against it.
No, he’d been outmaneuvered—for now, at any rate—and the Emperor of Uromathia would not allow the fury consuming him behind that calm façade to betray him into a disastrous false step. He’d make no political moves until he’d had time to think, time to find a response which benefited him. But he’d remember this moment—not simply as a political defeat but as a personal, unforgivable insult to his dignity—forever. She shivered at the thought and looked away from him, searching for King Junni, her soon to be father-in-law.
The short, stocky king of Eniath rewarded her with a brilliant smile. Good! He did understand what was going on, and even better, he approved! The white jade ring was missing from his finger, but Finena chose that moment to leap from Andrin’s shoulder and fly to King Junni.
The Eniathian king lifted his forearm to grant the imperial falcon a perch, which, wonder of wonders, the bird accepted. Finena might shred that fine overrobe with a brush of her beak or an injudicious talon scratch, but the sheen of King Junni’s sleeve looked like he’d come prepared.
Howan Fai’s warm hand squeezed hers.
“Sister of White Fire, your falcon has a new admirer.”
“Yes. Your father’s been sending her jewelry.” She returned the squeeze. “It was a lovely gesture. I’m glad the guards were fast enough getting to you. Emperor Chava’s retinue made a fuss, and I thought we’d been found out too early.”
Howan Fai lifted her hand to his lips. “Not found out. Only Prince Weeva saw, and he didn’t know what he’d seen. So he came to make threats rather than telling his father.”
“Threats that should concern us?” Andrin tensed.
“No. Not any more. The emperor, his father, won’t let him act. We’ll face more intelligent enemies now.”
“What was it he threatened?”
“Finena.” Howan Fai gave a minute headshake. “Prince Weeva’s a fool. White Fire would eat out his eyes before he could even unsheathe a meat cleaver for the game roast he threatened.”
Andrin’s falcon stretched wide her wings at the sound of her name, but stayed settled on King Junni’s arm.
There’d been no arrangement made for a translator, and she’d just stolen Howan Fai who usually performed those duties at the Conclave, but King Junni made small hand motions encouraging her to move along to stand in front of the priests and begin the wedding ceremony.
Andrin locked fingers with Howan Fai, and they took their places at the center of the dais. Acolytes summoned from the Temple of Saint Taiyr marched braziers of incense up and down the aisles of dignitaries. Devotees of Vothan, Shalana, and Marnilay, originally present to bless the assembly came forward, and followers of Tryganath, Marthea, and Sekharan were sent for to serve as the gods’ witnesses for each of the six members of the Twofold Triad.
“We need a Uromathian priest, as well.” Howan Fai spoke in her ear, and while his lips never even twitched, his dark eyes smiled as he nodded to an elaborate tapestry of Bergahl the Just in his incarnation as Vindicator.
“Of course,” Andrin said, then caught her father’s eye and inclined her head towards a familiar round figure. Who better to serve as senior officiant than the highest priest in Tajvana—the Seneschal for the Order of Bergahl?
“My friends,” Emperor Zindel’s powerful voice rolled out across the chamber, “I realize this may seem a bit sudden, but—”
* * *
This was…it was…
Whatever it was, Raka couldn’t call it Just. The sudden changes in what everyone had expected to happen had surprised everyone in the Emperor Garim Chancellery, including Raka, and it had only gotten worse from there. The crown princess had selected her Uromathian prince, but it was just the Prince of Eniath, not a relative of Emperor Chava at all. That was a sufficient affront to Raka’s sense of what was right and proper, but it hadn’t ended there. Oh, no! Not content to simply announce the betrothal, Emperor Zindel had announced a wedding, as well. Now. Immediately, before this cloud of court-dressed nobles. And he’d called on His Eminence, Raka’s master, to serve as one of the officiants.
Clergy for all six gods of the Double Triad—Vothan, Shalana, Marnilay, Tryganath, Marthea, and Sekharan—were represented as well, of course, which was another affront to Raka’s sense of propriety here in Bergahl’s own city! Not that anyone cared what he thought. Now each deity had at least one priest, monk, or priestess scampering down the aisles with unholy glee to join the wedding party, and it was all Raka could do not to glower openly at the uncouth horde.
He recognized the Sekharan monk Nekhaan, who wore braided rawhide for a belt even for an event with emperors in attendance. Nekhaan spent too much time among the poor and forgot the dignity of a god’s servant. And if the Vothanite priest Lavo was turned out immaculately, as all of the six should have been, he still sported a muscled physique more fitting to a day laborer. The truth was that all six of the Double Triad clergy who served as chaplains to the Winged Crown were affronts to the dignity of their priestly calling in one way or another.
The Marthean priestess Thea-Nami had the gall to be leaking tears of joy. She at least sported a rotund figure befitting the wealth that came with a god’s blessings, but the child-sized jam handprints at knee level were probably real. A Marthean attendant behind Thea-Nami swung ginger incense back and forth behind her mistress’s steps, and Raka wrinkled his nose. Of course she was pregnant again. No doubt Marthean devotees would consider it an extra blessing on the marriage.
They were all contemptible, in oh so many ways, but what could one expect? The Double Triad clergy were simple tools, compliant in a way His Eminence the Seneschal had never allowed himself to be. They were nonentities, supremely unimportant. When one came down to it, there were three men in this Conclave who mattered, and Raka studied them, hoping to guess their thoughts.
A vein pulsed in the Holy Seneschal’s forehead, Emperor Zindel smiled ever so blandly, and Emperor Chava watched, showing nothing at all. The Seneschal seemed to see something in that utterly flat expression and his steps moved faster. As a loyal servant of Bergahl’s highest priest, Raka hurried after him. Raka couldn’t guess what the emperors intended, but his master’s response was clear.
The center dais should have collapsed into a hundred thousand splinters if the weight of the Seneschal’s angry outrage had been made manifest by Bergahl in that moment.
“This is hardly appropriate.” The Seneschal’s protest came in the calm and measured tones of a revered church leader, and pride rose in Raka’s chest. He straightened the trailing end of the Seneschal’s court robe so the thread of gold showed properly.
Nekhaan, the only clergy member to make it to the dais ahead of them, looked from Raka’s master to the Crown Princess of the Sharonan Empire and obviously decided otherwise. Ignoring the Seneschal, the young monk filled his lungs and shouted out the beginning of the Double Triad marriage ceremony.
“Glory to Sekharan that I am allowed this day! Praises to Him and honor to his Brother and Sister Gods!”
Nekhaan had a voice trained to carry in alleys and marketplaces. The amplification of a room designed for the less roug
h voices of kings and emperors made him sound like the voice of Sekharan himself. The lines were familiar to the many followers of the Double Triad present among the assembled members of the Conclave, and the crowd knew their response.
“May His blessings endure forever!” they rumbled back like human thunder.
Nekhaan raised his hand in benediction, beaming out across the crowded floor. Then he glanced at the Seneschal and lowered his voice considerably.
“There’s a shrine to the demon of lost causes across in the poor quarter if you want to cause trouble, Your Eminence,” he said under his breath. “But this is a state wedding, and it will be held in all honor if I have to skewer you with one of your own knives.”
From still halfway up the north aisle came the next line in the liturgy:
“Thanks to Tryganath that this joy should fall to me! Praises to Him and honor to His Brother and Sister Gods!” Tryganath’s priest had a powerful voice too.
“May His blessings endure forever!” the crowd gave back, and Finena added her own loud cries in emphasis. His Eminence the Seneschal cringed at the falcon’s cries. Raka wished Emperor Zindel had at least had the damned bird caged for the ceremony.
“Reverence to Marthea that I live in this moment!” Thea-Nami reached the dais and achieved a creditable soprano roar. “Praises to Marthea and honor to Her Brother and Sister Gods”
“May Her blessings endure forever!”
Thea-Nami took her place, completing the opening liturgy which honored the Veiled Triad, and the Seneschal shifted in frustration, curling the edge of his train. Raka straightened the fine cloth again and retreated to the back of the dais.
All eyes were on the Seneschal, and Raka almost laughed aloud when he realized the reason for the growing silence.
This point between the Veiled Triad’s invocation and the Elder Triad’s invocation was when other gods and goddesses included in a Double Triad ceremony were invoked—or not—by their respective priests and priestesses. And the Seneschal obviously intended not to. His master would refuse to officiate at the ceremony by not invoking Bergahl. It was a dignified way to object, and Raka imagined explaining it to some of the less devoted Order worshipers who’d begun to be overawed by the Caliraths. His Eminence the Seneschal could not bless a union so newly announced. It was concern for the young crown princess that stayed his hand, his priestly concern that she be properly counseled and instructed before taking this monumental step. Yes, that would strike the right note to remind the people of Princess Andrin’s youth and her obviously few years of experience with the elements of high statecraft. The Seneschal only needed to remain disapprovingly silent to stop this entire outrage in it’s tracks and remind all the world of who truly held power in Tajvana, the Queen of Cities.
Raka watched his master take in the whole crowd who moved restlessly, waiting on words he was sure the Seneschal would not speak. The paper notes for the carefully drafted blessing of the crown princess’s betrothal to a son or nephew of Emperor Chava were still in the Seneschal’s right hand. His master crumpled them, deliberately. Only the first few rows could hear the sound, but Emperor Zindel and Empress Varena sat in those rows.
Someone whistled softly and Raka began to enjoy the growing sense of embarrassment he thought he could detect in Empress Varena’s increasingly colorless face.
Nekhaan said something to Lavo, but it was too low voiced for Raka to make out. The silence stretched, ringing in the stillness—
And then Finena, the Crown Princess’s bird, chose that moment to fly from King Junni’s shoulder. The bride and groom kneeling on the dais facing all seven representatives of the gods leaned together, and Howan Fai kissed his bride. Just quickly and lightly, but the Conclave took the opportunity to cheer. And in that distraction, the crown princess whistled sharp and clear to her falcon.
The bird spread its wide wings, circled the dais, and in a lightning fast dive ripped the prayer notes from the Seneschal’s hand before settling—not back on the crown princess’s arm or even at King Junni’s side—but on the Seneschal’s own shoulder.
Raka stared in horror as his master stood frozen. Lavo and Nekhaan, with a few low voiced exchanges that sounded far too much like laughter, clamped themselves on either side of the Seneschal and retrieved the notes, while Raka’s master stood unmoving in terror and the falcon watched. Raka couldn’t read an expression in the feathered head, but that wicked sharp beak gleamed inches from the Seneschal’s eyes.
“Bergahl honors this union.” Lavo read out in a loud carrying voice. “As Bergahl is Just, so is this completion to the Articles of Confederation. Blessings of glory, honor, and wisdom on the Prince of Uromathia chosen this day to wed our own Crown Princess—”
The words continued and Raka stood as frozen as his master. They were exactly the words on the papers, but they’d never been intended for this!
Sparing the Seneschal nothing, Lavo read every word with Nekhaan holding and turning the pages. Then the three Elder Triad gods had their traditional invocations. And all the while Finena turned her feathered head this way and that, studying the Seneschal’s eyes.
All seven of the holy men and women clasped hands together, with the Vothan and Sekharan priests giving the Seneschal no other option, and the priestess of Marnilay pronounced the final words.
“In the names of All Gods, Ternathian and Uromathian, we and Sharona Entire bless our daughter Andrin and our son Howan and join them before all people as one house. And in this holy joining we renew our blessings on the People of Sharona and the united Empire of Sharona. Rise daughter and son, wife and husband, Crown Princess and Prince Consort.”
The Seneschal opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“In the names of All the Gods,” the Double Triad six called out together, “Blessings, blessings, seven times blessings!”
* * *
“That conniving little whore!” Raynarg snarled. “I had to bless them. Bless them! While those six tridiots fawned over the sanctity of marriage and acted oh so delighted to preside over that six times damned farce! She should be whipped in the streets!”
Chava Busar watched the spittle-flecked would-be holy man with partially concealed disdain. “I’d settle for dead. In childbirth would be appropriate, but we probably shouldn’t wait that long.”
Faroayn Raynarg offended Emperor Chava’s sensibilities. But the price of empire demanded using tools like the soft man in front of him. Ternathians dismissed “His Crowned Eminence” as a buffoon, because he was one. But Chava could use buffoons as handily as he could men of capability. In fact, handled properly, buffoons could be far more valuable than more capable—and wary—tools.
“Zindel Calirath, the father, is our true enemy here, remember,” the Uromathian counseled. “The girl is just his blood, and not yet out of her teens, to boot. Trouble enough in time, but for now she’s still untrained.”
“She offends me.” Raynarg ignored this comment, not pausing in his furious pacing to actually acknowledge the wisdom being offered him. “I’ll cut her. Cut her where it hurts.”
Chava sighed inwardly and continued, pointing out more Calirath weaknesses that would never apply to a Uromathian imperial heir.
“Zindel’s children do not compete amongst themselves for heirship, so when he lost the boy he lost his only truly trained heir. Princesses are only good for alliances. Admittedly, our bride chose poorly, but such errors can be…corrected. So, certainly, if your knives get an opportunity, kill her.”
“Yes!” Raynarg clenched a fist in a manner probably meant to be threatening and collapsed into a heavily padded chair exhausted by the few minutes of pacing.
The emperor hid his personal contempt for the qualities which made the Seneschal so attractive as a tool. The man was a fat toad. He was a pure terror to small men, the flies—like those acolytes in the Order of Bergahl who wanted to serve the gods rather than enrich their order’s leader—but he appeared utterly impotent against a force like the Calirat
hs. Yet that very incompetence was what made him valuable in Chava’s present need. The Seneschal of Othmaliz would never be taken seriously by even the extremely thorough Ternathian Imperial Guard, and so a strike using his Order had a far better chance of succeeding than one might have expected from so feckless a leader. The unholy cleric just needed to be properly led.
“But Zindel is the one who stole your palace and presumes to rule us, not—at least not yet—this girl.” The emperor pointed out. “He represents the true threat. Still, it would be as well to eliminate this new heir of his before he has a chance to train her as he did his son. If a chance arises, I trust your Daggers have enough sense to make a cut?” He lifted his glass in inquiry.
“Absolutely!” Raynarg slammed his fist on the table, rattling the glasses. It was no way to treat the gently aged vintage in the crystal decanter between them, but Chava had long since determined that the self-absorbed man before him only desired the finer things in life, without the true refinement to actually identify quality in his possessions.
“My informants, trusted loyalists you understand, tell me the new consort’s mother has asked for a visit,” he said now. “The newlyweds will hide with the Caliraths for a time. But eventually, and count on it to be sooner than later, they’ll want some manner of honeymoon. The royal yacht has been sent for an overhaul. The next voyage may have the Crown Princess and her Prince Consort aboard. If they take that honeymoon by sea, they could visit Eniath.”
His spies had had reported nothing of the sort, but if an imperial yacht left the harbor chances were high someone Zindel cared about would be onboard, and he continued the lie fluently with a fine salting of truth.
“They would be at their weakest when out of sight of land, with no reinforcements near to call. But they’ll also be readiest then. I suggest your men examine the palace’s harbor and its approaches. You may find some most unique Talents available to you among your newest supplicants.”
Raynarg’s eyes lit as Emperor Chava had expected they would. Loaning the Seneschal a few exceptionally capable men was, he deemed, absolutely necessary to provide a decent chance of breaking through the Ternathian Imperial Guard. Fortunately, Zindel wasn’t the only emperor capable of searching his lands for useful people and enticing them into his service. Certainly the Ternathians had an unusual number of such capabilities born to families of those already in service, but Chava suspected that came of having started the process centuries earlier and somehow managing to keep whole families in service instead of simply the young men.
