by R. Cooper
Taji opened his mouth, then couldn’t speak for several seconds. “But most of them have fled? You are certain.”
“I have not been in every room.” Talfa flattened their ears.
“Okay.” Taji’s thoughts stuck for a moment but luckily he was still too dopey and tired to bother with terror. “The building is clear enough and everyone who is here is distracted. Okay. I can do this.”
“You do not have to,” Talfa reminded him.
Taji waved that off. “If Trenne…if he dies, I am not sure what I…I will need to be with him.”
Talfa tipped their head to the side, ears wiggling, then straightened. “More witnesses would not do any harm. Then let us go. But I will have to protect you.” They flicked their wrist, bringing the sharp, wet edge of the long knife into clearer view. Talfa’s suddenly controlled and impassive face was alarming. “I remember everyone who was in that room.”
“Are their lives forfeit, too?” Taji asked faintly.
“Yes. Although, they could be spared.” Talfa gestured for Taji to go forward.
“Less culpable,” Taji realized aloud in Anglisky, then switched back to ‘Asha. “But also demonstrated less honor.” He was getting dizzy. “Perhaps just take one foot,” he suggested, not entirely sure he was kidding.
Out in the hallway, Taji was surprised despite himself to find no Imperial Guards outside his doors or any others. But the purplish droplets along the floor, blood that must have dripped from someone’s knife as they stalked down the corridor…those stopped him cold.
“I was supposed to be stranded on the moon for a year or two,” he murmured. “Didn’t even rate one soldier’s protection. Now this.” He closed his eyes, breathed like Trenne, and Talfa let him. After a while, Taji reopened his eyes. “Trenne will be methodical, go from room to room, search each one. I bet you all did that already to find me. But I cannot do that. So, Koel Talfa, where do you think Larin is if he is still here?”
“Where would he go?” Talfa tossed their head. “He has few allies to trust him after Nikay and the arrests. And the deaths.”
Taji suddenly remembered. “I am sorry about Eriat. His honor was great.” The phrase was unfamiliar on Taji’s tongue, but he meant it, though he hadn’t personally liked Eriat. “Even if he did not wish to be emperor and he could have been.” Eriat as a contender might have drastically changed the outcome of this. But he hadn’t put himself forward, and it was moot now.
“His isica will have heard of his death if the news has spread through the city.” Talfa paused. “She is a servant but she will know. His children as well. I…do not know about the others. Phyta and Quida shehzha might have been smart and left the capital, although traveling with a shehzha is a risk.”
Taji would never be able to look at the IPTC flier again without melting in embarrassment. He cleared his throat and glanced around, only to realize that this floor was lavishly decorated. Trenne was right, again. This area was part of Larin’s private quarters.
He caught a glimpse of gray and twisted around sharply to stare at the tall, silent Imperial Guard now observing them from the center of a doorway. The Guard, broad and barefoot, with dark skin and paler markings, had tabs at their collar.
“I thought they were gone,” Taji whispered.
Talfa turned, mouthed a word, but only said, “This is to be witnessed.”
“Right.” Taji’s leg was going to give out or he might faint. Honor was public, so of course that required witnesses, official and unofficial. “Protect the Sha, not the emperor.”
The Guard followed them, but slowly, at a distance. Talfa made a small noise. It could have been fear. It might have been impatience.
“Where does a failed emperor go while he waits to see if anyone comes for him?” Taji asked, because the Guard would hear him anyway. Larin would expect someone to come for him, if not Trenne. Nikay had already tried, and that was when Larin had protection. Any of the nobles in the audience room might have considered the old-fashioned way to become emperor. “Larin might go to Rinnah, but she is likely a prisoner, and he does not trust her. Not like…ah.” Taji stopped. “He would go to his shehzha.” He swallowed. “Will they be on this floor, or are they still in the audience room?”
“If they were close, we would have heard some conflict by now.” Talfa changed direction and Taji followed. Talfa led him to a lift.
The audience rooms, then. A fine and public place for an emperor to die.
Taji was going to be sick.
TALFA STEPPED in front of Taji as they emerged from the lift but the silence announced that the crowd of Larin’s supporters had gone. The audience rooms were empty. Taji and Talfa were through the first, large space before Taji realized the splashes along one wall were blood, before he noticed the rumpled, torn cushions and the drying spread of purple across some of the floor tiles.
No bodies. The losers had lived at least long enough to flee.
He focused on the walls instead of the signs of violence. The lack of murals struck him again. It was as if the Olea believed they would last forever and did not need the memories. He and Talfa came to the room they had been in before, to the cushions and a now-overturned table, an area they both avoided without any discussion about it.
“He did not tell me what they asked him as he bled here,” Talfa offered, very quietly, “but I do not believe he answered. Not how they wanted.”
Taji pulled his coat sleeves down over his hands and held them tightly. “He is good, your saya,” he returned, equally soft. “A pain, but good.”
Talfa twitched at saya, flicked Taji a glance, but said nothing. Then Talfa jerked their head up and looked over. Taji heard nothing, but turned toward the arched doorway and the darkened room he had noticed on his first visit here.
He had somehow expected Trenne to find him before he found Larin and wanted to blame that terrible miscalculation on the longing.
Larin wore robes of white, dotted and slashed with deep purple-crimson. His knife was in his belt, the serrated edge clean. A hastily applied bandage had been wound around his forearm. Some blood was seeping through, but his expression showed no pain, or even surprise, although he did take his time studying Talfa and then Taji.
Behind him, at the border of the light, stood three figures. Taji did not recall the name of Larin’s third shehzha. One of them was dressed, complete with an unbelted soria, which might have been Sio, who would feel the longing less. None of them wore knives, but no shehzha did, so that told Taji nothing significant.
Sio, or the one who was possibly Sio, was softer around the middle and at the shoulders—not a hunter or a soldier when they weren’t shehzha. They had long hair in many plaits, twined into a larger braid, and jewelry, piercings at the nose and in the skin of their bare chest.
The third was short, though much taller than Taji, pale and darkly speckled, with hair that rose up near their ears and didn’t cover their furred neck. They had large eyes, luminous and golden, and for a moment, Taji was captivated.
The last was Elii, who did not look up.
“Little Taji, you have not left.” Larin’s voice drew Taji’s attention back to him. “And Koel Talfa. Are you here to kill me?”
Talfa’s grip on the knife hilt did not falter. “Your life is forfeit, Larin, but not yet mine to take.”
Larin kept his arms at his sides. “But taking it is an easy way to become emperor.”
Talfa was openly surprised. “Koel Talfa? Emperor?”
Larin tipped his head back in an easy, amused motion. “The honesty.” He glanced to Taji as if sharing a joke. “I should have kept you around more, Talfa.”
Talfa stiffened. “I did not want to be around this.” Talfa raised their head but kept their gaze on Larin. “Elii, if you wish it, we will not look at you or the others.”
Taji had looked. But they had looked back at him. Perhaps that was allowed.
The response was slow to come, and then only when Larin turned his head toward his three
shehzha, then away.
“Everyone has already seen me.” Elii’s voice was a shivering leaf. “All of us.”
Taji narrowed his eyes. “He should not have done that to you. Any of you.”
Larin exhaled and the sound was weary. “I am so tired of shehzha and their words.”
“I am tired of emperors and their words,” Taji spat, ignoring the quick look he got from Talfa. “Former emperors,” he corrected, heart racing. “You talked last time. You made sure I was quiet. You left them to ache.” He pointed to the other shehzha. “You gave them nothing of yourself. They are loyal only to get what they need. Except for one of them.” Taji briefly softened his voice but that took effort. He was shaking. “And you used that. Not very brave, for an emperor. No honor, as the Sha say. You took and did not even offer courtesy. You did not give your shehzha what you would have given to anyone else—except the hurat, and the others left from the conquest, and humans, and any Sha not in perfect control of their own bodies, or minds, or mouths.”
Larin was utterly still.
“Your shehzha have never held your knife, have they?” Taji demanded. Talfa edged closer to him.
“Little kahne,” Larin narrowed his focus to Taji. “I have fought worse than Talfa today. You should watch yourself. There is nobody here to defend you now.”
Larin was several yards away. A significant distance to Taji but hardly anything to long Shavian legs. Larin’s feet were bare and also marked with spots of purple. He had already shed blood, possibly killed. He wouldn’t hesitate over a mouthy human, no matter how much he wanted to make Taji suffer.
Taji swallowed. “Um…” he said under his breath as though he was wearing a comm. He could admit, now, that he did find trouble more than trouble found him. “Trenne.”
“Yes, Taji shehzha?” Trenne answered from far away.
Taji nearly jumped before twisting around to find him.
Trenne was at the far end of the series of open spaces. He must not have used the lift that Taji and Talfa had. Mos and Rodian were still with him, and Taji sighed in relief.
“The hurat.” Larin speaking flatly felt revealing, as if in trying to show nothing, Larin had given away his surprise.
Talfa turned to direct a comment at Trenne while gesturing at Taji. “You should have brought him with you.”
Trenne answered as he moved cautiously into the room. “I had hoped to slow him down. Keep him from this.”
Taji, too far away to meet Trenne’s eyes, frowned.
“You cannot slow Taji shehzha down,” Talfa remarked. “Did you hear him now?”
Trenne’s little inhale-exhale could be heard across the vast space and was a definite yes. But he raised his voice and added words that were gentle but no less strained. “My shehzha speaks the truth. He has more honor than an emperor, and it is mine to hold.”
“I do not have to listen to a hurat.” Larin put a hand to his knife and slowly wrapped his fingers around the hilt.
“Apologies. I do not know all of the rules.” Trenne’s voice was clear. “I have never killed an emperor.”
Taji made a helpless, panicked noise at those words, but then whispered, “Former emperor.”
Larin turned his head toward Taji. Trenne and the others were still farther away than Taji would like, and perhaps that was why Trenne had approached carefully, drawing Larin’s attention to him with uncharacteristically challenging statements. Trenne must have noticed immediately that Larin could easily reach Taji before Trenne could finish crossing the room, and Talfa may or may not slow him down.
Taji gulped a breath and Larin smiled, a calculated human show of pleasure. Taji stumbled back a step even before he caught the sway of Larin’s soria as Larin sprang into motion. Taji froze at the memory of Larin pouncing, of being held down, and only got one foot behind him as he tried to step back.
The sound that jolted Taji into falling against Talfa could have been a small explosion, a sharp crack that echoed around them and sent Taji spinning to find the source. He saw Trenne, advancing faster now, and Rodian with the projectile gun in his hand.
Talfa pushed Taji to his feet and released him, but Taji was already turning to stare at Larin.
Larin was on his back on the tiled floor, blood soaking into the fabric of his soria at his shoulder. Rodian wouldn’t miss. He must have been aiming for that spot. Taji hadn’t heard Trenne order him to fire but the order might have been given long ago.
The other two of Larin’s shehzha were drawing Elii away. Someone was making a great deal of noise.
For his part, Taji was barely breathing. He might have forgotten how.
Larin rolled onto his side, trying to get up despite what had to be nearly overwhelming pain.
“Rodian could have killed you,” Trenne informed him, “but his orders are to protect the ambassador and their staff. Kill only if necessary.”
“You are supposed to fight me!” Larin had not let go of his knife, although Taji would be surprised if he could use that arm at all. “If you had honor, you would know that.”
“I am not Sha.” Trenne put no inflection into those words, which was a condemnation in itself. He stalked closer, slowing his steps. He had not let go of his knife, either. That was how his hunt had gone, and if Larin hadn’t seen it then, he was seeing it now. “But you have all made sure I knew this.” Trenne came to a stop just out of Larin’s reach. “You also made sure I knew what it meant to be you, and your histories and your fights for power. In the business of emperors, and their removal, it is acceptable to use an army.” Trenne glanced once to a dry-mouthed Taji. “The noble families used to have small armies, Taji shehzha, alongside their own warriors. The Guard prevent those now. But it was once fair to send soldiers after an emperor, if the emperor had failed. If an emperor had lost their honor.”
“That is your army?” Larin sneered, moving his knife to his other hand, though he could not prop himself up and use it at the same time. “A human and the Inri? You do not know honor.”
“Olea Larin should not say that word,” Mos announced quietly. “It does not belong to him.”
“You abused your shehzha.” Trenne stared down at Larin and listed his crimes without the anger Taji could feel thrumming through Talfa and Mos. “You took their honor and gave nothing. You touched someone who did not wish you to. You hurt Taji.”
“My life is forfeit.” Larin glared up at him and did not move. “Unless you cannot do it, hurat.”
Taji shot an anxious look to the three other shehzha. They were watching, except Elii, whose eyes were shut, because this was right and this was Sha, but it was going to hurt him.
“Do it, Trenne,” Taji ordered softly, and Trenne circled Larin before he dropped down to catch Larin’s arm before Larin could slash him. His knife went into Larin’s chest with a wet, dull sound and a gasp from Larin.
Then Trenne bent Larin’s arm and forced Larin’s own knife across Larin’s throat.
The spray of blood turned Larin’s soria purple, hit Trenne’s uniform and vanished into the black. Trenne yanked his knife out of Larin’s chest and stood up. He stepped away, although Taji didn’t think Larin was capable of striking out, and offered his knife to Mos, an action Taji did not understand. But Mos took it and wiped it on her own clothes before handing it back.
Elii came forward, halting, to stand over what would soon be Larin’s body. If Larin looked up at him, Taji couldn’t tell. If he tried to say anything, Taji’s ears couldn’t catch it.
“There are drugs,” Taji murmured to Talfa, and got an ear turned in his direction before Talfa really looked at him. “To help with the withdrawal—the longing. We should try. They deserve that.”
“Your honor is great,” Talfa answered formally before turning away. “Elii, you should go now. You will not like the rest of it.”
The other two shehzha pulled Elii gently back, then raised their faces toward the far end of the rooms. Taji did too, and this time was not surprised to find several mem
bers of the Imperial Guard observing them. This was a political act. This was the entire system, and no one, not even an emperor, could be allowed to forget.
“What now, Trenne?” Taji asked, though he had to brace himself when Trenne finally looked at him. “Are you Trenne Emperor?”
Trenne’s ears briefly went flat. He stared at Taji before slowly transferring his gaze to the Imperial Guards who stared back at him and had yet to interfere. Then he met Taji’s eyes again. “I will do anything for you, Taji shehzha, but please do not make me be emperor.”
Taji exhaled in desperate, shuddering relief. “You would hate being emperor so much.” And he would excel at it, until some offended noble killed him. “Trenne, the emperor who could have been. But I am glad you are not.”
