Domes of Fire (47 page)

‘We’ll have to phrase our report rather carefully,’ the Alcione Knight told his companions. ‘We probably shouldn’t offend the emperor. Could we say “undertrained”?’

‘That’s the truth certainly,’ Kring answered.

‘How about “unversed in modern tactics and strategy”?’

‘No argument there,’ Ulath grunted.

‘“Poorly equipped”?’

‘That’s not exactly true, friend Tynian,’ Kring disagreed. ‘Their equipment is of very good quality. It’s probably the best twelfth-century equipment I’ve ever seen.’

‘All right,’ Tynian laughed, ‘how about “archaic weaponry”?’

‘I could accept that,’ the Domi conceded.

‘You’d rather not mention “fat, lazy, stupid or inept”, I gather?’ Ulath asked.

‘That might be just a shade undiplomatic, Ulath.’

‘True, though,’ Ulath said mournfully.

Pondia Subat did not approve. Emban and Vanion could sense that, although the prime minister’s face and manner remained diplomatically bland. Emperor Sarabian had, as promised, spoken at length with his prime minister, and Pondia Subat was going out of his way to be co-operative and to conceal his true feelings. ‘The details are very commonplace, my Lords,’ he said deprecatingly, ‘but then, the details of day-to-day government always are, aren’t they?’

‘Of course, Pondia,’ Emban shrugged, ‘but when taken in the mass, the accretion of detail conveys the sense of governing style, wouldn’t you say? From what I’ve seen so far this morning, I’ve already reached certain conclusions.’

‘Oh?’ Subat’s tone was neutral.

‘The guiding principle here seems to be the protection of the emperor,’ Emban told him. ‘That principle’s very familiar to me, since it’s identical to the one that dominates our thinking in Chyrellos. The government of the Church exists almost entirely to protect the Archprelate.’

‘Perhaps, your Grace, but you’ll have to admit that there are differences.’

‘Oh, of course, but the fact that Emperor Sarabian’s not as powerful as Archprelate Dolmant doesn’t really change things.’

Subat’s eyes widened slightly, but he instantly gained control of his expression.

‘I realise that the concept is alien to you, Pondia,’ Emban continued smoothly, ‘but the Archprelate speaks for God, and that makes him the most powerful man on
earth. That’s an Elene perception, of course, and it may have little or nothing to do with reality. So long as we all believe it, though, it
is
true. That’s what those of us in church government do. We devote a great deal of our effort to making sure that all Elenes continue to believe that Dolmant speaks for God. So long as they believe that, the Archprelacy’s safe.’ The fat little churchman considered it. ‘If you don’t mind an observation, Pondia Subat, your central problem here in Matherion stems from the fact that you Tamuls have a secular turn of mind. Your church has been diminished, probably because you can’t bring yourselves to accept the notion that any authority might equal or exceed that of the emperor. You’ve erased the element of faith from your national character. Scepticism is all very well and good, but it tends to get out of hand. After you’ve applied it to God – or your Gods – it starts to spill over, and people begin to question other things as well – the rightness of government, imperial wisdom, the justice of the tax system, that sort of thing. In the most perfect of worlds, the emperor would be deified, and church and state would become one.’ He laughed in a self-deprecating little way. ‘Sorry, Pondia Subat. I didn’t mean to preach. It’s an occupational compulsion, I suppose. The point is that both Tamuls and Elenes have made the same mistake. You didn’t make your emperor a God, and we didn’t make our archprelate an emperor. We’ve both cheated the people by placing an incomplete authority over them. They deserved better of us. But I can see that you’re busy, and my stomach’s telling me rather pointedly that it’s lunch-time. We’ll talk again – soon. Coming, Lord Vanion?’

‘You don’t actually believe what you just said, do you, Emban?’ Vanion murmured as the two Elenes left the ministry.

‘Probably not,’ Emban shrugged, ‘but we’re going to
have to do something to widen the crack in that stone shell around Subat’s mind. I’m sure that the emperor’s offer to have his head docked opened his eyes a bit, but until he starts actually thinking instead of simply plodding along the well-worn paths of his preconceptions, we’re not going to get anything out of him. Despite his general disapproval of us, he’s still the most important man in the government, and I’d rather have him working for us than against us. Do you suppose we could step right along, Vanion? I’m definitely getting hungry.’

‘It should be blue, though,’ Danae was saying. She sat with Mmrr in Emperor Sarabian’s lap, looking directly into his eyes.

‘For an Elene, yes, but-’ The Emperor sounded dubious.

‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘Tamul skin tone would be better with –’

‘But not red-red, though. More scarlet, perhaps even –’

‘No. Maroon’s too dark. It’s a ball, not a –’

‘We don’t wear dark clothes at funerals. We wear –’

‘Really? That’s a very interesting notion. Why do you – ?’

‘It’s considered insulting to –’

‘The dead don’t really mind, Sarabian. They’re busy someplace else.’

‘Can you even begin to follow them?’ Ehlana murmured to Sparhawk.

‘Sort of. They’re both thinking about the same thing, so they don’t have to finish sentences.’

Emperor Sarabian laughed delightedly. ‘You’re the most stimulating conversationalist I’ve ever met, your Royal Highness,’ he said to the little girl in his lap.

‘Thank you, your Imperial Majesty,’ she replied. ‘You’re not so bad yourself, you know.’

‘Danae!’ Ehlana said sharply.

‘Oh, mother. Sarabian and I are just getting to know each other.’

‘I don’t suppose –’ Sarabian’s tone was speculative.

‘I’m afraid not, your Majesty,’ Danae replied. ‘I’m not being disrespectful, but the crown prince is much too young for me. People gossip when the wife’s older than the husband. He’s a sweet-natured baby, though. But I’ve already decided who I’m going –’

‘You
have?
So young?’

‘It avoids confusion later on. Girls get silly when they reach the marrying age. It’s better to decide those things while you’ve still got your wits about you – isn’t it, mother?’

Ehlana blushed suddenly.

‘Mother started setting traps for my father when she was about my age,’ Danae confided to the Emperor of Tamuli.

‘Did you, Ehlana?’ Sarabian asked.

‘Well, yes, but it’s not nice to talk about it in public.’

‘He didn’t mind being trapped, mother,’ Danae said. ‘At least not after he’d got used to the idea. All in all, they make a fairly good set of parents – except when mother starts throwing her rank around.’

‘That will do, Princess Danae,’ Ehlana said in her official tone.

‘You see what I mean?’ Danae grinned at the Emperor.

‘Your daughter’s going to be a remarkably gifted queen,’ Sarabian complimented them. ‘Elenia’s going to be a lucky kingdom to have the two of you on the throne, one right after another. The problem with hereditary succession has always been those lamentable
lapses in talent. A great king or emperor is almost inevitably succeeded by a hopeless incompetent.’

‘What’s the customary procedure here in Tamuli, Sarabian?’ Ehlana asked. ‘I know that you have nine wives. Does your first-born become the crown Prince, no matter what the race of his mother?’

‘Oh, no. Certainly not. The throne descends to the first-born son of the first wife. She’s always a Tamul, since a Tamul princess is always the first one a crown prince marries. I was married at the age of two, actually. I married my other wives right after I was crowned emperor. It was a group ceremony – eight brides and one bridegroom. That eliminates jealousies and arguments about rank. I was absolutely exhausted the following morning.’

‘You mean that –?’

‘Oh, yes. It’s required. It’s another way to avoid those jealousies I mentioned. And it all has to be finished by sunrise.’

‘How do they decide who’s first?’ Ehlana sounded very interested.

‘I have no idea. Maybe they roll dice for the privilege. There were four royal bed-chambers on each side of a long corridor. I was obliged to go down that endless hallway and to pay a call on each of my new brides. It killed my grandfather. He wasn’t a young man when he ascended the throne, and the exertion was too much for him.’

‘Do you suppose we could change the subject?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘Prude,’ Ehlana chided him.

‘I wonder if Dolmant would let me have more than one husband,’ Danae mused.

‘Never mind,’ Sparhawk told her very firmly.

The others arrived, and they all gathered around a large table set with a lunch consisting of unfamiliar delicacies.
‘How did you find Subat, your Grace?’ Sarabian asked the Primate of Ucera.

‘We went to his offices, and there he was, your Majesty.’

‘Emban,’ Sephrenia chided the fat little churchman, who was looking suspiciously at an undefinable meatcourse.

‘Sorry, your Majesty,’ Emban apologised. ‘Your prime minister still seems to be a bit set in his ways.’

‘You noticed,’ Sarabian said dryly.

‘We definitely noticed, your Majesty,’ Vanion replied. ‘His Grace here turned his thinking upside down for him just a bit, though. He suggested that what the world really needs is a Divine Emperor or an Imperial Archprelacy. Both offices are incomplete as they stand.’

‘Me? A God? Don’t be ridiculous, Emban. I’ve got enough problems with a government. Please don’t pile a priesthood on top of it.’

‘I wasn’t really serious, your Majesty,’ Emban replied. ‘I just wanted to shake up his thinking a bit more. That talk you had with him opened his eyes, right enough, but we still have to open his mind.’

‘What happened to your arm?’ Vanion asked the woman he loved. Sephrenia had just turned back her sleeve to reveal her bandaged wrist.

‘I sprained it,’ she replied.

‘On a stubborn Styric head,’ Zalasta added, chuckling.

‘
Sephrenia!
’ Vanion stared at her.

‘I used my Pandion training, dear one,’ she smiled. ‘Someone should have told me that I was supposed to lock my wrist, though.’

‘You actually
hit
someone?’ Kalten asked incredulously.

‘She did indeed, Sir Kalten,’ Zalasta grinned.
‘She knocked him half-way across the room. She also threatened to kill him and even went so far as to begin the death spell. He grew very co-operative at that point.’

They all stared at her in disbelief.

‘Oh, stop that,’ she told them. Then she laughed softly. ‘It was a great deal of fun actually. I’ve never bullied anyone before. It’s very satisfying, isn’t it?’

‘
We
like it,’ Ulath grinned.

‘The Styrics will co-operate fully,’ she told them.

‘How was the army?’ Emban asked Tynian.

‘I don’t think we should expect too much there, your Grace,’ Tynian replied carefully, glancing at the emperor. ‘Their function’s primarily ceremonial.’

‘They come from the very best families, Sir Knight,’ Sarabian said defensively.

‘That might be part of the problem, your Majesty – that and the fact that they’ve never had to actually fight anybody. We’ll be depending on the Atans anyway, so we won’t really need the Imperial Army.’ He looked at Engessa. ‘Is the local garrison up to standard, Atan Engessa?’ he asked.

‘A little soft, Tynian-Knight. I took them out for a run this morning, and they began to falter after twenty miles. I gave some orders. They’ll be fit by the end of the week.’

‘Things are falling into place,’ Vanion approved.

‘The palace servants have all the usual vices, Lord Vanion,’ Khalad reported. ‘They love to gossip. Alean’s making much better progress than I am – probably because she’s prettier.’

‘Thank you,’ the girl murmured, lowering her eyelashes.

‘It’s no great compliment, Alean,’ Talen told her. ‘My brother’s not a raving beauty – none of us are. Our faces are designed for wear, not for show.’

‘I’d guess that by the end of the week we should have gained their confidence sufficiently to start picking up secrets,’ Khalad surmised.

‘You Elenes amaze me,’ Sarabian marvelled. ‘You all seem to have an absolute genius for intrigue.’

‘This is a rather select group, your Majesty,’ Emban told him. ‘We knew before we left Chyrellos that our major task here would be the gathering of information. We chose people who were skilled at it.’

‘I came across one of the scholars in the contemporary affairs department at the university,’ Bevier reported. ‘Most of the rest of the faculty has already established reputations based on this or that past event. Resting on one’s laurels is one of the failings of academics. They can coast along on a single monograph for decades. Anyway, this fellow I mentioned is young and hungry. He’s come up with a theory, and he’s riding it for all he’s worth. He’s absolutely convinced that all the present turmoil’s emanating from Arjuna – perhaps because no one else on the faculty’s staked out that particular ground yet. He’s also convinced that Scarpa’s the man behind the entire conspiracy.’

‘Who’s Scarpa?’ Kalten asked.

‘Zalasta told us about him,’ Ulath reminded him. ‘He serves the same function in Arjuna as Sabre does in Astel and Gerrich does in Lamorkand.’

‘Oh, yes, now I remember.’

‘Anyway,’ Bevier continued, ‘our scholar’s gathered a huge mass of corroborating evidence, some of it very shaky. He’ll talk for hours about his theory to anybody willing to listen.’

‘Is anybody else at the university working on any alternatives?’ Emban asked him.

‘Not actively, your Grace. They don’t want to risk their reputations on false leads. Academic timidity’s forcing them to take a wait-and-see position. My young
enthusiast doesn’t have a reputation, so he’s willing to take some risks.’

‘Stay with him, Bevier,’ Vanion said. ‘Even negative conclusions can help to narrow the search.’

‘My feelings exactly, Lord Vanion.’

‘Do you suppose I could impose on your Majesty?’ Stragen asked the emperor.

‘That’s what a host is for, Milord,’ Sarabian grinned. ‘Impose to your heart’s content.’