Turning the final corner of the Processional Way, he was disgusted to see that the inner gate was closed. Nor was there a banner of the Order displayed to mark his arrival. This outrageous oversight caused him to again look at the captain, who stood impassive, except for a slight twitching of his jaw.
The gate finally swung open, and he passed beneath the archway and into the outer courtyard, where a chamberlain, a gelded one, awaited and silently pointed the way, a whiff of costly perfume trailing in his wake.
They passed through the outer audience chamber, where the ceremonial holding of judgments took place on the first day of the new moons, a ritual harkening back across thousands of years when the emperor was no more than a rude clan elder in a felt tent. It was nothing more than a farce play now, already scripted as to who would be sent to the circle and who would leave with hide still intact.
At last the meandering tour through the outer rings of the palace, past cautious observers and whispering nobility, gave way to the inner circle, the private domain of Emperor Yasim. The chamberlain opened the door, then stepped backward, eyes averted.
Hazin strode in.
Yasim was alone, standing on a veil-draped balcony, goblet in hand, back turned. Hazin knew that the room was double walled, cunningly designed and inspected daily by the chamberlain so that no eunuch of the court could get close enough to eavesdrop on what was being said.
Hazin did the proper bow, right hand touching the floor.
“A drink to refresh you, Hazin.”
His voice was relaxed, betraying the slightest touch of the narcotic malva, a perceptive sniff of the air catching its pungent scent. Hazin looked over to a side table. A few light snacks were arranged, fresh slivers of meat, clean goblets of wine, and fermented milk.
As he took an empty goblet, he quickly looked for any abrasions, or slick spots that might indicate dried poison. It was a tiresome game and he doubted the emperor would ever be so direct, but a lifetime of training always prevailed.
Years of slowly increasing self-administered doses of most of the common and several of the preferred uncommon poisons had built a certain immunity. Combined with the oils he had drunk prior to coming here, he should be proof against a clumsy effort by anyone other than the emperor who might make the attempt and thus hope to pin blame on the imperial household.
He took several slivers of raw meat, poured a few ounces of blood, and stepped out onto the veranda.
A cooling breeze was coming down off the mountain, sweeping away the choking heat and stench of the summer’s day.
“You are well?”
“Yes, sire.”
Yasim turned, cool eyes appraising as Hazin sipped his drink.
“Frankly, it is a surprise to see you alive.”
Hazin smiled.
“My last communication with your Grand Master, or should I say your late, lamented Grand Master, was most interesting.”
“Please enlighten me, sire.”
“The cost of my victory at Ra was dear, very dear.” Hazin wanted to laugh. “My victory…” It was the Order that had given him victory. This fool had simply footed the bill. Fifteen assassinations, the turning of the Greens through the threat of a genocidal attack on their families and, above all else, the death of Hanaga, which had cost more than anyone had ever been willing to pay.
“Your order is expecting the second half of the payment by tomorrow.”
Hazin smiled. Direct, far too direct. It almost took the amusement out of the game.
“And, my sire?”
Yasim turned away. “How did you survive, may I ask?”
“The battle or my return?”
“The battle. The death of my brother is of far more interest than the internal squabbling of your precious society.”
Ah, so he is linking things together here, Hazin thought, his features revealing nothing.
“Easy enough. The captain of the frigate I arrived on, he was of my order.”
“Tell me, how many captains of my ships are of your order?”
Hazin looked down in the goblet, swirling the drink. The blood was still warm from the body it had been drawn from in the next room, as was the meat. An emperor could afford such a luxury, meat bred for texture and taste, the blood slowly tapped out from an open vein as required.
“The cost of such information, Your Highness,” and he shook his head.
“How about a trade, then?”
“Yes?”
“You leave here alive, I know who of my ship’s captains are of your order.”
Hazin smiled. “Too high. The bargain would be known, and then who would trust me or my order? I would be dead in a fortnight. There have been Grand Masters who have had reigns nearly as short, but I would prefer not to establish such a record.”
“So you prefer not to leave here alive? Know that it is obvious that your Grand Master preferred that you die in that last battle. That is why he personally gave to you the task of killing my brother.”
“That was obvious,” Hazin said dryly. “And that is why he is dead.”
Yasim turned away, going over to a sideboard where he picked up an ornately carved statue. It was a delicate creation in ivory, an abstract work of intricate swirls and curves. Hazin recognized it as one of the new school of Davin, an artist who had gained imperial favor of late. He wondered if Davin would still be in favor a moon from now.
“This took a year to create,” Yasim said softly, hands gently cradling the work. He sighed, holding it close for a moment then turning it over, lightly stroking it, fingers tracing the intricate design, then placed it back on the table.
“May I inquire as to the reason for my summoning?” Hazin ventured.
Yasim smiled. “There are times when you are the personification of subtlety, and then other times when you are as direct as the thrust of a dagger. Patience.”
Hazin returned to the table where the drinks were and poured another goblet full of the fresh blood. This time he sprinkled in a mixture of spices and a dark, heavy liqueur laced with a touch of malva.
The emperor smiled. “I did not know you indulged.”
“When it suits me.”
“And it does not dull you?”
“It does not dull. Your Highness. And besides, we of the Order are used to headier stuff.”
“I know.”
Hazin returned to the curtained veranda. The silky gauze was sheer enough that the view of the city was spread before them, the twinkling lights of the city below, the open harbor where the fleet lay at anchor.
From the temple of Ashva a dark pyre of smoke curled- their burnt offering for the day-while from the rival order of Vishta a brilliant fire blazed atop their pyramid temple. In the firelight he could see the writhing forms, their shrieking cries of agony carrying on the wind.
He wrinkled his nose with disgust at such primitive barbarity, made worse by the fact that the contemptible fools actually believed that there was a purpose to such sacrifices, that their idols desired the blood of human sacrifice. It served its purpose, though, for it kept his own in line. To be cast out of the Shiv was to be placed into the hands of one of half a dozen of the other cults.
It was such a delightful, intricate swirl of intrigue that gave purpose to life: the religious orders, the houses of the nobility, the eternal quest for dominance. He could not imagine a world without such interplay taken to the edge, for each maneuver held within it life or death. To dance upon the edge of the abyss, to cast one’s foes into that abyss, to at times see them fall while blessing your name, never realizing that you were the one who destroyed them was the thrill of existence.
“You still have not reacted to what I have said,” Yasim said softly, coming up to Hazin’s side. “Your Grand Master wanted you to die. Why did you wait till after you had fulfilled the contract to kill him? Why not before?”
Ah, so here was an inner fear, Hazin realized. For twenty years I stood by Hanaga’s side, yet killed him without hesitation. He wonders why I did not turn and take the Grand Master first. He knows that if I had, Hanaga would be alive today and it would be he who was dead.