"Falling off the stand… platform," he said slowly, trying to think. He was in bed and his back was sore. It was his own room in the castle and the lights were on so it was probably night. His eyes widened. "Yomonul kicked me off!" he said suddenly. "Why?"
"It doesn't matter now. Go back to sleep."
Gurgeh started to say something else, but he felt tired again as the drone buzzed closer, and he closed his eyes for a second just to rest them.
Gurgeh stood by the window, looking down into the courtyard. The male servant took the tray out, glasses clinking.
"Go on," he said to the drone.
"The troshae climbed the fence while everybody was watching you and Yomonul. It came up behind you and sprang. It hit you and then bowled over the exoskeleton before it had time to do much about it. Guards shot the troshae as it tried to gore Yomonul, and by the time they dragged it off the exoskeleton it had deactivated."
Gurgeh shook his head slowly. "All I remember is being kicked off the stand." He sat down in a chair by the window. The far edge of the courtyard was golden in the hazy light of late afternoon. "And where were you while this was happening?"
"Back here, watching the hunt on an imperial broadcast. I'm sorry I left, Jernau Gurgeh, but that appalling apex was kicking me, and the whole obscene spectacle was just too gory and disgusting for words." Gurgeh waved one hand. "It doesn't matter. I'm alive." He put his face in his hands. "You're sure it was I who shot Yomonul?"
"Oh yes! It's all recorded. Do you want to wa—"
"No." Gurgeh held up one hand to the drone, eyes still closed. "No; I don't want to watch."
"I didn't see that bit live," Flere-Imsaho said. "I was on my way back to the hunt as soon as Yomonul fired his first shot and killed the person on the other side of you. But I've watched the recording; yes, you killed him, with the guard's CREW. But of course that just meant whoever had taken control of the exoskeleton didn't have to fight against Yomonul inside it. As soon as Yomonul was dead the thing moved a lot faster and less erratically. He must have been using all his strength to try and stop it."
Gurgeh stared at the floor. "You're certain about all this?"
"Absolutely." The drone drifted over to the wall-screen. "Look, why not watch it on your—"
"No!" Gurgeh shouted, standing, and then swaying.
He sat down again. "No," he said, quieter.
"By the time I got there, whoever was jamming the exoskeleton controls had gone; I got a brief reading on my microwave sensors while I was between here and the hunt, but it switched off before I could get an accurate fix. Some kind of phased-pulse maser. The imperial guards picked up something too; they'd started a search in the forest by the time we took you away. I persuaded them I knew what I was doing and had you brought here. They sent a doctor in to look at you a couple of times, but that's all. Lucky I got there when I did or they might have taken you to the infirmary and started doing all sorts of nasty tests on you…" The drone sounded perplexed. "That's why I have a feeling this wasn't a straight security-service job. They'd have tried other, less public ways to kill you, and they'd have been all set up to get you into the hospital if it hadn't quite worked… all too disorganised. There's something funny going on, I'm sure."
Gurgeh put his hands to his back, carefully tracing the extent of the bruising again. "I wish I could remember everything. I wish I could remember whether I meant to kill Yomonul," he said. His chest ached. He felt sick.
"As you did, and you're such a bad shot, I'd assume the answer is no."
Gurgeh looked at the machine. "Don't you have something else you could be doing, drone?"
"Not really. Oh, by the way; the Emperor wants to see you, when you're feeling well."
"I'll go now," Gurgeh said, standing slowly.
"Are you sure? I don't think you should. You don't look well; I'd lie down if I were you. Please sit down. You're not ready. What if he's angry because you killed Yomonul? Oh, I suppose I'd better come the with you…
Nicosar sat in a small throne in front of a great bank of slanting, multi-coloured windows. The imperial apartments were submerged in the deep, polychromatic light; huge wall tapestries sewn with precious metal threads glittered like treasures in an underwater cave. Guards stood impassively around the walls and behind the throne; courtiers and officials shuffled to and fro with papers and flat-screens. An officer of the Imperial Household brought Gurgeh to the throne, leaving Flere-Imsaho at the other end of the room under the watchful eyes of two guards.
"Please sit." Nicosar motioned Gurgeh to a small stool on the dais in front of him. Gurgeh sat down gratefully. "Jernau Gurgeh," the Emperor said, his voice quiet and controlled, almost flat. "We offer you our sincere apologies for what happened yesterday. We are glad to see you have made such a rapid recovery, though we understand you are still in pain. Is there anything you wish?"
"Thank you, Your Highness, no."
"We are glad." Nicosar nodded slowly. He was still dressed in unrelieved black. His sober dress, small frame and plain face contrasted with the fabulous splashes of colour from the raked windows overhead and the sumptuous clothing of the courtiers. The Emperor put small, ringed hands on the arms of the throne. "We are, of course, deeply sorry to lose the regard and the services of our Star Marshal, Yomonul Lu Rahsp, especially in such tragic circumstances, but we understand that you had no choice but to defend yourself. It is our will that no action be taken against you."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Nicosar waved one hand. "In the matter of who plotted against you, the person who took control of our star marshal's imprisoning device was discovered and put to the question. We were deeply hurt to discover that the leading conspirator was our life-long mentor and guide, the rector of Candsev College."
"Ham—" Gurgeh began, but stopped. Nicosar's face was a study in displeasure. The old apex's name died in Gurgeh's throat. «I-» Gurgeh started again.
Nicosar held up one hand.
"We wish to tell you that the rector of Candsev College, Hamin Li Srilist, has been sentenced to death for his part in the conspiracy against you. We understand that this may not have been the only attempt on your life. If this is so, then all relevant circumstances will be investigated and the wrong-doers brought to justice.
"Certain persons in the court," Nicosar said, looking at the rings on his hands, "have desired to protect their Emperor through… misguided actions. The Emperor needs no such protection from a game-opponent, even if that opponent uses aids we deny ourselves. It has been necessary to deceive our subjects in the matter of your progress in these final games, but this is for their good, not ours. We have no need to be protected from unpleasant truths. The Emperor knows no fear, only discretion. We shall be happy to postpone the game between the Emperor-Regent and the man Jernau Morat Gurgeh until he feels fit to play."
Gurgeh found himself waiting for more of the quiet, slow, half-sung words, but Nicosar sat, impassively silent.
"I thank Your Highness," Gurgeh said, "but I would prefer there be no postponement. I feel almost well enough to play now, and there are still three days before the match is due to start. I'm sure there is no need to delay further."
Nicosar nodded slowly. "We are pleased. We hope, though, that if Jernau Gurgeh desires to change his mind on this matter before the match is due to start, he will not hesitate to inform the Imperial Office, which will gladly put back the starting date of the final match until Jernau Gurgeh feels fit to play the game of Azad to the very best of his ability."
"I thank Your Highness again."