Whether he had been summoned to Merakasa for reward, punishment or the imparting of news was something
Ambassador Talgorian never entirely knew in advance. Which made his job all the more exciting. Exciting in the sense that a drowning man thrown a lead weight as a life-belt might use the word.
This wasn’t the only reason the Envoy always found an audience with the Empress an unnerving experience. She was a disquieting presence. Partly this was due to the power she wielded, and the knowledge that his life was worth no more than a capricious snap of her fingers. Partly, he had to admit, it was her appearance.
He couldn’t begin to guess how old Bethmilno XXV was, beyond very old indeed. Like her Rintarahian counterparts, whom Talgorian had never seen, she sought to disguise the ravages of age. So she caked her face in white rouge, and coloured her lips in pigment redder than blood. Her eyelashes, eyebrows and suspiciously full head of hair were all densely blackened. That all this looked so synthetic was due either to the artlessness of her maids or to the fact that her great age was beyond masking.
He sat opposite her in a grand reception room on the palace’s ground floor, where one entire wall was occupied by casement windows, affording a panoramic view of the estate. A subterranean power channel ran beneath the chamber. He knew this because the imperial household kept the tradition of marking out these conduits of magic, and a tincture had been used to show its course across the floor. The incongruous gold line, ramrod straight, passed almost exactly through the centre of the apartment. He thought despoiling the room in this way took respect for custom too far.
But the outrage to Talgorian’s aesthetic sense was forgotten when, midway through their conversation on security matters, the Empress declared, ‘It might well come to war.’
The Envoy was taken aback. ‘Excellency?’
Feigning patience, Bethmilno spelt it out. ‘With the other side.’ She almost always referred to Rintarah as ‘the other side’.
‘Forgive me being dull-witted, Excellency, but we’ve been fighting against Rintarah with proxy wars for a very long time.’
‘I’m referring to
open
war; a direct confrontation.’
‘May I be so bold as to ask what has brought you to consider such an option, ma’am?’
‘Impatience, Ambassador. I grow weary of this eternal game of cat and mouse with them.’
‘Would not stepping up our present activities be sufficient, Excellency?’
‘How?’
‘Perhaps by offering more assistance to the insurgents within Rintarah’s borders?’
‘It may have escaped your attention, Ambassador, that giving money to their terrorists amounts to handing it to our own. Besides, I regard the so-called Resistance as a disorganised rabble, and of doubtful use as a weapon against the other side.’ She anticipated his rejoinder, and waved it away. ‘I don’t say they aren’t a problem. But they could never overthrow even the smallest of our protectorates. Essentially they’re just an irritant.’
Begging to differ was more than Talgorian dared. So he fell back on diplomacy. ‘Quite so, your Highness. Although even an irritant can tie up valuable resources, and on occasion inflict real damage. As we’ve discovered in Bhealfa.’
‘Yes, it does seem a particularly troublesome little island.’ She shot him an accusing look that chilled his backbone. ‘But I anticipate a lessening of their activities now that I’ve ordered our law enforcers to bear down more heavily on the insubordinates.’
He wanted to believe that would happen.
‘And in that respect,’ she went on, ‘authorising the Council
for Internal Security to operate beyond our shores strengthens our hand immeasurably. I could wish we’d done that long since. Commissioner Laffon himself is in Bhealfa at the moment, as you know, and proving as loyal a servant as ever.’
Talgorian noted her approving tone, and judged it prudent to show his solidarity with someone she favoured. But he kept it low-key. It didn’t do to be
too
closely associated with a man who might yet fall. ‘A commendably industrious worker, Excellency. The Commissioner has already been instrumental in at least one high-profile arrest.’
‘Indeed. And if he succeeds in Bhealfa, as I have no doubt he will, the CIS will have my blessing to extend its operations to all other protectorates.’
Making Laffon even more powerful,
Talgorian thought. But his only response was a smile.
‘However, we drift from the point,’ the Empress continued. ‘Some of my advisors-’ by which she meant her family ‘-have expressed concern about the progress of this new northern warlord, Zerreiss. For myself, I have yet to be entirely convinced that he represents any kind of threat to our interests, though one or two factors have given me pause.’ She meant the upheavals in the essence, but naturally wouldn’t mention that to Talgorian. The knowledge required to read the matrix was available only to those of her blood, and was never to be revealed to outsiders. ‘We must be alive to the possibility, no matter how remote, of a pact between the warlord and our enemies.’ She fixed her stern gaze upon him. ‘What word is there of our expedition to the northern wastelands?’
It was a question he dreaded. ‘As of yet, your Imperial Highness,’ he replied carefully, ‘we’ve had few tidings from them.’
‘None, you mean. And what about the party sent by Rintarah? Have we heard how they’re faring?’
‘Information concerning their progress is equally-’
‘So nothing about them either. We need information, yet we’re working in the dark regarding this man. And I don’t like working in the dark. Efforts to make contact will be redoubled.’
‘Excellency.’
‘And if that yields no fruit, I’ll seriously consider the option of sending you personally to the northern wastes to assess the situation.’
Talgorian suppressed a shudder. ‘I understand, Excellency.’
‘Should the barbarian and Rintarah unite,’ the Empress said, ‘the consequences could certainly include all-out conflict. But even that has its compensations. A distraction for the populace in a time of strife isn’t necessarily a bad thing.’
‘But…
war
, Excellency?’
‘I said that it
might
come to war.’ She huffed an exasperated sigh. ‘As a diplomat your impulse is towards compromise and negotiation. But there are times when the silken tongue must give way to steel.’
He bowed his head low in the customary show of obeisance. Her will was law.
‘My spies tell me that fool Melyobar continues to squander Bhealfa’s resources on harebrained schemes,’ she added.
Talgorian looked up. ‘It’s always been our policy to allow certain conquered rulers to remain in place as puppets, as your gracious Majesty knows. It’s proved a cost-effective way of administering protectorates.’
‘It’s a close-run thing in this case. His excesses have come near to draining the coffers. Perhaps it’s time to rethink the whole issue of titular rulers of our colonies.’
‘It is worth considering that peoples taken into the empire’s embrace, ma’am, are generally more manageable if their own leaders remain in office. They tend to respect the monarchs they know.’
‘What respect can the rabble have for a madman?’
Talgorian was mindful that hereditary rulers could be touchy about suggestions of insanity, despite what they might say.
‘Mad, Excellency? That is perhaps a
little
harsh.’
Prince Melyobar had spent the morning chatting with his dead father.
Not that he was dead as far as the Prince was concerned, albeit the many experts who had been consulted remained undecided on the matter.
Melyobar’s discussion with his technically late parent, King Narbetton, had proved very beneficial. He now knew what further elements were needed to ensure the success of his plan. A plan that would result in the exposure and inevitable death of Death.
At the moment, the Prince was nervous. A case could be made for him being in a constant state of nervousness, but under the present circumstances he was even more jumpy than usual. He always was when forced to bring his moving court to a standstill, however briefly. And the pausing of Melyobar’s travelling abode was such a rare event that once word got out, people came from far and wide just to watch. This added to the Prince’s trepidation, and ever more elaborate defences had been put in place to protect him from his ultimate enemy. For who was to say that the reaper wouldn’t use the commotion to slip through unnoticed?