“Oh, Commander Caruvik,” Cynead said, smiling, “No one is truly safe. But some less so than others.” He raised and dropped his arm and one of his Memoridons stepped forward, pointing at Caruvik, fingers splayed.
Commander Caruvik dropped to his knees, covering his ears, swatting at some invisible things assaulting his head, slammed his face on the bench. Most stepped away, but two of his captains moved forward and tried to help him back to his feet. But Caruvik started wailing, swinging his arms at them, knocking them back, and the wailing grew shrill, pitch rising, “Enough,” Cynead commanded, and the Memoridon lowered her arm and stepped back into the fold.
Commander Caruvik stayed curled up like that, body jerking, but the spasms slowed down. Emperor Cynead called out, “Now then. You are the lords of the Empire. That hasn’t changed. I would have you with me, have your support. However, what I will not have is rebellion, in word or action. The Age of Coups is over. Together, we will achieve things our forefathers never dreamed possible; we will grow this Empire to heights and greatness they never dared attempt. Together. Work with me, and your rewards will be boundless, and you will be remembered in history and song. But make no mistake at alclass="underline" work against me, and I will crush you. Without thought, without remorse.
“Tomorrow is a new day. We will walk into it together, and I will apprise you of the specifics of my plans. But for today, I trust you to lead. Speak to your Towers, tell them of the new state of things, and prepare to move forward. That is all. Dismissed.”
The Syldoon, angry, sullen, and teeth-gritting to a man, watched their Emperor climb down the dais and mount his horse, throwing the long cloak out of the way before it draped across the flanks of the beast. The hornblowers blew one final note, and then the imperial procession started making its way out of the stadium, Emperor first, leopard handlers second, the Memoridons a short distance after, and the soldiers, charioteers, and musicians lining up to take the rear.
Commander Darzaak looked at his captains, splotches of red around his prominent sideburns. “Well. That was unexpected. Come on. Got some planning of our own to do.”
He started down the stairs with us filing in when we heard a voice from behind us. Sibilant, slithery. Oddly suggestive and sexual. We all turned and looked. A woman was standing there, her close-cropped fair hair even lighter in the sun, a leopard pin on the breast of her ash-gray jacket, a scarlet sash visible around her tunic underneath.
Braylar said, “Rusejenna. Looking severely lovely as ever, I see.”
Rusejenna looked him up and down and replied, “Captain Killcoin. Looking… precisely as you always do. Your presence is required. Your men as well.”
Commander Darzaak said, “Busy itinerary today, our Emperor. Where does he expect us?”
Rusejenna smiled, cold, edged with what I couldn’t help suspecting was a hint of cruelty. “Oh, my mistake. I should have been more clear. Just you, Commander Darzaak, and your Captain Killcoin there and his cohorts. To the Circus. The rest of your captains and crew may go.” She returned her gaze to Braylar. “And do try not to be late. One thing to keep an Emperor waiting when he is leagues and leagues away. Quite another when he can hear you dawdling.”
“You and my sister have a great deal in common,” Braylar replied. “The two of you will conspire like cats.”
“So very droll. I am sure the Emperor will be endlessly amused.” Then Rusejenna turned and left without waiting for a response.
It was difficult to tell if the other Jackal Tower captains were more irritated by the exclusion, or relieved.
One with thick purple lips and a weak chin said, “That haughty bitch. Acts as if sucking the Emperor’s cock makes her special. Just makes her an expensive whore.”
“And a powerful one,” Braylar said. “And perceptive. Don’t forget to add that your list, Belvick. Whatever else you say about Imperial Mems, know that there is a very good chance they will eventually hear you.”
Belvick scowled at Braylar and managed a half-hearted harrumph. “I don’t need etiquette lessons from the likes of you.”
“No, just survival lessons. But suit yourself. Denigrate the Mems as much as you like. But wait until I am several streets over, yes?”
Belvick looked away and said something to another captain. But nothing else about Rusejenna, I noted. So perhaps he wasn’t as large a fool as he seemed. Perhaps.
The other Jackal captains looked eager to get back to their Tower as quickly as possible.
Commander Darzaak might have been hiding his anger at being ordered about behind clenched teeth, but he always seemed to have them clamped tight, so it was difficult to tell for sure. “Guessing we’re all about to get fucked in the ass by a big angry horse. Nothing for it but to put a bit in your mouth and take it. You heard the snow snake. Best get moving.”
We walked away from the Imperial Hippodrome, continuing north while the rest of the small Jackal contingent walked south back toward their Tower. They didn’t look back at us, and we didn’t at them. Except for me, swiveling my head around looking at both like a simpleton.
Our small group moved down side streets away from the hippodrome and most of the traffic that clogged the main avenues in Sunwrack. Here and there we ran into some Thurvacians, and a few stray dogs, but otherwise the path we picked wasn’t congested at all.
Mulldoos said, “Got to hand it to the cagey bastard. Really got a flair for the dramatic, he does.”
“Indisputable,” Braylar replied, marching forward.
Commander Darzaak was in the lead, keeping a fast pace despite short legs and being bowlegged, heading toward this encounter with far more stoicism than I could muster. I’d never been within one hundred yards of a king, and now I was not only about to be in an audience with an Emperor, but one who likely had very bad things planned for us. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, voice lowered so not to arouse any anger from the Commander several steps ahead, “Do you think he, Cynead that is, suspects your affinity for Thumaar?”
Hewspear said, “Oh, you can be sure he is well aware of our affiliations. The Jackals supported Thumaar’s own coup, and were staunch supporters during his entire reign. And I’m sure Cynead knows we would gladly welcome him back, if such an opportunity presented itself. What he might or might not suspect is that we are actively plotting to make it so.”
“When Emperors seize power by force, don’t they, I mean, wouldn’t they-?”
“Destroy those factions supporting the previous ruler? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.” Hewspear took a few more steps and added, “More often, they simply keep a vigilant eye on them.”
“To prevent them from doing whatever it is you are doing to bring Thumaar back to power?”
He looked down at me, smiling, again a kindly grandfather. For the moment. “Just so, Arki.”
“So he probably knows, then? Or strongly suspects?”
Before Hewspear could respond, Mulldoos turned around and said, “Shut your yaps. We’re here.”
We had stepped onto a broad avenue, and a little further down was a domed building that was gigantic, easily the largest construction in this district, with multiple smaller domes flanking a massive dome in the middle that was hundreds of feet high and brilliant in color, with numerous panels of stained glass. Much of the outside of the building was covered in scaffolding, and workers were lying or standing on platforms at several spots, though it was hard to tell what they were doing exactly, they were so high up.
The marble colonnaded entrance was bracketed by statues of what I assumed were Emperors or other noteworthy Tower Commanders, looking suitably somber, forbidding, and stately.
“What is this place?” I asked.
Vendurro said, “Great Circus, they call it. Name like that usually sets up a place to be real disappointing like, but I been there a time or two, and it’s actually something to see.”