Domes of Fire Part 42

Another fanfare announced the arrival of the visitors, and the Church Knights and the Peloi formed up in military precision around Queen Ehlana and her party. They marched with ceremonial pace down that broad, carpeted avenue to the throne of his Imperial Majesty, Sarabian of Tamul. The ruler of half the world wore a heavy crown of diamond-encrusted gold, and his crimson cloak, open at the front, was bordered with wide bands of tightly-woven gold thread. His robe was gleaming white, caught at the waist by a wide golden belt.

Despite the splendour of his throne-room and his clothing, Sarabian of Tamul was a rather ordinary-looking man. His skin was pale by comparison with the skin of the Atans, largely, Sparhawk surmised, because the emperor was seldom out of doors. He was of medium stature and build and his face was unremarkable. His eyes, however, were far more alert than Sparhawk had expected. When Ehlana entered the throne-room, he rose somewhat hesitantly to his feet.

Oscagne looked a bit surprised. 'That's amazing,' he said. 'The emperor never stands to greet his guests.'

'Who are the ladies gathered around him?' Ehlana asked in a quiet voice.

'His wives,' Oscagne replied, 'the Empresses of Tamuli. There are nine of them.'

'Monstrous!' Bevier gasped.

'Political expediency, Sir Knight,' the amba.s.sador explained. 'An ordinary man has only one wife, but the emperor has to have one from each kingdom in the empire. He can't really show favouritism, after all. '

'It looks as if one of the empresses forgot to finish dressing,' Baroness Melidere said critically, staring at one of the imperial wives, a sunny-faced young woman who stood naked to the waist with no hint that her unclad state caused her any concern. The skirt caught around her waist was a brilliant scarlet, and she had a red flower in her hair.

Oscagne chuckled. 'That's our Elysoun,' he smiled. 'She's from the Isle of Valesia, and that's the costume or lack of it-customary among the islanders. She's a totally uncomplicated girl, and we all love her dearly. The normal rules governing marital fidelity have never applied to the Valesian Empress. It's a concept the Valesians can't comprehend. The notion of sin is alien to them.'

Bevier gasped.

'Hasn't anyone ever tried to instruct them?' Emban asked.'

'Oh, my, yes, your Grace,' Oscagne grinned. 'Churchmen from the Elene kingdoms of western Tamuli have gone by the score to Valesia to try to persuade the islanders that their favourite pastime is scandalous and sinful. The churchmen are filled with zeal right at first, but it doesn't usually last for very long. Valesian girls are all very beautiful and very friendly. Almost invariably, it's the Elenes who are converted. The Valesian religion seems to have only one commandment:. "be happy".'

'There are worse notions,' Emban sighed.

'Your Grace!' Bevier exclaimed.

'Grow up, Bevier,' Emban told him. 'I sometimes think that our Holy Mother Church is a bit obsessive about certain aspects of human behaviour.' Bevier flushed, and his face grew rigidly disapproving.

The courtiers in the throne-room, obviously at the emperor's command, once again ritualistically grovelled as Ehlana pa.s.sed. Practice had made them so skilled that dropping to their knees, banging their foreheads on the floor, and getting back up again was accomplished with only minimal awkwardness. Ehlana, gowned in royal blue, reached the throne and curtseyed gracefully. The set look on her face clearly said that she would not grovel. The emperor bowed in response, and an astonished gasp ran through the crowd. The imperial bow was adequate, though just a bit stiff. Sarabian had obviously been practising, but bowing appeared not to come naturally to him. Then he cleared his throat and spoke at some length in the Tamul language, pausing from time to time to permit his official translator to convert his remarks into Elenic.

'Keep your eyes where they belong,' Ehlana murmured to Sparhawk. Her face was serene, and her lips scarcely moved.

'I wasn't looking at her,' he protested.

'Oh, really?'

The Empress Elysoun had the virtually undivided attention of the Church Knights and the Peloi, and she quite obviously was enjoying it. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her smile was just slightly naughty. She stood not far from her Imperial husband, breathing deeply, evidently a form of exercise among her people. There was a challenge in the look she returned to her many admirers, and she surveyed them clinically. Sparhawk had seen the same look on Ehlanas face when she was choosing jewellery or gowns. He concluded that Empress Elysoun was very likely to cause problems.

Emperor Sarabian's speech was filled with formalised plat.i.tudes. His heart was full. He swooned with joy. He was dumbstruck by Ehlana's beauty. He was quite overwhelmed by the honour she did him in stopping by to call. He thought her dress was very nice. Ehlana, the world's consummate orator, quickly discarded the speech she had been preparing since her departure from Chyrellos and responded in kind. She found Matherion quite pretty. She advised Sarabian that her life had now seen its crown (Ehlana's life seemed to find a new crown each time she made a speech). She commented on the unspeakable beauty of the imperial wives, (though making no mention of Empress Elysoun's painfully visible attributes). She also promised to swoon with joy, since it seemed to be the fashion here. She thanked him profusely for his gracious welcome. She did not, however, talk about the weather.

Emperor Sarabian visibly relaxed. He had clearly been apprehensive that the Queen of Elenia might accidentally slip something of substance into her speech which would have then obliged him to respond without consultation.

He thanked her for her thanks. She thanked him for his thanks for her thanks. Then they stared at each other. Thanks for thanks for thanks can only be carried so far without becoming ridiculous. Then an official with an exaggeratedly bored look on his face cleared his throat. He was somewhat taller than the average Tamul, and his face showed no sign whatsoever of what he was thinking. It was with enormous relief that Emperor Sarabian introduced his prime minister, Pondia Subat.

'Odd name,' Ulath murmured after the emperor's remarks had been translated. 'I wonder if his close friends call him 'Pondy'.'

'Pondia is his t.i.tle of n.o.bility, Sir Ulath,' Oscagne explained. 'It's a rank somewhat akin to that of viscount, though not exactly. Be a little careful of him, my lords. He is not your friend. He also pretends not to understand Elenic, but I strongly suspect that his ignorance on that score is feigned. Subat was violently opposed to the idea of inviting Prince Sparhawk to come to Matherion. He felt that to do so would demean the emperor. I've also been advised that the emperor's decision to treat Queen Ehlana as an equal quite nearly gave our prime minister apoplexy.'

'Is he dangerous?' Sparhawk murmured.

'I'm not entirely certain, your Highness. He's fanatically loyal to the emperor, and I'm not altogether sure where that may lead him.' Pondia Subat was making a few remarks. 'He says that he knows you're fatigued by the rigours of the journey,' Oscagne translated. 'He urges you to accept the imperial hospitality to rest and refresh yourselves. It's a rather neat excuse to conclude the interview before anyone says anything that might compel the emperor to answer before Subat has a chance to prompt him.'

'It might not be a bad idea,' Ehlana decided. 'Things haven't gone badly so far. Maybe we should just leave well enough alone for the time being.'

'I shall be guided by you, your Majesty,' Oscagne said with a florid bow.

Ehlana let that pa.s.s. After another effusive exchange between their Majesties, the prime minister escorted the visitors from the hall. just outside the door to the throne-room they mounted a flight of stairs and proceeded along a corridor directly to the far side of the palace, foregoing the pleasure of retracing their steps around and around the interminable spiral. Pondia Subat, speaking through an interpreter, pointed out features of interest as they progressed. His tone was deliberately off-hand, treating wonders as commonplace. He was not even particularly subtle about his efforts to put these Elene barbarians in their place. He did not quite sneer at them, but he came very close. He led them along a covered walk-way to the gleaming Elene castle, where he left them in the care of Amba.s.sador Oscagne.

'Is his att.i.tude fairly prevalent here in Matherion?' Emban asked the amba.s.sador.

'Hardly,' Oscagne replied. 'Subat's the leader of a vary small faction here at court. They're archconservatives who haven't had a new idea in five hundred years.'

'How did he become prime minister if his faction is so small?' Tynian asked.

'Tamuli politics are very murky, Sir Tynian. We serve at the emperor's pleasure, and he's in no way obliged to take our advice on any matter. Subat's father was a very close friend of Emperor Sarabian's sire, and the appointment of Subat as prime minister was more in the nature of a gesture of filial respect than a recognition of outstanding merit, although Subat's an adequate prime minister-unless something unusual comes up. Then he tends to go all to pieces. Cronyism's one of the major drawbacks of our form of government. The head of our church has never had a pious thought in his life. He doesn't even know the names of our G.o.ds.'

'Wait a minute,' Emban said, his eyes stunned. 'Are you trying to say that ecclesiastical positions are bestowed by the emperor?'

'Of course. They are positions of authority, after all, and Tamul emperors don't like to let authority of any kind out of their hands.'

They had entered the main hall of the castle, which, with the exception of the gleaming nacre that covered every exposed surface, was very much like the main hall of every Elene castle in the world.

'The servants here are Elenes,' Oscagne told them, 'so you should have no difficulty explaining your needs to them. I trust you'll excuse me now. I must go make my report to his Imperial Majesty.' He made a face. 'I'm not really looking forward to it, to be honest with you. Subat's going to be standing at his Majesty's elbow making light of everything I say.' He bowed to Ehlana, then turned and left.

'We've got problems here, I think,' Tynian observed. 'All this formality's going to keep us away from the emperor, and if we can't tell him what we've discovered, he's not likely to give us the freedom of movement we're going to need.'

'And the antagonism of the prime minister's going to make things that much worse,' Bevier added. 'It rather looks as if we've come half-way round the world to offer our help only to be confined in this very elaborate prison.'

'Let's feel things out a bit before we start getting obstreperous,' Emban counseled. 'Oscagne knows what he's doing, and he's seen almost everything we've seen. I think we can count on him to convey the urgency of the situation to Sarabian.'

'If you have no need of us, your Majesty,' Stragen said to Ehlana, 'Talen and I should go make contact with the local thieves. If we're going to be tied up in meaningless formalities here, we'll need some help in gathering information.'

'How do you plan to communicate with them?' Khalad asked him.

'Matherion's a very cosmopolitan place, Khalad. Caalador directed me to several Elenes who carry quite a bit of weight with the local thieves.'

'Do what you must, Stragen,' Ehlana told him, 'but don't cause any international incidents.'

'Trust me, your Majesty,' he grinned.

The royal apartments in the castle were high up in a central tower. The castle was purely ornamental, of course, but since it was a faithful reproduction of an Elene fort, the builders had unwittingly included defensive features they probably hadn't even recognised. Bevier was quite pleased with it. 'I could defend the place,' he judged. 'About all I'd need would be a few vats of pitch and some engines and I could hold this castle for several years.'

'Let's hope it doesn't come to that, Bevier,' Ehlana replied.

Later that evening, when Sparhawk and his extended family had said good night to the others and retired to the royal apartment, the prince consort lounged in a chair by the window while the ladies did all those little things ladies do before going to bed. Many of those little ceremonies had clearly practical reasons behind them, others ~were totally incomprehensible.

'I'm sorry, Sparhawk,' Ehlana was saying, 'but it concerns me. If the Empress Elysoun's as indiscriminately predatory as Oscagne suggests, she could cause us a great deal of embarra.s.sment. Take Kalten, for example. Do you believe that he'd decline the kind of offers she's likely to make, particularly in view of her costume?'

'I'll have a talk with him,' Sparhawk promised.

'ly hand,' Mirtai suggested. 'Sometimes it's a little hard to get Kalten's attention when he's distracted.'

'She's vulgar,' Baroness Melidere sniffed.'

'She's very pretty, though, Baroness,' Alcan added, 'And she's not really flaunting her body. She knows it's there, of course, but I think she just likes to share it with people. She's generous more than vulgar.'

'Do you suppose we could talk about something else?' Sparhawk asked them in a pained tone.

There was a light knock on the door, and Mirtai went to see who was asking admittance. As always, the Atana had one hand on a dagger-hilt when she opened the door. It was Oscagne. He was wearing a hooded cloak, and he was accompanied by another man similarly garbed. The two stepped inside quickly.

'Close the door, Atana,' the Amba.s.sador hissed urgently, his usually imperturbable face stunned and his eyes wild.

'What's your problem, Oscagne?' she asked bluntly.

'Please, Atana Mirtai, close the door. If anybody finds out that my friend and I are here, the palace will fall down around our ears.'

She closed the door and bolted it. A sudden absolute certainty came over Sparhawk, and he rose to his feet. 'Welcome, your Imperial Majesty,' he greeted Oscagne's hooded companion.

Emperor Sarabian pushed back his hood. 'How the deuce did you know it was me, Prince Sparhawk?' he asked. His Elenic was only slightly accented. 'I know you couldn't see my face.'

'No, your Majesty,' Sparhawk replied, 'but I could see Amba.s.sador Oscagne's. He looked very much like a man holding a live snake.'

'I've been called a lot of things in my time,' Sarabian laughed, 'But never that.'

'Your Majesty is most skilled,' Ehlana told him with a little curtsy. 'I didn't see a single hint on your face that you understood Elenic. I could read it in Queen Betuana's face, but you didn't give me a single clue.'

'Betuana speaks Elenic?' He seemed startled. 'What an astounding thing.' He removed his cloak. 'Actually, your Majesty,' he told Ehlana, 'I speak all the languages of the Empire-Tamul, Elenic, Styric, Tegan, Arjuni, Valesian and even the awful language they speak in Cynesga. It's one of our most closely guarded state secrets. I even keep it a secret from my government, just to be on the safe side.' He looked a bit amused. 'I gather that you'd all concluded that I'm not quite bright,' he suggested.

'You fooled us completely, your Majesty,' Melidere a.s.sured him.

He beamed at her. 'Delightful girl,' he said. 'I adore fooling people. There are many reasons for this subterfuge, my friends, but they're mostly political and not really very nice. Shall we get to the point here? I can only be absent for a short period of time without being missed.'

'We are, as they say, at your immediate disposal, your Majesty,' Ehlana told him.

'I've never understood that phrase, Ehlana,' he confessed. 'You don't mind if we call each other by name, do you? All those 'your Majesties' are just too c.u.mbersome. Where was I? Oh, yes-'immediate disposal'. It sounds like someone running to carry out the trash.' His words seemed to tumble from his lips as if his tongue were having difficulty keeping up with his thoughts. 'The point of this visit, my dear friends, is that I'm more or less the prisoner of custom and tradittion here in Matherion. My role is strictly defined, and for me to overstep certain bounds causes earthquakes that can be felt from here to the Gulf of Daconia. I could ignore those earthquakes, but our common enemy could probably feel them too, and we don't want to alert him.'

'Truly,' Sparhawk agreed.

'Please don't keep gaping at me like that, Oscagne,' Sarabian told the amba.s.sador. 'I didn't tell you that I was really awake when most of you thought I was sleeping because it wasn't necessary for you to know before. Now it is. Snap out of it, man. The foreign minister has to be able to take these little surprises in his stride.'

'It's just taking me a little while to re-adjust my thinking, your Majesty.'

'You thought I was an idiot, am I right?'

'Well-'

'You were supposed to think so, Oscagne-you and Subat and all the other ministers. It's been one of my main defences-and amus.e.m.e.nts. Actually, old boy, I'm something of a genius.' He smiled at Ehlana. 'That sounds immodest, doesn't it? But it's true, nonetheless. I learned your language in three weeks, and Styric in four. I can find the logical fallacies in the most abstruse treaties on Elene theology, and I've probably read-and understood-just about everything that's ever been written. My most brilliant achievement, however, has been to keep all that a secret. The people who call themselves my government-no offence intended, Oscagne-seem to be engaging in some vast conspiracy to keep me in the dark. They only tell me things they think I'll want to hear. I have to look out of a window to get an accurate idea of the current weather. They have the n.o.blest of motives, of course. They want to spare me any distress, but I really think that someone ought to tell me when the ship I'm riding in is sinking, don't you?'

Sarabian was still talking very fast, spilling out ideas as quickly as they came to him. His eyes were bright, and he seemed almost on the verge of laughing out loud. He was obviously tremendously excited.

'Now then,' he rushed on, 'we must devise a means of communicating without alerting everyone in the palace down to and including the scullery boys in the kitchen to what we're doing. I desperately need to know what's really going on so that I can bring my towering intellect to bear on it.' That last was delivered with self-deprecating irony. 'Any ideas?'

'What are your feelings about magic, your Majesty?' Sparhawk asked him.

'I haven't formed an opinion yet, Sparhawk.'

'It won't work then,' Sparhawk told him. 'You have to believe that the spell's going to work, or it'll fail.'

'I might be able to make myself believe,' Sarabian said just a bit dubiously.

'That probably wouldn't do it, your Majesty,' Sparhawk told him. 'The spells would succeed or not depending on your mood. We need something a bit more certain. There are things we'll need to tell you that will be so important that we won't be able to just trust to luck.'

'My feelings exactly, Sparhawk. That defines our problem then. We need an absolutely certain method of pa.s.sing information back and forth that can't be detected. My experience tells me that it has to be something so commonplace that n.o.body will pay any attention to it.'

'Exchange gifts,' Baroness Melidere suggested in an offhand way.

'I'd be delighted to send you gifts, my dear Baroness,' Sarabian smiled. 'Your eyes quite stop my heart, but-'

She held up one hand. 'Excuse me, your Majesty,' She told him, 'but nothing is more common than the exchange of gifts between ruling monarchs. I can carry little mementos from the queen to you, and the amba.s.sador here can carry yours to her. After we've run back and forth a few times, n.o.body will pay any attention to us. We can conceal messages in those gifts, and no one will dare to search for them.'

Where did you find this wonderful girl, Ehlana?' Sarabian demanded. 'I'd marry her in a minute-if I didn't already have nine wives-oh, incidentally, Sparhawk, I need to talk with you about that-privately, perhaps.' He looked around. 'Can anyone see any flaws in the baroness's plan?'

'Just one,' Mirtai said, 'but I can take care of that.'

'What is it, Atana?' the excited emperor asked.

'Someone may still have suspicions about this exchange of gifts-particularly if there's a steady stream of them. He might try to intercept Melidere, but I'll escort her back and forth. I'll personally guarantee that no one will interfere.'

'Excellent, Atana! Capital! We'd better get back, Oscagne. Subat misses me terribly when I'm not where he expects me to be. Oh, Sparhawk please designate several of your knights to entertain my wife, Elysoun.'

'I beg your Majesty's pardon?'

'Young preferably handsome and with lots of stamina-you know the type.'

'Are we talking about what I think we're talking about, your Majesty?'

'Of course we are. Elysoun enjoys exchanging gifts and favours too, and she'd be crushed if no one wanted to play with her. She's terribly shrill when she's unhappy. For the sake of my ears, please see to it, old boy.'

'Ah-how many, your Majesty?'

'A dozen or so should suffice, I expect. Coming, Oscagne?' And the emperor of Tamuli rushed to the door.

Chapter 25.