Shadow War Part 12

He smiled. "Do you understand what that means?"

Her wits were scattered, yet this was no time to be undone. She struggled to find her voice. "I-you want me-I am to-"

"You will rule with me, as me, for me."

She swallowed, choking a little, and had nothing to say. The magnitude of it overwhelmed her.

"I am getting old," he said, then grimaced wryly at his own understatement. "Let me rephrase that. I am coming to the end of my time. I have cheated death a long, long while. But that is over. The augurs have cast no prophecy after me. There has been no one named who will follow me."

She knew that. It made her feel slightly faint.

"Some say the world will end," she said softly, and by sheer strength of will managed not to glance at the black cloud that had lain across the northern horizon for several days now. "Some say we are facing the end of time."

"Some say that," he agreed. "Fools. I do not believe such superst.i.tions. I am emperor, but I remain a man. To the G.o.ds, I am not important enough for them to end the world they play with. But neither will I go peaceably; neither will I go without putting my stamp on who is to follow me."

She was feeling stronger now. Her thoughts were more coherent. "Will it be the prince?"

"Probably. If he is man enough to seize control without destroying the empire in the process." The emperor shrugged. "I do not worry about Tirhin. If it should be someone else, then that is for the G.o.ds to decide. But I want my final days to be easy. I am tired, Ela. I am bored at last with my power, and that tells me my time is near."

"No-"

"Hush! Don't start any foolishness now, not when I've decided to depend on you. Be strong. You are to rule in my final days, leaving me free to be as idle as I wish. Fauvina ruled at my side in the early part of my reign. She had a mind much like yours, tough and quick, resourceful and clever. She aided me much when we were forging the empire. You will aid me now in preserving it."

For a moment he looked into the distance, very much lost in his thoughts.

Elandra dropped her ruined handkerchief on the ground and drew in several deep breaths. To rule ... to sit at council and make decisions ... excitement burst inside her, then she swiftly quelled it, afraid to believe it could be true. It was a monumental responsibility. No one had prepared her for this. Even the Penestricians, with their visions, had not foreseen such a turning. They had taught her to please, had taught her to be patient, had advised her to bear children quickly in order to secure her influence. She had realized months ago that the Penestricians-for all their wisdom- had no real understanding of what went on in the palace or how the mind of the emperor worked. How could they, when they had been banished from Imperia for centuries?

But to rule as empress ... what would her father say? Would he be proud, or would he be horrified? After all, who would accept her in such a role? Why, all the lords of the provinces would have to come and bow to her in fealty, even her own father. They wouldn't do it. Not those men. They were warriors, and she was a woman.

"I understand," she said quietly, lifting her chin. "I am to hold the empire together until Tirhin takes over. I am to make a stable transition of power."

The emperor turned back to her with a look of approval. "Excellent! I knew you would grasp it without tedious explanation. But hear this: hold it for the boy, or hold it for yourself. I care not. I am done with it, if I can be left alone. If you want this empire for yourself, then hold it, girl! Hold it hard in your fist, and never let it go! Never stand back for another, do you hear? Not unless that is truly what you wish."

He glared at her, clenching his square hands into fists that were still powerful. "If there is any tiny part of you that wants to keep the throne for yourself, then do what is necessary to hold it. Choose your own consort and found your own dynasty. Make it what you want. That is my gift to you ... this chance to shape the world to your liking."

As quickly as it had come, his vehemence faded. He blinked his yellow eyes and tilted his head to one side to look at her quizzically. "Well, that's enough for now. You'll have time to chew it over, see if you like it. Tirhin has no more claim to the throne than you or anyone off the street. I earned my throne, and by the G.o.ds I do not relish handing it over to any young pup who thinks he can demand it by some ridiculous right of birth. Fight him, marry him, or depose him. I do not care. Just bring me peace in my final days. That is all I ask of you."

She rose to her feet, gripping his rough hands in her slender ones. "You have my promise," she said earnestly. "All I can do, I will."

"I know," he said with a smile, and left her.

From that day, the news had spread through the palace like wildfire. Peace became a laughable word, for it was not to be found. All was chaos and preparations. And now that the event was finally close at hand, there were endless feastings and celebrations that exhausted her and certainly must be exhausting the emperor.

She hadn't spoken to him privately for nearly two weeks. Meanwhile, Tirhin sulked in his own house, complained to his friends, and declined all invitations from his father. He was acting like a spoiled child, which perhaps he was. Only he was too old for such behavior. He was making the emperor angry with his petty defiance, and Elandra had lost patience with him also.

Although she had met the prince publicly, in her veil, she had never really talked to him. After her coronation, however, she would be able to come and go as she pleased. She could attend public functions, and she could leave off her veil. She could do anything she liked, and that aspect as yet seemed like a dream. It was exciting, but frightening as well.

The world, after a year of living cloistered in her quarters, seemed to be growing too large too suddenly.

But she had no time to brood about it. Today she would go to the temple for fasting and the purification ceremony. Tomorrow she would be crowned. That meant this was her final day to be simply a woman. Tomorrow she would become something else. Would power corrupt her? What would she be expected to do first? Would the emperor truly relinquish the reins to her, an untried girl?

She drew up her knees and hugged them, rocking herself. Everything was unknown, yet she had faced other tests and survived them. She could survive this too.

As a child, she used to dream of living life boldly, of having adventures, of taking journeys, of gathering knowledge and ideas. She used to question why women should be shut away and cloistered from the world, ripened like conservatory fruit for the pleasure and disposal of men. She wanted to follow at her father's heels when he inspected his troops. She loved to hear his stories of the battles when he came home after long absences, grown crude and harsh and louder than usual. His armor would have new dents in it. He would be restless and tense at first, then gradually he would soften and relax. Never would he tell her everything; his stories would have odd gaps in them, gaps that her imagination struggled to fill.

But dreams were easy for a girl without prospects. Illegitimate and hard-working, uncertain of her status in a household too busy, Elandra had never imagined she would find herself here in the imperial palace. Childhood dreams were not supposed to come true. That was what her cruel Aunt Hecati used to say. Elandra had never imagined she would find herself at the edge of a destiny such as this. She kept waiting for reality to b.u.mp her harshly from this fantasy. She kept waiting for Aunt Hecati to strike her with a switch and order her to get back to work. Sometimes she sat up in the night, breathless and choking, and believed she was back in the Penestrician stronghold, blind and imprisoned in her tiny stone cell while ancient chanting rose and fell in the distance.

Was that a rumble she heard?

For an instant she believed she felt the room tremble around her.

She leaned over the edge of the bed, but already the faint sensation had stopped. Perhaps it was only her imagination at work again. The night was a strange place, and dreams were not safe from intruders. She sometimes felt afraid here, as though the shadows held things unseen that watched her. If she could have had a jinja jinja to guard her from magic, she would have slept deeply and peacefully, but the emperor did not like the useful little creatures and would not allow her to have one. to guard her from magic, she would have slept deeply and peacefully, but the emperor did not like the useful little creatures and would not allow her to have one.

Moaning a little, Elandra threw herself back on her pillows. It was barely dawn. Her new room was dark and shadowy, the outlines of the furniture still unfamiliar to her. She needed more sleep, but she was too excited to drift off now that she was awake.

What had that noise been? She was certain now that she had heard a noise.

Loud and sharp, as though something had broken. Like the mortal snap of a large tree when loggers bring it down.

Sliding from her bed, she picked up the long hem of her silk nightgown and crossed the cold floor in her bare feet. One of her ladies in waiting snored gently on a cot by the door. Elandra slipped past her like a ghost.

In the anteroom, however, she could hear low voices talking outside her door. Her guards were alert and on duty. They did not usually talk, though. Something was was amiss. amiss.

She opened the door a crack, only to find her way barred by a strong chest plated in armor.

"What is it?" she asked, squinting against the lamplight in the pa.s.sageway.

"A noise, Majesty," the guard replied. "In the throne room. Men have gone to investigate."

Her puzzlement grew. "The throne room? Is it the emperor?"

"Nay, Majesty. Wait within until the investigation is complete."

The guard shut the door firmly against her. Elandra stepped back, but she was more alarmed than rea.s.sured. If something was wrong, she did not intend to sit here in the darkness like a mouse.

Some ladies might say that courting servants' gossip was common, but Elandra had survived her difficult childhood by gleaning every rumor, report, and speculation from her father's servants that she could. Since coming to the palace, she had tried to build a discreet network, and with her new status, information was easier to acquire.

Thus, she knew why Tirhin was flaunting his father's wishes. She knew Tirhin was furious with her. He resented her. He felt betrayed by his father. He had been laying plots and sounding out men's loyalties. Kostimon chose to overlook his son's activities, but she could not afford to be so generous. Tirhin was rapidly becoming her enemy, and perhaps a coup was being struck right now.

With her heart beating fast, she hurried back to her bedchamber. She was grateful now that she had taken certain precautions. Pulling on a heavy robe and fur-lined slippers, she opened a box of ebony and took out a dagger. It was a large knife, heavy and curved near the tip. A man's weapon, not a dainty, feminine stiletto. It filled her hand, and her fingers closed around it gratefully. She felt marginally safer now.

Gripping it, she went to the wall and ran her fingers impatiently along its shadowy surface. Finally she touched a narrow crack. She found the depression and pressed it, and a section of the wall sprang silently open. She slipped through, taking care to close it quietly after her, and felt along a small table just inside the dark pa.s.sage. She lit a lamp, and its yellow light drove back the darkness, showing her a cramped, crude pa.s.sage filled with dust and cobwebs. It smelled of age and damp, but she did not care. It was her own private pa.s.sage to the throne room, and she hurried along it with the lamp in one hand and her dagger in the other.

Years ago, when she was a young child, she had listened to her father talking about another warlord who had lost his life and his property to the hands of a rival. The warlord had just hired a new contingent of warriors to replenish his army. He felt secure from his enemies. But the new soldiers felt no loyalty to their lord and were bribed into turning against him. They let the enemy into the palace, and the warlord was slaughtered in his own chamber.

Elandra thought of the new guards who had sworn an oath to her with their lips but not yet with their hearts. She thought of her stepson, who was her enemy, and as yet an unknown quant.i.ty. She thought of what lay at stake in this affair.

She had no intention of being a fool. Better to be over-prepared than taken unawares.

Reaching the door that would open behind the curtains at the rear of Kostimon's ruby throne, Elandra paused a moment, holding her breath as she listened. She decided then and there that she would choose her own protector following the coronation. If she had to, she would ask her father to provide her with a Gialtan candidate of unimpeachable loyalty.

Voices echoed in the throne room, rising in consternation. She heard no sounds of battle, no shouts, no evidence of danger. Only a hysterical babble.

Frowning, she opened the door and emerged cautiously behind the curtains. From their concealment, she could recognize not only the voice of some of her guardsmen but also that of Chancellor Wilst.

"What is to be done?" he moaned, wringing his hands. "What a terrible omen. It is the end of the world. We are finished. The G.o.ds have struck us a mortal blow. They mean for all men to die."

Suddenly impatient, Elandra emerged from her hiding place, still holding lamp and dagger, her auburn hair spilling unbound down her back.

"Cease this commotion at once!" she cried. Her voice rang out over the others, and everyone grew silent.

As one they turned to stare at her, their eyes wide with fear.

Her frown deepened. "What in the name of the G.o.ds is the matter?"

Then her gaze took in the throne. It had always been a marvel to her since the first time she had seen it. Carved of a single gigantic ruby, it sparkled and glowed as though alive in the torchlight. No one knew how it had been fashioned. Its origins were a mystery. Where such a tremendous gemstone could have been mined was impossible to guess. Kostimon claimed it was given to him by the tribes of Choven, famous throughout the empire for their spell-forged metals. The throne had to have been spell-carved. According to legend, shortly after Kostimon proclaimed himself emperor, the Choven had entered the crude beginnings of his city. They bore the throne, swathed in cloths, upon the shoulders of ten bearers. Chanting in their eerie tongue, they had come before the emperor and unveiled their gift of tribute. The throne had caught the sunlight and turned to fire, dazzling the eyes of all who beheld it.

It was the seal of Kostimon's reign, the very symbol of his power.

And now, within the vaulted throne room at the center of the palace, the ruby throne lay broken in half.

Elandra stared, her mouth dropping open before she recovered herself. Unable to tear her eyes away from the sight, she walked forward, right up to the shattered ruins. Her slippers crunched lightly over some of the tiniest fragments, and she stopped in her tracks.

She could see where it had cracked cleanly down the center, the fissure marks bold on either half.

"What does it mean?" someone asked. "What is to become of us?"

Was the emperor dead? The thought nearly stopped Elandra's heart. She looked up wildly. "The emperor! Quickly, someone go to him and see if he is well-"

"I am well," Kostimon's deep voice replied from the other side of the room.

Elandra saw him coming, robed in crimson and wearing a ta.s.seled cap. His protector Hovet, looking old and grim in plain steel armor, stalked along behind him with a drawn sword.

People scattered out of the emperor's way until only Elandra stood there by the ruined throne.

Hovet snarled something, and with a start she realized she was holding a drawn weapon in the emperor's presence. Hastily she bent and placed her dagger on the floor, then retreated respectfully with her eyes lowered.

Kostimon's face might have been carved from granite, but as he reached the throne, his shoulders sagged. He touched the polished side of one half, and it was as though he physically shrank. Suddenly he looked old and defeated.

Pitying him, Elandra would have given anything to see that look erased from his eyes.

He sighed. "Then it is finished," he whispered. "All is over. The G.o.ds have spoken-"

She moved before she realized what she was doing, rushing up to stand between him and the ruined throne. Fiercely she glared at him. "It is not not finished!" she said, keeping her voice low, but letting all her anger show. "You are not finished. Not yet. Oh yes, Majesty, it was a rare work of art, a thing of surpa.s.sing beauty. But you were not born with it. It came to you, to serve finished!" she said, keeping her voice low, but letting all her anger show. "You are not finished. Not yet. Oh yes, Majesty, it was a rare work of art, a thing of surpa.s.sing beauty. But you were not born with it. It came to you, to serve you. you. Had it been otherwise, you would be dead now, at the same time as its breaking." Had it been otherwise, you would be dead now, at the same time as its breaking."

Kostimon's expression did not change. He shrugged. "I am tired, little one. Let it rest."

"No!" she said, daring to defy him for the first time. "I will not let it rest."

Anger stirred in his eyes. He glared at her. "Keep your place. This has nothing to do with you."

All the breath seemed to leave her body. It was as she feared. In one second he had forgotten all his promises to her. Everything was swept aside, and she might as well be one of his empty-headed concubines. Fear filled her, but she knew that if she backed down now she was truly lost.

"I am am keeping my place," she said fiercely. "And this has everything to do with me. Have you not charged me with new responsibilities?" keeping my place," she said fiercely. "And this has everything to do with me. Have you not charged me with new responsibilities?"

A shuffle from the people nearby caught the corner of her eye. Without waiting for the emperor's reply, she turned her head to glare at them.

"Leave us!" she commanded. Her voice rang out across the room. "All of you. And you, Hovet," she said, turning on the protector who glowered at her, "go with them to see that they wait in a group outside. I will not have anyone running off to spread the word about this. Guard them!"

Hovet did not move. Nor did anyone else. In dismay, she saw she had no authority at all. It was all a sham. An empty promise.

Then Kostimon gave the protector an all but imperceptible nod. Hovet wheeled around and brandished his sword at the others, even the guards.

"You heard the Lady Elandra," he said, still stubbornly using her old t.i.tle.

They obeyed, although her guards looked outraged at being put outside. Elandra did not care. Alone with Kostimon, she prayed for the strength of her father and the iron will of her mother. The emperor was a capricious man. She had seen him turn on others with little provocation. Right now, in his present mood, he could have her destroyed without a moment's hesitation. But if she gave way, if she backed down now and sought to save herself, she would lose everything, possibly even her life. She saw that clearly, although what she has to do terrified her.

"The throne can be bolted back together," she began, trying to keep desperation from her voice. "It can be mended."

Contempt crossed his face. He turned away from her. "Ah, the mind of a woman. Always mending."

"What, then?" she shouted at his back. "Would you throw it away? Will you let this tiny flicker of adversity defeat you? Have you ceased to be a man?"

He swung around, livid now, and raised clenched fists. "I shall have your tongue cut out for that. You impertinent little h.e.l.lcat-"

"Yes, I am impertinent, because I speak to you tonight as your equal. Is that not what you wanted from me? Is that not what you a.s.signed me?"

"Not yet!" he roared. "Not until tomorrow-"

She chopped across this impatiently. "What do these niceties matter in a crisis? Only a few days past you spoke to me of holding the empire together. If you panic, what choice do the people have?"

"How dare you?" he whispered, his yellow eyes blazing. "How dare you accuse me of panicking?"

"Haven't you?"

They glared at each other in tense silence. It was the emperor who dropped his gaze first.

"I have never panicked in my life. I see how greedy you are for power, how swiftly you grab for it at the first opportunity-"

"You threw it at me!" she shouted, truly furious now. He was unfair, stupidly unfair. She had liked him, believed in him, but in reality he was just a wicked old man who would turn on even the people who loved him. "Did I caress you and whisper to you, begging to be crowned a sovereign? Did I? Did I ever ask for it? Did I ever scheme for it? No! If nothing else, at least admit the truth!"

"I make my own truth!"

"Then it is good your throne has broken! Has the weight of your own caprice and injustice shattered it? How can you think only of yourself at such a time? How can you be so selfish?"

"I am the only one who matters," he told her. "I am the center of the world. Everything revolves around me. You were a fool to forget that. Hovet!"

The door opened, and the protector entered. He saw in a glance their flushed, angry faces. He drew his sword, advancing slowly.