The Emperor waved, seemingly unconcerned. "Okay. So some pirated copies got out. Couldn't pick up more than another three or four percent viewership from that."
"I wish it were true, sir," Poyndex said. "The figures are more like 20 percent... the first day. Then—in their jargon—it almost instantly hit breakthrough."
Poyndex paused and swallowed hard for what he had to say next.
"Go on," the Emperor said.
"Yessir... Uh... They're figuring that within two E-weeks more than 80 percent of the Empire will have seen Ranett's report."
Absolute silence from the Emperor. Poyndex and the other beings quaked as they waited for the expected explosion from the absolute ruler of the known universe. He remained perfectly still for a long, agonizing moment. As if, Poyndex thought, he were consulting some demon deep within.
The Emperor stirred in his seat. He forced a slight chuckle.
"Not the most wonderful news, I'll admit," he said. "However, as I said at the beginning of this audience, this is no time to focus on the negative. If we act in a calm, deliberate manner, this crisis will soon pass. I've been through this sort of thing before. And it always ends the same. My enemies dead or in disorder. My subjects praising my name."
The Emperor's eyes swept over the small crowd in the room. "Of course, there will be a great deal of blood spilled meantime. There always is."
He stopped. As if he had forgotten their presence. Absently, he reached into the desk drawer. Pulled out a bottle of Scotch and poured himself a drink. He sipped. Musing.
Then he began to speak again. Very quickly. Conversationally. But it wasn't the people in the room he seemed to be addressing. It was more like he was having a late-night talk with a few old friends.
It scared the hell out of Avri. Like the others, she stood quite still. Instinctively they knew this was no time to draw attention to themselves.
"I blame myself for Sten. What could I have been thinking? From the moment Mahoney brought him to my attention, I believed I saw a young man with vast potential. Potential to serve me. I should have seen how badly flawed he was. And that flaw was ambition.
"Amazing how you can miss something like that. Because we're talking about an ambition that goes far beyond any kind of norm. Yes. I can see it now. He wanted my throne all along."
The Eternal Emperor sipped at his Scotch. "Yes. That explains it. Sten is quite mad. And he's been mad all along."
For a moment he fixed his gaze on Poyndex. "I believe that explains it, don't you?"
Poyndex did not make the deadly mistake of hesitating. "Absolutely, Your Highness," he said. Fervent. "Sten is quite mad. It's the only possible explanation."
The Emperor nodded. Absently. "I suppose he rationalizes his actions, however," he said. "Very few beings like to think of themselves as having evil intent... He probably thinks I'm mad as well."
His eyes darted to Avri. Like Poyndex, she did not falter. "If he thinks that, sir," she said, "he must be insane."
Again, the absent nod. "Of course, his view will have some public appeal," the Emperor said. "Albeit limited."
" Very limited... if at all," Poyndex said quickly.
"Ah, well," the Emperor said. "Bleak economic times seem to always draw out the worst in a monarch's subjects."
Cold laughter.
"There seems to be this persistent point of view in any age that times of plenty are normal. Hard times an aberration. Usually caused by the rulers of the offending state."
The Emperor topped up his drink. "Actually, the opposite is true. In most times... for most beings... life is sheer hell.
"And they give us—their rulers—even greater hell for somehow failing them."
The Emperor lifted his rictus grin at Avri. "But it would be bad politics to point those facts out to them, of course."
"I agree, sir," she said. "Promises are always better than getting into pocketbook negatives."
He motioned for her to come to his side. She did. An arm snaked out and drew her closer. He began stroking her slowly. Avri flushed. But no one dared notice. They kept their eyes on the Emperor as he continued.
"Still... the pressure is tremendous on a ruler to deliver the impossible." Avri shuddered. Fear, not desire, as the caresses grew more intimate.
A bitter laugh from the Emperor. "And... if we should falter... it is the monarch who gets the blame... Our subjects desert us."
The Emperor shook his head mournfully. "But it isn't good for a monarch to dwell on these things. Otherwise... his subjects will drive him—"
He stopped, staring into nothingness. Then his eyes blazed to life again. He shouted, "God, I wish my subjects had a single throat. I'd slit it, without a thought."
All around the room, hearts jumped. Poyndex found himself staring into the Emperor's eyes, pinned there, frightened to keep looking, yet frightened to look away.
Then he realized the Emperor wasn't seeing him. His face was blank, his thoughts inward. A creak of swivel chair as the Emperor turned away, his eyes lifting to take in Avri.
Suddenly, he pulled her into his lap. Fingers fumbling at the fastenings of her clothing. Avri instinctively twisted to help.
Poyndex made frantic motions to the staff. Very quietly, they slipped out of the room. He was the last to exit.
But just before he was safely gone—
"Poyndex?"
He spun. Avri was sprawled naked in the Emperor's lap.
"Yessir."
"That wish was not original with me," the Emperor said. Absently, he traced a finger along Avri's flesh.
"Nossir?"
"It was from one of my colleagues... a long time ago." The finger stopped its trek. Thumb joined against finger on tender flesh.
"His name was Caligula."
"Yessir."
"A much-maligned ruler, in my opinion. He had no head for money, of course. But in many ways he was very talented. Unfortunately, the historians tend to focus on his personal habits."
His pinch bit deeply into Avri's flesh. A small moan of pain escaped from her lips.
"Very unfair," the Eternal Emperor said.
"Yessir."
The Emperor's eyes dropped back to Avri, Poyndex forgotten.
"Lovely," the Emperor said.
Poyndex stepped quickly away, letting the door hiss shut. Just before it closed, he heard Avri scream.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE CAL'GATA, SR. Tangeri, whistled shrilly, breaking the long silence that had hung across the chamber while he'd considered Sr. Ecu's words. The whistle signified mild amusement and interest.
"I see," the being went on, "why you chose your words with such care. It would be entirely too easy to misunderstand what you just said, and interpret your words as a very subtle inquiry as to whether the Cal'gata have any particular dissatisfaction with the Empire as it has been reconstituted since the Emperor's return."
"Fortunately," Ecu said, "I knew I was not speaking to a being of lesser intellect, so I have no fears whatsoever about being misunderstood."
Tangeri whistled again, the Ecu allowed his tendrils to flicker, also showing appreciation for this fencing match that had gone on for nearly two E-hours. It was a pity, Ecu sometimes thought, that all of the recreations Ecu found intellectually stimulating, such as historical analysis or the human game of go, made Tangeri's black/white fur bristle in boredom; and Tangeri's own pastimes, such as fourth-level equations in topology, mapping a posited universe containing an additional, fictional, eighth or ninth dimension, Ecu thought intellectual masturbation.
The only common ground they had was the subtleties of diplomacy. Each of them knew, however, that he was actually only humoring a friend: in a "real" contest, there would be no contest at all.