"No, of course it wasn't," Chava acknowledged, and reminded himself that however fat and ridiculous the Seneschal might appear—might actually be, for that matter—he, unlike Chava, had not inherited his power. The man who had been born Faroayn Raynarg, the next-to-youngest son of a dune-treader merchant who had spent much of young Faroayn's boyhood jailed for dealing in stolen dune-treaders, had made his way to the top of a religious order in which it was not unheard of for fatal accidents to overtake one's rivals. That might have been many years ago, and it was entirely probable that the years the lean and hungry "Father Faroayn" had spent as His Crowned Eminence had softened his steel even as they had expanded his waistline. But it would be best to remember that he was not truly—or, at any rate, had not always been—the petty little buffoon who'd humiliated himself so on the day of Zindel chan Calirath's arrival in Tajvana.
"Actually, Your Eminence," the Uromathian continued after a moment, "I requested this meeting because it occurred to me that it's been many fine centuries since an Emperor of Uromathia last spoke to a Seneschal of Bergahl as one ruler to another."
The Seneschal stiffened in his chair, and his round face hardened at the words "many fine centuries."
Anger flickered in the backs of the small eyes, half-hidden in pouches of fat, and Chava recognized it with quiet satisfaction. At the moment, it was quite probable that at least some of that anger was directed at him, for reminding the Seneschal of his self-inflicted humiliation. But that was all right with Chava, because there was so very much of it ... and most of it was certainly directed where he wanted it.
I wonder if the fat fool truly thought only he and the Ternathians would understand that particular challenge? the Emperor thought sardonically. What? He thinks I have no historians—no spies? That Uromathia forgets its tools simply because we haven't used them in two or three centuries?
Still, he reminded himself, in fairness to the Seneschal, the episode really wasn't well known, and the pretense of friendship between the Order of Bergahl and the departed Calirath Dynasty had helped bury it deep. But Chava knew about the confrontation between the last Ternathian Emperor to rule from Tajvana and the then-current Seneschal of Bergahl.
Emperor Gariyan VII hadn't much cared for the Order of Bergahl. Indeed, he'd distrusted it deeply after watching it cater to the more restive elements of his imperial capital's population for decades. The Empire had been in a state of ferment. Not disruption, really, and not rebelliousness, but of ... uncertainty. No one really knew exactly what had inspired Gariyan's father to begin the phased reduction of the Empire. The argument that the imperial infrastructure had become too expensive to maintain made a certain degree of sense on the surface, yet it had never withstood serious scrutiny very well. Imperial taxes had been ludicrously low; it wouldn't have been impossible, or even significantly difficult, for that tax structure to be adjusted to provide the necessary funding.
Yet no one had a better reason for Gariyan VI's decision to abandon—or emancipate, depending upon one's viewpoint—the eastern portions of his sprawling empire. Certainly there'd been no organized resistance to "tyrannical" Ternathian rule, despite the isolated cases of nationalistic resentment Chava had managed to dredge up during the debate on the Act of Unification. Indeed, there had been significant elements in almost all of the pre-withdrawal provinces which had spoken out strongly in favor of remaining under the Winged Crown. In the end, however, those arguing in favor of continuing as Ternathian subjects had found themselves outnumbered by a combination of their fellow citizens who preferred freedom to increased tax burdens, and those who had truly found themselves unhappy under
"foreign domination" for so many centuries.
And so, over a period of two generations, Ternathia's frontiers had withdrawn over three thousand miles to the west, and a sizable percentage of the world's population had spent the last two or three centuries as independent states.
Yet Gariyan VII clearly had entertained few illusions about who was likely to emerge as the dominant political faction in Othmaliz. Indeed, he'd almost certainly known that Uromathian money had been subsidizing the Order of Bergahl's ambitions for power in Othmaliz, and he had summoned the thencurrent Seneschal to Calirath Palace before his family departed—for all time, most had expected—to Estafel and Hawkwing Palace.
There were disputes, even between the reports Chava had access to, of exactly what had passed between the departing Emperor and the politically powerful priest already maneuvering to assert his Order's control of Othmaliz. Most of them agreed, however, that Gariyan had pulled no punches in its course, and all of them agreed that it was at that point that the Seneschal had first discovered that the Caliraths had no intention of passing ownership of Calirath Palace to the newly created Kingdom of Othmaliz.
He had not, apparently, reacted well to that information. After all, like the current Seneschal, he'd undoubtedly been looking forward to easing his own posterior onto a throne in the Grand Throne Chamber from which so much of the world had been ruled for so long. When Gariyan informed him that the Caliraths intended to remain the Palace's landlords, the Seneschal had threatened to nationalize it, even against their wishes. Not even Chava knew precisely what ... argument Gariyan had presented to discourage such precipitous action, but it had obviously worked for the better part of three centuries.
Yet if the Order of Bergahl had never quite found the nerve to test the temper of the Calirath determination to retain ownership of the Palace, that long ago Seneschal had still found himself in a white-hot rage. The conversation had been one of ice from Gariyan's side and blast furnace-fury from the Seneschal's. And it was in the course of that ... discussion, just before he stormed out of the audience chamber, that the Seneschal had uttered what any reasonable sort might have construed as a threat.
"It will be many fine centuries before a Calirath returns to this city to enjoy this Palace," he had said,
"for the Daggers of Bergahl are sharp, and the memories of his priests are long!"
It had not, perhaps, been excessively politic of the current Seneschal to remind Zindel chan Calirath of that long ago predecessor's comment, Chava Busar reflected. Of course, the weeks of semi-hysterical pro-Calirath rallies which had preceded Zindel's arrival would have been enough to flick any ruler on the raw, especially here, in this particular city. And the possible consequences of a third-party investigation of a regime as corrupt as that of the current Seneschal's might very well prove dire, which couldn't have improved the Seneschal's reaction to all those frothing rallies and Ternathian flag-bestrewn demonstrations. Desperation could make even a normally prudent man do foolish things, Chava conceded charitably. Of course few people would have called the Seneschal of Othmaliz particularly prudent these days, but perhaps the Seneschal had actually believed Zindel would recognize the implied threat and be cowed by it. Or, at least, sufficiently ... chastened to at least declare a quiet moratorium on any potentially embarrassing audits.
If so, however, he'd been either an idiot or incredibly ill-served by the spies who should have given him an accurate appreciation of Zindel chan Calirath's character. Chava hated the Ternathian Emperor with a passion so pure it was almost sublime, yet he'd never made the mistake of underestimating his opponent.
"Yes," the Seneschal said finally, "it has been too long since a Seneschal discussed the burdens and difficulties of rulership with an Emperor of Uromathia."
He smiled thinly, then paused, sipping wine once again, before he lowered the glass once more and cocked his head to one side.
"Am I, by any chance, correct in assuming that it's those burdens and difficulties which you wish to discuss with me this evening, Your Majesty?"
"In many ways," Chava acknowledged. He sat back in his own chair, his elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepled across his chest as he crossed his legs and regarded the Seneschal thoughtfully.
"It occurs to me, Your Eminence, that you and I are among the unfortunately small number of delegates to the Conclave who truly recognize what's at stake here. It's regrettable that so many of our ... colleagues are obviously blind to that reality."