‘Your Imperial Majesty?’
‘I have asked him if he would have any objection to your reorganization,’ continued Alvdan mildly. ‘He has sent me no reply.’
‘I am not surprised, your Majesty.’ Because he’s dead, dead, dead. Maxin trusted himself to be ahead of the Emperor in any news. After all, was he not the man supposed to keep the crown informed? Oh yes, Reiner was dead, and there was at least a chance Alvdan had not yet discovered it for himself. The unexpected executioner was in the hands of Maxin’s agents and on his way to Capitas even now. I should thank him, really. I should give him a medal. Instead the culprit would be executed in some very public way, this blessed assassin, as befits the murderer of an imperial general. One could not allow such a precedent to be set.
‘May I enquire,’ he said carefully, ‘what decision you have come to?’
Alvdan gave him a wintry smile. ‘You have omitted an honorific, I think, General.’
‘Your Imperial Majesty.’
‘Do not take me for a fool. I know your schemes only too well. I have an Empire full of plotters, and every man after his own profit. Well, I can use that, nevertheless. I am still Emperor, and though my subjects twist and turn, all that they achieve is advancement for the Empire, would you not say?’
‘Of course, your Majesty.’ Maxin watched him closely. The Emperor seemed in a flippant mood, which seldom boded well.
‘You have done your best to cripple General Reiner.’ Alvdan studied him, abruptly stern. His posture on the throne was suddenly that of a severe Emperor addressing a mere subject. ‘His silence we find ominous, but time shall tell. You have continued to keep General Brugan far from here, where we should not notice him. But know that his acts have been noted. He has been a good and loyal subject, and all the more so for his distance.’
Maxin found his palms opening reflexively, where a man of any other kinden might have clenched his fists. Alvdan currently regarded him with so little love that it seemed any moment he must call for his guards to take the general away.
Then the Emperor smiled, and the moment of suspense broke. ‘The Empire rewards service ably performed. The Emperor, in particular, rewards service well done. Do not think that I have forgotten who removed all those troublesome siblings… Ah, General Brugan.’
Maxin turned to see the younger general walk in and kneel before the throne.
‘Rise, General. You have enjoyed your stay in Capitas, we hope.’
‘I have, your Imperial Majesty.’
‘We have a proclamation for your ears, General, concerning the Rekef and its structure.’
Brugan did not even look at Maxin, but fixed his eyes at a space immediately before the Emperor.
‘We have decided that our father erred,’ said Alvdan, clearly savouring the words even as he spoke them. ‘Three men to wrestle for the future of the Rekef? No, for once, and in this one matter, he erred. There must be one man only leading the Rekef against our enemies.’
Brugan still made no reaction, only waited.
‘We are therefore appointing our General Maxin here as lord of all the Rekef. Since we cannot very well demote yourself and General Reiner, he shall henceforth be entitled Supreme General, second in rank only to the crown itself. I trust you have no objection to our will.’
Maxin was watching the other man with all the practice of a spymaster. There was no defiance in him, no anger, but there was simply… nothing. General Brugan did not kick against the imperial edict, he showed no resentment whatsoever. That was the unnatural part of it. Maxin knew that Brugan was always the dutiful soldier, but to be put down thus, passed over, and show absolutely no emotion… There was something more going on here, that Maxin was not aware of. For a man in his position it was an acutely uncomfortable realization.
‘I shall do in all things as your Majesty directs,’ replied Brugan simply, and he then looked sidelong, and very briefly, at General Maxin, but still without any expression that could be read.
‘You are dismissed now, General. We anticipate that, after the celebrations for the anniversary of our coronation, you shall be returning to the East-Empire.’
‘Of course, your Imperial Majesty.’ Brugan bowed again and then departed smartly.
‘You appreciate why we are doing this, we are sure,’ Alvdan informed Maxin. ‘A sundering of the Rekef weakens us all. I have given you command because, now that you’ve forced matters to a head, who else is there?’
Maxin noticed the lapse into informal speech and relaxed a little. ‘Your Imperial Majesty,’ he acknowledged, to be safe.
‘I warn you, though,’ Alvdan said, ‘I want it all reined in. You’ve let it go too far in your seeking this. Szar is in open revolt now, and now I understand that the Mynans are bucking as well. I want troops into Myna, enough to crush the entire city. That is, if they’re still so interested in fighting after they see what we leave of Szar. Crush them, Maxin, swiftly and thoroughly. We must concentrate all our forces on the Lowlands campaign. I feel a need to expand the imperial borders.’
‘Yes, your Majesty.’
Alvdan’s eyes narrowed. ‘And fetch me the Mosquito. All his wretched protests can go hang. I want to know when.’
‘I have told him that the ritual shall be performed after his coronation festivities,’ explained Uctebri dismissively. ‘He wanted something public, and so I explained why that would not be appropriate.’
‘And why is that?’ Seda asked him.
From beneath the cowl, Uctebri smiled slyly. ‘Well, now, the reason that I gave his Imperial Majesty was that his people would perhaps not readily accept a ruler seen to be dabbling in such arts as I can peddle. However, the reason that I now give you is that our own plans shall come to fruition quite publicly enough, and somewhat sooner.’
‘During the anniversary celebration itself.’
‘Precisely.’ The Mosquito steepled his bony fingers. ‘Timing will be essential, and I have a great deal left to accomplish if we are to succeed. Who would have thought that in just three short generations the Empire would have built up a tangle of politics quite so complex? Would you not agree, General?’
The third conspirator present in Seda’s chambers eyed the old man with patient loathing. General Brugan despised Uctebri as a slave and as a charlatan, and made no secret of that. He understood nothing of the arcane schemes that the Mosquito spoke of, only that it was treason. It was a treason he had cast his lot with, however, for Seda had wooed him, and he knew that it would be through Uctebri’s machinations that she triumphed over her brother. That Brugan would do his best to have this pallid creature killed thereafter was quite obvious. That Uctebri was blithely unconcerned by the threat was just as plain.
‘General,’ Seda addressed him. ‘I trust you are not having second thoughts.’ She already knew that he was not. Between Uctebri and old Gjegevey, she knew a great deal these days, both natural and otherwise. She wanted to give Brugan the chance to make his own decision, though. That way he would be less likely to change his mind later.
‘I have been told I’m passed over for Maxin,’ Brugan said flatly. ‘I know General Reiner’s dead, and it seems to me that I won’t live long when Maxin commands the Rekef.’ He shrugged, the bluff, honest soldier with the secret schemer plotting invisibly beneath. ‘I’m best served by making sure you succeed, and I have my people in place. They will be ready to move, assuming you can achieve all you boast of.’ This last remark was directed at Uctebri, who grinned at him with needle-sharp teeth.
‘The Emperor wishes a spectacle for the anniversary of his coronation,’ he said. ‘I can promise a show the like of which no one in the Empire has ever seen.’