As if he'd been punctured himself, the Kalif seemed to deflate. For long seconds he stood slumped, eyes down, the tip of his saber on the floor. Then, inhaling deeply, he straightened. No one had spoken. Blood was spreading in a circle through the carpet, and unconsciously he stepped back from it, then looked at the bailiff whose saber he held. "Thank you for your weapon, Sergeant," he said, and after wiping the blade thoroughly on his scarlet cape, handed it grip first to its owner.
A murmur began among the delegates and exarchs, then a voice spoke loudly through it-Rothka's voice.
"Chodrisei Biilathkamoro! By the authority as magistrate vested in every noble delegate here, I arrest you for dueling without authorization or proper procedure! And for murder! Bailiffs, take him! Kill him if necessary!"
No one moved, bailiffs or otherwise, and after a moment the Kalif replied. "Rothka," he said tiredly, "you overreach yourself." Then, gazing at the nobleman, he seemed to take strength, and his voice sternness. "Surely you know that great spiritual drama: The Birth of the Kalifate. Recall then that scene when Kalif Yeezhur, recently empowered as emperor, confronted Lord Yilmat before the Diet. 'I do not love thee, Lord Yilmat, nor trust thee,' he said. 'For thou hast long made clear thy hatred of me. Yet I have not had thee encumbered nor watched, for thou art a member of that fellowship which has labored to govern the empire by reason and law.
" 'Yet guard thy tongue against excess, and speak not treason against the Church. Or against myself, remembering that the Kalif, by definition, is Successor to The Prophet, and Kargh's chief emissary on the planets. If thou hast argument with me, pursue it correctly and without gratuitous insult, else thou mayest discover to thy sorrow that thou hast gone too far.' "
Chodrisei Biilathkamoro's gaze became less severe, his voice milder. "All of that applies to the circumstances between you and me, Lord Rothka. Your charges of a minute ago might be taken by some as beyond tolerance. But I do not intend to take action against you this time."
He scanned the chamber broadly, raising his voice. "Why do I exercise restraint? Because I am particularly virtuous? That is not mine to judge. It is reason enough that Kalifs who are arbitrary, who are ruled by their own hubris and force their will on others-such Kalifs will in time destroy the empire and its people.
"We are one fellowship, you and I, charged with the safety and prosperity of the human worlds. And we can succeed only insofar as we work together. Being human, we disagree on various matters, sometimes strenuously, even bitterly. But we must try our best to reach agreements that are for the good of the empire and its people. While realizing that often, some will be discontented, in this Diet and beyond it, with the agreements come to."
He shrugged. "As The Prophet said, 'Kargh made the world and men imperfect, that we might be tested, and grow in virtue.' "
The Kalif looked down at the body of Lord Nathiir on the bloody carpet, and heaved a sigh. "Well. It has been a difficult day, a trying day, and it's not yet five o'clock. And while I would not cut short your season here, I am going to cut short today's meeting."
He looked at the Leader of the House. "Lord Agros, please see to arrangements and notifications regarding the deceased. Lord Rothka, you will want to notify your party quickly, and arrange a caucus to choose a pro tem successor to Nathiir, so you are fully represented here."
Then, turning to the archdeacons, he said, "Elder Dosu, will you please give the benediction?"
There was a long pause before the elderly archdeacon began to intone: "O Lord Kargh, the one god, lord over men and judge of our souls, Who guides the acts of those who will listen-Bless Thou these men, these senior prelates, these respected noble delegates, these humble pastors, this-earnest Kalif. Help us to reject the temptation to spite, to bitterness, to destruction and killing. Help us to embrace honesty and good will and justice. Help us to be worthy of Thee. Thank Thee, O Kargh. Thou rulest."
The eighteen exarchs crossed the square in a loose and clumpy column, saying little, a rainshower pattering on their umbrellas. The air was warm and humid, and they'd begun to sweat beneath their tunics and light capes. The Kalif and Jilsomo tagged behind the others, the Kalif pensive.
As they entered the great main gate of the Sreegana, he glanced at Jilsomo. "You look troubled, good friend."
"I am troubled, Your Reverence."
"Tell me about it."
The fat shoulders were hunched. "I am worried about the House of Nobles, Your Reverence."
The Kalif frowned. "Why so? More than usual, I mean. I thought I handled things well today, considering what I had to deal with."
Jilsomo stopped, the Kalif following suit. "Your Reverence, I do not think you did. I'll admit your actions were arguably legal. Arguably, not unquestionably. And the points you made were at least more valid than not. Given your viewpoint, I even grant that you acted with restraint, certainly toward Rothka.
"But I consider that you erred severely in killing Nathiir yourself. For it put all the rest of it in a different light, even your remarkably accurate recital from The Birth of the Kalifate."
His expression was as much irritated as troubled. "When you walked in there, after lunch, you had a victory in hand. Had you given the charges against Nathiir to the House, for a hearing by his peers, there is no doubt in the universe that they'd have condemned him. Themselves. Taken away his seat and sent him to prison. Do you deny it?"
The Kalif was surprised at Jilsomo's challenging tone. "I neither deny nor assert it," he answered. "But it seems very possible, yes. Even likely."
"And his party would have had to disown him or lose its friends in the House. You'd have weakened seriously your chief opposition. As it is…"
"Yes?"
"As it is, the noble delegates, both your enemies and to a degree your friends, fear you now. And their attention will be more on that fear, and what you might do next, than on why and how to support your proposals."
The Kalif studied his friend intently for a long moment, then lowered his head and walked on, Jilsomo keeping pace, and neither said anything more until, inside the palace, the Kalif stopped at Jilsomo's office door. "Thank you, my friend, for your honesty. Perhaps you are right in what you said; I will meditate on your words. Perhaps they will leaven my actions in the future.
"But the act cannot be undone, and if it could, I would still follow my own wisdom. Meanwhile I must make the best of it. Have the video recordings of the afternoon's session prepared for a thirty-minute public release. Beginning with my account of the investigation, and being sure to include Nathiir's derogation of my military background. Then have it shown to me for my approval before releasing it. The House will like me even less for it, but it will help me strongly, I think, with the public and the armed forces."
Jilsomo stood dumbfounded.
"Can you do that in good conscience?" the Kalif asked him. "If you can't, I won't insist. Someone else can do it in your stead."
Jilsomo shook his head. "No, Your Reverence, I can do it. I may feel you err in this, but I do not doubt your honesty or intentions."
"Thank you, good friend."
Then the Kalif turned and walked on toward his own office. Leaving his lieutenant standing there thinking public? Armed forces? And for the first time uncertain about those intentions after all.