Begging to differ was more than Talgorian dared. So he fell back on diplomacy. ‘Quite so, your Highness. Although even an irritant can tie up valuable resources, and on occasion inflict real damage. As we’ve discovered in Bhealfa.’
‘Yes, it does seem a particularly troublesome little island.’ She shot him an accusing look that chilled his backbone. ‘But I anticipate a lessening of their activities now that I’ve ordered our law enforcers to bear down more heavily on the insubordinates.’
He wanted to believe that would happen.
‘And in that respect,’ she went on, ‘authorising the Council
for Internal Security to operate beyond our shores strengthens our hand immeasurably. I could wish we’d done that long since. Commissioner Laffon himself is in Bhealfa at the moment, as you know, and proving as loyal a servant as ever.’
Talgorian noted her approving tone, and judged it prudent to show his solidarity with someone she favoured. But he kept it low-key. It didn’t do to be
too
closely associated with a man who might yet fall. ‘A commendably industrious worker, Excellency. The Commissioner has already been instrumental in at least one high-profile arrest.’
‘Indeed. And if he succeeds in Bhealfa, as I have no doubt he will, the CIS will have my blessing to extend its operations to all other protectorates.’
Making Laffon even more powerful,
Talgorian thought. But his only response was a smile.
‘However, we drift from the point,’ the Empress continued. ‘Some of my advisors-’ by which she meant her family ‘-have expressed concern about the progress of this new northern warlord, Zerreiss. For myself, I have yet to be entirely convinced that he represents any kind of threat to our interests, though one or two factors have given me pause.’ She meant the upheavals in the essence, but naturally wouldn’t mention that to Talgorian. The knowledge required to read the matrix was available only to those of her blood, and was never to be revealed to outsiders. ‘We must be alive to the possibility, no matter how remote, of a pact between the warlord and our enemies.’ She fixed her stern gaze upon him. ‘What word is there of our expedition to the northern wastelands?’
It was a question he dreaded. ‘As of yet, your Imperial Highness,’ he replied carefully, ‘we’ve had few tidings from them.’
‘None, you mean. And what about the party sent by Rintarah? Have we heard how they’re faring?’
‘Information concerning their progress is equally-’
‘So nothing about them either. We need information, yet we’re working in the dark regarding this man. And I don’t like working in the dark. Efforts to make contact will be redoubled.’
‘Excellency.’
‘And if that yields no fruit, I’ll seriously consider the option of sending you personally to the northern wastes to assess the situation.’
Talgorian suppressed a shudder. ‘I understand, Excellency.’
‘Should the barbarian and Rintarah unite,’ the Empress said, ‘the consequences could certainly include all-out conflict. But even that has its compensations. A distraction for the populace in a time of strife isn’t necessarily a bad thing.’
‘But…
war
, Excellency?’
‘I said that it
might
come to war.’ She huffed an exasperated sigh. ‘As a diplomat your impulse is towards compromise and negotiation. But there are times when the silken tongue must give way to steel.’
He bowed his head low in the customary show of obeisance. Her will was law.
‘My spies tell me that fool Melyobar continues to squander Bhealfa’s resources on harebrained schemes,’ she added.
Talgorian looked up. ‘It’s always been our policy to allow certain conquered rulers to remain in place as puppets, as your gracious Majesty knows. It’s proved a cost-effective way of administering protectorates.’
‘It’s a close-run thing in this case. His excesses have come near to draining the coffers. Perhaps it’s time to rethink the whole issue of titular rulers of our colonies.’
‘It is worth considering that peoples taken into the empire’s embrace, ma’am, are generally more manageable if their own leaders remain in office. They tend to respect the monarchs they know.’
‘What respect can the rabble have for a madman?’
Talgorian was mindful that hereditary rulers could be touchy about suggestions of insanity, despite what they might say.
‘Mad, Excellency? That is perhaps a
little
harsh.’
Prince Melyobar had spent the morning chatting with his dead father.
Not that he was dead as far as the Prince was concerned, albeit the many experts who had been consulted remained undecided on the matter.
Melyobar’s discussion with his technically late parent, King Narbetton, had proved very beneficial. He now knew what further elements were needed to ensure the success of his plan. A plan that would result in the exposure and inevitable death of Death.
At the moment, the Prince was nervous. A case could be made for him being in a constant state of nervousness, but under the present circumstances he was even more jumpy than usual. He always was when forced to bring his moving court to a standstill, however briefly. And the pausing of Melyobar’s travelling abode was such a rare event that once word got out, people came from far and wide just to watch. This added to the Prince’s trepidation, and ever more elaborate defences had been put in place to protect him from his ultimate enemy. For who was to say that the reaper wouldn’t use the commotion to slip through unnoticed?
The royal palace was stationary, but continued to float despite its immensity, hovering at roughly the height of a farmhouse roof. In order to help guarantee the Prince’s safety, he had ordered all the other magically impelled castles and villas of his courtiers to continually orbit the palace. The result was a gigantic merry-go-round, covering many acres of verdant countryside. An arrangement which, if viewed from the air, looked like a queen bee circled by anxious drones.
Beyond the circling mansions and chateaux a vast temporary encampment had sprung up, girdling the whole affair. Here the thousands of court followers had billeted themselves, resembling an army preparing for battle. An instant town of tents and lean-tos, herds of horses and idle wagons. For many of its occupants, being still was an uncommon experience. For some, born on the move, it was completely novel.
At the motionless palace itself, a walkway had been erected, running from its lower levels down to the ground. Its elevation was gentle, and it was wide enough to allow two wagons to travel abreast. The function of the gangplank was to take on cargo. Normally, provisions of all kinds were loaded in transit, and many elaborate contrivances and procedures had been devised to achieve this. But occasionally the unusual nature of certain cargoes defeated the cunning of the Prince’s engineers.
Melyobar sat on a throne placed at the top of the walkway, looking over everything being brought aboard. He had an aide at his side and a bevy of minions dancing attendance. As the cargo was led, steered, carried and dragged past him, and identified by the aide if required, the Prince indicated acceptance or refusal. All the items, without exception, were in pairs.
Two thoroughbred horses were nodded through, followed by a couple each of donkeys and oxen. A bull and a cow were herded past, along with sheep, goats, pigs and boars.
‘Let’s take all useful beasts as read, shall we?’ the Prince decreed.