Smiles vanished, replaced by angry determination.
“Your Majesty,” Shamir Taje’s words were chipped ice, “I will personally shoot anyone who so much as breathes a syllable of what you just said.”
Zindel saw exactly the same fire in the eyes of every member of the Privy Council and he nodded in profound satisfaction. If he hadn’t trusted them completely, they wouldn’t have been on his Privy Council. And he knew Security ran periodic probes, from time to time, just to be sure. The families of the personal armsmen who guarded the Ternathian Imperial Family had, for generations, bred some of the oddest, most useful, and occasionally downright terrifying Talents on Sharona. Talents they very carefully never discussed with anyone but themselves and a reigning emperor or empress…and which they would be using once again very shortly.
If there were a turncoat on his staff, he’d know it within minutes.
There were times-many of them-when Zindel chan Calirath hated the knowledge that his armsman spied regularly upon honest and honorable men and women who’d sworn solemn oaths of allegiance to him and demonstrated their loyalty so frequently. But when Andrin’s life was at stake, he would take no chances. Not even with men and women he’d trusted for thirty years. Not when all it would take was thirty seconds to put his child’s life back into the crucible.
Shamir Taje caught his eye. The tiniest of nods told him Taje had guessed far more than he’d been told about Imperial Security. Guessed and approved.
Zindel returned that nod decisively.
“All right, people, let’s get to work. We have a royal consort to choose and a war to win. Shamir, I need to speak to you for a moment. As for the rest of you, I suggest we get started immediately. And my friends, I’ll make one further suggestion.”
The rest of the Privy Council paused, waiting.
“Let’s all do our best to continue looking funereal.”
Wicked chuckles greeted that piece of advice.
It was a somber, even tearful, troupe that exited the chamber-thespian talent was a requirement for political leaders who operated at their level-and Zindel devoutly hoped Chava Busar would enjoy the reports of his councilors’ grief which would shortly be coming his way. He knew he could trust them to maintain the charade, and he’d have to have a word with Varena, as well. Of course, the empress had every plausible excuse to remain in seclusion for the next several days, and no doubt she would. But he’d have to see to it that she was in her box in the Conclave when the time came. He could hardly wait to see the expression on Chava’s oily face when Andrin announced her preference next week, and he knew Varena would feel the same. He intended for both of them to enjoy every delicious moment of the bastard’s outrage.
He waited until the chamber door had closed behind the others, then turned back to Taje, and his nostrils flared.
“I told the rest of the Council that Andrin found the answer, Shamir, and that’s at least partially true,” he said. “But it’s not the entire truth, and I think it’s time I shared something with you about Darcel Kinlafia.”
Taje’s eyes narrowed with a sudden intensity, but he simply stood there, waiting, and Zindel smiled without any humor at all.
“I know you’ve realized I’ve been…cultivating and supporting Voice Kinlafia’s political future. I notice that you haven’t asked me about my motives, however.”
Only someone who knew Shamir Taje very well would have recognized the speculation in his gaze, but Zindel did know him that well. Kinlafia would very shortly be involved up to his neck in the marathon race of the first world-wide election in Sharona’s history. Those elections had been scheduled for two months after Zindel’s official coronation, and while the coronation itself had been thrown into a hiatus until the issue of Andrin’s marriage was resolved, the Conclave had agreed virtually unanimously that the elections must move forward on the assumption there would be an Empire of Sharona for the winners to govern. Even Chava had agreed to that, given the news from Fort Salby.
“I’ve assumed that if you thought it was important for me to know why you were doing it, you would’ve told me, Your Majesty.” Taje shrugged ever so slightly. “That’s not to say I haven’t wondered about it, of course. I’ve never known you to invest as much effort in support of someone’s ‘political future’-or to be as discreet about doing it-without having a very good reason for doing so.”
“Oh, yes. You could certainly say that,” Zindel said softly. “Sit back down, Shamir.”
The first councilor obeyed, but Zindel didn’t find a chair of his own. Instead, he clasped his hands behind him and began pacing slowly and steadily back and forth across the rectangular chamber’s shorter dimension.
“I’m sure someone as astute as you has to recognize how valuable someone like Kinlafia could be to us,” he said. “The Voice who relayed Shaylar Nargra-Kolmayr’s final transmission. The man who warned all of us that we were at war with another universe…and the man whose pain and grief and anger spilled over onto everyone with enough Talent to See that transmission. It’s hard to imagine anyone more intensely identified with this entire crisis by the public-unless it was Shaylar herself! That kind of recognition and stature would provide an instant, incredibly strong political base, and there are enough political operatives to grasp that. Janaki”-the emperor’s voice wavered, but he went on firmly-“certainly grasped it, just as he understood someone would try to make use of Kinlafia, whatever Kinlafia himself wanted. And, as Janaki pointed out, it would be far wiser to attach Kinlafia to our interests than to find ourselves in a position in which someone tried to use him against us.”
He paused, looking down at the first councilor, and Taje nodded.
“I hadn’t realized Prince Janaki had directly suggested supporting the Voice, but his potential to assist us-or someone else-was certainly obvious. Yet I have to admit I haven’t quite been able to convince myself that’s the only reason you’ve been quietly opening so many doors for the young man.” He smiled faintly. “Nor do I think young Kinlafia truly realizes just how many doors you have been opening, Your Majesty.”
“I think he might surprise you,” Zindel said dryly. “He’s surprised me more than once, and it would be a mistake to underestimate him. He’d never considered a career in politics before those godsdamned Arcanans blew his life apart with the rest of his survey crew, but there’s nothing at all wrong with that man’s brain. And whether he realizes it or not, he has excellent political instincts.” The emperor resumed his pacing. “In fact, those instincts of his are good enough to have made launching and supporting his political career worthwhile all by themselves.”
“Obviously, however, Your Majesty, they aren’t ‘by themselves,’ are they?”
“No. No, they aren’t.”
Zindel inhaled again, deeply, a man obviously marshaling his thoughts.
“Janaki had a Glimpse, Shamir,” he said finally. “One that concerned Kinlafia…and Andrin.”
It was Taje’s turn to inhale this time, not so much in surprise as at the confirmation of something he’d suspected-even feared-from the beginning. The hallmark Talent, mightiest weapon, and greatest curse of the House of Calirath, were the Glimpses which came to its members. Visions of the future, fragmentary bits and pieces of things to come. Those Glimpses had allowed Calirath emperors and empresses to change the course of history more than once throughout the centuries of the Empire of Ternathia…and more than one of those emperors and empresses had paid the price Janaki chan Calirath had paid when he went knowingly to his death in the defense of Fort Salby.
They were seldom kind and gentle, the Calirath Glimpses.
“Janaki’s Talent wasn’t strong enough for him to Glimpse exactly why Kinlafia was going to be important to Andrin,” Zindel continued. “But mine was.” He stopped pacing again, looking directly into Taje’s eyes. “He’s going to be there for her, Shamir. Whatever happens-to me, to you, to the entire godsdamned multiverse-Darcel Kinlafia will be there for my daughter. Just as he was there for her last night when he brought her the answer to the trap that bastard Chava thought he had her in.”