The emperor spoke softly, yet his voice was hard with certitude and the Calirath ghosts shadowed his eyes as he gazed down at the first councilor.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” he continued quietly. “Short of a Death Glimpse-which I haven’t had yet, thank the gods! — no one knows that about himself. But I know ’Drin will need him-need him badly-far sooner than I could wish. And I also know his Voice Talent is so strong that he shared at least a part of my Glimpse. He knows she’ll need him, too, and he also knows I know how much he’ll love my daughter. How much he already loves her, for that matter.” Zindel’s smile was faint and crooked but genuine. “He’s the one who came up with the brainstorm about other Uromathian princes, but did he come and tell me about it? Hells no, he didn’t! And that’s because he isn’t really a politician-yet, at least. He thought of it because he cares for Andrin, and that’s why he went and told her about it.”
“I see, Your Majesty,” Taje said, and his own eyes were dark. Zindel chan Calirath was only in his forties, and his was a long-lived family. Both of his parents had lived past ninety, and Caliraths seldom died-of natural causes, at least-much younger than that. Zindel might not have Glimpsed his own death, but his concern for Andrin sent an icicle down the first councilor’s spine. The emperor loved all of his children fiercely, he would die to protect any of them, yet there was something in his eyes, in his voice, that whispered a fear that he wouldn’t be there to protect Andrin.
“I imagine you do see,” Zindel said, and reached to lay one hand on Taje’s shoulder, his expression almost compassionate. He smiled down at the councilor who was also his closest, most intimate friend, then gave his head a toss that pretended to shake off the ghost of futures Glimpsed.
“I imagine you do, and since you do, I’m sure you also understand why it’s important to keep the Voice alive. Which is why we’re not going to breathe a word to anyone-not even the rest of the Privy Council-about who actually found the loophole in the Accords. We’re not pasting any targets on his back for Chava. In fact, the longer we can keep anyone from realizing just how good those ‘political instincts’ of his are-or, especially, how devoted to Andrin he’s already become-the better. I want him seated in the House of Talents in the new Parliament before any of our adversaries realize he could pose an actual threat to their plans and strategies.”
“And that’s why you’ve been so careful about not supporting him overtly.” Taje nodded. His voice was a bit husky with the implications of what Zindel had already told him, and the emperor pretended not to notice as he cleared his throat.
“I believe we have enough Conclave allies to provide the necessary support indirectly and discreetly, Your Majesty,” Taje continued after a moment, and managed a faint smile. “Should I assume you’d like me to see to that for you?”
“I see you’re as perceptive as ever, Shamir.” Zindel gave him a gentle shake and nodded. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. And I want you to be your usual, deft, unobtrusive self when you do it, too.”
“I have just the delegates in mind, Your Majesty,” Taje assured him.
“Good!”
Zindel smiled fiercely, but then his expression sobered.
“Good,” he repeated more quietly. “But Chava will be apoplectic if he gets even a hint about what we’re up to. I want security here in the Palace tripled, and I want someone-one of our own undercover armsmen-keeping an eye on Kinlafia. We can cover some additional security for him because of his relationship with Alazon. Gods know there’s plenty of reason to worry about my Privy Voice’s security! But I want him covered when he’s not with her, too.”
“That might be a bit more difficult, Your Majesty. Ah, have you discussed this desire of yours directly with him?”
“No, I haven’t. And I’d prefer not to, frankly. One of the more endearing things about him is that he doesn’t see himself as the sort of political mover and shaker he has the potential to become. And partly because of that-but mostly because he’s so naturally open and honest-he’s not very good at dissembling.” The emperor’s lips quirked. “He’ll have to get over that, of course, but I don’t think we have time for him to learn the art of misdirection and deception just now. I’m afraid that if he knows we’ve assigned someone to protect him he won’t be able to conceal that knowledge, and I don’t want anyone who might wish him ill to realize we’ve done it.”
“Your Majesty, he’s a Voice.” Taje shook his head. “I know he takes the Voice’s Code seriously, but if he’s in regular contact with someone assigned to protect him, there’s bound to be at least some leakage across his Talent.”
“I was thinking about Kelahm chan Helikos,” Zindel said, and Taje cocked his head, lips pursed. He stayed that way for a second or two, and then nodded.
“I think that might be an excellent notion, Your Majesty. Of course, Brithum will have a fit when you recall him.”
Brithum Dulan, the Ternathian Empire’s Councilor for Internal Affairs, was responsible for the empire’s counterintelligence services, and he would not be happy to give up Company-Captain Kelahm chan Helikos.
“Brithum will just have to get over it.” Zindel chuckled grimly. “Chan Helikos was only on loan to him from the beginning, after all.”
“As you say, Your Majesty. But, ah, would it be too much for me to ask you to break the news to him?”
Chapter Two
November 30
It was hot in Fort Salby.
Of course, it was always hot in Fort Salby for someone born on Yanohan Bay on the west coast of the green and misty island from which the Ternathian Empire took its name. Back home, they stood on the very lip of winter-not the icy, snowy winters of the 3rd Dragoon Division’s winters at Fort Emperor Erthain in Karmalia, perhaps, but winter-and theoretically it was almost winter here, as well. To be fair, temperatures at this time of the year were usually quite moderate for the Kingdom of Shurkhal; unfortunately, today wasn’t part of that “usually.” The temperature hovered in the upper nineties during the day and had been almost eighty even at night for the last freakishly hot two weeks. Fortunately, it was also nearly winter in Arpathia, which meant the stiff, unending breeze blowing through the portal looming above the fort carried a cooler edge between universes, especially at night. Unfortunately, during the day, the local weather seemed rather confused about the season.
Still, Division-Captain Arlos chan Geraith reflected bleakly as he swiped yet again at the film of sweat on his forehead, at least the humidity was blessedly low. And hot as it might be today, it was cooler than it had been last week…in far too many ways.
The division-captain lacked even a trace of Talent, which meant he’d been unable to directly experience any of the Voice reports and images of the Arcanan attack on Fort Salby, but he had a keen imagination and there was more than enough physical evidence of what had happened. The carcasses of flying creatures which could only be described as dragons from the most fearsome fairy tales had littered the landscape. The Trans-Temporal Express’s work crews had used steam shovels and bulldozers to bury them, but the damned things were so enormous-estimates ran to over forty tons, and he believed them-that the work crews had been forced to cut (and blast) them into smaller pieces they could handle. Then there’d been the bodies of the “eagle-lions” strewn across the fort’s burned and blasted parade ground, the enormous horses-like no horse chan Geraith had ever seen before-which had been killed in the assault on the fort’s eastern wall, and the charred ruin of a solid brick and adobe tower which had been pulverized by one of the plummeting dragons.