He was shrugging into his tunic when Linnit returned with his boots.
“I’d best lead you to the mess, sir. It’s your first morning and this place is a rabbit warren.”
“Country boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
Until the emperor said differently, he was to be housed and paid like a captain of the guard. The largest difference being he took his orders directly from the emperor and when the 6th Shields—currently the company on Palace duty—rotated out, he wouldn’t.
“Breakfast here, all other meals with the emperor’s staff unless you’re released, then do what you flaming well please.” Major Meritin swallowed his last mouthful of coffee and set the mug aside. “You get lost in the palace, and you will, ask a page, that’s what they’re hanging around for. Don’t bother the servants. And don’t piss the servants off because they’ll make your life shit. You’re going to need at least one full court dress uniform, probably two. Court dress,” he added when Reiter opened his mouth. “If you were an officer of the guard, you’d be fine in the kit you’ve got on.” It was, differences of rank insignia aside, identical to the dress uniform the major had on. “But you’re not. The field gear in your room fit you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll have Linnit deal with it, then. You won’t be given time to see a tailor.” He paused, a piece of gravy-soaked biscuit halfway to his mouth. “You okay with half shares on Linnit or you want to bring over your own ranker? He’ll have to be vetted if you do.”
Reiter thought about Chard, if only to have a familiar face around, but he doubted the private would be able to keep his mouth shut—on any number of sensitive topics. Best the boy be free of this clusterfuck like Armin and Best. “Linnit’s fine.”
“Good. Emperor’s staff gathers in the staff room at eight and goes over his schedule for the day.”
“Do you know what I’ll be doing, sir?”
“Other than whatever His Imperial Majesty tells you to, I haven’t the faintest flaming idea, Captain. The only information they sent me is that the staff gathers at eight, and you can thank Tavert for that. That one’s got her head out of her ass, but I can’t say as much for the rest of the hangers-on.”
Even with limited exposure, Reiter could have said a number of things about the rest of the hangers-on, but he knew better than to open his mouth. The palace was just a better-dressed, better-fed version of a garrison town, and in a closed system, words always found their way to the wrong ears.
Although he left in plenty of time, he was almost late when he finally found the staff room. Linnit was right; the palace was a rabbit warren and the rabbits who’d built it had been insane. No wonder the emperor’s father had added a few hidden straight lines. The page he’d finally managed to grab had slipped behind a tapestry—“It’s just a copy made by the new machines, so don’t worry about touching it or anything. It’s not historical.”—and out through a small door into the empty room next to the staff room.
Reiter slipped into the last vacant seat at the table, recognizing most, if not all of the men and women who’d surrounded the emperor on his first day. Half of them, he wouldn’t trust at his back in a bar fight—they’d still be smiling when they stabbed the knife in. The whole lot of them ignored him. He studied them in return, paying particular attention to those he seemed to have most annoyed.
At eight thirty, Tavert stood, slipped her arms through the shoulder straps of her desk and led the way out of the room. About half the pack peeled off on assignment, the rest jostled for position as they joined the emperor in his morning assembly room. Reiter practiced being invisible. He followed and stood and kept his mouth shut. He started a mental map of the halls behind the halls. At noon, he ate a surprisingly bland meal at the lowest table in the Imperial dining room. In midafternoon, he heard the emperor say, “Captain Reiter, you’re with me.”
Reiter glanced at the sunlight spilling out through a window at the far end of the corridor, adjusted the map in his head, and realized they were, if not entering the north wing where the disgraced Lord Master of Discovery had been sent, heading to the north side of the palace. He followed the emperor behind yet another machine-made tapestry—although this one didn’t seem to be a historic copy; Reiter thought he recognized the Battle for Nirport as he ducked under the stiff fall of fabric.
The short hall behind the tapestry led to a narrow flight of stairs that ended in a small room draped in Imperial purple. The room contained only a high-backed chair and a wolfskin rug.
The emperor paused, turned to face Reiter who stood between the two rear fabric panels, and spread his arms. “You were Seen standing beside me in a purple square. And here we are.” He smiled and lowered his arms. “Fascinating how accurate they can be, isn’t it? Especially when you consider how their prophecy starts out sounding like mad babbling. This room, it hadn’t even been built when we were Seen in it.”
So a purple square had been built after it was Seen. Did that count as assisting a prophecy? Where would they have stood together had the emperor built a yellow square instead?
“You’re thinking about the implications of prophecy, aren’t you?” The emperor looked pleased.
No, not just pleased, pleased with him, and Reiter felt himself respond—his shoulders straightening, his chin rising slightly. It was another unconscious reaction to Imperial approval. This time, he was certain he didn’t much like it.
“Was this Seen because it happened or did it happen because it was Seen?” the emperor continued. “Everyone does ask those questions, Captain, but speaking as someone who has been around Soothsayers for his entire life and who now has the largest collection of anyone in the known world, I advise you to let it go. Someday, possibly someday soon, Imperial scientists will work out a rational explanation for how the Soothsayers function, but until then, leave prophecy to the Interpreters and the Voice. You’ll be happier. Unless…” He leaned forward and Reiter had to stop himself from leaning away, pushed by Imperial intensity. “…you’re familiar with the latest research into electromagnetism?”
“No, sir.”
“Of course not, you’re a soldier.” He sounded as though he understood but, just for an instant, looked so disappointed Reiter vowed to find someone who could explain it to him. “And discussing the cutting edge of scientific discovery is not why we’re here, is it?” Smile back in place, the emperor moved past the chair to the far wall and…
…pressed his forehead against it?
“Captain.”
Reiter moved forward and found himself standing close enough to His Imperial Majesty that he could smell a soft, pleasant scent rising from the other man’s hair.
Stepping away from the wall, the emperor tapped the edge of a small brass ring set into the plaster. “Go ahead, Captain. They can’t see the lens from the other side.”
He had to bend to bring his eye to it, he was that much taller, and, after a moment adjusting his position, found himself looking down into a large windowless room. Ten men in dark gray uniforms stood in pairs along two of the walls. It looked like a military uniform, but it wasn’t one Reiter had ever seen and he couldn’t make out insignia. They carried pistols. Not holstered; the weapons were in their hands, ready for immediate use. Seated around the round table in the center of the room, were five women who looked vaguely familiar.
“My mages.”