He had as little to do with the day-to-day running of the empire as General Loreau had to do with the day-to-day running of the Shields, but Reiter had been a soldier long enough to know that generals put their marks on their divisions, their prejudices and bigotry trickling down to the lowest rankers.
Emperor Leopald considered the beastmen of Aydori abominations, so regardless of what they’d been, that’s what they’d become within the empire.
The Empress Ileena and Everin, Leopald’s seven-year-old son and heir joined the court for dinner. Even from where Reiter sat, well below the salt with the unimportant and unranked, he could see the emperor make his wife blush with pleasure. His son stared at him adoringly. Happy families.
The mages, the women at the round table had families.
Every soldier he’d ever fought had a family.
The women at the round table weren’t soldiers.
“This one’s had pups.”
“It’s a pity they can’t whelp litters actually.”
After the tables were cleared away, Reiter put his back to a wall and stood quietly watching the ebb and flow of the court as though he were watching the advance and retreat of a battlefield—although he was smart enough to know that was far too simple an analogy. The people who followed the emperor during the day were not the people around him now. These men and women were older, powers in their own right. These were the officers who actually saw to it that battles were won.
It wasn’t hard to pretend he had no place in the court; that he was merely an officer of the guard, unseen until needed. Playing guard was a welcome relief after a day spent feeling like he’d been swimming with all his strength and barely keeping his head above water.
Camouflaged by his uniform, he overheard more than one person complain that the silver needed for the Aydori campaign was well on its way to bankrupting the empire. Although they complained the way people complained about the weather or the traffic in Karis or the stink in the summer. They didn’t like it, but they couldn’t do a flaming thing about it. They didn’t blame the emperor—even though it became clear Aydori had been the emperor’s private project—they blamed the Soothsayers. The emperors had always used Imperial Soothsayers and the empire had thrived. It was just how it was.
They were, Reiter realized, a convenient Imperial scapegoat.
No one could leave the room until the emperor did. While Reiter suspected it’d be useful to see how the currents in the room changed without Imperial attention to court, he didn’t get the chance. The emperor beckoned, and they left together. He could almost feel the impact of the daggers glared at his back.
The five captured women were eating another meal. The emperor had him look briefly then surrender the spyhole.
“When I have the leverage of their offspring to protect my people, I think I’ll remove one of the artifacts and try a few simple experiments before I breed them again.” His face was so close to the wall, his voice was slightly muffled. “Have you ever thought of mage-craft and technology working together, Captain?”
“No, Majesty.” He’d never thought of mage-craft at all until the mission to Aydori, and his musings on technology had started and finished with wondering where the hell the artillery had got to and how fast he’d have to move if Colonel Korshan’s rockets headed back toward Imperial lines.
“I know, who would? But it’s a fascinating thought and you’ll never guess who gave me the idea. Pity I’ll have to wait so long to attempt anything.”
“Wouldn’t you be able to begin sooner if you made a treaty with them?”
“Them?”
“The mages, Majesty.”
“Yes, of course,” the emperor laughed. “If they were people.”
“You’re early,” Tavert said the next morning when he entered the staff room to find only her and one of the other workers there. She seemed pleased—as much as she seemed anything that wasn’t professionally neutral.
“I have a good sense of direction.” It had been one of the reasons he’d been sent to Aydori in the first place. Although, just to be certain, Reiter had given himself extra time in case he took a wrong turn in the hidden halls.
“The emperor is in the north wing this morning observing a procedure. He’d like you to go to the Archive. The Lord Warder is to show you the scroll.”
“The scroll?”
“The Lord Warder will know.”
No one in their little group was to accompany the emperor to the north wing. No one complained about it. Besides the mages, what else did the emperor have in the north wing?
“Take him with you. His Imperial Majesty’s been collecting them for a while.”
Stupid question. Even unasked.
Directions to the Archive were reasonably straightforward. Reiter waved off the offered assistance of a page and headed into the oldest part of the palace. The Archive was on a lower level, a level that had been a second floor before the third emperor had earth built up around the building and more stories added.
The closer Reiter came to the Archive, the emptier the halls became. By the time he approached the Archive’s double doors, he was entirely alone. As he reached for the curved steel handle, the door opened, the lamps that hung down the center of the corridor flickered, and Reiter found himself face-to-face with an elderly courtier. Not the Lord Warder of the Archive, but one of the stern-faced men who he’d seen move in and out of the emperor’s orbit yesterday evening. One of the “officers.”
Reiter stepped back out of the way and instinct brought him more-or-less to attention.
“You’re Captain Reiter.”
“Sir.” It probably should be my lord, but without knowing the specifics, Reiter figured sir was as good a general purpose title as any.
“My son wrote to me of you.”
“Your son, sir?”
“You would know him as Major Halyss. He said he met you at the Abyek garrison. That you shared his interests.” Dark eyes searched his face, pale lips within the gray beard pressed into a thin line. After a long moment, he punctuated the examination with an emphatic exhale. “I have been informed you’ve taken my son’s place on the emperor’s staff as someone His Imperial Majesty can speak to about mages.”
“Yes, sir.”
For an instant, Reiter thought he saw concern in the dark eyes. “Be careful.”
As he walked away, Reiter wondered what interests Major Halyss had said they shared. And what, exactly, he was to be careful of.
They’d moved too far from the road to take the time to move back, but Mirian never hesitated in picking their path. While she occasionally pulled out the telescope, she’d stopped using the captain’s compass. Tomas didn’t know if she followed air or earth or something else again. Nor did he care.
He followed her.
“Wait.”
She glanced down at the arm he’d stretched across in front of her, but when she turned to face him, he thought for just a moment that in spite of how close they were standing she didn’t see him. It had been happening more and more often lately, but lots of mages got lost in the craft. Even Harry had used it as an excuse although, in Harry’s case, it had actually been an excuse. He stood silently until her eyes focused on his face and she began to look impatient.
He checked the breeze again, picked up the scent, then pointed north. “Pack.”
Tomas was half out of his shirt before Mirian realized what he’d said. “Alive? Tomas!” She grabbed the waistband of his trousers as he started to pull them down. “Are they alive?”
“Yes. And heading this way.” He glanced down at her hand then back up at her face. “He’s moving pretty fast.”