“I am apprised of these matters, dear counselor,” said the empress mother.
“It is germane that I recount them,” said Iaachus, “that you may the better appreciate certain events which ensued, events consequent upon plans so secret that I did little more than allude to them in your presence.”
“Who is to be more in your confidence than I?” she asked, sharply.
“None surely, great lady,” he said, bowing, “but private audiences prompt speculation, and I hesitated to speak openly, even in the presence of the emperor himself.”
“He is in his quarters, playing with his blocks and soldiers,” said the empress mother.
“Or before his beloved sisters, the exalted, beauteous princesses, Viviana and Alacida,” he said.
“That was wise of you,” she said. “Both are vain, frivolous, shallow creatures. They concern themselves with jewels and clothes, entertainments and amusements. They could no more hold a secret than a sieve water. Would they had been men, stern of thought, wise in counsel, tenacious and far-seeing, with metal in their blood, to defend and expand the borders of the empire!”
“There is the emperor,” said Iaachus.
“Yes,” said the empress mother, “there is the emperor.”
“I fear,” said Iaachus, “that the conspirator, Julian, hopes to wed the fair Viviana or Alacida, that he might one day be positioned for the throne.”
“The emperor is young,” said the empress mother.
“At his age,” said Iaachus, “some have led armies, and commanded fleets.”
“The emperor amuses himself with other toys,” she said.
“Few emperors have died in battle,” said Iaachus. “Most have met their ends within the walls of palaces.”
“Tasters are employed,” said the empress mother. “Physicians are in attendance.”
“A rush in the darkness, a knife to the heart,” said Iaachus, “renders useless the precautions of the subtlest taster, the ministrations of the most devoted physician.”
“Who can I trust but you, noble Iaachus?” said the empress mother, wearily.
“Would that either Viviana or Alacida had the brilliance, the shrewdness, the iron, the courage of Atalana!” exclaimed Iaachus.
“But they do not,” said the empress mother. “Would that I had been a man!”
“There would have been an emperor!” said Iaachus.
“Do not flatter a weak, tired, old woman,” said Atalana.
“I but speak the patent truth,” said Iaachus.
“Is there no cure for the emperor?” said Atalana.
“The emperor is beloved throughout the thousand worlds,” said Iaachus. “Glory to him!”
“Yes, glory to the emperor,” said the empress mother, wearily, “while the empire totters.”
“Despite your possible reservations with respect to the nature and character of your daughters, the beauteous Viviana and Alacida, who share much of your own beauty,” said Iaachus, “you must recognize their enormous political importance. A marriage to either would much abet the ambitions of treasonous Julian.”
“Or the ambitions of any other,” said Atalana.
“I spoke, of course, of our foe, Julian,” said Iaachus.
“I would have them strangled first,” said the empress mother.
“I see,” said the Arbiter of Protocol.
“You are valuable in your place,” said the empress mother. “See that you keep it.”
“Think not ill of me, great lady,” said Iaachus. “Do not misunderstand me. I meant nothing. I do not aspire to heights. My only ambition is to serve you, humbly, and to the best of my poor ability.”
“Forgive an old woman,” said Atalana. “How suspicious and ungrateful she is! What stouter defense of the throne has she than noble Iaachus?”
Iaachus bowed.
“Do you truly think I am beautiful?” she asked. She inadvertently touched her cheek, opening a tiny crack in the powder caked there.
“From whence, otherwise,” asked Iaachus, “could fair Viviana and Alacida have derived their remarkable beauty, so close to, and yet so far from, yours?”
“You are a scoundrel, counselor,” smiled Atalana.
“I but speak the patent truth,” he said.
“You set plans in motion without my consent,” she said.
“But to achieve ends congruent with your hopes,” he said.
“I know only that you feared some alliance of Julian with barbarous forces and hoped, by some secret measures, to preclude their success.”
“The empire is stable, safe, and eternal,” said Iaachus, “but walls crumble, forces dwindle, fuel grows short, ammunition low, outposts are raided, borders are threatened, worlds with hostile intent loom.”
“You failed once to foil Julian,” said Atalana, “on Vellmer. Have you failed, again?”
“Others failed there, not I,” said Iaachus.
“Have others again failed?” asked the empress mother.
“No,” said Iaachus. “We have been successful. Julian sent his minion, the barbarian, Ottonius, to Tangara, to recruit dangerous tribesmen by means of which to prosecute his plans. One man might gather ten, and ten a hundred, and a hundred a thousand, and a thousand untold numbers.”
The empress mother shuddered.
“Julian intends to either ascend the throne,” said Iaachus, “or destroy the empire.”
“He must be stopped!” cried the empress mother. “Have him killed!”
“He is known, and important, and respected,” said Iaachus. “That would be dangerous. Few know him as do we. Most deem him a patriot. Many would hope he would ascend the throne.”
“Kill him,” said Atalana.
“We must be careful,” said Iaachus.
“You tried to kill him on Vellmer,” said the empress mother.
“Yes,” said Iaachus, “on far Vellmer, in a remote villa, not in the midst of troops.”
“What is to be done?”
“Nothing must be obvious,” said Iaachus. “His murder might precipitate riots, an uprising, a revolution on some worlds. It might serve even as a pretext for secession.”