The Imperial Menagerie, Toremal
20th of Aft-Summer in the Third Year of Tadriol the Provident
You have a remarkable collection of animals.” Temar hoped this was the right thing to say, and more, that he didn’t sound as bored as he felt. Doubtless polite chitchat with the Emperor was a duty of his new rank but he’d rather be getting on with the five score and one things he had to organise before sailing back to Kel Ar’Ayen.
“Though it’s not quite what one expects in such a nicely Rational garden, is it?” The Emperor tossed a nut at a tiny, white-faced, copper-haired ape sitting quietly in the corner of a cage. It watched the treat land without visible change in its expression. “But it’s become rather a contest between the Houses, to send me some beast never before seen in Toremal, some exotic rarity bought from an Aldabreshin warlord or some hairy curio snared in the Great Forest.”
Temar looked at the morose little ape and it glared balefully back at him. “I will have to see what oddities Kel Ar’Ayen can offer.” Was that what was expected of him?
“That’s one rivalry with the Names on this side of the ocean that I think you could enter into without too much danger.” The Emperor bowed politely at two distant Demoiselles who were looking with interest into an aviary where brightly coloured songbirds flitted above lavishly tailed fowl scratching around the floor. “It’s almost certainly what people will imagine we’re discussing, which is why I asked you to meet me here.”
Temar looked around the gardens, seeing couples, young and old, sauntering between cages and enclosures, veils of lace drawn forward to shade sensitive skin from the sun and feathered fans busy in the heat.
“Some of those birds must be worth ten times their weight in gold, just for the plumes in their tails,” he commented.
The Emperor nodded. “We have the occasional break-in but we give mastiffs the run of the place after dark. It’s a shame we don’t still have wolves to let loose. That would keep the chancers out for certain!”
“You have no such larger beasts then?” Temar wondered when Tadriol was going to come to whatever point he was aiming for.
The Emperor chuckled. “It was a fashion in the days of Aleonne the Gallant for Houses to send the Emperor whatever beast they had on their badge. D’Olbriot sent a lynx, my forefathers a bull, that kind of thing.”
“At least a holm oak will not prove too difficult to catch,” Temar said with heavy humour.
“By all means send me one.” Tadriol waved a hand at a nearby tree laden with long, flame-coloured blossoms. “That was planted by Den Bruern, before they were subsumed into D’Olbriot. No, the whole game fell into disfavour when superstition started running rife. The Sieur Den Haurient died two days after the wolf he’d sent to be reared from a pup dropped dead, and then half the Esquires of Den Somaer drowned when their ship went down not ten days after a flock of their pheasants all died of some cough.”
“So everyone watched the health of their beast as if it were their own?” guessed Temar. Was there some hint he should be picking up in all this inconsequentiality? He really had more important things to do.
“Quite so.” The Emperor walked on, pausing to throw a nut into an apparently empty enclosure. A small furry animal Temar couldn’t identify darted out of a hole and vanished with its prize. “Then some rumour started about the Tor Leoreil fox barking at any woman who wasn’t a virgin and a handful of betrothals were broken off because of it. The final disaster was a wild boar D’Istrac sent down from Dalasor. Some Demoiselle or other tried to stroke it and it bit one of her fingers off.”
“How awful,” Temar said with feeling. He looked round the extensive garden. “There was a menagerie in the Old Palace. Castan the Shrewd drained the moat, planted it with grass and fenced it off into sections. Houses would send him wolves and bears as a sign of Tormalin might taming the wilds of Dalasor, so my grandsire told me.”
“There’s no record of that,” said the Emperor with some surprise.
“Lost in the Chaos, no doubt.” Temar smiled tightly. “Anyway there were no beasts left by the end of Nemith the Last’s fourth year on the throne. He wasn’t prepared to pay for their keep so he had all the animals set against each other in baiting contests.”
“The more I learn about that man, the more I loathe him,” remarked the Emperor.
“It did him no credit, even with his sycophants,” Temar nodded. “And he looked a fool more than once, like the time when nine lynxes refused to attack a bear.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” The Emperor ate one of his own hazelnuts. “I’ve had Nemith the Last’s example held up as a warning since before I was out of soft shoes.”
“What need have you to learn about such a sorry specimen?” Temar wondered aloud.
“Every boy who might one day lead his Name is taught about Nemith’s reign. It’s an object lesson on how to bring the Empire to its knees by favouring one faction over another, by disregarding the dignity of the Houses, by plundering the wealth of the rich and paying no heed to the trade and labours of the poor that support us all.” The Emperor spoke with evident sincerity, not merely reciting the rote of his youth.
Temar walked along the path, feeling the sun hot on his back. “Kreve Tor Bezaemar cannot have paid much attention to the lesson.”
The Emperor sighed. “It’d have been better for him if he had. But I’ve no idea what notions dear Dirindal addled his wits with. He’s saying nothing to anyone, not to the Justiciar, not to his visitors, not to his jailers.”
“He will not escape justice, swear that much to me?” Temar caught the Emperor by the arm, courtesy be cursed.
Tadriol looked grim. “He’ll not escape. When the Justiciar has completed his enquiries, the Esquire Tor Bezaemar will face the fairest trial that Tormalin justice can display and thereafter the swiftest execution. Believe me, I’ve had my eye on Kreve, just as my father always suspected Dirindal of some collusion in his brother’s death. Our enquiry agents turn up something to make us suspicious every couple of seasons, but we’ve never’had anything that would stand the test of argument before the courts.”
“Thank you.” The words sounded inadequate to Temar but it was all he could find to say.
“No, thank you.” The Emperor started walking slowly. “That’s one of the reasons I asked you here today, to convey my gratitude. This whole sorry episode has offered me opportunities to do things it might have taken me ten years to achieve. Now I’ve the chance to be the kind of Emperor I want to be, the ruler my uncle would have been.”
“I do not understand,” Temar said cautiously. Now they’d finally reached the substance of this summons he was going to tread very carefully indeed.
“Think about it.” Tadriol stuck his hands in his breeches pockets as they walked. “In putting a stop to those quarrels by making Imperial decrees, I’ve shown everyone I’m no D’Olbriot puppet dancing on the throne while the Sieur stands behind and pulls my strings. That suspicion’s always been the price of his counsel.” He glanced at Temar. “I was chosen as Emperor over my elder brothers because they were already married and deemed too closely committed to their wives’ Names. That was a major concern to the Princes in the Convocation. On the other hand I was reckoned young enough to be easily manipulated, especially by those patrons used to giving the Emperor advice and seeing it taken without question. You’ll come up against attitudes like this sooner or later.”
“I believe I already have,” Temar said drily. He’d learned to expect two visits from any Name he hoped to deal with, one from Designates hopeful he was some simpleton to be gently duped, and one from their Sieurs to talk serious terms.