"But you're still fishing."
Menynder laughed and cast his line out again. "Sure. You never know when you might catch something."
Sten found Kaebak, the Bogazi foreign minister, in the embassy compound. She was lowering the flag. Kaebak was alone except for her security force. Everyone else had already departed for the spaceport. Kaebak planned to join them. Hastily.
"There's no need for this," Sten said. "I can guarantee the security of your embassy.''
"Bogazi not need security," Kaebak said. "Fear is not in us. Anger is. Suzdal forget Bogazi anger. We make them sorry they forget."
"Why are you blaming the Suzdal for what's happening? Their pups died at Pooshkan, as well."
"Bah. This is lie. Suzdal make propaganda. Blame Bogazi for own bad deed. This is excuse. They want war. Fine. We give them all they want."
As far as Kaebak was concerned, the interview was over. She stepped up into her transport. Sten made one last effort.
"Come to the Imperial embassy with me," he said. "Let me open my intelligence files. You'll see that the Suzdal are dupes as much as the Bogazi."
The transport lurched into life. Sten stepped back. Kaebak poked her beak out the window.
"They fool you, too. Not need to look at Suzdal lies. I go home. Help hutchmates make doggy stew."
Sten's rotten luck persisted throughout the day and into the early hours of the next. He put in call after call for the Eternal Emperor.
But each time he was turned away with the tiresome message that the Emperor was indisposed-and no one would tell him how long this sickly state was going to last.
Sten was flying blind and in desperate need of guidance. The situation was getting worse by the hour.
Iskra, he was certain, had to go.
But there was only one being who could make that decision. The fate of the Altaics hung in the balance.
He took one last stab at it.
"I am so very sorry, Sr. Ambassador," came the soothing tones of the Imperial secretary. "I am sure the Emperor will return your call as soon as he is able. Yes, I gave him your messages. Yes, I indicated their extreme urgency. So sorry for the inconvenience, Sr. Ambassador. But I'm sure you'll understand." Sten ground his teeth. Where the clot was the Emperor?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"I've been meaning to have this little session with you for some time," the Emperor said. "The delay is unforgivable, really. I owe you and your organization a great deal."
The old woman chortled her response. "It is ours (giggle) to serve, Your (giggle) Eminence. After all, isn't that what the (giggle) Cult of The Eternal Emperor is all about?"
"Still. You stood by my... memory... in difficult times."
"How could any (giggle) time be difficult," Zoran asked, "when you are with us (giggle) always?"
The Emperor made no attempt to answer. He let the silence lay there, dark as the room he had had the old woman ushered into. He had wanted to create a certain atmosphere for his task: a gloomy majesty. But Zoran's infernal giggling kept lightening the gloom. It was making him angry.
Which was a rotten way to start. She was such an odd old bird. One hundred and fifty plus years, but with the well-formed body of a young woman under her orange robes. As the high priestess (elected) of a cult, she should have been—or so he had expected—a buzz-brain. That had been confirmed by the constant giggling—until he realized that the giggling was an artifice to throw a questioner off. And her eyes blazed with more intelligence than rapture from being in his exalted presence.
"Is it true," he finally said, "that your, ah, organization believes I am a god?"
"A representation of the (giggle) Holy Spheres, is a better description of our (giggle) beliefs, your majesty," Zoran said.
"Then... you don't worship me as a god."
"Worship is such a (giggle) nondescriptive word, Your (giggle) Eminence. We don't sacrifice (giggle) fat lambs, or our first (giggle) born. But we do (giggle) honor you."
"As a god?"
"As an eternal (giggle) being."
"Dammit, woman! Am I a god, or am I not?"
The giggling ceased. Zoran sucked in her breath. The Emperor was spooking her. She hadn't expected a halo to be surrounding his exalted presence when she entered the room. Actually, she had expected a sort of ordinary looking human. Which he was—although he was even better looking and taller in person than on the livies.
What was upsetting her—besides the darkness of the room, which she assumed was for her benefit—was the Emperor's eyes. They never looked at her directly, but shifted from side to side. Endlessly. It was almost... pathological. Thinking this bothered here even more.
"Excuse my irritation," the Emperor said. "Heavy matters of state and all." He leaned toward her, smiling his most charming smile. Zoran noticed, however, that his eyes still didn't rest. "Will you forgive my rudeness?"
"Oh, Your Majesty," Zoran said, returning his charm with her best gush, "it is I who must beg you for forgiveness. I'm just a silly old woman. And you are being so very patient with me."
The Eternal Emperor grunted. This was better. He noticed the giggling had stopped. Better still.
"Now, perhaps you would be so kind as to explain this god business to me?"
"Oh, certainly, sir. If I sounded obscure, it is only habit. There are so many different types of beings in the order. The word god doesn't translate the same to every manner of person."
"This is true," the Emperor said. He prided himself on his knowledge of obscure lore.
"In human terms, however," Zoran continued, "I suppose god is an accurate description of your holy self.''
The Emperor laughed. "Imagine. Me—a god."
"Oh, but we imagine it all the time, Your Eminence," Zoran said. "In fact, all members of the Cult of The Eternal Emperor are required to imagine this twice a day. In our prayers. To you."
"How very interesting," the Emperor said, eyes narrowing into a smile... but shifting, shifting. Back and forth. Back and forth. "In fact this is one of the more interesting conversations I've had in some time."
"So happy to be able to amuse you, Your Highness," Zoran said.
"Tell me, how many beings actually believe in—ha-ha—me?"
"Thousands upon thousands, Your Highness. Possibly even millions."
"Millions, mmh?"
"Accurate figures are difficult at the moment, Your Majesty. But I can say our membership reached record numbers during your, uh, absence. They soared even more upon your return. For a time."
The Emperor's lips tightened. "You mean there's been a falloff?"
"Yes, Your Highness. I'm so sorry to report. But it was only to be expected. Beings are so weak. And they got used to you being back."
"So soon?" the Emperor hissed.
"It is only being nature, your majesty. Also, our treasury isn't what it used to be."
The Emperor knew about her past funding. It had secretly come from Kyes, the only intelligent member of the Council of Five. Zoran had not been aware of Kyes's real purpose. The Emperor intended to keep it that way.
"What would it take to, uh, increase enthusiasm among your congregation?''
"Very little, Your Highness. I tell all potential donors that members of the cult are the most dedicated in the Empire. They are ordinary beings, who live useful, productive lives by day. In their spare time they shed their worldly costumes for robes and spread word of your glory to all who will listen."