“The Emperor knows that the rest of us will devour Dorgoe if he ever falls out of favor. No, Dorgoe is powerful, but his position is shaky. He’s an upstart, and he won’t last long. As long as the Imperial Council exists, he will never have real power.”
The two of them stopped by a wonderful fountain that was playing a lilting melody. The sunlight coming through the panes of glass in the ceiling of the great hall turned the streams of water all the colors of the rainbow, creating a magical atmosphere of carefree fun. Ronko reached out a hand and ran it over the water’s surface, as if testing that it were real and not a delightful illusion.
Uni was up to his ears in palace gossip and intrigue and failed to notice that Ronko was already tired out by his questions. “I thought he would support Forsey,” he opined cheerfully. “You really made a fool of him with my report. He’ll think twice before he touches someone else’s property again.”
“Aren’t you all worked up,” Ronko chuckled. The report wasn’t such a big deal. You see, Dorgoe never actually came out against the delegation. He’s too clever for that, and he reads the Emperor’s mood like a book. I was more surprised by Tameto. I’ve known him since the last war, and he can’t imagine diplomacy without a big stick. Those Virilans he saw must have impressed him greatly, and not just by slicing through a bronze cuirass. I’d like to know more about that.” He shook his head. “Well, Uni, I have some affairs to attend to. Your period of unemployment didn’t last as long as you expected, did it? Dorgoe may be a weasel, but he knows how to get things done. You can expect to be called to meet with the head of the new diplomatic mission within the next few days.”
“Thank you so much, Enel Ronko. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. Literally. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for your kindness…”
“No need for that. And remember this: you should never grovel in front of a person if your relationship is based on mutual benefit. You’ve helped me much more than you can even imagine. But don’t let it go to your head. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“Can I ask you just one more question?” Without meaning to, Uni threw up his hands like a young boy. “Who was the fourth man in the room? Is he on our side? I mean your side?”
Ronko gave a long sigh. He found Uni both amusing and endearing. “You’ve outdone yourself, Uni. I understand that humble archive employees don’t often get to hold gold coins in their hands, but surely you have seen – at least somewhere – the face of our Heavenly Lord, the Radiant Emperor of the Herandian Empire, His Majesty Kergenius!”
When he heard this, Uni’s mouth fell open and he stared at Ronko with a prayer for mercy in his pale blue eyes.
“Forgive me, how could I…I never imagined I could have the great honor…”
“Nonsense! The extravagant rituals are designed to entertain the crowds and keep the nobles in their places. Truly important matters of state are always decided in informal discussion, where each person has time to state his position to the Emperor. And then we vote. Our council is like a big family. We’ve all known each other forever, we fight and make up again, we intrigue against each other, but in the end we are all working for the good of the Empire.” He smiled. “And another thing. If I had warned you who you would be speaking to, I know everything would have gone wrong. You would have been too nervous to open your mouth! Well, what’s done is done. Go home and get some sleep. I hope you finally learned that abstract knowledge can come in very handy in the real world.”
He turned to leave, but remembered one last thing. “Don’t drink that much wine ever again. You’re privy to state secrets, so you must guard your every word.” With that, Ronko winked and disappeared between the marble columns.
Uni felt strangely deflated. “What a day! I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime. I suppose I should go see Mother now. It’s about time I gave her a reason to be proud of me!”
Chapter 5. Necessary Formalities
Uni may have thought he had received the greatest measure of joy from the council meeting, but he was mistaken. Licisium Dorgoe returned to his fair estate in a much-improved state of mind. Satisfaction derived from a sense that events were developing just as he had intended was one of the few pleasures in life he knew how to enjoy. His velvet-lined chariot rumbled through the gates of his villa, and he quickly and with surprising agility removed his large body from its comfortable seat and proceeded straight to his garden.
“Is he here?” he asked Zhoslo, his butler, with a grin.
“He is waiting for Your Lordship in the blue pavilion,” the butler intoned, eyes almost closed.
“How mad is he?”
Zhoslo shrugged as if he knew nothing, but then he added, “What right would a barbarian have to express displeasure with a courtier of the Heavenly Empire?”
“That’s the correct answer,” Dorgoe nodded with a smile and headed across the lawn to where his next visitor was waiting for him.
The blue pavilion was so-named for two reasons. Thanks to the gardener’s careful ministrations, it was surrounded by plants that had been bred to bloom in a variety of shades of blue: sedum, helichrysum, calendula and verbena. In another month, these flowers would be joined by hollies and thistle, but for the time being those were still waiting in the wings. The walls of the pavilion were covered with blue-toned mosaics depicting waves on a river, fishermen, and other scenes from the life of the simple folk who lived and worked on the Great River, all known to gladden the heart of any hard-working civil servant. Ulinians (known for their refined tastes) often objected that Herandian architects had misunderstood the very concept of an outdoor pavilion, turning it from something light and airy, barely demarcating the border between the human and natural worlds, into something heavy and imposing. The misunderstanding, however, was entirely their own, for the imperial style had its own rules, adding solidity and magnificence to everything it deigned to touch.
Dorgoe slipped his large frame through the black carved batwing doors and turned his head from side to side, looking for his long-awaited guest. The comfortable sofa and the two small chairs (placed conveniently around a low table laid with light refreshments) were empty, and the wine and candied nuts were untouched. Dorgoe was about to permit himself an oath of surprise and annoyance when he suddenly felt a strange chill deep in his veins. The last time he had felt something like that was ten years prior, an instant before he was stabbed in a fight with some criminals near the port. Slowly, as if in premonition of death, he turned his heavy body on its axis. Right behind him, in the shadow by the door, sat a man wrapped in a dark cloak. His eyes were hard enough to drive a nail through an oak plank.
“Ambassador?” Dorgoe croaked, realizing that he was losing control under the effect of the power than emanated from his guest in waves and played havoc with his nerves. “Why are you sitting here in the corner?”
The foreigner’s expression remained unchanged, like a statue of some ancient god of warlike Seregad that had been painted a deep shade of bronze by its sculptor. The large nose, shaped like the beak of a bird of prey, was perfectly symmetrical on the shaven face, overlooking a powerful jaw and determined chin.
When the ambassador stood up, he towered over Dorgoe, who was considered a large man at court. “From this position it is easier to kill a man as he walks in,” he remarked offhandedly.
Dorgoe couldn’t keep from shuddering. He felt as if someone had walked over his head wearing hobnailed boots. “I thought we were meeting for the opposite reason – to prevent murder!” He did not like the sound of his own voice. “Please, you’ll be more comfortable over here,” Dorgoe motioned toward the table with refreshments.
He may not want to sit on such delicate furniture, he thought, head spinning. If he wavers, I may be able to win back some of the points I’ve lost.
But the guest strode across the room with no sign of discomfort and sat down on the sofa. That was Dorgoe’s favorite