Heroes' Reward (10 page)

I felt awful
about leaving her behind. Worse than I had the first time. I didn’t know what
to say so I said something meaningless. “Please carry our farewells to Steeler.
And the two of you, be careful.”

Aryne rolled her
eyes.

I had to watch
her climb back up to her window, worried that she would slip at any moment.

Chapter Eleven

Close to ten
weeks of hard riding – the change from winter to spring enabling us to pick up
the pace a little – brought us to a place I’d hoped never to see again.

Erstwhile had a
new wall around it, one that hadn’t been there the last time I had visited. A
high stone wall, and an ugly one. It was a dull, grim gray. Meant to
intimidate.

So, once we were
in there, how hard would it be to leave?

I wanted to go
home.

There were
Imperial Guards at the gatehouse. We’d been hoping to sneak in unnoticed and
take a look around before we announced our presence to the Emperor. They saw us
as soon as we saw them. If we left to look for other entrances through the
wall, we would look suspicious. Besides, any other entrances would probably be
guarded, too.

The Guards
glared at us as we approached the gate, and I noticed that the male Guards
weren’t all clean-shaven, as Guards tended to be. No beards, just slovenly. Two
had uniforms that weren’t as well laundered as I would have expected, the red
cotton stained and crinkled, and one had threads hanging out the hem of his
cape. Their brown leather gauntlets and boots appeared unpolished, and their
bronze breastplates were dull. Most shocking of all, one Guard had rust on her
sword.

They weren’t as
tall or as slim as I was used to seeing. One was positively portly – I couldn’t
really see him running or fighting much – and a little old to be doing
something as ignoble as gate duty. Either he’d messed up in some way or he’d
never achieved much of a rank in the first place.

We dismounted.

“All right,”
said one of the Guards. “Let’s see your coin.”

Taro frowned.
“We’re a Pair.”

“So?”

Was he serious?
“We were summoned by the Emperor,” I told him. “Are you really going to give us
a hard time?”

“Prove it.”

I pulled out the
Emperor’s letter and slapped it into his palm. “Look at the seal.”

He turned it
over in his hand. “Seals can be faked.”

“Forging the
Imperial seal is worth five lashes.”

“People break
the law all the time.”

“So you’re
suggesting,” Taro said in a flat tone, “that we’d forge the Imperial seal and
then use it on an Imperial Guard.”

The Guard wasn’t
too stupid to know his intelligence was being questioned and his face turned
red. His fists clenched, too, and he crushed the letter. I wondered if he
was
too stupid to know he really shouldn’t hit the Source summoned by the Emperor.

“Just leave it!”
one of his colleagues snapped. “Who cares, anyway? They don’t have any money.”

What did money
have to do with anything? Had they started charging people to get into the
city?

Taro snatched
the letter back and we were allowed through the gate.

Once we were
within the city, the number of people walking around just jumped at me.
Erstwhile had never had a large population, because few people could afford to
live there. Right then, it felt crowded. There were people of every level of
income. There were a whole lot more Imperial Guards than I thought existed in
the world, some of them as crisp and as strong as I was used to seeing, and
some of them with less than pristine uniforms, hair, and skin.

And there were
Pairs. I counted eight on our way to the palace. Some of them looked familiar,
but I couldn’t put names to the faces.

We reached the
palace. It had always had a wall, but this was a new one, constructed of the
same gray stone as the city wall. It had a tall wide gate, and it was ugly,
too. Black, solid, decorated – if one could call it that – with a bizarre
collection of iron sharp angles and jagged dives that managed to look almost
vicious and menacing.

“I think the
person who designed this was drunk at the time,” Taro muttered.

“Or demented.”

We approached
the four Imperial Guards at the gate. Taro gave the letter to the nearest
Guard. “Source Shintaro Karish and Shield Dunleavy Mallorough.”

She looked at
the seal and read the contents. Was she supposed to read it? What if the
information was meant to be private?

“Bamni,” she
said. “Take their horses. Lestin, take their bags.”

“That’s not
necessary,” I objected, but Lestin ignored me and pulled the saddlebags off our
horses.

“This way,” he
said, and he strode up the drive from the gate to the palace. Of course we
followed, though I would have been delighted to turn right around and
disappear. The closer we got to the grand entrance of the palace, the harder my
heart pounded. By the time I stepped through the threshold, it almost hurt to
breathe.

“Ho!” Lestin
shouted at a footman lingering at the back near the stairs. “Karish and
Mallorough are finally here.”

Finally?
Shidonee’s Gap was half a continent away from Erstwhile. What had they
expected?

“Wait here,” the
footman ordered before disappearing through a door meant to blend in with the
wall, with identical wainscoting, golden vines, and robin’s egg blue paint.

He’d been
wearing a sword. Not common in a servant.

We waited. I
tried to appear at ease.

We didn’t have
to wait long. A short, dark-skinned man entered through the same door the
footman had used. He wore two knives on his belt, bare, perhaps to show off the
wicked curving blades. There was something menacing about the way he moved:
very smooth in his gait and the swing of his arms. I felt he could get in
anywhere he wanted, then get out again, and the only evidence that he’d been
there would be the body bleeding on the floor.

So we were to
have an armed escort. I couldn’t believe anyone would think we were in any way
dangerous. Maybe the Emperor just liked the thought of the place being swarmed
with people who were overqualified for their roles.

The … servant –
was he a servant? … took the bags from the Guard and walked off without saying
anything.

Like every other
expensive residence I’d ever been in, the palace was a maze. Apparently wealthy
people liked a lot of right angles.

We were taken up
three flights of stairs and shown to a grand suite. A large sitting room –
satin upholstery, velvet drapes, a large chandelier and too many paintings –
appeared to be for receiving guests. Next to it was an enormous bedchamber with
the biggest bed I’d ever seen.

The man tossed
our bags on the bed and left, silently closing the door behind him.

“Bars on the
windows,” Taro pointed out. “I didn’t see those anywhere the other times we’ve
been here.”

Nor had I.
Knowing it was useless, I walked over to the nearest window, opened it, and
pulled on two of the bars.

They didn’t
shift, of course, but I noticed something else. “I don’t know anything about
this sort of thing, but it seems to me that these were put in recently.”
Something about the holes drilled into the casement, they looked fresh. “It
would be arrogant to think these were put here just for us, wouldn’t it?”

“Pretty
arrogant. I doubt he’s afraid of us. Maybe he just wants to intimidate us.”

“Well, it’s
working.” I sat on the bed.

Taro sat beside
me and put my hand on his thigh, covering my hand with his. “Maybe he doesn’t
want us here for long.”

“It’s an awful
long way to drag us for a short visit.”

“He’s a monarch.
I doubt he’s used to considering the convenience of other people.”

“I suppose
that’s possible.”

No, I didn’t
suppose, but I tried to avoid contradicting other people when I didn’t have a
valid counterargument to offer.

“I’m not having
sex in this building,” I warned him.

“No kidding.”

Chapter Twelve

It was a week
before we received word that the Emperor expected to see us. A week of being followed
by Imperial Guards, who made it clear where we were and weren’t allowed to go.
We could walk along the public areas of the palace and out about the grounds.
There were parts of the palace we had been allowed to enter during prior visits
that we could no longer access. We weren’t allowed leave the property. And in
contrast to earlier visits to the palace, no one came to see us, and no one
would talk to us, even the few acquaintances we passed in the corridors.

I didn’t see
Tarce, and we weren’t allowed to visit his home. No one could – or would – give
us any news of him.

It worried me
and I couldn’t think of anything to do about it.

We were
irritated that no one would tell us anything, so, out of spite, we pretended we
were having the time of our lives. We spoke loudly and laughed even louder. We
pretended to drink a lot more than we did. A lot of plants died because of us.
We joked about how awful the art was, and indulged in lengthy kisses anywhere
we could find a crowd.

We received
sharp looks and overheard muttered comments of a derisive nature. So, it was
working.

I was almost
relieved when we received Gifford’s summons. Finally, we were to find out why
we were there. And, hey, maybe it
was
for something short and trivial.

I had as much of
a right to indulge in unrealistic expectations as anyone else.

We were escorted
to the throne room by an Imperial Guard instead of a servant. This was
customary. It made me nervous.

On a dais at the
far end of the room stood an ostentatious throne of silver and gold and at
least eight different kinds of gems. Gifford, a thin man of nearly fifty with a
dark complexion, sat on the throne. He was draped in robes of purple velvet. He
was wearing three gold necklaces with thick chains and heavy, square, jewelled
medallions, and a thick gold ring, each with a large gem, on every finger and
thumb. A tacky display of Imperial wealth.

He looked tired,
his face much more lined than the last time I’d seen him.

Beside the
throne of state was a chair of black walnut wood, with a high back and thick,
solid armrests. Occupying the chair was a woman in her early thirties, of
common height, thin, with bland shades of brown hair and blue eyes and nothing
remarkable about her face. I assumed she was Willa Newscomb, Lady Green.

My brother had
written to me of her. She’d risen out of obscurity and managed to find a place
at Gifford’s side as an advisor.

And his fiancé.
They’d become betrothed a few years before. I wondered why they hadn’t married
yet.

The Erstwhile
Pair weren’t standing with them. This was odd.

There were a
collection of others in the room, all in fine garments. I recognized some of
them. They stood strangely, each maintaining a certain distance from the
others. No one spoke. It was disturbing, seeing so many people without hearing
a word.

Others were
brought in after our entrance, all accompanied by Guards.

And then, all of
the doors were closed with the usual ominous thuds, followed by the sounds of
locks being slid into place. Imperial Guards stood at each door, keeping us in.

This was the
Emperor’s chosen signal, it seemed. The herald standing beside him pounded the
floor with his mace three times. It was an unnecessary display, everyone’s
attention had already been focused on the Emperor, but Gifford had always enjoyed
ritual.

“Good day, loyal
gentles,” he said. “We thank you for accepting Our invitations.”

Taro and I
hadn’t had a choice. Had anyone else?

It didn’t look
like it.

“Stability
demands the complete loyalty of those serving the Crown,” said Gifford. “Those with
titles and all of the responsibilities that come with them have a higher duty
to provide an example to the lower ranks.”

Something seemed
off about the Emperor. His words were slightly slurred and the whites of his
eyes were pink.

“If you recall
the words of the great philosopher Isa Denith, chaos will always be the result
without the strong hand of a single authority who must be recognized … Must be
recognized ….” The Emperor frowned. “Must be recognized ….”

He’d memorized
something and had lost his place in the speech. Despite the grim circumstances,
I found this entertaining, and I pressed my lips together to keep myself from
expressing this inappropriate reaction.

The Emperor
chose to abandon the rest of the quote. “The continual failure of so many to
recognize this necessity is both dangerous and disappointing, and we have all
suffered the disorganization caused by this failure. We have decided it would
be beneficial to all to remind you of your obligations. It will also provide
you with the perfect opportunity to swear your fealty to Lady Green, Our
Consort.”

Swear our fealty
to Green? She wasn’t anyone to be swearing to, yet. ‘Consort’ referred to the
spouse of the monarch, and she wasn’t, yet.

“Shall we
begin?”

The last time I
had attended such a ritual, there had been a solicitor in attendance. There
didn’t seem to be one present. I wondered if that was significant.

“Lord Red
Greaves.” The Emperor stood.

A young man
walked through the crowd and knelt on the hard floor before the Emperor. If he
felt any apprehension, I couldn’t discern it from his face or movement.

“Lord Red
Greaves,” the Emperor said very loudly. “You have sworn to offer Us and Our
heirs your eternal faithfulness, and that of your descendants, to offer the
best portion of your land and stock, the might of your servants, and the
enforcement of the laws of the land, have you not?”

“I have, Your
Majesty.”

“And in
exchange, We promised you protection against danger and want, did We not?”

“Yes, Your
Majesty.”

“And We have
honoured Our vows, have We not?”

Was there a
small hesitation before Red Greave’s answer? “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do you feel you
have honoured your oath in its entirety?”

“Yes, Your
Majesty.”

“We do not
agree.”

Red Greaves
obviously couldn’t refute this.

“In order to
correct these failings, We have devised a new oath, to enforce the oath you
pledged before. After you take your oath, all will be forgiven. This is
generous of Us, is it not?”

“Yes, Your
Majesty.”

“So, let Us
begin.”

“Yes, Your
Majesty.”

I wondered if
his knees were starting to hurt.

“Repeat after
me,” Gifford ordered. “I, Lord Red Greaves, Baron of Ilk, offer to You and Your
heirs in perpetuity my loyalty.”

“I, Lord Red
Greaves , Baron of Ilk, offer to You and Your heirs in perpetuity my loyalty.”

“I offer the
best portion of my land and stock, the might of my servants, and the
enforcement of the laws of the land.”

“I offer the
best portion of my land and stock, the might of my servants, and the
enforcement of the laws of the land.”

“We, Emperor
Gifford, accept the offers of Lord Red Greaves and give in return protection
against danger and want.”

That was the
entirety of the usual oath, but Gifford wasn’t finished. “Your land is of the
north.”

Red Greaves
looked confused, but he dutifully stated, “My land is of the north.”

“Your strength
is in the ground.”

“My strength is
in the ground.”

What kind of
oath was this?

“Your gaze is to
the distance.”

“My gaze is to
the distance.”

“Your bonds are
to the Crown.”

“My bonds are to
the Crown.”

And I felt the
jittery sensation of a spell being cast.

I had known
Gifford was a caster. He’d imposed casts on everyone when they swore their
oaths at his coronation. I had felt it work.

But perhaps not
well enough, if Gifford was going through the ceremony again.

The Emperor held
out a hand to Lady Green, who stepped forward to take it.

And then, the
Emperor stepped back. An astounding violation of protocol.

“I, Lord Red
Greaves,” said Green, “Hold second only to the Emperor, the Lady Green.”

“I, Lord Red
Greaves, hold second only to the Emperor, the Lady Green.”

“Her words are
those of His Imperial Majesty.”

What?

I looked at
Gifford. Did he know the implications of that sentence? Green could say
anything and Red Greaves would have to assume she was giving him an order from
the Emperor. What if she tried to use that to her advantage, manipulate affairs
behind Gifford’s back?

Gifford didn’t
appear disturbed.

“Her words are
those of His Imperial Majesty.”

“My life I shall
lay for hers.”

“My life I shall
lay for hers.”

To my knowledge,
titleholders were never required to put themselves in physical danger on behalf
of the monarch. They were expected to throw tenants and servants into any
battles.

“I, Lady Green,
accept the offers of Lord Red Greaves, and give in return the Council position
of Minister of Waterworks.”

Only the monarch
could assign positions in the Imperial Council.

Taking advantage
of everyone’s distraction, their attention on Green, Gifford was still
speaking, far too low for anyone to hear. I thought he was using another cast,
perhaps binding Red Greaves to Green as well.

Once Lady Green
had finished speaking, the Emperor pulled a knife from his belt. “Your hand,
Lord Red Greaves.”

Lord Red Greaves
raised his hand, palm up.

Showing no
hesitation or care, the Emperor slashed Red Greaves’ palm with his blade. “It’s
done. You may retreat.”

Lord Red Greaves
rose to his feet and turned. He looked befuddled. Apparently the cast had been
powerful enough to work on him.

“Lady Velot.”

One by one,
everyone was called to the dais to swear fealty to the Emperor and to Lady
Green. Always they were required to recite the little poem, which would be
given minor adjustments to reflect the assets of the swearer of the oath. Each
was then given a position in the government. Some were positions I’d never
heard of, and I suspected they had no real authority. Those I had, I wondered
what had happened to the original holders.

Each one turned
back to us with an air of disorientation.

And then, of
course, Taro was called. “Source Shintaro Karish.”

I hated seeing
Taro kneel before such a person.

Gifford prompted
him. “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to Your Majesty.”

“I, Shintaro
Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to Your Majesty.”

“Putting my
services to the use of the Emperor and that of His heirs in perpetuity.”

“Putting my
services to the use of the Emperor and that of His heirs in perpetuity.”

This was so
wrong. Members of the Triple S were not to be forced to make such oaths.

As he had during
the coronation, Gifford offered nothing in exchange. Perhaps this was why, when
Taro recited his poem, I felt no trace of a spell being cast.

And then it was
Lady Green’s turn. “I, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to
you, Lady Green.”

“I, Shintaro
Ivor Cear Karish, do swear personal loyalty to you, Lady Green.”

“I, Lady Green,
accept the offers of Source Shintaro Karish, and give in return the position of
Source of the Emperor of Erstwhile.”

My throat
clenched. We were to be the Erstwhile Pair? We were expected to stay in
Erstwhile indefinitely?

Where was the
previous Erstwhile Pair?

Lady Green
didn’t have the authority to choose the Pair of Erstwhile, either. Why had she
made that offer instead of Gifford? It didn’t make sense.

When Taro’s palm
was slashed, there was still no buzz.

It could be
merely a matter of Taro being resistant to casts. Some people were, and Taro
was the sort who’d be among their fortunate number. Fiona had been required to
swear loyalty to Gifford at his coronation, and I’d seen no sign of compliance
in her, either. It could be something in the blood.

But there was
another possibility.

Browne, who knew
everything about everything, had once told me that according to legal
principles, an agreement wasn’t binding unless each party gave the other
something both considered of value, something real. Some legal agreements were
casts in their own right, but if they demanded reciprocity and there was none,
they might, just possibly, fail.