The Pinnacle Of Empire (Book 6) (5 page)

“Congratulations on your wedding,” Zirkin said to Saxthor with a strong handshake. “Please, convey my congratulations to the empress as well.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Saxthor responded, studying Zirkin, who was also searching Saxthor’s face and body language for and extended moment. “We’re greatly honored that you traveled so far to attend the festivities.”

“We’re pleased to have this opportunity to meet with you in person and to express our wish for a peaceful and prosperous relationship with the empire.”

“I should be pleased to have my chatra meet with yours to work out details of the new, more open relationship. I’m sure establishing trade between us will be beneficial to all.”

“Let it be so, Your Imperial Majesty,” Zirkin said, again shaking Saxthor’s hand to seal the plan. “And now I should like to present you with a rare treasure for your court.” The king then turned to his staff. “Tittletot, come forward.”

From behind the Zenobian delegation, the little jester worked his way through the forest of legs to the king. He looked up at Saxthor with his large, bright eyes.

“What’s this or, should I say, who is this?” Saxthor asked, smiling down at the curious little creature.

“This tittletot is the rarest of beings in Zenobia, probably the rarest creature on Powteros. He prefers to be called Tittletot. He has been our court jester,” Zirkin said. He patted Tittletot’s head. The little man squirmed out from under the annoying hand and resumed staring at Saxthor. The king’s smile was indulgent.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tittletot. We’ve not seen the like of you before. We’re honored that you attended our wedding.”

“Your Imperial Highness, we should like to present Tittletot to you for a wedding present,” Zirkin said, looking down at the little fellow, who frowned up at the king, but said nothing. Then Zirkin pressed his hand on the jester’s back, gently pushing him forward. Tittletot stumbled, still staring at his new patron.

“So, you prefer to be called Tittletot?” Saxthor asked.

“Yes, my name isn’t important, Imperial Highness.”

“Well then, Tittletot, we’re honored to have you enhance our court,” Saxthor said with a raised eyebrow followed by a smile to all those around. “We shall talk with you further another time to learn more about tittletots.” He turned to Zirkin and again shook his hand.

Further conversations between the emperor and the king helped them understand each other better and their goals for their respective states. When Saxthor took his leave of Zirkin, Tittletot followed closely behind, his hand clutching the strange medallion on a chain around his neck.

* * *

Memlatec paced his tower workroom much troubled, not knowing the source of the serpentine assassin. He twisted a tuft of hair in his fingers.

The explosion vaporized even the hair on which the assassin formed, the wizard pondered. Was it from inside the empire or from without? Who would benefit from old King Nemenese’s death? Many would fill that bill.

The wizard tried the visionary pool but, with nothing to trace, nothing displayed in the moon water. All attempts to trace the energy vapor failed.

I shudder to think of what would have happened had this thing assassinated King Nemenese within the imperial capital, he thought. Is someone else a target as well to bring blame down on Saxthor and further polarize the kingdoms against the empire? And internally, would that weaken Saxthor’s support and strengthen the opposition among the adherents of the old regime? Or was this a unique attempt to eliminate the king for domestic reasons while he was away from Velstorbokkin so the blame would not reflect internally?

Saxthor entered, breaking Memlatec’s concentration. “And to what do I owe this visit?” Memlatec asked. Saxthor motioned for the wizard to resume his seat as the emperor flopped into a chair across from the wizard’s desk. Memlatec raised his eyebrows at the dust that billowed out around the seat cushion. Saxthor looked at Memlatec with a frown.

“I have no Aleman here to clean this place,” Memlatec said.

“I shall send you some help.”

“Never mind that. Servants invariably misplace things and I’m forever searching for them. I’ll clean this place up soon myself. You’ve come to find out about something?”

“Yes, well, I need to know about a tittletot.”

“Tittletot?” Memlatec repeated. “I’ve not heard of tittletots in an age. Why do you ask?”

“King Zirkin just gifted me one as the new court jester.”

Memlatec shook his head. “Court jester? A tittletot as a humble court jester?”

“I need to know if I should allow this tittletot access to the imperial family. Are they dangerous?”

“Tittletots are a very old folk. They’re cranky and temperamental but certainly not dangerous to the imperial family, only to that which they perceive as evil. They are a branch that broke away from the elfin kingdoms early in elfin history. They live, or lived, in small clans, not accepting the rule of elf kings. They’re virtually never seen. I thought them long gone. I can’t remember when I’ve heard of anyone having seen one in generations. This Tittletot, if he is a tittletot, must have some reason for allowing himself to be seen, much less attaching himself to a human court.”

“Well, this one seems totally devoted to me. I had to insist that he go with Belnik to learn about the palace and the routines here just to come and see you without his tagging along.”

“You’ve nothing to worry about having him close to your family. He’s more likely to be a protector if anything if, certainly, he’s taken a liking to you. Like the dwarves, they’ve grown leery of mankind in general.”

“I wonder what his purpose is, if, as you say, men so seldom see them?”

Memlatec looked straight into Saxthor’s eyes. “You can be sure he has a purpose. They generally live in another plane out of sight of men. One only comes into our visionary field when they are after something in our plane of being.”

“Then we shall encourage him to be who he is and see what comes of it.”

“A tittletot as court jester; it’s unimaginable. They’re so aloof and they have ancient powers even I don’t know about.”

“Powers?”

“Powers indeed, don’t prejudge this tittletot by his size.”

* * *

Governor Hedrak left prematurely, returning to Mendenow, furious the emperor hadn’t requested he prepare the imperial estate on the southern coast for the honeymoon. He traveled in his splendid state coach with his aide and two dozen outriders for escort.

“The emperor hasn’t even responded to my suggestion he honeymoon at Mendenow.  My recommendation that he tour the provinces to meet his subjects and further entrench himself on the throne seems to have been ignored,” Hedrak grumbled.

“Perhaps it was too late to arrange a honeymoon visit and too early to plan for a provincial tour,” the governor’s aide responded.

“Perhaps, but it was an affront to me. King Nindax shows me more attention than our own emperor.”

“Be cautious of King Nindax courting your favor, Governor. The king is treacherous for sure. He has no love for the empire.”

“Maybe not, but a man must go where his career is best advanced.”

Both men seemed uncomfortable at that remark and remained silent riding south over the imperial road for some time.

* * *

Empress Tottiana paced her new suite adjoining that of the emperor. It had been her mother’s suite before the death of Engwan and Saxthor’s taking up residence in Ossenkosk. She had redecorated it entirely to remove that familiarity and association with her parents there. Now she paced through the rich, plush fabrics and ornate furnishings, unable to get her mother’s suspicions out of her mind.

Helgamyr is bent on revenge, she thought. I don’t know how to convince her Saxthor wasn’t responsible for father’s death or the attack on grandfather. And what if he was responsible for the attack? Harming Saxthor would not restore mother to the throne, but it would forever cast us from the court no matter who the next emperor might be. Who is Saxthor anyway? He seems to be loved by all who meet him. He’s extended every courtesy to mother and me when he could have easily shuttled us off to some remote provincial estate to live out our lives in obscurity.

A knock at the door interrupted her concentration. A lady-in-waiting entered, curtseyed, and presented the empress with a lily. The unexpected gift surprised her and she couldn’t restrain a quizzical look.

“His Majesty was walking in the garden with Wizard Memlatec and, spying the single lily, thought of Your Highness,” the beaming lady said. She extended the lily to Tottiana. “He asked that I bring it to you with his warmest regards.”

“How beautiful,” Tottiana said, studying the pristine white trumpet.

“And the emperor himself removed the stamens, saying he didn’t want his flower to stain your fingers.” The lady blushed and glanced down, but Tottiana caught the envious twinkle in her eye. “Those were his very words, Majesty.”

“Thank you, you may go.”

He still loves another,
Tottiana thought. She felt her face sink in a frown. Is this an attempt to placate me after the attempt on grandfather’s life? She sniffed the lily but newly opened; it had little fragrance as yet. How can one tell a man’s thoughts and motives?

“Wait a moment. Put it in water on the table by my bed. No… put it in the sitting room.”

Mother could be right.

* * *

The imperial emissary on his mission to King Nindax led his entourage to the last outpost of the empire at the foot of the jagged, forbidding mountain wall separating the empire from Senoshesvas. Ahead was the Abysmal Pass, the only way through the mountains. Between the fortress and the pass was the Cektar River, whose frigid whitewater rapids rushed east out of the mountains, creating a natural moat at the foot of the fortress. The most obstinate of quarrelsome soldiers garrisoned the fortress. Seen as exiles, they served under officers that weren’t much better. Still, the dangerous outpost caught the first blow when the Senoshesvasian kings historically tried to invade the empire to snatch the rich, western-most province.

After resting several days and bolstering their courage, the emissary’s party moved forward. Accompanied by only a dozen soldiers, for fear of seeming militarily aggressive, the party crossed the river and advanced to the mouth of the steep canyon which the river cut through the ill-omened mountains.

“Is it as terrible as the rumors say?” the envoy asked the captain of his guard.

The dark complexioned captain’s sinister grin, made more frightening by two missing front teeth, gave more answer than words. A scar running across his nose and mouth, added to his credibility. “I never been all the way through,” the captain said. “If an escort don’t come from Varnakak, none of us will make it through.” He spat to the side of his horse.

“Then it’s true; the flinik and the foodoo guard this pass that none may venture far within these mountains. Not even an army without the aid of wizard escorts would dare try?”

“That’s true. Them flinik and foodoo ain’t just stories. They looks stranger than you could make up. I seen a foodoo once. They lives on the lower slopes along the river. Their head and front parts are like a lion but the head, fangs, and mane are bigger. That head is a third the size of the whole body with huge, dark eyes set under thick brows. Them eyes, well them eyes will make your skin crawl. They got yellow slits in black eyes instead of the other way around. The huge upper body is all muscle. Six inch claws can disembowel a man with a single swipe. Cat-like paws make’em surefooted on the rocky ledges. They’re larger than a lion’s and webbed with longer claws for surefootedness in the river. Folks say they hunt great, fanged sturgeon fish and catfish bigger than a man in this river. Instead of two, they got four of them long fangs in both the upper and lower jaws. I guess they have a better grip when they bite into something; it don’t get away. The curly manes are huge too, and the hair, so they say, is like wire. Even swords and spears can’t cut through it. Them is some mean beasts, alright.”

“And the flinik, what of them?”

“Them fliniks is even scarier. I hear tell they be like bugs but taller than a man when they stands upright. They got six legs, four they stands on, or clings to the sides of the cliffs with, and two they grabs you with like a praying mantis! They got wings too, huge ones. Them fliniks lives high up on the slopes along the canyon walls in caves, so they say. Both hunt anything that enters the pass. Nothing going in this cursed place makes it through without Senoshesvasian approval and escort.”

“It’s a wonder it’s called a pass at all,” the emissary said, his voice hushed. He scanned the narrow gorge ahead for signs of any movement other than the violently turbulent whitewater crashing over boulders in the river. “How does one get this Senoshesvasian escort?”

“You don’t asks for it. If it comes, it comes, and you might live. If’n it don’t, you don’t.” The captain’s grin ended the conversation for the time being.

Soon, a splashing up river startled the emissary and captain who ordered his men to mount up from their resting places. The Senoshesvasian escort rode out of the thicket that collared the river breaking from the gash in the mountains. There were soldiers and a slender man in long robes whose runes clearly identified him as a wizard. Then a colossal, lion-like beast broke through the trees, snapping at the soldiers’ rear. The beast, eyes blazing, stopped short and roared at the wizard. The sorcerer thrust his staff at the foodoo. A blue wizard-fire bolt shot into the creature’s right front leg. The creature jumped straight up like a nimble cat, his mane fluffing in all directions. He bellowed a great roar as smoke rose from the wound. The foodoo looked over the escort and those waiting by the river to join them before growling another threat, then disappeared back into the forest with a single leap.