i have patience for centuries in me and will live as though my time were very big
In the wake of the uprising, several things change. The emperor, feigning cowardice, flatly refuses to come out of the clearly far safer home of the Elene castle, and remains there only with the moat kept full and the drawbridge raised, accompanied by his family (all of his family). His ministers, accustomed to arranging his every movement, are ( Read more... )
Norkan expresses his unwillingness to see the empire collapse due to what he terms Sarabian "meddling", and Sarabian sends a commiserating look Ehlana's way. They express mutual disdain for people checking their power, and Sarabian efficiently continues on his way--Maryani thinks he's progressing quite well, actually.
"You still haven't answered my questions, Norkan. What brings you back to Matherion?"
"The Atans are growing restive, your Majesty."
"Are the recent disturbances starting to erode their loyalty?"
"No, your Majesty, quite the reverse. The uprising has them all excited. Androl wants to move out in force to occupy Matherion to guarantee your safety. I don't think we want that. The Atans don't pay too much attention to rank or position when they kill people."
It's established that Betuana will yank Androl's leash for the time being, and they'll send Engessa to give Androl some false impressions about why he's being kept there--if he believes it's to stave off a greater threat, he'll be more obedient.
"You know something, Oscagne?" Norkan asks. "He might just work out all right after all--if we can keep him from making too many blunders at the outset."
Oscagne winces. Maryani watches Sparhawk and Vanion drift to the back of the throne room together.
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It's not until later that day that there's much indication of what it might have been Sparhawk slipped away to address.
"Tega?" Sarabian is asking his foreign minister incredulously. "The only superstition they have on the Isle of Tega is the one that says it's bad luck not to raise the price of sea-shells every year."
Martel snorts quietly.
"They've never mentioned it to us in the past because they were probably afraid we'd think they were being silly, your Majesty," Oscagne replies urbanely, looking uncomfortable in the doublet and hose Sarabian had ordered him into earlier. He seems to be having trouble deciding what to do with his hands, and very self-conscious about his bony legs. "The word 'silly' seems to strike at the very core of the Tegan soul. They're the stuffiest people in the world."
"I know. Gahenas, my Tegan wife, can put me to sleep almost immediately--even when we're..." Sarabian glances at Ehlana and leaves that hanging.
"Don't, Maryani," Martel says, without looking up from what he's doing, in case she's getting any ideas about 'helping'.
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"Oh?" Sarabian raises his eyebrows at Maryani. They've ordinarily been much better at being overtly manic at each other after Maryani and Martel's wedding of destruction, and of course Sarabian has plenty of wives to entertain him, but...
...it still happens. Maryani smiles at Sarabian. "I'm sure we can discuss it later, your Majesty."
Yeah, or not.
"Tegans have raised being boring to an art form, your Majesty," Oscagne interrupts, by way of agreement, "Anyway, there's an old Tegan myth to the effect that the oyster beds are haunted by a mermaid. Supposedly she eats oysters, shells and all, and that really upsets the Tegans. She also seduces Tegan divers, who tend to drown during the exchange of pleasantries."
"Isn't the mermaid supposed to be half-girl and half-fish?" Ulath asks.
"So the legend goes," Oscagne confirms.
"And isn't she supposed to be a fish from the waist down?" Ulath continues, frowning. Maryani glances over at him, hiding another smile.
"I've been told so, yes."
"Then how--?" Ulath glances at Ehlana and breaks off.
"How what, Sir Ulath?" Ehlana asks.
"It's--ah--really not important, your Majesty," Ulath replies, with an embarrassed cough. Maryani pats his knee affectionately, which he tolerates not without one of those extremely deadpan looks of his. Everyone in this room except Sarabian wants Maryani to stop twisting words, pretty much.
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"I wouldn't even raise this absurd myth, your Majesties," Oscagne overrides the possibility of further word-twisting, "except in the light of recent developments. The parallels between the vampires in Arjuna, the Shining Ones in southern Atan, and the werewolves, ghouls and Ogres in other parts of the Empire are really rather striking, wouldn't you say? I'd imagine that if someone were to go to Tega and ask around, he might hear stories about some pre-historic pearl-diver who's been resurrected and also find that some rabble-rouser's telling the Tegans that this hero and his half-fish, half-human mistress are going to lead the oysters in a mass assault on Matherion."
"How droll," Sarabian murmurs.
"Sorry, your Majesty," Oscagne apologizes. "What I'm getting at here is that we've probably got some relatively inexperienced conspirator on Tega. He's just getting started, so he's bound to make mistakes--but experienced or not, he knows a great deal about the whole conspiracy. Since our friends here won't let us question Kolata too closely, we have to look elsewhere for information."
"We're not being delicate about the Minister of the Interior, your Excellency," Kalten tells him. "It's just that we've seen what happens to prisoners who are on the verge of talking too much. Kolata's still useful to us, but only as long as he stays in one piece. He won't be much good if little chunks and globs of him get scattered all over the building."
"And we know how much their Majesties dislike chunks and globs of people," Martel murmurs.
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Oscagne gives Martel a look like must you and shudders. "I'll take your word for it. At any rate, your Majesty, if some of our Elene friends here could go to Tega and put their hands on this fellow and talk with him before our enemy can dismantle him, they could probably persuade him to tell us everything he knows. Sir Sparhawk has some ambitions along those lines, I understand. He wants to find out if he can wring somebody out hard enough to make his hair bleed."
Maryani briefly has this expression on her face like she's about to contribute to that particular discussion, and decides against it.
"You have a very graphic imagination, Sparhawk," Sarabian notes, "What do you think, Ehlana? Can you spare your husband for a while? If he and some of his knights went to Tega and held the whole island underwater for a couple of hours, God only knows what kind of information might come bubbling to the surface."
"That's a very good idea, Sarabian. Sparhawk, why don't you take some of our friends, run on down to the Isle of Tega, and see what you can find out?"
"Like a day trip," Maryani says, sagely. She does not trust Sparhawk entirely on this one, after the debacle with the people being burned alive, so she's got to give him a little bit of a hard time on Ehlana's behalf--even if she probably agrees with him, whatever is actually going on. Maybe Martel knows.
"I'd really rather not be separated from you, dear," Sparhawk tells Ehlana.
"That's very sweet, Sparhawk," she says, firmly, "But we do have responsibilities, you know."
"Are you ordering me to go, Ehlana?"
Yeah, Maryani is pretty sure there's something going on here. Sparhawk is very rarely so solicitous with Ehlana--at least not in front of other people, she has no idea how they are alone.
"You don't have to put it that way, Sparhawk," Ehlana continues on, "It's only a suggestion, after all."
"As my Queen commands," Sparhawk sighs.
Maryani tilts her head at him.
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Martel's wearing the carefully bland expression that he gets when he's fairly certain there's more going on than what he's seeing--but it occurs to him that Ehlana recognizes that well enough and a brief, almost sharp glance from Sparhawk has him feigning innocence instead.
"Did you have something to contribute, my Lord?" Ehlana asks him, somewhere between arch and genuinely curious.
"Not at all, my queen. Perhaps your husband and I ought to discuss the security measures--while your champion is away."
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Maryani sighs, internally. Oh, fine, she'll run interference, menfolk, but you both owe her. "Why don't we let them update us when they've got some ideas worked up, Ehlana?" she suggests. "In the meantime, his Majesty Sarabian can tell us how his progress with the rapier is going."
Sarabian grimaces. "Did you have to bring that up, Maryani? And here I thought we understood each other so well."
"Oh, but we do, your Majesty! And I have utter confidence you'll master it--just as soon as you get to use it on someone deserving. That's the best way to learn, you know."
"Maryani's way is, inevitably, the savage way," Ehlana tells Sarabian, smiling slightly, "The rapier's a lot nicer-looking than a broadsword, though, I'll give it that."
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Martel gives his wife--his wife, he hasn't quite got over that yet--a faint (and grateful) smile as he and Sparhawk withdraw, closing the door carefully behind them. He'll seek her out after they've had a chance to talk in private, and after he's given Sparhawk up to the tender mercies of the Empress Gahenas.
After all, who can advise him better on Tega than the Tegan Empress?
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Maryani and the others eventually leave to attend to other responsibilities, as well--the Empire doesn't run itself, you know. Or rather: it does, but Sarabian's going to make sure he's got a key role in that from now on. She's wandering down the halls of the castle on her lonesome for now, thinking.
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Martel catches up to her later rather than sooner--he has, after all, responsibilities of his own and in truth he did need to go over the changing of the guard some, so to speak, while Sparhawk is away from the Queen's side.
And a little bit of time to himself to breathe and to think is rarely unwelcome.
"Maryani."
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"My Lord General," she says, with a ridiculous little curtsy (because she is, in fact, ridiculous), "How can I serve you today?"
Yeah, she's making fun of his brusqueness a bit, but he's probably used to that.
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"I owe you a debt of gratitude, do I not?" Sometimes, he even joins in.
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"Oh, always, for some reason or another--yes, you do." She elbows him playfully, with a fond sidelong smile.
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"Come with me. We should talk." He catches her elbow and tugs her in close for a moment.
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She stays in close, and leads the way back to their quarters, remaining by his side the entire time. Once they're inside, however, her demeanor changes substantially: she pushes him against the closed door, eyebrows raised. "Well?"
It's possible she's a tiny bit anxious to find out what's going on.
Maybe.
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Martel gives her a really, must you look when his back impacts against the door. "Hello, darling," he says, dryly--then continues before she can take it into her head to get annoyed with him. Hopefully. "Sparhawk's not going to Tega."
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