TWENTY-SIX
“BOTTOM LINE: HE’S a child.” Kaim’era Samar’s voice dripped scorn as could only be done in a language where the speech modes of disdain, superiority, and intolerance could be combined.
“He is Pri’tiera,” Tezal answered in the Basic Mode. It is enough.
A servant ducked into the room quickly, set down a tray of glasses half-filled with wine and an ornate decanter also half-filled, and left even more quickly. Tezal had once noted that the speed of a servant’s exit from a room was directly related to the power of the men inside it, and this was no exception.
Samar, Tidir, Katur . . . and himself. All Kaim’eri. All Elders. Perhaps the most senior of the current Council, certainly the most powerful in influence. The servant didn’t know all that, of course. He just saw four men wearing medallions of the Kaim’erate and decided it was best to be somewhere else . . . fast.
You would think I regularly abuse my servants, Tezal thought, bemused as always by the fear his rank engendered in the lower classes. Then again, the right to kill any human being for any cause, with full sanction of the law, was no small thing.
Katur reached for a glass and then settled back to sip from it. “His age is irrelevant. We let him ascend to the throne and now we have to deal with that.—This is very good, Tezal. What is it?”
“A Kasindran vintage. I’m told the source flowers only blossom once every twelve Braxin years.”
“Foreign. Ah. That figures.” Tidir took a glass as well and sipped from it speculatively. “One thing to be said, Tezal, you are an impeccable host.”
“You honor me.”
Samar leaned back, steepling his fingers as he did so. In the Mode of Contemplation he said, “It seems to me, the issue is not what we think of him, but what the least intelligent Kaim’era thinks of him. Or perhaps better stated . . . the most impulsive.”
Katur looked at him sharply. “You think someone might try to . . . remove him?”
Samar snorted. “I think half of them would give their Houses for it, if they thought it could be done. And I’m not so sure I wouldn’t be among them.” He claimed a glass and drank deeply from it, draining the contents in a single deep swallow. “You and I both know how much real power the Kaim’erate has lost since Zatar pulled his coup two centuries ago. His children were savvy enough to defend the throne when it could have been pulled out from under them. But this boy?” He leaned forward and poured himself another glass. “He’s still Pri’tiera only because there hasn’t been a concerted effort yet to unseat him. It’s only a question of time.”
“And that is what we’re here to talk about, isn’t it?” Tezal said quietly.
“You agree with Samar?” Tidir asked.
“That sooner or later someone will try to unseat the boy? Yes. Though I don’t necessarily share his view that the effort will succeed. Thus far our young Pri’tiera has proven unusually . . . adaptable.”
“Not to mention no man can stand up to him, face to face.”
“Yes, well.” Samar finished his second drink and set the empty glass aside. “Obviously only a fool would opt for direct confrontation.”
“But fools there are aplenty, unfortunately, and with our population as small as it is, it’s not unthinkable that some of them have been . . . successful.”
“Been made into Kaim’eri, you mean.”
Katur’s eyes gleamed. “Just so.”
Tidir chuckled darkly. “I can think of half a dozen offhand that I wouldn’t trust with the datacodes to a lavatory, much less a Great House.”
“And I imagine they’re scheming now,” Tezal said quietly. “Which is precisely the problem.”
He leaned forward and claimed the fourth glass for himself. He held it up against the light and swirled it slowly, enjoying the play of colors in its depths.
“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Samar said. “And if a fool does it, then a fool will die for it . . . and we will be here to claim what is left.”
“We.” Tezal gazed at his wine a moment longer, then brought the glass to his lips and sipped from it. “How much is said, in that simple word. Will all the Kaim’eri vie for his throne, do you think? Or will some argue we are better off returned to the older ways, when we all ruled as equals?”
“Does it matter?” Tidir asked.
“Oh yes.” He regarded the other Kaim’eri over the edge of his glass. “I think it matters very much.”
“The question is not whether there are men who would use the opportunity to seek their own advantage,” Katur said, “but whether all would do so at once, and to disparate ends.”
“Chaos,” Tezal said quietly, “is something we cannot afford right now.”
Samar snorted derisively. “Chaos is inevitable when power shifts.”
“There was none when Zatar declared himself Pri’tiera.”
“That was different. He had prepared for years, for such a move. He had the right backing and his opponents were isolated—”
“Exactly.” Tezal’s expression was grim. “He prepared. So I ask you all, do you see signs now of any Kaim’era preparing to claim a leadership role? Or re-establish the Kaime’rate as ruling oligarchy?” When there was no answer he said in the mode of disdain, “Please, do we have to pretend we don’t watch each other?”
“I see many who might move if the opportunity arises,” Tidir said. “I see none who are in position to do so successfully.”
“Exactly. Chaos. Which is fine and good on the Blood Steppes, for a handful of Braxaná warriors, but for us? Azea would move in on us the instant such a state was even hinted at, and I do not see us in position right now to repel such a move.”
“Not to mention that now it appears we can’t even trust our own.” Samar’s expression was dark. “They took Kaim’eri Laran away last night, you know. Something about conspiring with Azeans.”
“I’d like to see evidence of that,” Katur muttered. “And it had blessed well better be good, if the Pri’tiera’s people are moving against one of us.”
“Courier capsules,” Tidir told him. “Half a dozen, my people tell me, and all of Azean manufacture. They found them on his estate—”
The door opened. It was B’Seth. She nodded an apology to the visiting men and then said to Tezal, “You have a message.”
He waited for her to hand it to him, but she just waited. After a moment he nodded his understanding and got up to leave. “If you will excuse me, Kaim’era, I will only be a moment . . .”
She did not speak until they both had left the room and the door had shut securely behind them. “Please forgive me, my Lord, I know you don’t normally wish to be disturbed while in meeting—”
He waved the apology short. “I assume if you did so you had good reason. What is it?”
She handed him a letter. It was small and square and had been folded so that one couldn’t peek inside without breaking the seal.
“From one of your . . . informants,” she said.
Hardcopy communication. That meant something that couldn’t be committed to any form of transmission, even the most secure. He nodded his approval that she’d done well by her actions, turned away from her, and pressed his finger to the seal. The chip inside scanned his DNA, was satisfied, and broke open.
Inside there was only one line. It was scrawled in the handwriting of one of his Border agents, and when he read it Tezal drew a breath in sharply.
T is coming home.
Seek allies in unexpected places, and you may find yourself with unexpected strengths.
—Anzha lyu Mitethe