The Emperor's Edge

The Emperor's Edge Ch. 9 Pt. 2

Sespian looked up from a report when the door opened and Jeddah walked into the suite. Trog sauntered into the servant’s path, but Jeddah managed to maintain his poise—and hold onto the tray with Sespian’s tea—without tripping when the cat rubbed against his shin. His lips flattened, but he was too professional to scowl at the creature leaving hairs on his uniform.

“Thank you, Jeddah,” Sespian said when the man set the tray down. Steam rolled off the freshly poured cup of tea. “Is Hollowcrest in his suite?”

Sespian kept hoping for a chance to snoop in Hollowcrest’s office, but the honor guard that trailed him everywhere made it impossible to ensure his movements would not be reported. As a boy, he had crawled through the old hypocaust ducts in the walls and under the floors, and he was thinking of taking up the hobby again.

“Yes, Sire,” Jeddah said. “I believe he has a guest.”

Sespian glanced at the grandfather clock ticking against one wall. “It’s late for entertaining.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“I don’t know the gentleman’s name.”

“Has he been here before?” Sespian asked.

“I have served him a few times, Sire.”

“Thank you.”

After Jeddah left, Sespian stared thoughtfully at the door. Maybe he should take more of an interest in what went on in Hollowcrest’s private meetings.

He pushed himself to his feet, only to double over with a hiss. Stabs of pain ricocheted through his head. The problem was getting worse every day.

Sespian sucked in a few deep breaths. The stabs subsided into a more manageable ache.

His guards came to attention when he exited the suite.

“Just going across the hall,” he said.

Three steps took him to Hollowcrest’s door. He lifted a hand to knock but paused midair. He always knocked before entering. Emperor or not, he felt it the polite thing to do. Yet he could do as he wished, right? Maybe he should surprise Hollowcrest.

His hand lowered to the knob. He twisted it and stalked inside.

Hollowcrest and a brown-clad man Sespian had never seen before stood in front of a desk. Surprise blossomed across Hollowcrest’s face, but he quickly recovered. The other man looked...guilty. What were they discussing in here so late at night?

“What can I do for you, Sire?” Hollowcrest asked.

Got to be faster, Sespian. You should have spoken first. “Who’s this?”

“This is Malford, the assistant to the Chief of Finance in the Urkart Satrapy,” Hollowcrest said. “He’s here on business.”

Mud and some sort of damp green gunk adorned the stranger’s boots. A worn leather jacket hung nearly to his knees with something that might have been a pistol bulging at his side. Neither the scarred cheek nor shaven head suggested finance expert. In addition, a hint of the sewers clung to the man.

“One wonders what route he took to arrive here,” Sespian said.

“What can I do for you, Sire?” Hollowcrest repeated.

Sespian could challenge him then and there, demand to know who the man really was. But if Hollowcrest continued to lie, what could Sespian do?

“My birthday celebration is coming up,” he said, “a huge holiday for everyone, and there’ll be the gala here at the Barracks, of course. I’d like to invite all the foreign diplomats in the city. It’s time to build real relations instead of simply humoring them.”