Death and the Emperor

Book 2 Chapter X: Kilan's Plan

The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked. Who really knows how bad it is? -- Jeremiah 17:9, NLT

Death had temporarily taken leave of her senses. That was the only possible explanation. She could not possibly have voluntarily offered to defy her purpose, break the laws Fate had laid down for her, and interfere with mortals who were not about to die.

And yet, hadn't she been doing exactly that for years, in her relationship with Kilan?

Kilan. It all came back to Kilan. He was doing something to her. He made her think and feel and do things she would never have considered before. It was almost unsettling.

She shook her head and went to collect another soul. People didn't stop dying just because Death had become a love-struck fool.

~~~~

The week dragged slowly by. Kilan's duties as Emperor meant that he had to attend operas, balls and public engagements with startling frequency. Normally he accepted these as just another matter he had no choice in. But it grew increasingly hard to endure the stares people gave him, and the way they turned to their friends to whisper about him.

And yet, as the days went on, the whispering died down. The gossips found other scandals to draw their attention. Before the week was up Kilan's life had almost gone back to normal.

It was just as well, because now he had the additional stress of explaining his plan to Qihadal.

His wife had claimed one of the gardens as hers, and she spent most of her time there. It had been made over fifty years before by Kilan's grandfather as a birthday present for his sister, and had largely been neglected since his death. It had once been full of trees and flowerbeds. Now it was overgrown with weeds. Qihadal spent her days pruning and digging. Kilan worried sometimes that she might injure herself. But she seemed happy enough, so he said nothing.

That was where he found her today. She had her hair tied back in a ponytail and she wore an old, mud- and dust-stained shirt and pair of trousers. With a pair of garden scissors she snipped viciously at a creeping vine, looking more like a gardener than an Empress.

Kilan eyed those scissors warily. She could probably chop someone's head off with those. And if this plan went ahead and she faced her rapist, she would probably feel like doing just that.

"Excuse me," he called hesitantly, staying well out of reach of the scissors. "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

Qihadal set the scissors down and turned to face him. "You do not need to ask me, do you?" she said, giving him a puzzled look. "You are Emperor. You can speak at me when you want."

Her Carannish was still not perfect, though she no longer needed a translator to be understood.

"I suppose," Kilan said dubiously, "but it's much more polite to ask permission before speaking to someone."

Qihadal gave him a look of non-comprehension. He decided to let the matter pass.

"There's something I have to tell you," he said. He looked around the garden to be sure there were no servants within hearing range. The only other person visible was an under-gardener digging up a flowerbed at the other side of the garden. "It's about that evidence you spoke of."

Qihadal went very still. Her face turned pale, and a pained expression crossed it. Yet when she spoke her voice was steady. "Go on."

"Death can find the man who... attacked you," he said slowly and carefully, unsure of which words to use.