Death and the Emperor

Book 3 Chapter V: Treachery

I think we will end this discussion. It is not a subject upon which we are likely to agree. -- Cranford (2007), Episode 3

Gialma's first thought was that the sitting room he entered was much smaller and more dingy than he would have expected. Perhaps the Malishese weren't used to anything grander. His second thought was that the princess's clothes were so grand she made the room look even duller in comparison.

Princess Jalakanavu wore a floor-length bluish-purple gown. Its neckline reached up to her throat. Its bodice was embroidered with silvery-gold thread in a design that seemed to be circles and spirals within circles and spirals -- or were they perhaps meant to be flowers? Gold jewels were sewn onto the gown's skirt. On her head she wore an extraordinary sort of crown.[1] It was the same colour as the gown and shaped like an open fan placed atop her head, with dangling jewels hanging from it. Pulled up over the crown and hanging down from its back was a long blue veil made of some opaque fabric. If pulled down, it would have covered the princess's face and hung down to below her waist. Her hair was hidden behind the veil, but he could catch an occasional glimpse of jewels braided into it when she moved.

All in all, she was a sight such as Gialma had never seen before. Not even at the more extravagant balls he had attended had any of the woman been dressed so ostentatiously.

Why is she dressed like this for this meeting? he wondered. Surely those clothes aren't practical for plotting. Do the Malishese have no grasp of sensible outfits?

Even as he thought this, he bowed awkwardly and mumbled some sort of greeting -- not even he could have said what it was.

The princess inclined her head and said something in her strange native language. The translator repeated Gialma's greeting (or an approximation of it) in Malishese and Jalakanavu's in Carannish.

With the pleasantries over, they could turn to the reason they were there. Gialma sat down opposite the princess on a rather threadbare armchair. He found himself at a loss for words. His throat seemed to have closed up and he couldn't think of anything to say. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his head. All he wanted was to run far, far away.

The prince grabbed hold of the arm of the chair and forced himself to breathe. Panicking now would be worse than useless. He had to think clearly and calmly.

His mind's eye conjured up images of the poverty he had seen in the city. Paradoxical though it seemed, this calmed him more than any attempt at reassuring himself. That was why he was here. Because he would be a better emperor than Tinuviel. Because he would do something to help those people.

"Your Highness," Gialma said. His voice was clearer and steadier than he could ever have hoped for. "I wrote to your husband because I have heard he and I have similar goals. He wishes to see Tinuviel deposed. So do I."

~~~~

Qihadal was certain of two things. One, the Carannish language was ridiculously complicated. Two, she was going to master it if it was the last thing she did.

She squinted at the sheet of paper in front of her. The Carannish alphabet was made of lines flowing into circles, arranged haphazardly into squares or blocks to form syllables.[2] Each word was separated from the next by a small dot placed between them. Trying to puzzle out which symbol represented what sound, and trying to connect the separate sounds with recognisable words, made her head ache. 

One of her maids walked into the library and stopped beside her desk. She didn't look up from the page. That group of symbols there looked like they spelt out "kanzen". Qihadal recognised that word. It meant "butterfly". But what were the rest of the words?