Death and the Emperor

Book 3 Chapter VIII: A Traitor in the Palace

There go the loves that wither,
The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
Red strays of ruined springs.
-- Algernon Charles Swinburne, The Garden of Proserpine

"I'm sorry, Niuyínkir, but the law is quite certain. Only the firstborn legitimate child can inherit. If there is no legitimate child, the property and title go to the nearest relative." The lawyer said all this in such a cool, uninterested tone that no one would have thought anyone's future depended on what she saw saying. "In this case, your aunt Kawaro."

Niuyínkir listened to this with an angry scowl on her face. "And there is no way for me to contest my aunt's claim?"

"No. No court would rule in your favour over hers."

The lawyer sorted the rest of her papers into her briefcase and showed herself out of the late countess's study. Said countess's daughter remained sitting in a chair by the desk, scowling at a portrait of her mother.

A stranger might have thought that under normal circumstances Niuyínkir was a reasonably attractive young woman of average height, with rather expensive clothes and hair that was always carefully-styled. The people of Traeron would have said that their countess's daughter was rather too concerned with her appearance and luxuries than her allowance could support. She had gone away to college, and while there some shocking rumours had circulated about her. Rumours of wild behaviour, drunken parties, frequent indiscretions... and other, darker things. Nothing scandalous had ever been proved about her. But when her mother heard the stories, she summoned her home at once.

If anyone could have seen Niuyínkir now, as she got up to pace around the room and occasionally stopped to glower at the portrait, they might have wondered if there was some truth in the gossip. Her face was drawn and furious, and there was a cruel light in her eyes.

She stopped her pacing after some minutes. She nodded once, as if she had reached a decision. And then she turned and stormed out of the room.

For all the people of Traeron heard of her in the weeks and months that followed, she might as well have vanished off the face of the planet.

~~~~

Gialma's first action the next day was to send a chenla-message to his parents. He told them of Tinuviel's offer, and his decision to accept it. Then he went to visit the counsellor whose place he would be taking.

He and Counsellor Glerval had a surprisingly amiable and informative discussion on what the High Council was, how it worked, and what his duties would be. Afterwards he returned to the palace for dinner.

Dinner at Zasordoth Palace was an unusual business. Perhaps this was the normal way of holding royal dinners. Gialma had no experience with such things. But it certainly struck him as odd. The Emperor, Empress, Princess Nadriet, and all the noblemen, important dignitaries, and diplomats who happened to be in the palace at the minute all had dinner together, and no one was allowed to leave until the Emperor dismissed them. Luckily for Gialma's nerves, Tinuviel seemed as little fond of awkward formal dinners as he himself was. The ordeal lasted only long enough for everyone to finish eating, and then they were dismissed.

As a member of the royal family and a first cousin to the Emperor, Gialma was given a seat almost at the very head of the table. He sat beside Princess Nadriet, and opposite him sat Aunt Nimetath.

Part of him, the part only too used to ambitious aristocrats all but literally throwing themselves or their daughters or sisters at him, wondered if there was an ulterior motive to his being seated beside Nadriet. Another part, the part that was constantly worrying if or when his treason would be discovered, wondered if he was seated across from Nimetath so she could keep an eye on him.