Death and the Emperor

Book 3 Chapter XVI: Forgery

I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being--forgive me--rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger. -- J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Kilan didn't know how to react to the news of Qihadal's pregnancy. On the one hand, it meant the High Council would finally shut up on the subject of an heir. On the other, it meant that he would have to raise a child with a woman he didn't love. And where did Death fit into all this? Would they keep her existence a secret? Would the child see her as just a mortal friend of the family?

Then there was the question of Qihadal's other child. Sooner or later this new child would learn they had an older sister. And how would they react to that news?

It was a tangled mess that would give anyone a headache. But worrying about it now would serve no purpose. He had far more immediate worries.

Namely, Iqui Nalginton's half-brother giving Nimetath's spies a long list of ways to sneak unnoticed into the Malishese royal palace.

"Should we trust him?" Nimetath asked when she finished describing everything Shuradin had told her.

Kilan and Qihadal looked at each other.

"You know him better," Kilan said. "What do you think?"

Qihadal bit her lip. Her brow furrowed. "No one knows much about Shuradin personally. He has rarely lived in the royal palace. His mother was a concubine who fell out of favour and was executed. He was her only son and the Iqui didn't want him to have the same status as the sons of favoured wives so he was sent away. He became a general of an army division in the east. His army is rarely defeated and keeps good discipline. He has at least five wives. That is as much as I know about him."

This catalogue of facts didn't give them much information about the man himself.

"Has he ever been involved in plots, Your Majesty?" Nimetath asked.

Qihadal shrugged. "All Malishese princes are. His have never been discovered, but I do not believe they were ever successful."

Kilan thought about this. "Are he and Nalginton close? Are they likely to plot together?"

Qihadal shook her head. "They would see each other as rivals to be gotten rid of, not allies."

They all fell silent for a moment. Nimetath looked over the notes she'd taken on what Shuradin had said. Qihadal bit her fingernails. Kilan tried to read what the notes said on the pieces of paper Nimetath had set on the table. All he could see were a few almost incomprehensible scribbles.

At first glance a sitting room overlooking a small garden seemed a strange place to have a discussion of such importance. It seemed better suited to a tea party, or a friendly chat. The floral patterns on the chairs and windows were utterly out-of-place in a meeting between the royal couple and their spymaster. But Qihadal had personally chosen this room. She'd said no one would think they wanted to talk about anything important in such mundane surroundings. Kilan had to admit she had a point.

"There is one thing we can confirm with relative ease," Nimetath said after she'd looked through her papers. "Shuradin says that Nalginton is moving large numbers of troops to a barracks outside the village of--" She paused and picked up the sheet of paper again. "Good heavens. Dam-fa-riam-lees?" She sounded out each syllable carefully. "Do you recognise that name, Your Majesty?"

Qihadal leaned forward to get a look at the paper. "Dhamfarĩmles," she said, her voice rising and falling in the almost sing-song intonations ubiquitous in Malishese.