Death and the Emperor

Book 3 Chapter XX: Shuradin is a Nuisance

...She scans the destruction. "Easy."
"Ah, yes," I murmur, trying to quell the emotions that rush through me at seeing my childhood home destroyed. "Simple's sibling, Easy. I don't even want to imagine the levels of chaos that would prompt visits from their cousins Straightforward and Uncomplicated."
-- Elizabeth May, The Vanishing Throne

A chilly, distant sort of politeness existed between Kilan and Qihadal for the next few days. Neither spoke to the other more than was absolutely necessary. It annoyed Kilan, but there was nothing he could do about it. What did Qihadal want him to do? Forbid Death from visiting when she wasn't doing any harm? That would make things even worse. So they existed in a sort of armed neutrality, neither outright confronting the other but neither inclined to forgive and forget.

Death, thank goodness, had the common sense to stay away for a week. When she finally returned, everyone's tempers had cooled. That didn't mean Kilan had nothing to worry about, however. She found him in the middle of reading a letter from Prince Shuradin.

"What's wrong now?" she asked, leaning on the back of his chair and reading the letter over his shoulder.

There was no reason to hide it from her, so Kilan handed her the letter. "Read that, and you'll know."

Death scanned the letter. It was almost entirely typed, except at the bottom where the writer had signed their name in shaky Carannish. "Prince Shuradin sends greetings to Emperor Tinuviel... wishes to reclaim his rightful throne... humbly requests aid... in light of recent agreement... I see. For once you do have a reason to worry, Kilan."

"Thank you," he said dryly. "What do you think about this? How should I reply?"

She handed the letter back to him and sat down on the bed. She propped her chin in her hands and tried to see into the future. It was still cloudy and unclear, but she could get a vague impression of it now. "I believe the best thing you can do is try to buy time. Give him every excuse you can think of. Pretend to be acting in his best interests. Eventually he will grow tired of it and will try to make himself Iqui on his own. Your treaty with him is only to acknowledge his claim to the throne, not necessarily to back his attempts to claim it. Reread it, and get Nimetath to read it too. She'll be able to tell you exactly how to get out of it without actually breaking it."

Kilan frowned. "It still feels uncomfortably like breaking my word."

Death almost smiled. Even after all this time, he still wasn't thinking like an emperor. "Your people will hardly criticise you for it in this case."

Their discussion moved to more general topics. Neither talked about Linyie, or Qihadal, or their recent argument. Instead they spoke of the latest High Council meeting, and a trip Kilan -- and Qihadal, though he only mentioned her in passing -- would soon be taking to one of the empire's provinces, and Nimetath's arrest of several Malishese spies.

"I think the Malishese must recruit their spies from the biggest idiots in the land," Kilan remarked. "One of the spies made no attempt to blend in with our people, and another claimed to be a merchant while obviously having no goods to sell."

Death shook her head with a wry smile. "I think you'll find that some Carannish spies are every bit as stupid."

Gradually the talk turned back to Shuradin.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm tempted to pretend I never signed that agreement," Kilan grumbled. He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, a habit he had picked up from Death. "No one would dare contradict the emperor if I ordered them not to. And what could Shuradin do? He'd whine and complain, but he can't do anything when he's staying in a distant monastery with no money and no supporters."