Emperor and Clown (45 page)

Emshandar
snapped, “Silence!” and the players seemed to freeze. “How long since the
ceremony, my dear?”

Inos
hesitated. “Two months. No! Longer . . .” The old man smiled, and although it
was doubtless intended as a kindly expression, his smile made Kadolan think of
a skull. “One month is adequate. A bridegroom who does not consummate a
marriage within one month after the wedding is deemed to be impotent, and the
marriage is henceforth null and-”

“Impotent!”
Azak bellowed. He tried to move, and the tribune blocked him again. “There is
no such law in Arakkaran!”

“It
is the law here!” Emshandar said, showing his teeth once more. “You have our
permission to withdraw, your Majesty!”

Azak
was speechless.

“Good-bye,
Azak,” Inos said. Her voice was soft, but there was a smile hovering around her
face. “Thank you for what you did to help.”

“You
are my wife!”

“No
longer.” She walked forward to him and looked up sadly. “It would not have
worked. I could never have been happy.”

“You
swore-”

“Yes,
and I am sorry. I did not know. But I could not have been happy, and I think you
would not have been happy, either. You did care that much, I am sure. You would
have tried. I’m sure you would have tried. It is better this way.”

The
big man clenched his fists, glaring down at her. Then he raised his gaze to the
imperor on his throne. “I understood you wished peace between my land and
yours?” he said threateningly.

The
spectators stiffened, Emshandar flinched. Kade reflected that wars had been
started for much less cause than the theft of a monarch’s wife ...

Inos
put her head on one side and regarded the sultan thoughtfully. “You don’t like
sorcery, Azak, do you? I’m an adept now.”

“Adept?”
He fell back a step.

“An
adept. Rap told me two words of his words. He had too much power, you see?
Burns out the mundane vector . . .” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Perhaps I
haven’t got that quite right! Rap can explain, when he gets here. But he told
me two of them, and then everything was all right. I’m an adept now, Azak.”

“Sorcery!”
he muttered, as if it were an obscenity. Inos’s smile became feline. “Of course
you might not be too bad as a husband-not now that I have ways to control you
if you get out of hand.” Shaking his head vigorously, Azak backed away another
step.

“No?
Well, then-good-bye, Azak!”

She
moved as if about to kiss him, and again he retreated.

“You
may withdraw, your Majesty!” the imperor repeated firmly.

Azak
snarled, as if planning a warlike retort.

“I
know you loved me,” Inos whispered. “No one doubts that.”

Pause
... The company seemed to hold its breath. “Love!” he muttered angrily. “I
brought this on myself, you mean?” Then he bowed stiffly to the throne, spun on
his heel, and stalked swiftly away, a haughty giant with his pride bleeding.
The sound of his boots faded into the darkness. The spectators relaxed.

Inosolan
came floating through the copse of candelabra as if dancing, heading for
Kadolan, and other people moved nervously out of her path.

“It’s
all right,” she said softly. “Everything’s all right.”

Kadolan
rose, and this time a hand assisted her instead of stopping her.

“I’m
glad, dear. Very glad.”

They
hugged, and certainly Inosolan felt quite solid, and normal. There was a faint
smell of burned cloth about her, that was all. Kadolan sent a secret prayer of
thanks to the Gods, with a promise of many more to come-later, when she had
more time.

Conversation
was stirring again. Marshal Ithy bowed to Inosolan and kissed her hand. A lady
senator murmured congratulations. The imperor’s head had drooped as if he was
almost asleep, and some of the candles had guttered out already. Visions of a
soft, warm bed floated through Kadolan’s mind like temptations of the Evil, but
obviously the imperor was waiting for his sorcerer, and no one would leave be=
fore he did. Weary, weary!

“Sire?”
That was Senator Epoxague, bowing before the throne.

The
imperor rubbed his eyes, and then said, “Your Eminence?”

“May
I be so bold as to ask whether the Impire will now recognize my cousin as,
Queen of Krasnegar?” Emshandar blinked, then smiled faintly. “She does appear
to have relinquished any claim to Arakkaran. The wardens . . .” He glanced
around at the empty thrones in their isolated bubbles of light. “Yes! We
recognize her royal state. We see no obstacle.” Inosolan sniggered playfully.
Putting an arm around Kade, she dragged her over to the throne, and they both
curtsyed.

The
senator bowed. “Inos, you are confident that Master Rap is all right? That he
will return?”

“Oh
yes,” Inos said airily, as if immolation and resurrection were ordinary,
everyday affairs. “He said he would. You can always trust Rap’s word. He’ll be
along shortly, I’m sure.”

Epoxague’s
eyes twinkled, and he turned again to the throne. “Sire? This has been a most
memorable evening. If nothing else, it has surely witnessed the first divorce
to be performed by a reigning imperor in ... a very long time, shall we say?
But why stop there? Why not a wedding, also?”

“Wedding?”
Kadolan said, startled.

Inos
clapped her hands. “Yell Yes! Can you? I mean, would you?”

The
gaunt old imperor seemed to be quite as startled as Kadolan. He studied the
senator darkly for a moment, and Inos also, as if suspecting mockery. Then he
shrugged and bared big teeth in a smile. “If I say I can conduct a wedding, I
don’t know who will argue. And if that is what your sorcerer wants, then I
shall be happy to oblige him, for I am deeply in his debt.”

“Inos!”
Kadolan whispered. “Not tonight! Surely this is not necessary?”

“I
hope it will be!” Inos said, full of glee.

The
senator coughed discreetly. “It is not a rare custom, Kade, here in Hub. Big,
formal, temple weddings take time to prepare. A brief civil ceremony in advance
... not uncommon. Not usually advertised, of course-but often thought
advisable.”

Kadolan
said, “Oh!” doubtfully. Of course young blood ran hot, and she could understand
the logic. It just did not seem quite, er, seemly, but if that was how it was
done in Hub ...

“It
discourages anyone from backing out of the contract is what he means,” the
imperor said. “But it is not improper, Highness.”

And
if the imperor said so, then it was so.

“And
it is the Gods’ command!” Inos beamed triumphantly. “Trust in love, Aunt!”

The
spectators were beyond being surprised by anything now, but Kadolan sensed a
bright mood of amusement and jubilation rippling out from that blissful smile
on Inos’s face. It showed in the answering smiles and quiet shrugs, overriding
the chill and fatigue. The imperium was restored, the war canceled, the raider
dead, the succession secure ... Why not a wedding?

“If
your Majesty says so, then I certainly have no objection,” Kadolan said. She
had no right to object anyway. Inos was of age now, and a queen. Suddenly Kade
felt discouragingly old. Her task was finished. With Inosolan married to a
sorcerer ...

“Very
well!” Emshandar said. He chuckled and heaved himself more upright on his
throne. “From what Master Rap told me earlier this evening, I do not think he
will have any objections whatsoever. But I do wish you would produce the
bridegroom!”

Plop!

Everyone
jumped as Master Rap appeared in their midst, but he was only what he had been
before, a tangle-haired, oversized faun in leather work clothes. Whatever he
had been doing had taken a toll, though; for a moment he just stood, slumped,
dejected. Then with an obvious effort, he turned and peered blearily up at the
imperor.

“If
you know of any out-of-work sorcerers, Sire,” he muttered, “there is a vacant
palace to the west.” The onlookers flinched, but Emshandar nodded approvingly. “You
have done noble work this day, Sorcerer. For me,- and for all Pandemia. I think
few will mourn Zinixo.”

Rap
had discovered Inos standing beside him. He smiled wanly at her. He murmured, “Thanks!”
almost inaudibly.

“I
only wish,” Emshandar said, a little more loudly, “that you would accept the
Red Throne yourself!”

“Me?”
Rap rubbed his eyes. “No, not me.” He went back to studying Inos’s radiant
smile, almost as if it puzzled him. The imperor frowned at being so
peremptorily refused.

“Sire?”
Inos said impatiently.

“Mm?
Oh ... Very well!” The old man rose unsteadily, leaving the sword and buckler
on the throne. He stepped down to join the others, wavering a little; but when
he straightened he was taller than anyone there except Rap. “How does it go?
Are there any here among you present who know cause why this man and this
woman-Shandie!”

The
little prince had hurtled in from the darkness and wrapped himself around
Master Rap’s legs like a blanket. “Rap! Rap! You’re all right, Rap?”

The
sorcerer laughed and patted his shoulder. “Yes, I’m fine! You’re all right?”

The
prince nodded vigorously. “Yel! Yes, I’m all right!”

The
imperor said, “Shandie!” again, menacingly. Rap tousled the boy’s hair. “Sorry,
Sire! You were saying?”

They
were all so weary, Kadolan thought. They should all be in bed, and especially
that exhausted old imperor. Master Rap also was as limp and haggard as if he
had not slept in days. Only Inos seemed to have recovered completely, and she
looked as if she were floating.

“Anyone
who knows cause . . .” The imperor scowled. “Oh, never mind that bit. Do you,
Rap, take this . . .”

“You
like horses, Shandie,” Rap said. “Maybe you an’ me can go for a ride tomorrow,
huh?”

The
boy’s reply was drowned in a cry of objection from Inos and a roar from the
imperor: “as your wife?”

“Wife?”
Rap said faintly. “Wife?” Then he seemed to register the grouping-Inos at his
side, and Senator Epoxague beyond her, as honorary father of the bride ... Kade
at her back and the imperor in front. Marshal Ithy had appointed himself best
man, beside Rap.

He
stared at Inos as if he had never seen her before. Certainly he could have
never seen her look happier. Kadolan sensed that this awful day was about to
produce another of its sickening reversals.

“Wife?”
he whispered. He paled. “Wife? Oh, Inos! No! Not now!”

She
started as though he had slapped her. “What? But, Rap, Azak’s gone! I’m free
now! I love you, and I know you love-”

“No!
Inos! I can’t!” He recoiled in horror, bumping into Marshal Ithy without
seeming even to notice him. “We mustn’t!”

“Why
not?” she cried angrily.

He
was shaking his head. “Because ... because ... The words . . .”

“I
don’t care if you’re a sorcerer, you dummy!”

“But
... that’s it! I’m not] I’m ... I’m ... Oh, Gods! No! No! No!”

Master
Rap spun on his heel and raced off into the darkness, following the path Azak
had taken. The sound of his footsteps faded into silence.

Inos
turned to Kadolan with a wail. “Aunt? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I
don’t know, dear! I don’t know!”

Obviously
something was wrong, though. Very wrong. It had to be more than Master Rap’s
obvious dislike of weddings.

I
loved a young man,

Young
man, Oh ...

I
loved a young man,

Long
ago ...

I
gave him gold, and rubies, too,

I
gave my all, his heart to woo.

Young
man, young man, young man,

Oh
... Long ago ...

The
weather had changed, as if to acknowledge the imperor’s return. Late-afternoon
sunshine made a brave effort to gladden the palace gardens, where a last few
battered roses were a lament to lost summer. The branches above them were bare,
and sodden heaps of yellow leaves lay on the damp earth by the little boxwood
hedges. It was not winter yet.

Inos’s
voice floated out through the windows of the music room. Her fingers raced over
the keys of the spinet, wringing skeins of melody from them in complex arpeggios
and glissades and counterpoint.

Jalon,
weep your eyes out!

She
stopped with an ear-stabbing discord and spun around on the stool. An audience
of about thirty men stood there with their stupid mouths agape-secretaries,
flunkies, even legionaries. She slammed down the lid and jumped to her feet.
Quailing before her anger, they started to back away, then all turned tail and
stampeded out of the room.

Idiots!

It
was two days since she had become an adept.

It
was already beginning to pall. She could ride anything in the palace stables.
Sketching had always been one of her talents, and now she could dash off a
likeness in half a dozen strokes. Poetry, needlework ... no problem. She had
even attempted a little archery, and there was certainly nothing to, that
anymore. She had extracted a bushel-basketful of military secrets out of
Marshal Ithy without him even realizing, and the previous night she had danced
that brainless (but rather cute) young Tiffy to utter exhaustion. There was
nothing to anything any more!

But
where in the names of all the Gods was Rap? Slipping her feet back into the
shoes she had recently kicked off, Inos set her jaw firmly and departed in
search of the imperor.

Finding
the antechamber was easy. Getting past it was not, even for an adept-there were
just too many heralds and footmen and chamberlains. By the time she had reduced
the sixth or eighth to sweating, blushing, stammering cooperation, the first
was starting to recover. Trouble was, they might lose their heads if they
admitted her without permission, and the fear of death was a powerful antidote
to charm.