Heroes' Reward (24 page)

It was petty of
me, but I anticipated enjoying watching Gifford learn he’d been betrayed by
someone he’d trusted more than anyone else. He’d betrayed so many others, so
many who had sworn loyalty to him. He’d been vicious. He deserved to be
abandoned.

The Emperor had
been put in a small tent under guard, and we all crowded into it.

He was asleep
when we entered, curled up on the floor with his hands and ankles in thick
shackles. There were bruises on his face. I hoped they were the result of his
being dragged over the ground, not deliberate abuse.

I didn’t
understand why I cared. So many people had been killed on his orders. Why
should it matter to me, what was done to him now?

Because I wanted
our people to be better than his.

He didn’t look
well: pale and thin, with deep dark circles under his eyes.

The soldier
standing over him knelt briefly and shook his shoulder roughly. “Up!” he
ordered.

Gifford jerked
awake. The soldier dragged him to his feet and kept him upright when he almost
stumbled.

It took a few
moments for him to rouse completely, and then to recollect where he was. His
gaze immediately settled on Taro. “How dare you!” he hissed. “You swore an
oath!”

That he chose
Taro as his first target was interesting. Surely he understood that it was
either the Commissioner or the Premier Pair who were in charge?

Taro responded
without hesitation. “An oath I was forced to give. I don’t need to honour it.”

“You don’t
decide whether your oaths are to be honoured!”

Taro shrugged.

Gifford was
about to say something else, perhaps make another accusation, but the
Commissioner cut him off. “Lady Green has deserted you,” he announced bluntly.
“She has taken your surviving forces and gone back to Erstwhile. You’re alone
here.”

Gifford snorted
derisively. He didn’t believe it.

Well, that was
anti-climactic.

“We have spies
among your troops. We always have. They’ve reported to us Green’s movements.”

“You will
release Us immediately,” Gifford countered. “Immediately, and We will spare
your lives.”

I didn’t think
for a moment that he wouldn’t kill everyone who’d opposed him.

“You’d spare no
one’s life,” said the Commissioner. “You’ve demonstrated for years that you
have no respect for the lives of others, for laws or customs. Your reign has
been nothing but bloodshed. We won’t allow it to continue.”

Gifford laughed.
“You are delusional. You can’t remove Us from Our throne.”

“You’re already
removed. There are no thrones here.”

“Our people will
slaughter you.”

“Your people are
running like the cowards they are.”

Gifford didn’t
say anything to that. He just stood there and glowered, his head held high.

In spite of
myself, I was impressed. I had expected him to get all hysterical. Instead,
chained up in the middle of the enemy camp, he was calm. Calmer than I would
have been.

After a long
moment, the Commissioner said, “You’ve had a difficult time. Perhaps our
questions can wait.”

What? Was the
Commissioner conceding? So easily?

“Time will make
no difference,” said Gifford. “You will live only if you release Us
immediately.”

The Commissioner
bowed slightly. “Have a pleasant day.”

That was it?

We followed the
Commissioner out of the tent. “Let me know if he changes his mind,” he ordered
one of the soldiers guarding the tent. “Or if he talks at all.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d ask that no
one speak to the Emperor without my knowledge,” the Commissioner said to the
rest of us.

We all murmured
our agreement. I had no interest in speaking with the Emperor ever again.

“May we know
your plan?” Sato asked.

“We’ll wait a
bit. If there’s no attempt by Green to get him back, his spirits will plummet.
And he’s not well. It shouldn’t take much to render him malleable.”

And that seemed
to be the end of it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Early the next
day, the Commissioner sent word that he wanted Taro and me to attend at the
Emperor’s tent.

I could hear the
Emperor long before I arrived. He’d lost his serenity and resumed his threats.
They were the same threats he’d used before, mingled with furious complaints
about how he was being treated.

But he wasn’t
able to maintain the constant stream of words. There were long pauses between
ultimata. He was tiring.

And during the
breaks, the Commissioner injected his own verbal blows. “Lady Green is far
gone. She is driving her forces as hard as she can on the road back to
Erstwhile.”

Gifford glared
at him. “
Our
forces.”

“Not anymore.”

“As though you
have the wits to comprehend Our strategy.”

“Right now,
their
strategy is running away.”

“They’ll come
back.”

“No.”

“Your opinions
are worthless, and your honesty is suspect.”

“You’re still
here.”

“Not for long.
We have thousands of loyal fighters craving your blood.”

“You
had
thousands. Those who haven’t defected to us are dead or running away.”

“You’re all
dead.”

It was strange.
This threat didn’t disturb me at all. I was confident he would never have a
chance to carry it out. Had I already come to believe it was all over?

“You have no
power left,” the Commission claimed.

“You have no
true understanding of Our power.”

“Then why don’t
you tell us about it?”

“Enough power to
have you all executed, that is all you need to know.”

“If that is all
the information you have, perhaps we should execute you right now.”

The Emperor’s
eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Clearly he hadn’t contemplated such a
possibility.

They wouldn’t
actually do that, would they? The law didn’t support such an action. And how
could anyone accept Aryne if the previous monarch had been deliberately killed
to make room for her?

“We’ll leave you
to contemplate your options,” said the Commissioner. He gave the Emperor a
shallow bow and we all followed him out of the tent.

No complaints or
threats sounded after us. The Commissioner had dealt a solid blow.

The rest of the
day was odd. For the sake of common sense, we all – soldiers, casters, and
Pairs – resumed drills, but we were distracted. The Emperor was right there,
tied up and humiliated. People didn’t know what to think about it.

Most people
would have never expected to be so close to the Emperor.

Arguments rose
from the confusion. Even a few fistfights, though no one was seriously hurt.

I was just happy
that I wouldn’t be making any of the decisions.

When Taro and I
showed up at Aryne’s tent for supper, Aryne was irritable and happy to grumble
about it. “I’m sick of spending all of my time in tents, memorizing the names
of dead people and dead laws while everyone else is risking their lives.”

“You will be
tested on this information,” Druce reminded her calmly.

“If I had the
throne, half of those laws would be going out.”

“You can’t know
how the laws work until you are in the midst of using them. It’s unwise to make
plans about a situation you haven’t experienced yet.”

“You think some
of those laws are stupid, too,” Aryne challenged.

“Of course,”
Druce admitted. “But you still shouldn’t be making plans in advance.”

“And you’re
exaggerating,” Taro chided Aryne with a stroke of her cheek. “You ride and run
every day.”

“In circles,”
Aryne muttered. “And never alone. No one ever lets me be alone.”

“You might as
well get used to it,” said Taro. “That’s part of the life of a monarch.”

“Maybe I’ll
refuse the throne.” Aryne made that threat regularly. I didn’t blame her. I
wouldn’t want to be in her place.

“You’ve often
complained that you have no useful skills,” Druce reminded her.

“This isn’t
about skill. It’s about blood and politics.”

“If you don’t
show yourself to be properly educated, neither of those will matter.”

Aryne glared at
her. “Will you just let me whine in peace?”

Druce smiled.

“I like Druce,”
I said to Taro once we’d left the young women and were on the way to our own
tent.

Taro laughed.
“That’s because she reminds you of you.”

“That’s not
true,” I objected.

“Calm,
mild-mannered, disciplined. Quite unlike a Source.”

That
was
true. “If Aryne continues to allow Druce to guide her …. Not that I would ever
want Aryne to be some kind of puppet, of course, but she will need help to do a
good job.”

“Aryne has the
excellent ability to determine the honest from the dishonourable. And Druce is
of enormous help in the lessons. She can’t memorize dozens of facts like Aryne
can, but she has a true understanding of what she learns and is able to explain
things brilliantly. I think they’ll do well. After a period of adjustment, of
course.”

“It’s a hard row
for one so young.”

If only everyone
had given her more time, just a few more years.

There were no
attacks during the night, no new word of Green before we gathered once again in
the tent holding Gifford.

There was an
addition to our party. The Deputy Commissioner stood beside the Emperor, the
tip of his sword resting against Gifford’s throat. An unsubtle reminder of the
Commissioner’s threat from the day before.

The Emperor’s
eyes looked horribly red, and he was trembling. His voice was thin when he
claimed, “You wouldn’t dare kill me.”

“We haven’t the
resources to maintain someone who serves no purpose,” said the Commissioner.

“We are your
sovereign.”

“An Emperor has
no authority if the people don’t grant it. There is no one here who considers
you our leader. There is no one among Green’s forces who continue to regard you
as their leader. I imagine once Green reaches Erstwhile, no one there will
recognize you as their ruler there, either. You have no place other than what
we give you. You have no worth beyond what you can give us.”

“You’ll be given
nothing but unimaginable pain and loss.”

Before the
Commissioner could respond, a private ducked into the tent. “Please forgive me,
sir,” he gasped. “A caravan has arrived. Dozens of wagons. They’re filled with
supplies!”

“From whom?”

“Lady Westsea.”

By gods, Fiona
was fabulous.

The Commissioner
rewarded the young man with a slight smile. “How generous of her. I’ll examine
them immediately. Your Majesty, perhaps you’d like to join me. Halperin, bring
him.”

One of the
soldiers grabbed the Emperor by the arm and pulled him after the rest of us.

I thought this
new delivery would have three effects. It would provide us with much needed
supplies. It would demonstrate Fiona’s continuing wealth. And it would show the
Emperor that people from other corners of the continent were still loyal to the
Triple S.

The wagons were
filled with dried meat and dried fruit, flour and oatmeal, sugar and molasses.
There was coal and peat. There were fans and ebony and incense and all manner
of other casting ingredients. There was leather and linen. There were
medicines. And that was just what I could see with a relatively quick look
over.

The Emperor
choked at the sight. His shoulders slumped. He actually leaned against the
soldier standing next to him.

This reaction
seemed to please the Commissioner. “You may escort His Majesty back to his
tent, Halperin.”

We ate better
that night than we had in weeks. It lifted everyone’s mood. I overheard many
soldiers compliment Fiona on her generosity. I also heard many state that if so
great a titleholder as Westsea still had faith in the Triple S, so could
everyone else.

Some suggested
that it wasn’t loyalty to the Triple S that prompted Westsea’s actions, but to
Taro.

That, said some,
was the same thing, or as good as.

Such high
spirits wouldn’t last long, I knew. The comments about the Triple S reaching
beyond its proper place would return. Many would think Aryne wasn’t a suitable
replacement for the Emperor, and would argue about who was.

Some suggested
Taro. Of course.

Through the rest
of the day and all through the night, there was no sign of Green or any of her
people.

When we visited
the Emperor again the next morning, he was shaking so hard I couldn’t imagine
how he could remain standing. There was no defiance or arrogance about him.

No one showed
him any sympathy. The Commissioner’s manner was still brisk. He still had the
Deputy Commissioner standing beside Gifford with the tip of his sword at the
Emperor’s throat.

“It was such an
impractical plan, really,” the Commissioner said in a casual tone. It sounded
like he had leapt into the middle of an almost friendly conversation. “Trying
to usurp everyone’s responsibilities and control everyone so harshly from
Erstwhile. The mere difficulty of obtaining reliable information over such
distances was bound to cripple your efforts to impose your brutal regime. How
could you dominate everyone when you didn’t even have current information about
their actitivies?”

I didn’t
understand why the Commissioner was taking that conversational road. What did
any of that matter?

“In fact, I
can’t believe anyone with any intelligence would think this plan would work at
all,” the Commissioner continued. “Was this
your
plan, Your Majesty?”

The Emperor
quickly looked up at him.

“Or did someone
else devise this plan for you?”

Interesting
idea.

“Someone who
suggested, perhaps, that the laws you inherited were incorrect or weak. Someone
who convinced you that the Triple S was your enemy. Someone who convinced you
to execute all of the titleholders who were once your strongest supporters.
Someone who convinced you the best way to demonstrate your power was a direct
physical assault on Shidonee’s Gap.”

Ah. The
Commissioner was verbally pounding down Gifford’s morale.

“Someone who has
deserted you in the hands of your enemy. Possibly assuming you would be killed.
Someone who is running back to Erstwhile where she will convince her handpicked
titleholders that she, as the Emperor’s fiancé, is the only legitimate heir to
the Imperial throne.”

The focus of the
Emperor’s eyes shifted all over the place. He was going through past incidents,
I imagined, seeing them in a new light.

“Tell me, Your
Majesty, when did you start feeling ill?”

The blood
drained from Gifford’s face.

As far as I was
concerned, this meant that Gifford, right then, came to believe that Green had
deliberately done something to him to make him weak, to undermine his
authority.

He would start
talking, giving us all of the information the Commissioner demanded. To spite
Green, if for no other reason. It was the only power he had left.

Then he
straightened his spine. He stared at the Commissioner. He took a step back, and
I thought he was going to make a desperate attempt to run. Instead he thrust
himself forward and forced his throat onto the tip of the sword, pushing it in
deep.

For a moment,
the Deputy Commissioner just stood there, gaping in shock. Then he yanked his
blade free.

It was already
too late, though. Blood gushing from his throat, the Emperor collapsed.

“Get Browne!”
the Commissioner shouted, and a private ran out of the tent.

It wouldn’t do
any good. I’d seen enough to know all the bandages in the world wouldn’t stop
Gifford’s death, and no spell Browne cast would manage it, either. Healing
casts didn’t work on suicides.

“Everyone out!”
the Commissioner barked, and we were all quick to obey.

It was less than
a fraction of an hour, though, when Browne and the Commissioner left the tent.
“The Emperor is dead,” the Commissioner announced bluntly.

I felt oddly
disappointed. And angry. He’d taken the easy way out, avoiding responsibility
like a coward. He should have faced the fury and retribution he deserved.

The Commissioner
asked Browne, “Do you have any means of preserving the body?”

Browne, looking
a little stupefied, blinked her eyes slowly before asking, “What?”

“We have to take
the body back to Erstwhile, to prove that the Emperor is dead. We don’t want
the body rotting on the way.”