The Palace

"You

what

?" said Yasina. She was not pleased.

- "I want to go home, Highness. To visit my Father. It has been weeks - and his health -"

- "You want to leave me," she said, "after ... all that has passed between us." She was playing me - she wasn't even halfway sincere.

- "No, Highness." I said. "I don't want to leave you. But I worry about my Father. I have not seen him for nearly a month."

She growled. She wasn't happy. But it was hard to argue with concern for an ailing father. So Yasina avoided looking at me.

- "You know that I will return." I told her. "It would only be for a few days."

- "A day and a night." she snapped. "No more." This was her compromise; I could go, as I had requested, but she could still assert her authority while appearing magnanimous.

- "Thank you, Highness."

- "You must go hooded. Notroh will take you, and collect you the following morning."

Notroh was the young cross-eyed guard. I sympathized with him: not only did he have to deal with his ocular condition, but his parents had named him after one of the most famous of our love poets. The teasing he must have endured ...

He had taken over the duty of escorting me around the Palace. And that constantly made me worry. Where was Sartag? I had been afraid to ask, fearing the worst.

But why not? She was already angry with me. It wasn't until I began to speak that I realized Yasina could easily revoke the permission she had grudgingly granted.

- "Why not Sartag, Highness? He has been to my house before."

The Empress barely flinched. "Sartag? Why? Did you two become friends, that night on the roof? Sartag has been re-assigned. He always wanted to be a soldier, so I granted him his wish. He serves with General Pitarryat now."

I wish I could say that I believed her completely. I liked her. I lusted after her. And I enjoyed her company, even when we weren't having sex - well, on most days.

But I never forgot how ruthless she could be, in pursuit of her ambitions for herself and her son. It was also hard to lose sight of the fact that her initial plan for me included my violent death. It was only through luck that I was still alive.

The next day, Yasina's nobler instincts prevailed. She sent me a purse full of coins, and her best wishes. Nanka washed the dye from my hair. Notroh escorted me out of the Palace.

As we left by the Water Gate, we passed the group of beggars who customarily worked this location. There were the blind, the halt, the hideously disfigured. Some of these injuries were self-inflicted, of course: if you are going to have a career as a beggar, you might as well be a good one. And the competition in this field was as tough as in any other.

But I remembered one young boy that I had observed on my way into the Palace, that first day. He sat quietly, legs outstretched before him. Someone - his mother, perhaps - had dislocated or broken both of his knees and both his ankles, probably at birth. He could not walk at all, but only drag himself across the ground. It was awful to watch.

I headed straight for him, and crouched down before him, careful to hide my face. It was highly unlikely that it would make any difference, but why take chances?

- "What is your name?" I asked.

There was nothing wrong with his face, except for the lines of pain etched into it by years of misery. Still, he mustered a smile. "Serim, Lord. At your service."

- "And I at yours, Serim." I replied, placing a coin in his hand. "It is a good day."

- "it is indeed, Lord." he said.

Notroh had mixed feelings about my stop.

- "It is good to give alms." he said. "But you must be careful not to show your face."

- "I was careful. And I will continue to be." I answered.

I knocked on my own door. It was worth it just to see the look on Minika's face when she opened it. Her jaw dropped, and then a huge smile lit up her face.

- "He's home!" she cried out. Min looked like she wanted to wrap her arms around me, but she would never do that in public.

- "He's home?" said Father. It

was

a good day, for he was out of bed, standing upright. I hurried over to embrace him.

Notroh had the grace to excuse himself. "I will see you tomorrow morning." he said.

- "Tomorrow?" said my father. "You can only stay one night?" Min looked disappointed as well.

- "I'll explain everything." I said.

Once the door was closed, Father launched into a stream of questions. "Are you well? Are you safe? We were so worried - no news after that soldier brought some medication and the money - where have you been, for so long? What are you doing?"

- "All in good time, Father." I replied. I got him to sit down, and Minika rushed to make coffee.

I waited until she had finished preparing it, so that she could hear as well. The story I had concocted was this: an important Palace functionary, who had the support of the Emperor, wanted a new copy of the works of Dologe and Khizina.

- "Why you?" asked Father. I knew that my story wasn't perfect, but I hadn't expected it to be challenged so quickly.

- "He wanted a fresh outlook, from a new young scholar. New, because he no longer trusts some of the older versions they have. Young, because the work could take years." I said. It came as a surprise to me, that I could lie so quickly, and so fluently.

- "But now Zoer is dead." said Father. "Doesn't that change things? We were so frightened, that horrible night. Were you in danger?"

I had been in no danger, the Night of the Knives, I told them. I wanted to reassure Father, so that he would not worry about me. The Emperor's death had not changed the project. My employer now had the ear of the Emperor's widow, the new Emperor's mother.

- "That woman?" Father's eyebrows went up. She was the stuff of legend, and the talk of every neighborhood. "You know that she had every other contender for the throne murdered - in a single night?"

- "You probably know more about it than I do, Father." I said. That was truth. I rarely spoke to anyone at the Palace, except Yasina, Nanka, and Notroh. I no longer saw Opkor (a blessing) or Sartag (a concern). No one told me anything.

Father rubbed his hands together, and launched into his tale. Prince Igris, stabbed by one of his own associates. Alperix, slaughtered in the street by a gang of thugs. Levra, murdered by a trusted officer. General Manathalo, his supporter, killed by his own concubine while he slept. Prince Nathred - no one knew for sure. Empress Norcan, Zoer's first wife, was supposedly locked away inside the Palace, but people had seen her alive and apparently unharmed.

I hadn't heard any of this. Yasina was ruthless, and efficient - that I knew. But the sheer scope of her achievements defied belief.

- "Was there any trouble here?" I asked.

- "Not here. But a few other places in the city. Oh - you remember Sumad? Of course you do - his home was broken into. Looters, they say. He was stabbed to death. Terrible." Father shook his head. "One almost wishes for a long reign for Yasina's brat - just so that we don't have a repeat of this business for many years."

I managed to keep a straight face at the news of Sumad's death. But the fact that it had happened the Night of the Knives struck me as too much of a coincidence.

- "Have you met her? The new Empress?" he wanted to know.

- "I'm just an insignificant clerk, Father. A minor scholar, at best." The last thing I needed was for Father to tell everyone on our street that his son had met the Empress, the infamous Yasina. If that story reached the Palace, or she heard about it ...

To change the subject, I showed him the money. They were paying me well, and he was proud of it. We talked for over an hour, until Father grew tired. Min had been listening attentively the whole. She interrupted for the first time, to suggest that he needed a rest.

- "My son is home!" he protested. "I can rest later."

- "You will fall asleep over dinner, if you don't rest now." she insisted. He gave in, eventually.

Once she got him settled, Min rejoined me in the main room.

- "Have coffee with me." I suggested.

- "That wouldn't be ... appropriate." she said.

- "What isn't appropriate is that I've been away far too long, leaving you alone with the burden of looking after Father." I said.

- "He is a wonderful man, like his son. I like looking after him." she said.

- "Sit down with me. Please."

She did, but with some reluctance. "This isn't normal." she said.

- "These are not normal times."

- "You cut your hair." she said. "And what happened to your fingers?"

Minika was far too observant, and much too intelligent. She also knew me in ways that my father did not. I couldn't fool her, and she was letting me know it.

So I took her hands in mine. "Min - I can't tell you everything. In fact, it's best that I don't tell you anything at all."

- "You're in danger?"

- "Not ... exactly. I'm not in control of my comings and goings. I answer to ... powerful people. They pay me well. But they don't often recognize that those who serve them, who work for them, have lives of their own. I had to ask for permission to come home. And it was only grudgingly granted."

"I would rather be here, with you and Father. Please forgive me when I am not."

Min was still worried, but my words had reassured her somewhat. I took her to bed then, to show her that I still wanted her.

She was no great beauty, like Yasina. Her nose was broken, she bore scars, and had a hole punched in her cheek, just above her lip. Her body would not inspire poems, either: her breast were only gentle swells, although her nipples were like plump, juicy raisins. She was still scrawny, rather than slender.

On this day, she didn't protest too much when I kissed my way down her body, and spread her legs with my hands, that I might access with lips and tongue. She sighed deeply, and trembled like a leaf when she reached orgasm.

She would have returned the favor, but I wanted to be inside her. Min smiled at me as I entered her, and continued smiling as I gently rocked back and forth between her thighs. My own orgasm snuck up on me, arriving suddenly and unexpectedly.

We lay, wrapped together, for some time. Then I stirred, and sat up. I had questions for her, mostly about household management. But Min forestalled me, with a question of her own.

- "You have a woman, at the Palace?"

I knew better than to try to lie to her.

- "No one like you, Min." I said.

- "I guessed," she said, "because you were so gentle. While you spoke with your Father, I anticipated how you would take me. I thought that you would be demanding, impatient - perhaps even a little rough, because you'd been away from me for so long."

- "Min, I -"

She interrupted me. "I'm not unhappy. You have treated me like a lover, from the very beginning. I am happy here. Truly happy. I just want you to be happy, too. And safe."

That led to another bout of lovemaking. This time, I let her see the intensity, the urgency. We made enough noise that I worried about waking Father.

- "He can sleep through anything." Min told me.

She was right.

*********

I didn't see Yasina for several days. Instead, she sent me instructions through Opkor. The eunuch still seemed to bear me a grudge for having survived the Night of the Knives. But he tried to be business-like as he informed me of my new schedule.

- "Part of your employment, " he said, in that high-pitched voice, "will involve proofreading and transcribing. There are some letters which the Empress sends, which contain information of a sensitive nature ..."

- "Secrets." I said. Opkor glared at me. He didn't appreciate the interruption.

But most of my work, apparently, would consist of following Emperor Bishkur around, and observing him, through screens, or from behind lattices. There were also a few public instances, such as when he dispensed justice, or heard petitions, that Opkor stationed me at the back of the room - hooded, of course.

Bishkur had changed - a little. He still made eye contact before speaking to a person, no matter how humble they were. He even addressed servants in this manner. Some called this habit humility, while others described it as 'his remarkable powers of concentration'.

He continued to speak in short, clipped phrases, pausing frequently. Sometimes, it still seemed to me that he was seeking the most appropriate word. And he continued to limit his movements to only the most essential, with never a wasted gesture. His courtiers, of course, praised his 'precision', or his 'directness'. Honestly, these flatterers probably celebrated the fragrance of his farts, or the solidity of his bowel movements.

Bishkur was still a young man, but he was smiling more frequently. He would probably never be a warrior, but he was well on his way to becoming a scholar-Emperor. His hands would never be calloused from holding a sword, but they were beginning to become ink-stained. I would have to closely watch the progress of these little marks on his fingers, and match them on my own.

As I followed Bishkur, I found him to be - from a distance, anyway - rather likeable.

And that worried me.

I shadowed him for a week, until I was beginning to mimic his gestures and speech patterns unconsciously. Likeable, and slightly effeminate. But it was significant that I thought of him as 'Bishkur' - and not as 'the Emperor'.

Yasina was the Empress, the power behind the throne, and the ruthless one. And everybody knew it. Including me.

She sent for me, finally. She was wearing more modest clothing - and still looked fabulous. Yasina was all business, that day. She made no mention of my visit home.

Opkor was present, too.

- "You've been watching my son for a week." she said.

- "I have, Highness."

- "Tell me your impressions." she said.

I told her everything: the eye-contact, the short phrases, the precise movements. I also referred to his intelligence, the more frequent smiles, and even the ink stains.

- "Yes, I've noticed the smiling." she agreed. "He seems happier." Opkor wrote down a summary of what I had said. "Anything else?" asked Yasina.

I saw no benefit in holding back - especially if I would be called on, at some point in the future, to impersonate Bishkur. "Three things, Highness. Will you forgive me if I tell you my honest impressions?"

- "Tell me the truth, Carrach. You can't go wrong that way." she replied, without a hint of irony.

- "Some of the subject I mean to address could be considered ... sensitive." I warned.

Yasina frowned, and thought about that for a moment. Then she came to a decision. "Opkor." she said. "You may leave us."

For a moment, I thought the eunuch might protest, but the look in her eye did not invite discussion. She waited until he was gone.

- "I will tell Opkor most everything, anyway." she told me. "But you should not act superior with him. He dislikes you enough already."

Then Yasina surprised me. "Bishkur? Do you want to come out?" she called.

He did. The new Emperor of Zamarka had been sitting behind a carved screen, out of my sight. I had been watching him for over a month, of course, but it had never occurred to me that he might know of my existence.

I bowed, but Bishkur came right over to me, and stood only a step away. He was fascinated by my face.

- "Your nose ... the eyes ..." He was fascinated. I couldn't blame him; I was, too. "Only the hair is wrong." he said.

- "Nanka dyed it. It was perfect. She can do so again, at need." said Yasina.

- "Amazing. It is a pleasure" said the Emperor, "to meet you. It is so odd. I find that it is ... akin to meeting myself. You even sound like me."

- "Carrach is a talented mimic." said his mother. "Now - do you want to hear what he was going to say? Because I do."

Bishkur agreed. He retrieved a chair from behind the screen, and placed it beside Yasina. When he was seated, she nodded to me. "Three things." she prompted.

- "Ah, yes." I said. In my head, I was quoting Sartag: 'Shitshitshit ...'

- "Go on - and do your best of impersonation of Bishkur while you're at it. Let him see it."

It wasn't as hard to do as you might think. Yasina had seen me perform before, and her son was the most appreciative audience any actor could have asked for. He nodded encouragingly throughout, and smiled whenever I caught his movements or mannerisms exactly.

- "The Emperor" I said, "is well-liked. He is very ... likeable. His subjects respond to him in a ... positive manner. But this could present a problem."

- "How so?' asked Yasina.

- "They like him, Highness. But do they fear him? They may respect his ... wisdom, his judgment, even his ... scholarly achievements. But will they leap to obey his commands?"

Bishkur stopped smiling, at that point.

- "What would you suggest?" he asked.

- "That is not my ... prerogative to say, Highness."

- "Go ahead." said Yasina. "I'm curious."

- "I'm not ...certain. I have yet to see the Emperor when he is ... angry."

- "He doesn't get angry." said his mother. She turned to her son. "I've told you: you have to be more unpredictable. Sentence some miscreants to death, throw a temper tantrum, or break something ... anything."

- "I don't get angry enough to ... throw a tantrum." said Bishkur.

Interesting, I thought, that he chose that option. "Perhaps, Highness, you need not wait until you are angry. What if you merely ... simulated anger?"

- "Throw a tantrum on purpose?" he said, intrigued by the idea. "What would that look like?"

I threw my arms into the air. "Fool! Dolt!" I shouted. Then I pointed (well away from either of them). "Get this man

out of my sight

!"

Then I resumed my normal voice. "Like that, Highness? You wouldn't need to execute anyone - only make your court think that you might."

Bishkur looked thoughtful. Yasina simply said: "We'll work on it. Second?"

- "Ah. Has the Emperor ever received any military training?" I asked.

- "Why would he need it?" asked Yasina.

I looked at Bishkur. "There may come a time, Highness, when you will want to know how many troops a commander will need for a particular campaign. Too few, and he might fail. Too many - and you may find that those men were needed elsewhere."

I had dropped the imitation, and was speaking as myself. "Your Generals will respect you more, Highness, if you understand their difficulties. Your father was an esteemed warrior in his time."

- "That's true." he observed. Yasina was studying me curiously, but let me go on.

- "Study military history, Highness. Learn about battlefields, and your soldiers, as well as the enemies they face. You will be better able to ascertain if your Generals are truthful when they make their reports. No one likes an armchair General - it's true - but your Highness is too wise, and not arrogant enough, to become one of those."

- "You think that I should ... learn about military matters." said Bishkur. "There is sense in that. Also, it could prove ... enlightening."

- "If I may be so bold, Highness -" I continued, while I still could. "You may also wish to take exercise with weapons. Cast a spear, use a bow, and a sword. A few calluses on your hands would not go amiss."

- "No." said Yasina.

- "Highness." I said, addressing her. "Your son is in excellent shape, physically. But he is young. Some physical training would benefit him, in the long run."

Bishkur looked interested. His mother looked at me, suspiciously. Both of them, though they didn't know it, were confirming one of my guesses.

"There may come a day when His Highness needs to inspect troops, or ride alongside them. It should not be his first time astride a horse." I suggested.