Hell Hath No Fury

Chapter Fifteen

"Good evening, Your Majesty," His Crowned Eminence, the Seneschal of Othmaliz said as his visitor was shown into his private apartment in what had, until a very few weeks before, been known as the Great Palace.

"Good evening, Your Eminence," Chava Busar, Emperor of Uromathia, replied.

The two men were a study in contrasts in many ways.

The Seneschal was a short, round man, addicted to decorating his already colorful religious robes with additional jewels, bullion embroidery, lace, and pearls, while rings dripped from his fingers. He literally glittered when he walked, and the beautiful little silver bells which adorned his unique, stovepipeshaped, gold-encrusted religious headgear jingled musically with every movement.

Chava Busar was also short. That, however, was the only real similarity between them. Where the Seneschal was so obese that he seemed to roll along, rather than walk, Chava was lean and athletic, especially for a man in his late fifties. Unlike the clean-shaven, moon-faced Seneschal, the Emperor favored a neatly trimmed, dramatically shaped dagger beard, and his eyebrows-bushy for a Uromathia

– floated above almond-shaped eyes dark as still water on a moonless night. There was a hardness in those eyes, as well, like a shelf of obsidian just under the water's surface. For his height, he was broad shouldered and powerfully built, and where the Seneschal seemed to roll into a room, Chava strode purposely forward into a universe which belonged-or ought to have belonged, at any rate-exclusively to him.

Yet for all the physical contrasts between them, there were similarities under the skin, as well, and it was those similarities which had brought the Emperor to this very private meeting. Indeed, a meeting so private that not a single advisor-or bodyguard-was in sight. In fact, none of the servants with whom the Seneschal routinely surrounded himself was present, either.

"Please, Your Majesty," the Seneschal invited, gesturing to the two comfortable chairs placed to face one another in front of the enormous portrait of Bergahl in glory which dominated the main room of the Seneschal's suite. "Be seated."

"Thank you."

Chava accepted the invitation, sitting regally in the indicated chair. Both chairs were more than a little throne-like, he noted, although the Seneschal's was fractionally larger and ever so slightly more richly carved, and his lips twitched ever so minutely at the observation. How very like the Seneschal, the Emperor thought.

The Seneschal waited until his guest had settled into place, then took the facing chair. A small table, with a bottle of wine, pastry cakes decorated with sesame seed, and a platter of delicate sandwiches sat conveniently placed for both of them, and he smiled at the Emperor as he personally poured wine into the waiting crystal glasses.

"I think you'll find this palatable, Your Majesty." He smiled. "It comes from one of my own vineyards.

I'm quite proud of it, actually."

"Thank you," Chava repeated as he accepted the glass and sipped delicately. His bushy eyebrows rose, and he nodded in approval. "You're quite right, Your Eminence. It's very good."

"I'm glad you approve." The Seneschal smiled again, and this time his smile was as tart as alum. "It's always a pleasure to entertain a guest who appreciates what small comforts one can offer him."

"Oh, I most definitely agree, Your Eminence." Chava's smile just showed the tips of his teeth. "Indeed, to be totally frank, I find myself amazed at your tolerance and forbearance in the face of having your entire city turned topsy-turvy by this Conclave." He shook his head. "To find oneself suddenly and unexpectedly playing host to the rulers of every land of Sharona must pose extraordinary hardships.

Particularly upon such short notice."

"One cannot pretend that the entire affair has not created great difficulties-great difficulties," the Seneschal agreed gravely. "The dislocation of the capital's normal business has, of course, been extreme.

It will take quite some time for the proper administrative agencies to reassert an orderly control over many aspects of it."

"Not to mention the … disruptions here in your own home," Chava observed, and watched with amused satisfaction as the Seneschal's fat face darkened.

"I am only the Seneschal of the Order of Bergahl," he said after a moment. "The Great Palace is not my home, but the home of the Order itself, as symbolized by the man chosen by the Order as its head.

Nonetheless," he inhaled deeply, "I must confess that arranging to house so many prominent and powerful political figures has, indeed, led to significant disruptions here in the Palace."

Chava nodded sympathetically. Both of them knew the true nature of the "disruptions" to which the Seneschal took such exception. Prior to Zindel chan Calirath's arrival with his daughter, the Seneschal had been housed in the Emperor's Wing of the palace. The decision by the Emperor to return to his ancestral home-and to the building which, however little public recognition the fact had received, still belonged to him-had placed the Seneschal in a most difficult position. In the end, he'd decided he dared not refuse to move out of what had been the House of Calirath's family living space by a tradition literally millennia long. His present suite of rooms were luxurious to the point of opulence, and decorated with priceless artworks, but they were no longer in the Emperor's Wing, and his resentment was only too apparent.

"I was particularly impressed, Your Eminence, by how gracefully you and the Order have dealt with this situation," Chava said after a moment. "It must have been particularly difficult, after more than two centuries of independence, to find oneself face-to-face with the Emperor of Ternathia. I've often thought that the Caliraths simply don't realize how … instinctively patronizing they are." He smiled again, briefly. "It's hard to blame them, I suppose. They are, after all, the oldest dynasty in the history of Sharona. It would probably be unfair to expect them to realize how hard-and often-they step on so many people's toes because they simply assume the precedence so many other people automatically grant them."

"Indeed," the Seneschal agreed. He sipped his own wine, then lowered the glass and regarded the Emperor levelly.

"One is, of course, always gratified by the sympathetic understanding of a ruler as powerful as the Emperor of Uromathia. Still, it occurs to me that this meeting wasn't arranged solely so that you might commiserate with me on the dislocation of my capital, Your Majesty."

"No, of course it wasn't," Chava acknowledged, and reminded himself that however fat and ridiculous the Seneschal might appear-might actually be, for that matter-he, unlike Chava, had not inherited his power. The man who had been born Faroayn Raynarg, the next-to-youngest son of a dune-treader merchant who had spent much of young Faroayn's boyhood jailed for dealing in stolen dune-treaders, had made his way to the top of a religious order in which it was not unheard of for fatal accidents to overtake one's rivals. That might have been many years ago, and it was entirely probable that the years the lean and hungry "Father Faroayn" had spent as His Crowned Eminence had softened his steel even as they had expanded his waistline. But it would be best to remember that he was not truly-or, at any rate, had not always been-the petty little buffoon who'd humiliated himself so on the day of Zindel chan Calirath's arrival in Tajvana.

"Actually, Your Eminence," the Uromathian continued after a moment, "I requested this meeting because it occurred to me that it's been many fine centuries since an Emperor of Uromathia last spoke to a Seneschal of Bergahl as one ruler to another."

The Seneschal stiffened in his chair, and his round face hardened at the words "many fine centuries."

Anger flickered in the backs of the small eyes, half-hidden in pouches of fat, and Chava recognized it with quiet satisfaction. At the moment, it was quite probable that at least some of that anger was directed at him, for reminding the Seneschal of his self-inflicted humiliation. But that was all right with Chava, because there was so very much of it … and most of it was certainly directed where he wanted it.

I wonder if the fat fool truly thought only he and the Ternathians would understand that particular challenge? the Emperor thought sardonically. What? He thinks I have no historians-no spies? That Uromathia forgets its tools simply because we haven't used them in two or three centuries?

Still, he reminded himself, in fairness to the Seneschal, the episode really wasn't well known, and the pretense of friendship between the Order of Bergahl and the departed Calirath Dynasty had helped bury it deep. But Chava knew about the confrontation between the last Ternathian Emperor to rule from Tajvana and the then-current Seneschal of Bergahl.

Emperor Gariyan VII hadn't much cared for the Order of Bergahl. Indeed, he'd distrusted it deeply after watching it cater to the more restive elements of his imperial capital's population for decades. The Empire had been in a state of ferment. Not disruption, really, and not rebelliousness, but of … uncertainty. No one really knew exactly what had inspired Gariyan's father to begin the phased reduction of the Empire. The argument that the imperial infrastructure had become too expensive to maintain made a certain degree of sense on the surface, yet it had never withstood serious scrutiny very well. Imperial taxes had been ludicrously low; it wouldn't have been impossible, or even significantly difficult, for that tax structure to be adjusted to provide the necessary funding.

Yet no one had a better reason for Gariyan VI's decision to abandon-or emancipate, depending upon one's viewpoint-the eastern portions of his sprawling empire. Certainly there'd been no organized resistance to "tyrannical" Ternathian rule, despite the isolated cases of nationalistic resentment Chava had managed to dredge up during the debate on the Act of Unification. Indeed, there had been significant elements in almost all of the pre-withdrawal provinces which had spoken out strongly in favor of remaining under the Winged Crown. In the end, however, those arguing in favor of continuing as Ternathian subjects had found themselves outnumbered by a combination of their fellow citizens who preferred freedom to increased tax burdens, and those who had truly found themselves unhappy under

"foreign domination" for so many centuries.

And so, over a period of two generations, Ternathia's frontiers had withdrawn over three thousand miles to the west, and a sizable percentage of the world's population had spent the last two or three centuries as independent states.

Yet Gariyan VII clearly had entertained few illusions about who was likely to emerge as the dominant political faction in Othmaliz. Indeed, he'd almost certainly known that Uromathian money had been subsidizing the Order of Bergahl's ambitions for power in Othmaliz, and he had summoned the thencurrent Seneschal to Calirath Palace before his family departed-for all time, most had expected-to Estafel and Hawkwing Palace.

There were disputes, even between the reports Chava had access to, of exactly what had passed between the departing Emperor and the politically powerful priest already maneuvering to assert his Order's control of Othmaliz. Most of them agreed, however, that Gariyan had pulled no punches in its course, and all of them agreed that it was at that point that the Seneschal had first discovered that the Caliraths had no intention of passing ownership of Calirath Palace to the newly created Kingdom of Othmaliz.

He had not, apparently, reacted well to that information. After all, like the current Seneschal, he'd undoubtedly been looking forward to easing his own posterior onto a throne in the Grand Throne Chamber from which so much of the world had been ruled for so long. When Gariyan informed him that the Caliraths intended to remain the Palace's landlords, the Seneschal had threatened to nationalize it, even against their wishes. Not even Chava knew precisely what … argument Gariyan had presented to discourage such precipitous action, but it had obviously worked for the better part of three centuries.

Yet if the Order of Bergahl had never quite found the nerve to test the temper of the Calirath determination to retain ownership of the Palace, that long ago Seneschal had still found himself in a white-hot rage. The conversation had been one of ice from Gariyan's side and blast furnace-fury from the Seneschal's. And it was in the course of that … discussion, just before he stormed out of the audience chamber, that the Seneschal had uttered what any reasonable sort might have construed as a threat.

"It will be many fine centuries before a Calirath returns to this city to enjoy this Palace," he had said,

"for the Daggers of Bergahl are sharp, and the memories of his priests are long!"

It had not, perhaps, been excessively politic of the current Seneschal to remind Zindel chan Calirath of that long ago predecessor's comment, Chava Busar reflected. Of course, the weeks of semi-hysterical pro-Calirath rallies which had preceded Zindel's arrival would have been enough to flick any ruler on the raw, especially here, in this particular city. And the possible consequences of a third-party investigation of a regime as corrupt as that of the current Seneschal's might very well prove dire, which couldn't have improved the Seneschal's reaction to all those frothing rallies and Ternathian flag-bestrewn demonstrations. Desperation could make even a normally prudent man do foolish things, Chava conceded charitably. Of course few people would have called the Seneschal of Othmaliz particularly prudent these days, but perhaps the Seneschal had actually believed Zindel would recognize the implied threat and be cowed by it. Or, at least, sufficiently … chastened to at least declare a quiet moratorium on any potentially embarrassing audits.

If so, however, he'd been either an idiot or incredibly ill-served by the spies who should have given him an accurate appreciation of Zindel chan Calirath's character. Chava hated the Ternathian Emperor with a passion so pure it was almost sublime, yet he'd never made the mistake of underestimating his opponent.

"Yes," the Seneschal said finally, "it has been too long since a Seneschal discussed the burdens and difficulties of rulership with an Emperor of Uromathia."

He smiled thinly, then paused, sipping wine once again, before he lowered the glass once more and cocked his head to one side.

"Am I, by any chance, correct in assuming that it's those burdens and difficulties which you wish to discuss with me this evening, Your Majesty?"

"In many ways," Chava acknowledged. He sat back in his own chair, his elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepled across his chest as he crossed his legs and regarded the Seneschal thoughtfully.

"It occurs to me, Your Eminence, that you and I are among the unfortunately small number of delegates to the Conclave who truly recognize what's at stake here. It's regrettable that so many of our … colleagues are obviously blind to that reality."

"Indeed." The Seneschal sat back, as well, his expression thoughtful. "Precisely which aspects of that

'reality' did you wish to discuss, Your Majesty?"

"It's obvious to me," Chava replied, "that in many respects, this Conclave has been a farce-a facade-

from the very first moment. On the surface, it represents an emergency gathering of rulers and heads of state in the face of a potentially deadly inter-universal threat. A spontaneous decision on the part of First Director Limana and the Portal Authority. But you and I aren't children, Your Eminence, to be so easily misled when it comes to the true exercise of power.

"Indeed?" the Seneschal inquired politely.

"Your Eminence," Chava said chidingly, shaking his head with a small, world-weary smile, "the point of contact with these 'Arcanans' is forty-eight thousand miles from Sharona. And so far, what have we seen out of them in terms of any significant military threat? Crossbows? Swords?"

The Emperor laughed scornfully.

"Oh," he waved one hand in a dismissive gesture, "we've heard about their 'fire-throwers,' and their

'lightning-throwers,' but what happened when the Portal Authority's regular troops finally encountered them? Did those 'magical' weapons of theirs help them then? Could they match the effectiveness of rifles, machine guns, and mortars? Of course not! And since these negotiations have begun, what new terrible threats have they produced? Floating tables? Talking rocks?" He snorted. "Are we infants to be terrified by such parlor tricks? Useful, I'll grant you that, but if they truly had weapons as threatening as those certain delegates to this Conclave had imputed to them, why would they be negotiating with us in the first place? I believe it's obvious, especially in light of the ludicrous ease with which they were bested by properly led and armed regular troops, that they pose no true military threat to us. Indeed, they recognize that they don't. What other reason could they have for negotiating with us over the possession of a cluster of portals of such value as Hell's Gate? Would you have chosen to negotiate in such a case with someone you regarded as your military inferior, Your Eminence?"

The Seneschal looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment, then shook his head.

"Of course you wouldn't have!" Chava snorted again, more scornfully even than before. "When the prize is as great as this one, when one's responsibility to secure it for one's own nation is so overriding, a man with strength takes what he must. There will always be time for the diplomats to make everything neat and tidy, but that time comes later, not when the opportunity and responsibility alike lie in the palm of a man's hand!

"But these Arcanans have chosen to negotiate, which tells us a great deal about their perception of our relative military strengths. And yet, this Conclave, continues to be driven by panic-mongers. By men-

and women-who seek to use the pretext of this somehow imminent threat, despite the forty-eight thousand miles between it and us, to justify a mad rush into some sort of a world empire. I find it remarkably convenient that the Portal Authority, which has always adopted Ternathian models, and which-as you and I both surely know-came into existence in the first place only at the insistence of Ternathia, has charged headlong into this emergency Conclave at which one of its own directors proposed that Ternathia become the lord and master of us all. Of course, Director Kinshe was officially speaking as a parliamentary representative from Shurkhal, wasn't he? And who could possibly doubt the towering honesty of these Glimpses, these visions of dreadful threats and savage destruction, which, of course, only a Calirath can See? Or the 'spontaneity' of the Farnalians' and the Bolakini's rush to second that so-convenient Shurkhali motion to plut a crown on one of those same Caliraths' head?"

Chava's voice dripped derision, and the Seneschal's jaw tightened once more. Othmaliz had long coveted Shurkhal, not least because of the Grand Ternathian Canal. Long before the canal's eventual construction, the possibilities it had raised-particularly in conjunction with control of Tajvana itself and the Ibral Strait-had been obvious to everyone … including several generations of Seneschals. The relatively sparse Shurkhali population had made the notion of a quick, tidy little war of conquest appealing. In fact, that conquest had been attempted on two separate occasions, with a notable lack of success-a fact which went far towards explaining the long-standing hostility between Othmaliz and the desert kingdom.

"I cannot disagree with you, Your Majesty," the Seneschal said finally. "Unfortunately, it would appear to be a little too late to rectify the situation at this time. The Act of Unification has already been ratified, and while it might be possible for you to decline to conform with its terms, I, unfortunately, have a Parliament to which I must answer."

And very irritating it must be, too, Chava thought sardonically. Especially after so many years of having it automatically rubberstamp any proposal you chose to have your mouthpieces put before it.

"Oh, I agree-both that it's too late, and that it's unfortunate that should be the case," he said aloud.

"Nonetheless, as men with responsibilities to those they govern, it behooves us to do what we may to restrain the excesses of the panic-mongers. And while one would never suggest or encourage the adoption of extralegal resistance of what, after all, will be a legitimate, properly approved world government, it also behooves us to resist the potential abuse of power by the cabal which has obviously come together to secure the Ternathian domination of the entire explored multiverse."

"I thoroughly agree that one should eschew 'extralegal' measures," the Seneschal replied. "Even when they succeed, they tend to undermine the legitimacy of anyone willing to embrace them. After all, if one is willing to step outside the law in pursuit of one's own goals, then how can one legitimately argue that others are not fully justified in doing the same thing if their interests conflict with one's own? Of course," he looked directly into Chava's eyes, "that assumes such measures become public knowledge, does it not?"

Chava arched a mental eyebrow. So, the Seneschal knew about the covert activities of his own secret police, did he? Well, it had always been unlikely those activities could escape scrutiny forever.

"I'm sure it would … assuming, of course, that one had any inclination to resort to them in the first place," he said piously.

"Assuming that, of course," the Seneschal agreed politely. Then he pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Your Majesty, I've greatly enjoyed our conversation, and I appreciate the candor with which you've addressed our common concerns. Still, it occurs to me that you, at least, are in a position from which you will eventually see your grandchild on the throne of that same world-empire. In light of that, it would appear to me that the degree to which our two peoples are likely to suffer under its dominion aren't precisely equal, shall we say?"

"Yes, and no, Your Eminence." Chava sighed. "One would like to think your analysis would be accurate.

However, while I would regard any child of this proposed union as my grandchild, Zindel chan Calirath will almost certainly regard that child as his grandchild. And given that the crown will be placed upon Zindel's head, not mine, I greatly fear that under normal circumstances, that grandchild will grow up under Ternathian influence. It may be a child of my blood, Your Eminence, but it will regard Uromathia through Ternathian eyes."

"If that should happen, I would grieve for you, Your Majesty. In the meantime, of course, I will pray to Bergahl on your behalf. He is, after all, a god of justice, and if there is any justice, Zindel's blatant manipulation of this crisis to his own advantage will not prosper."

"I thank you for your prayers, Your Eminence. And I fear you're probably correct-it would take the intervention of the gods themselves to thwart the ambitions Zindel has obviously cherished since well before these 'Arcanans' turned up to provide him with the pretext he required."

"Perhaps so," the Seneschal agreed.

"Still," Chava straightened in his chair, smiling brightly, with the air of a man determined to find a bright side so that he could look upon its, "one ought to be willing to extend at least a little trust and faith that the gods will intervene on the side of right. And, of course, it's also possible I'm being unduly pessimistic about how the child of any union between Prince Janaki and one of my daughters would be reared. There could be many influences in such a child's life, after all. That's a point we would all do well to remember. Indeed, it's in my mind that should my daughter become pregnant, and should the child be born whole and healthy, fit to take up the burden of the crown of Sharona in the fullness of time, it would be only fitting for me to make a substantial offering to the gods, both in gratitude for the birth and to petition the gods to keep that child safe and raise him-or her-free of pernicious influences."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," the Seneschal agreed once again.

"In fact," Chava continued, obviously warming to his theme, "it would be appropriate, I think, for me to make that offering not simply to Dosaru, but to other gods of justice, as well. After all, that child will one day govern all of us, so surely it wouldn't be amiss to petition all of the gods whose worshipers will be his subjects."

"I would think such a gesture of largess on your part would be deeply appreciated by pious people everywhere, Your Majesty," the Seneschal said warmly.

"Well, in that case," Chava's eyes narrowed as they bored into the Seneschal's, "I imagine Bergahl's Comforters would undoubtedly receive a significant contribution at such time as that child was declared healthy and fit to rule."

The Seneschal's face was very still for a heartbeat or two. Then he nodded slowly.

"I think that would be most appropriate, Your Majesty," he said. "Most appropriate, indeed."