David Weber - How firm a foundation

Seventeen more people were sent to execution that morning… but another six were pardoned. And in each case, Empress Sharleyan-still without notes-had recited the extenuating circumstances which led her to grant mercy in those cases. She’d continued unhurriedly, calmly, as if no one had ever attempted to harm her at all, and by the end of that morning, she’d held that audience of Corisandian witnesses in the palm of one slender hand.

The bell announcing the end of the morning session had sounded at last, and the empress had looked up with a wry smile.

“We trust no one will be disappointed if we adjourn for the day at this time,” she’d said. “Under the circumstances, we believe it might be excusable.”

There’d actually been an answering mutter of laughter, and her smile had grown broader.

“We’ll take that as agreement,” she’d told them, and stood.

She’d stepped down from the dais, and Gahrvai’s eyes had narrowed as she took Merlin Athrawes’ left arm. She’d swayed slightly, and her nostrils had looked pinched as she’d seemed to stumble for a moment. Her elbow had still pressed against her ribs, and there’d been a certain fragility to her normally graceful carriage, yet she’d smiled graciously at him and at the others who bowed as she passed them.

And then she’d been gone.

“How many women do you know who could’ve done what she did today?” Gahrvai asked now, looking around at his father and the others.

“Shan-wei!” Anvil Rock retorted. “Ask me how many men I know who could’ve done what she did today!”

“Either way, men or women, the answer is damned few,” Tartarian said. “And don’t think for a moment all those witnesses didn’t realize it, too. Oh, I’m sure a lot of it was political calculation. She had to know how it would affect all of us. But even if that’s true, she managed to do it, and I think it was at least as sincere as it was calculated. Probably more, to be honest.”

“I think you’re right,” Gahrvai said. “And I have to ask myself whether or not those reports about her being ‘uninjured’ are truly accurate.”

“Her ribs, you mean?” Windshare asked. Gahrvai nodded, and the dashing young earl shrugged. “I noticed that, too. Not that surprising, I suppose, with Merlin landing on top of her that way! Must’ve bruised the hell out of her.”

“I think they were more than just bruised,” Doyal said quietly. “I think it’s entirely possible they were broken.”

“Nonsense!” Anvil Rock objected. “I’m as impressed with her as any of you, but let’s not get too carried away. Broken ribs are no joke, I’ve had my share of them over the years, by God! If she’d had that on top of almost being killed, not even she would have just sat there.”

“With all due respect, My Lord,” Doyal replied, “don’t forget that this isn’t the first time she’s almost been killed. Think about that affair at Saint Agtha’s. According to my reports, she picked up her dead Guardsmen’s rifles and killed at least a dozen of the attackers herself!” He shook his head. “Whatever else Sharleyan Ahrmahk may be, she’s no hothouse flower. In fact, I’m coming to the opinion that she’s even tougher than we thought she was.”

Gahrvai started to say something, then changed his mind and sat back in his chair. His father didn’t seem to notice, but one of Tartarian’s eyebrows quirked slightly. He looked a question at the younger Gahrvai, but Sir Koryn only shook his head with a smile and listened while Earl Anvil Rock disposed of the notion that even Empress Sharleyan would have continued to dispense justice with broken ribs.

Tartarian let the moment pass, and Gahrvai was just as happy he had. After all, there was time to double-check his men’s report in the morning. The would-be assassin’s first bullet had to have gone somewhere, and the fact that no one had been able to find it-yet!-proved nothing. He’d been certain they were going to find it embedded in the massive throne somewhere, but they hadn’t, which meant it had to have hit the rear wall, instead, didn’t it? Of course it did!

Still, probably better to keep his mouth shut until they did manage to find it. If his father found Doyal’s notion that Sharleyan had managed to go right on with broken ribs ridiculous, he would have found the suggestion that perhaps-just perhaps-that bullet hadn’t completely missed its mark after all ludicrous.

Because it is ludicrous, Koryn, Gahrvai told himself firmly. Absolutely ludicrous!

“I never want to hear another word about how stubborn Cayleb is,” Merlin Athrawes said severely as he helped Sharleyan across her bedchamber. The rush of pouring rain and the rumble of thunder half drowned his voice, but she heard him and looked up with a battered, bruised, but still game smile.

He was glad to see it, but he’d been less than amused when he’d first gotten her back here.

The adrenaline, determination, and sheer willpower which had carried her from Princess Aleatha’s Ballroom to her own suite had deserted her once she crossed the threshold. She’d virtually collapsed into Merlin’s arms, and Sairaih Hahlmyn had fluttered around the seijin in shocked dismay as he’d scooped her up, carried her to her sleeping chamber, and deposited her gently on the enormous bed.

Sairaih’s dismay had turned into something very like outrage as Merlin began calmly unbuttoning and unlacing the empress’ gown.

“ Seijin Merlin! What do you think you’re doing? ”

“Oh, hush, Sairaih!” Sharleyan had said weakly, her voice much thinner and breathless than usual. “The seijin’ s a healer as well as a warrior, you ninny!”

“But, Your Majesty-!”

“I am not going to have a Corisandian healer in here examining me,” Sharleyan had said flatly, sounding much more like her usual self for a moment. “The last thing we need is some wild rumor about how I was actually shot after all, and you know that’s what would happen if word got out that I’d summoned healers to my bedchamber. By Langhorne’s Watch, they’d have me on my deathbed!”

“But, Your Majesty-!”

“There’s no point arguing with her, Sairaih,” Merlin had said in a resigned voice. “Trust me, if there is any serious damage, Edwyrd and I will have a healer in here in a heartbeat, whatever she says. But she’s probably right about the rumor potential, so if it’s only bruising…”

“But, Your Majesty-!”

The third attempt had been little more than pro forma, and Sharleyan had actually smiled as she shook her head.

“I won’t say I’m as stubborn as Cayleb, no matter what Merlin thinks,” she’d said. “But I am stubborn enough to win this argument, Sairaih. So why don’t you just concentrate on brewing me some tea with lots of sugar? Trust me, I could use it.”

“Very well, Your Majesty.” Sairaih had finally conceded defeat. She’d given Merlin one last, moderately outraged look, then marched out past Sergeant Seahamper. The sergeant had looked at Sharleyan for a moment, shaken his head with a pronounced air of resignation, and moved his gaze to Merlin.

“Good luck getting her to see reason,” he’d said a bit sourly. Then he’d tapped the ear holding his own com earplug. “And somehow I don’t think His Majesty’s going to hold off on yelling at her very much longer, even if it is the middle of the night in Tellesberg.”

“Maybe we can at least get Owl to give them a private channel,” Merlin had said hopefully. Seahamper had snorted, given Sharleyan one last look, then closed the door.

“It’s not like I’m a complete idiot,” the empress had said plaintively, then gasped as Merlin lifted her gently into a sitting position to peel the gown down from her shoulders. “Even if there’d been another one of them out there, it’s not like I was running the kind of risk Maikel ran in the Cathedral.”