David Weber - How firm a foundation

“Sure.” Merlin looked into her eyes again. “It’s not every mother who’s already survived two separate assassination attempts before her first child’s even a year old. But you know, it’s all pretty fatiguing for us poor bodyguards, so let’s try not going for number three until Alahnah’s at least, oh, seven, let’s say. All right?” . X.

Tellesberg Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis

King Gorjah of Tarot was not a large man.

He was a little taller than Prince Nahrmahn (not a difficult achievement) but far less… substantial. Of course, he was also considerably younger, only a few years older than Cayleb himself, and he hadn’t spent as many years in self-indulgence as Nahrmahn had. He was exquisitely tailored, his steel thistle silk tunic rustling as he moved, and his “kercheef,” the traditional headwear of Tarot, was beautifully embroidered and glinted with the scattered flash of faceted gems. All in all, he was the perfect dictionary illustration of a well-groomed, wealthy young monarch perfectly turned out for an important social occasion. He was not, needless to say, the sartorial equal of the waiting emperor, whose crown of state flashed blue and red fire from rubies and sapphires, and whose ornate, embroidered, jeweled (and infernally hot) robes of state were trimmed with the winter-white fur of the mountain slash lizard.

Still, Cayleb had to give him what Merlin would have called “points for style,” especially under the present circumstances. He’d obviously taken great pains to get his appearance exactly right for the occasion.

At the moment, however, he also had the look of a man who was distinctly nervous but doing surprisingly well at concealing it. He’d entered the throne room behind the chamberlain who’d announced his arrival, and he walked sedately towards the paired thrones at its end, ignoring the clusters of courtiers, councilors, and clerics who’d been assembled for his arrival.

It couldn’t have been easy to do that, Cayleb reflected, watching Gorjah come. Of the five realms which had attacked Charis at the beginning of the war, Tarot was the only one who’d ever been a Charisian ally. As a matter of fact, Gorjah had been bound by a solemn mutual defense treaty to come to Charis’ aid, and what he’d actually done was to pretend he intended to do exactly that even as he sent his own navy to rendezvous with the Dohlaran galley fleet sailing to complete Charis’ ruin.

Needless to say, the Kingdom of Tarot-and its monarch-were less than universally beloved in Tellesberg.

At least the Guard’s managed to keep anyone from throwing rotten vegetables at him, Cayleb thought dryly. Under the circumstances, that’s doing pretty well, given the… fractiousness of Charisians in general. And then there’s probably the odd Temple Loyalist who’d love the opportunity to stick a knife in his ribs for turning around and “betraying” Clyntahn in turn by signing back up with us! Poor bastard can’t win for losing, can he?

Actually, the emperor found it difficult to blame Gorjah. Not that he intended to admit anything of the sort until he was positive the Tarotisian monarch would never even contemplate reprising his treason.

Which is one place where Clyntahn’s reputation’s actually going to work for us, Cayleb thought with considerably less amusement. Only a frigging idiot would even think about coming back into his reach after crossing him this way!

Gorjah reached the foot of the dais, stopped, and bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

Cayleb allowed the silence to stretch out for four or five seconds, letting Gorjah remain bent in his formal bow, then cleared his throat.

“King Gorjah,” he replied at last. “Until quite recently, I hadn’t anticipated the possibility of your visiting here in Tellesberg.”

“Ah, no, Your Majesty.” Gorjah straightened and coughed delicately. “I don’t suppose either of us expected to see one another again quite so soon.”

“Oh, I’d anticipated visiting you very soon now,” Cayleb assured him with a pointed smile, and Gorjah’s expression wavered for a moment. Then he squared his shoulders and nodded.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he said with what Cayleb privately thought was admirable calm. “And while I won’t pretend I would have enjoyed the sort of visit you had in mind, Your Majesty, I doubt any reasonable man could have quibbled with your motivation.”

“Probably not,” Cayleb agreed, sitting back in his throne and wishing Sharleyan was in the empty throne beside him rather than stretched out on a sofa in her suite in Manchyr nursing her broken ribs.

“But you’re here now,” he continued, “and it would be churlish to treat you discourteously. Or, for that matter, to pretend you had a great deal of choice when the Group of Four sent you your marching orders. After all,” he reached out and touched the arm of that empty throne, “not even Queen Sharleyan saw a way to refuse the ‘Knights of the Temple Lands’ ’ demands. What matters are the present and the future, not the past.” He nodded at where Nahrmahn Baytz, the golden chain of an imperial councilor around his neck, stood watching. “What’s done is done, and past enmities are something none of us can afford in the face of the threat we all face.”

“I agree, Your Majesty.” Gorjah met his gaze levelly. “And while I’m not pretending things, I won’t pretend the thought of openly defying Mother Church isn’t frightening. Leaving aside the spiritual aspects of all this, the Church’s power in the mortal world is enough to give anyone pause. But I’ve seen the other side from inside the belly of the beast, as it were.” He shook his head, his expression grim, and Cayleb saw nothing but sincerity in his brown eyes. “If I’d ever doubted Clyntahn was mad, his purges and executions and his autos-da-fe have proven he is. Whatever he may have thought when he started this, by now he’s convinced that anyone who’s not totally subservient to him-to him, not to Mother Church or God-has no right even to exist. Confronting someone who thinks that way and controls all the power of the Inquisition is enough to terrify anyone, but the thought of what this world will become if someone like him wins is even more terrifying.”

Cayleb looked back at him in silence, letting his words settle into the corners of the throne room. He thought the Tarotisian was sincere, although he also knew Gorjah was less than pleased, to put it mildly, at the present turn of events. It was true he couldn’t realistically have resisted the Group of Four’s demand that he betray Charis, but it was equally true he hadn’t even been tempted to try. He’d always resented that treaty, the way in which he’d felt it turned Tarot into little more than a dependency of the Kingdom of Charis. And now he found himself forced to make formal submission, to turn his kingdom into a mere province of the Empire of Charis. That had to stick in his craw like fish bones, and perhaps that was the most fitting vengeance of all for his “treachery.” Especially since there was no possible path back from the step he was about to take as long as the Group of Four breathed.

“In that case, King Gorjah,” he said, “I suppose we should get on with it.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Gorjah bowed again, then waited while a page placed an elaborately embroidered cushion on the uppermost step of the dais before Cayleb’s throne. The page bowed to him and walked backwards away from the throne, and Gorjah knelt gracefully. Archbishop Maikel stepped forward on Cayleb’s right and held out the gold and gem-clasped copy of the Holy Writ, and the king kissed the book, then laid his right hand upon it and looked up at Cayleb.

“I, Gorjah Alyksahndar Nyou, do swear allegiance and fealty to Emperor Cayleb and Empress Sharleyan of Charis,” he said, his voice unflinching, if not joyous, “to be their true man, of heart, will, body, and sword. To do my utmost to discharge my obligations and duty to them, to their Crowns, and to their House, in all ways, as God shall give me the ability and the wit so to do. I swear this oath without mental or moral reservation, and I submit myself to the judgment of the Emperor and Empress and of God Himself for the fidelity with which I honor and discharge the obligations I now assume before God and this company.”