David Weber - Hell Hath No Fury

Well, not any political strings, at any rate, the Emperor told himself. Personal loyalty, now. That's something else, entirely.

Not that Zindel intended to tie that personal loyalty to himself.

"After you've had an opportunity to meet with Alazon and get your immediate schedule squared away," he continued, "I trust you'll be able to join us for supper. I'm afraid it will be a little late this evening, what with the signing."

"Supper?"

The panicky look was back in Kinlafia's eyes, Zindel noticed.

"Don't worry," the Emperor said soothingly. "It's not going to be a formal state occasion. In fact, you'll be the only guest. And, before you object, let me remind you of what I said at the very beginning of this interview. None of us have seen Janaki in months. You have. His mother is going to be just as anxious as I to hear anything you can tell us about him. She'll want to meet you, and the opportunity for you to begin experiencing this sort of affair will be extremely useful and valuable. If you'll pardon my saying so, the chance to dip your toes into these waters in an intimate, friendly sort of way is nothing to sneeze at."

"Of course not, Your Majesty!" Kinlafia said quickly. "I understand. And thank you."

"Don't mention it. As I said, the Empress is looking forward to the opportunity to talk to you. And, of course, you'll also have the opportunity to meet my daughters."

The door to Alazon Yanamar's office was less ornately carved than the private audience chamber's. It was more ornately carved, on the other hand, than any other door Kinlafia had ever seen outside a Temple, he observed sourly, remembering his activist parents' views on "imperial trappings." And, for that matter, on "professional political operatives," which, from what the Emperor had said, undoubtedly included the woman behind that door, Voice or no Voice.

Great, he thought. Just great. My political keeper's going to be another Voice, with all the opportunities for "subtle coaching" that provides! Won't that be fun?

His guiding chamberlain rapped discreetly on the gleaming portal. The sound he produced was so soft Kinlafia doubted anyone could possibly have heard it, but he was clearly wrong, since the door was quickly opened by a young, golden-haired woman with bright blue eyes.

"Yes?" she said.

"Voice Kinlafia to meet with Privy Voice Yanamar," the chamberlain said, and those bright blue eyes moved to Kinlafia.

"Voice Kinlafia!" The welcome in the young woman's voice was genuine, Kinlafia realized. "It's an honor to meet you, sir! Privy Voice Yanamar is expecting you. Please, come in!"

"Thank you," Kinlafia replied, just a bit taken aback by her enthusiasm. Then he glanced at the chamberlain who had been his lifeline-so far, at least. "And thank you," he said, with utmost sincerity.

"You're welcome, sir," the chamberlain said. "It's been my honor." He bowed to Kinlafia, then bestowed a somewhat less profound yet still deeply respectful bow upon the young woman in the doorway, and headed off down the endless hallway.

Of course, Kinlafia thought, they're all endless in this place, aren't they?

The young woman opened the door wider and stood back, and he accepted her silent invitation to step across the threshold into a pleasantly furnished office.

"I'm Ulantha Jastyr, Privy Voice Yanamar's assistant," the young woman said. As he concentrated on her, Kinlafia realized she was a very strongly Talented Voice herself. "As I say, the Privy Voice has been expecting you. If you'll follow me, please."

He followed Jastyr across the outer office to an inner doorway. Unlike the chamberlain, she didn't knock; she simply alerted Yanamar via Voice, then smiled over her shoulder at Kinlafia, opened the door, and stood aside.

"Thank you," he said once more, and stepped past her into yet another of Calirath Palace's obviously infinite number of rooms and chambers.

This one was smaller than the Emperor's private audience chamber, although it was still spacious and high-ceilinged. It also had windows overlooking the same garden, and it was decorated with horses. Lots and lots of horses. There were paintings, two tapestries, and half a dozen large, framed photographic prints on the walls, and a long display shelf across the entire width of the office's bookshelves held literally dozens of ceramic, crystal, and bronze horses. Kinlafia was no art connoisseur, but he didn't have to be one to recognize that many of them were exquisite (and undoubtedly expensive) art pieces in their own right.

The plethora of equines distracted his immediate attention from the new office's occupant. Only for a moment, though. Then he turned towards her-and froze.

Alazon Yanamar, he realized, was about his own age. She was slender, high-bosomed, delicately boned and of little more than moderate height for a Ternathian woman, which meant she was perhaps an inch and a half shorter than he was. And she was obviously a very powerful Voice; he could feel the strength of her Talent from ten feet away.

All of that was true, he realized, yet it wasn't what registered upon him so immediately and powerfully.

No, what registered upon him were the huge, incredibly deep, clear gray eyes and the mass of midnightblack hair framing an oval face which the gods had clearly designed for laughter, humor, and intelligence.

They trapped him, those eyes. He remembered the ancient saying, the description of eyes as the

"window of the soul." Between Voices, that could be literally true, and as Darcel Kinlafia looked into these eyes' crystalline depths, he Saw the glowing power deep in the heart of her.

It wasn't until much, much later that he finally realized Alazon Yanamar, despite an exquisite figure, was not a beautiful woman in any classical sense of the word. Her cheekbones were too high, her nose was too pert, her chin too determined. And none of it mattered at all. Not then, and not ever.

"Voice Kinlafia." Her speaking voice was deep, for a woman. It was also rich and musical, shimmering with subtle undertones that rippled like clear water over beds of golden sand. It went through him like harp notes of sunlight, and he drew a deep, lung-filling breath.

"Voice Yanamar," he replied, and saw those gray eyes widen slightly even as he heard the edge of hoarseness in his own voice.

She started to say something more, then paused. He could Feel her looking into his own eyes, and then her nostrils flared.

"Oh, dear," she said softly, and Kinlafia reached out to touch her cheek with birdwing fingers.

He'd never done such a thing in his life. Certainly not with a woman he'd never even met before! This time, it was the most natural possible gesture in the multiverse.

I never really believed anyone when they told me about things like this, he thought. Which just proves the gods do have a sense of humor, I suppose.

"This is an unexpected complication," she said after a moment, and Kinlafia smiled as that magnificent voice sang through him.

"I suppose it is," he agreed. "I never expected it, anyway."

She laughed. It was a delightful sound, and Kinlafia found himself smiling hugely at her.

Under any other circumstances, a corner of his mind recognized, he would have felt like an utter idiot standing here, touching a strange woman's face, grinning like a fool, and floating with his feet ten inches off her office floor. Under these circumstances, it was inconceivable that he could have done anything else.

Occasionally-very occasionally-Voice met Voice and, in that first instant of awareness, recognized one another. Felt the interlocking of Talent and heart. Other people might speak about "love at first sight," but for Voices, it could be literally true … and the bright glory of that moment of recognition could be the greatest tragedy in their lives. There was no guarantee that two Voices "meant for one another" would find each other at all, much less before one of them had met and loved someone else.