David Weber - The Road to Hell

So he used the heavy oak cabinets that lined his office study and wore the key to their locks on a chain around his neck.

“One moment, Your Highness. I’ll show you the draft. It isn’t final, you understand. But I can show you what we have so far.”

He made a quick circuit of the room, dropping the window curtains and securing the door while Lazima chan Zindico moved deftly out of his way with the sure experience of a man who knew exactly which security moves to expect. Taje produced his key and opened the largest of the cabinets. For this project, the Privy Council had amassed great piles of notes…and all of them had either been carefully burned and stirred in the study’s fireplace or banded and filed here in the wall cabinet. He proffered a few sheaves, and the crown princess snatched them eagerly from his hands.

“This isn’t the complete list yet. There are likely a few more names we might add.”

Andrin wasn’t listening. Her eyes had stopped a third of the way down the second page: Howan Fai Goutin, Crown Prince of Eniath.

“Oh. Oh, good! I suppose there was no reason to worry at all.”

She handed the list back to the first councilor, who checked the sheet and smiled at her choice.

“We weren’t going to forget the Eniath prince, Your Highness,” he said gently.

“Well, no, I suppose not.” Andrin acknowledged, ducking her head just slightly. The motion conveyed sheepishness, but, Taje noted, the crown princess’s Calirath spine had stayed regally straight. Lady Merissa Vankhal would have approved. “I just wanted to be sure. There might have been concern about his family being too easily pressured by the Busar line, or maybe there were others that would look better on paper, or he could have already been married but not mentioned it when we spoke, I mean, I think he might have mentioned that, but-”

“He is certainly not already married.” Taje broke in to soothe the crown princess’s concerns. “The Privy Council will be reviewing all the details of these candidates to provide dossiers to you during this week before you meet once more with the Conclave to announce your choice.”

“To me?” The surprise in Andrin’s tone reminded him just how new his crown princess was to the heirship. She had the backbone to fight Uromathia on the Conclave floor, but demanding her due from the Winged Crown’s staff didn’t yet come naturally.

“Yes, Your Highness. We’ll be making our report to you. Nothing we may find will lessen the importance of your choice, but we hope to provide as much clarity on the candidates as we may.” An idea occurred to him. The crown princess’s schedule was absurdly busy, but perhaps a few things could be moved. “You’d be welcome to come to our deliberations if you’d like to hear the details.”

“Yes.” Andrin nodded, slowly. “I’d very much like to hear the details.”

Taje responded with a decisive nod of his own. “We’ve been working through lunch and some of the staff have been all but sleeping in my office. It’s a tight fit when we all get in here, but I think it would do the council well to get to know you better anyway. We are your council as well as your father’s.”

Andrin agreed wholeheartedly, and felt a touch of chagrin as she realized this was exactly the sort of thing Janaki would have done. She should have thought of it for herself, and a part of her scolded herself for failing to do so. But another part of her understood exactly why she hadn’t. Intellectually, she knew her brother was dead and gone, leaving her suddenly in the role of heir. She’d managed to accept that much, terrible though the shock had been, but all the other bits and pieces, like sitting in on Privy Council deliberations, still felt foreign and a touch like usurping her older brother’s prerogatives.

Andrin quashed the thought. That was a perspective Chava Busar would want her to have-a way of thinking that he could use to keep her ignorant and uninvolved in the workings of the empire-while one of his sons sat in Janaki’s place instead of Janaki’s blood. As Janaki’s sister, she owed it to him to become the kind of empress Sharona needed.

“I’d be very pleased to attend the Privy Council’s deliberations. And also-” Andrin caught the First Councilor’s eyes. “I apologize for sneaking into your office. I should simply have asked.”

Taje bowed. “To be sure. But perhaps the Privy Council should have thought to invite you. We still, myself included unfortunately, think of you too much as our Emperor’s young daughter and not enough as our future Empress.” He bowed again more deeply. “I, too, apologize.”

The First Councilor had a few minutes more to consider his crown princess’ face as she waited for her guardsman to clear the hallway. The extra security in place in Tajvana felt extreme compared to Ternathia, and yet it was necessary.

The Great Palace had been occupied by the Order of Bergahl for over two hundred years. Outwardly, the turrets, walls, and towers appeared unchanged to the point of disrepair. Inside, the changes were random-likely chosen for modern opulence with little thought for either architectural cohesion or imperial security. Hundreds of years of excess hadn’t been and couldn’t be put to rights in an instant…and there was always the possibility that the present Seneschal or one of his predecessors might have made changes which had nothing at all to do with modernization and quite a lot to do with less savory considerations. At the moment, however, Taje was more concerned with his princess’ emotions than any questions about her physical security.

“Your Majesty,” he asked, “are you reassured, truly?”

Andrin looked at him and allowed her expression-for a rare moment-to show her deep concern. “I don’t know if I can be reassured, Shamir.”

“It’s a good solid choice. One that can and will hold the new empire together.”

“Yes,” his crown princess agreed. “And I should probably be grateful there’s just one Howan Fai Goutin. Imagine if there were three good Uromathian princes and I had to roll a die to pick between them. This is how it is though, isn’t it? You dance with a decent seeming prince once, politics force the situation, and then you need to marry and hope he’s up to the task.”

“He should be, but we’ll study his background. And there may be others we can find if there’s a significant problem with him.” The first councilor spoke firmly, his tone confident and reassuring, but Andrin’s lifted eyebrow showed he hadn’t quite pulled it off. Well, he’d already known she was no one’s fool, and the truth was there weren’t any others to find, really. A few more Uromathian princes existed with less firm ties to Emperor Chava than the man’s own sons, but if something were to happen to Howan Fai Goutin, the council would be looking to Howan’s brothers, not to some other family.

“I don’t need everything coated in honey, Shamir. In fact I think I’ll do better if I can hear from the outset if we find any problems,” the crown princess said, straightening her shoulders. He bowed in response and secured the precious list before chan Zindico opened the door.

A quartet of night shift guardsmen in thick protective suits wearing braces of throwing knives in addition to their usual gear stepped to the side of the hallway as Andrin came through the door, and the first councilor frowned in surprise.

“Is this a new security measure?”

Chan Zindico shook his head. “No, My Lord, just a practice session. We’ve been doing these exercises down in the training salles for weeks, but the guard commander decided we should move them to some of the actual hallways we defend.”

At the first councilor’s startled look, the armsman added, “But only at night. We wouldn’t want to skewer one of the staff. And our practice blades aren’t poisoned, so it wouldn’t be much of a wound anyway. Thrown blades of the type the Order of Bergahl use in their knife dances aren’t much of a threat without the poison.