David Drake: The Tyrant

"— fully agree with the political insights of the Paramount-"

Again, a whisper from Arsule: "I told you to have the whole lot of them executed. Exile just one of them! Ha! Like trying to drown a redshark."

"— still, a well-nigh insuperable problem. Difficult, at the very least. As the Paramount's son, of course, the august Gellert will have no choice but to divorce his wife, she now being his sister. But-"

Adrian choked on his goblet of wine. Helga sat up straight in her chair and bestowed upon the far distant bureaucrat a glare of fury that would have wilted anyone except "I'm telling you, Verice," whispered Arsule, "they're not really human. Trust me! According to the high priest of Jassine, bureaucrats are actually-"

"— leave the legal problem of the status of the children to be decided. By rigorous interpretation of existing law, of course, exposure on a rock is the only-"

What followed next confirmed for Verice Demansk, anew, the wisdom of always having two strings for his bow. His daughter had long since given up the practice of bearing a sword in public. But-no fool, she-Lortz was always nearby, ready to hand it to her.

The official from the Registry did manage to escape from the palace grounds with nothing worse than a minor flesh wound. But it was a close thing; and, the guards who witnessed the events all agreed, was saved only by his pursuer's quite evident state of pregnancy.

When Helga stalked back on to the balcony, she returned the sword to Lortz. Then, glared at the crowd in general. Then, at Adrian.

To the first, she said nothing. Words would have been, indeed, superfluous.

To Adrian, hissed: "Go ahead. Say anything about the responsibilities of pregnant women."

Adrian, confirming again Demansk's judgement of his successor, maintained the silence of a sage.

For once, Arsule agreed with her tyrant husband. "Well, at least he's not crazy."