David Drake - The Tyrant

"Ah," he repeated. "Have you discussed the matter with Olver?"

Demansk was pleased, even delighted, to see that Thicelt's quick wits had not slowed down any since he'd seen him last. Sharlz had been gone for over a year. At Demansk's command, Thicelt had led a fleet on a circumnavigation of the entire continent.

A very slow voyage, that had been. Thicelt had spent considerable time in every significant port. Laying over to take on provisions and allow his crews shore leave, officially. In reality, to drive home-none too subtly-the immense power at the disposal of the new regime of the Confederacy.

He'd also, of course, taken the opportunity to crush every nest of pirates along the way. And-this had been the most time-consuming part of his expedition-he had founded no less than nine new cities at strategic places he'd selected as he went. Two of them on the western coast of the southern continent; five along its southern coast; and two more on the small new archipelago he'd discovered a few hundred miles off the east coast.

Again, being none too subtle. All of them had been given the name of "Demansk," in one variety or another. Sharlz had used local dialects-Demansk City; Demanskburg; Demanskville; Demansk Town-everywhere except in the new archipelago, which was uninhabited. There, founding the two new cities which would stare down the Reedbottoms, Thicelt had eschewed subtlety altogether. He'd simply called one city "Demansk" and the other… "Demansk Too." The pun didn't work in the language of the Confederacy, but it did in the tongue of the Reedbottoms-for whom the word "also" was a homonym for "two."

So, Thicelt had been gone during the entire period when Demansk had slowly come to the decision he would implement today. Had never exchanged so much as a single word on the subject with his ruler and sovereign-in-all-but-name. Still, he'd understood immediately, simply by a subtle reference to "sunsets and sunrises."

Gods, I've missed him. Especially now, when I can relax enough-I think-to enjoy a simple friendship.

"You'll be stationed here for quite a while, in the next period," Demansk mused. "Come visit, will you, Sharlz?"

Thicelt eyed him for a moment. Then, obviously realizing that this was a friend's request and not a tyrant's command, simply nodded. "It would be my pleasure, Verice. Although…"

Demansk chuckled. "Yes, yes. I can well imagine that organizing a circumnavigation of the entire globe will consume much of your time. Most of it, even though the expedition is still at least two years off."

He swiveled his head and studied Olver. "Yes, I've spoken to him. Quite some time ago, in fact-he was the first one I approached." Firmly: "There'll be no problem."

Thicelt rubbed his nose. "Didn't expect there would be. Olver's… ah, what's the word?"

For a moment, Demansk's face grew stiff. It still hurt, even after three years. "The opposite of Barrett, we can say."

Thicelt gave his head a little shake. "That's simply a negation, Verice. Unfair to both sons, truth be told, Olver even more than Barrett. Olver is… steady. To the point of saintliness, I sometimes think. He'd have made a good priest for Jassine."

Demansk barked a laugh. "Please! Do not mention that around Arsule. She gives me enough grief as it is on the subject of her favorite project."

He cast a sour glance toward the city on his left. There, in the very middle of it, the gigantic temple of the cult of Jassine was rising.

Still rising. Demansk was beginning to entertain dark suspicions that Arsule intended to keep the construction going until the peak of the temple overtopped even Demansk's palace-which had the head start of being perched on a bluff overlooking the city.

Thicelt cleared his throat. "Speaking of your gracious wife, are you-"

"She'll be allowed out of seclusion for the evening," growled Demansk. His eyes ranged the walls surrounding the palace, much as a general's survey an army camp. "No more, though. I don't dare let her out of her quarters onto the grounds itself for longer than that. Not unsupervised-and except for me, I can't trust anyone to keep an eye on her. The last time I let her onto the grounds, she and her damned priests started communicating with mirrors."

Thicelt started chuckling heavily. "Oh, Verice-give it up. Especially with Trae here for-what's it going to be? three months? — you don't have a chance. The boy dotes on his stepmother, you know he does. You think Trae can't figure out something which will undo all your strenuous efforts to keep her under control?"

Thicelt cleared his throat. "Have I mentioned Trae's latest enthusiasm? Something he got from Adrian during your son-in-law's last visit to Chalice. I don't really understand the principles that well, but here's…"

A few minutes later, Demansk was scowling at a sunset whose colors he no longer found splendid in the least.

Darkness, darkness, everywhere.

Radio?!

When Arsule made her entrance, however, just in time for the feast which was being prepared on the balcony, Demansk found his gloom lifting. Despite himself, Arsule always had that effect on him. Especially when her dark eyes sparkled so, as she gave him a sultry glance.

Whenever Demansk imposed his authority over her-which happened at least twice a year-Arsule immediately retaliated by locking the doors to her private quarters. Demansk could, of course, have ordered those doors broken down by his soldiery. But… leaving aside everything else, that would be so undignified.

Besides-also predictably-the doors never stayed locked for more than a few weeks. No matter how often they clashed, the fact was that Arsule and Demansk had grown very intimate over the past three years. As intimate, he would now admit even to himself-more intimate, in some ways-as he had ever been with Druzla. And…

The feast was starting. The Paramount Triumvir, master of the world, took his seat next to his wife at the head of the huge table. In every aspect, from his stern visage to his ponderous way of moving, he exuded the dignity one expects from such an august personage. All of which was actually quite at odds with the thought uppermost in his mind.

I'm getting laid tonight.

Under the table, unseen by anyone because of the rich cloth spilling over the edge, Arsule's slim fingers stroked his inner thigh.

Oh, yes indeed.

When the meal was finished, Demansk rose. Silence fell over the table. He gave the crowd gathered there a long and slow examination.

All my family.

His eyes fell on a slim and very pretty blonde young woman, seated not far down the table to his left. She was erect in her chair, very stiff, and looked nervous. Not surprising, of course, since it was the first time she had ever participated in such an affair.

Kata too, now that Arsule finally got the adoption through the bureaucratic maze. His lips quirked a little. He had no doubt at all that Arsule's present warmth was due to the adoption. Demansk himself, at the end, had settled the issue. Amazing, really, what the banishment of one obstreperous official to a remote post had on the efficiency of all others.

There was some sadness, seeing Kata at the table. It reminded him of Ion, whom he was coming to miss all the more as time went by. But not much. Whatever else, Demansk would be able to face Jeschonyk's shade in the afterlife.

Close advisers, most of them. Many of them, I think, now friends as well. Hard to tell, of course, with any except Sharlz.

Prit was there, naturally. As the highest financial official of the Confederacy, Sallivar was resident in the new capital.

So were Forent Nappur and Jessep Yunkers, who were also sitting at the table. Demansk would allow the Council at Vanbert to retain their illusions of still being the "seat of power." His son Olver, who now resided in Vanbert, was always present at the Council to give his father's view on things. And while Olver had come to this gathering, Kall Oppricht had remained behind. To keep on eye on things, so to speak.