John Norman: The King

At this very assemblage in the hall were men from such states, and others.

There were representatives here, as well, from each of the eleven tribes of the Alemanni people.

Too, present, were others, from other tribes, and other peoples, some officially allied, or federated, with the empire, at least in some titular fashion, and some not, and there were present, too, others from outworlds, of diverse species, eager for soil, seeds, gold, and power.

The shieldsman, the sword of Abrogastes in its leather sling behind his left shoulder, like the dog, surveyed the assemblage. At such gatherings he did not drink. He, a shieldsman, would remain, like the dog, watchful, and alert.

Abrogastes was no ordinary bandit, no ordinary brigand.

He saw far, he thought deeply. His appellation was the Far-Grasper. Abrogastes, the lord of the Drisriaks, Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper.

Had he been an ordinary brigand, he would not have called, nor could he, in plausibility, have called, this gathering.

There were present guests of many tribes, and many species.

There was a small sound of chain, from the dais, to the left of his bench, with the high-seat pillars. He felt something soft press itself against his fur boot. He thrust with his boot to the side, irritably, forcing it away. There was another sound of chain, that of a heavy chain, and a tiny whimper of misery, of timid, pleading protest.

“Would milord be fed?” inquired the shieldsman.

“I would be fed,” said Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper.

The shieldsman lifted his hand, and made a peremptory gesture.

“The greatest danger to the empire,” said Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol, “is not from beyond the stars, not from the ships of barbarous dogs, but from traitors, within the empire.”

“Surely,” she said, putting down her tiny bowl of kana , and leaning back in the chair.

It was late at night, in one of the many palaces of the imperial family. It does not matter which palace, as it might have been any one of several. Nor was the palace on the Telnarian home world. It was, however, within the first imperial sector. I mention this that one may conjecture the nature of its grounds, the extent and arrangement of its gardens, the splendor of its fountains, its securities, the fields, forces, and armaments, the richness of its furnishings, the lavishness of its appointments and such. Many rich individuals in the empire, incidentally, had their own palaces, members of ancient families, some of whom putatively dated back to the early worlds of the empire, some of them members of the hereditary senatorial class, still officially required to confirm the appointment of an emperor; high officials, such as prefects civil and military; rich merchants; great landlords, and such. But this was a palace of the imperial family, though none of the imperial family, Aesilesius, the emperor; Atalana, the empress mother; or the two sisters of the emperor, blond Viviana and brunet Alacida were currently in residence. That was not a matter of coincidence. On the other hand, we may surmise that the affair afoot this late night was not one undertaken without the knowledge of, and approval of, the empress mother, Atalana.

Iaachus glanced to one side.

“Elena,” he said. “Leave us.”

The girl addressed, a beauty, with brown hair and gray eyes, hesitated only a moment, but then, barefoot, in a white, ankle-length, sleeveless gown, hurried from the room.

“I do believe she is jealous,” said the young woman sitting across from Iaachus.

Iaachus smiled.

“Who would not be, of one such as you?” he asked.

His guest stiffened, ever so slightly, in the investiture of her ornate, brocaded robes.

“The fortunes of your family have declined, as I have heard,” said Iaachus.

“Imperceptibly,” she said.

“The burning of the piers at Governor’s Landing, the seizure of granaries at Losann, by unruly coloni . The raids on the storehouses on Clarus IV. The loss of the cargo contract between Archus and Miton. The salt monopoly abolished on Teris. The razing of the resort complex at Felnar. The closing of the routes to Canaris and the Drakar Archipelago.”

She was silent.

“I am very sorry,” he said.

“There are many disturbances within the empire,” she said. “It is a time of unrest.”

“But not of change,” said Iaachus.

“In its essence the empire is changeless, and eternal,” she said.

“True,” said Iaachus.

“Such things are minor considerations,” she said. “They are negligible, at best.”

“I am so pleased to hear it,” he said.

She did not speak.

“To be sure,” he said, smiling, “though the empire is changeless, and eternal, its forms imperishable and such, there might be changes within the empire.”

“Oh?” she said.

“Changes, for example, in power, in the positions, and fortunes, of families, of individuals.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

“Such things have occurred, countless times in the past,” he said.

“That is true,” she said.

“Your family is among the highest, and most revered, in the empire,” he said.

“True,” she said.

“If there has been a decline in its fortunes, that is a tragedy not only for the family, but the empire, as well.”

“I have little to do with my family any longer,” she said.

“There is a rumor,” he said, “that they have dissociated themselves from you.”

“Possibly,” she said.

“Perhaps they have reservations pertaining to your character, your tastes, your friends, your manner of living?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “They are fools,” she added. “I am well rid of them.”

“Are you in debt?” he asked.

“I have an allowance,” she said.

“It seems you were heavily in debt,” he remarked.

“‘Were’?” she said.

“I have consolidated your debts,” he said, “and have discharged them.”

“They have been discharged?” she asked,

“Yes,” he said. He put papers before her.

“You recognize the items, the vouchers, and such?”

She lifted her head from the papers, and regarded him.

“I did not request such a thing,” she said. “Nor did I suggest it, nor bargain for it.”

“Of course not,” he said.

“I do not recognize the signatures,” she said.

“Those of agents,” he said. “It was done through private, concealed accounts.”

“Why did you do this?” she asked.

“You owe me nothing,” he said.

“Why?” she pressed.

“In respect of your lineage,” he said. “For the sake of your name, the honor of your family, the good of the empire.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“I could see to it,” he said, “that your fortunes might considerably improve. That they might far, in the future, outdistance even the residues of your family’s fortune. I could manage it in such a way that you could become one of the wealthiest, and most envied, women in the empire, honored, rich with dignities, welcome even at the imperial court.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“Let us say,” he said, “merely that I think your prospects are splendid.”

She did not speak, but regarded him.

“I gather you are not overly fond of your family,” he said.

“Oh?” she said.

“Are my informants reliable?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“Nor they of you,” he said.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“You have been repudiated, disowned,” he said, “save, of course, for a not ungenerous allowance.”

“It is a pittance,” she said.

“They do not care in the least for what happens to you,” He said.