not to follow, but I never doubted he had the well-being of the Empire at heart. Lionstone cares for nothing and no one save herself. She's a spoiled brat, and always has been. Which is not exactly unusual in royal stock, but bearable when diluted with some sense of duty. We've seen many royal backsides on the Imperial throne, Crawford, but I honestly fear for the Empire under Lionstone XIV.'
'Get out of here, Rod,' said Campbell quietly. 'Whatever the Iron Bitch has to say to you, I don't think either of us wants to hear it. Nothing good will come of it. Leave now, while you still can.'
'Where would I go?' said Summerlsle calmly. 'Where could I go where Her Majesty's hounds wouldn't drag me down sooner or later? I never ran from an enemy before, and I'm not about to start now. She's brought me here to kill me. I know that. But I will end my days with dignity, as a loyal subject before his monarch, even if that monarch is not worthy of that loyalty.'
'Very pretty,' snarled Campbell. 'It'll look great on your tombstone. Why make it easy for her?'
'It's called duty, Crawford. You must have heard of it. When honor calls, a man must make his stand, if he is a man.'
'As you wish, Summerlsle. Just don't stand too close to me while you're doing it.'
They shared a brief smile and then looked round sharply as the great double doors swung smoothly open, the massive slabs of beaten steel gliding back as though they weighed nothing. A long fanfare rang out, silencing the chatter of the courtiers, and bright light spilled out from the great courtroom of Lionstone XIV. The courtiers moved toward it in fits and starts, like moths drawn to a flame.
First went the Company of Lords, all those of the first hundred Families of the Empire, those who ruled planets or companies or armies by right of succession in the Empress' name. The highest of the high, most noble and acclaimed of Her Majesty's subjects. In theory, at least. They strode into the great courtroom, looking neither left nor right, their heads high. Secretly they felt naked without their usual retinues of bodyguards, advisors and sycophants, but a Lord came alone to meet his Empress, without even a sword on his hip. It was a sign of trust and respect Not to mention Imperial paranoia.
And after diem came the two hundred and fifty Members of Her Majesty's Parliament. They represented the economic forces in the Empire, the power and influence of the mighty credit. Only those with a high enough income were allowed to vote, of course. Unless one was of noble birth, Parliament was the only way to gain access to the inner circles of Government. A Member of Parliament might be obliged to bow to a lord if they met in the street, but in an audience with the Empress, their voices were equal. If the Members were ever to act in unison, they could have brought the Company of Lords to heel like so many unruly dogs, but the Parliament was split into several opposing factions, and the Lords took care to keep it split through quiet patronage and the occasional large bribe. Of late, Parliament had been increasingly disturbed over the threat of higher taxes to pay for the expansion of the Imperial Fleet to face the possible threat from the two newly discovered alien species.
In theory, the Empress was bound by law and custom to abide by whatever decisions Parliament and the Company of Lords could bring themselves to agree on. In practice, the Empress would listen, when she was in the mood, and then make up her own mind. Lionstone had the backing of the Army and the Fleet, and as long as she did, no one could make her do a damn thing she didn't want to. Which was why the prospect of an enlarged and more powerful Fleet was causing a lot of sweaty hands and sleepless nights among Parliament and the Lords. Some Members had been heard to say they didn't believe in the new aliens, but as yet no one was prepared to say that in public, let alone at court.
But, on the other hand, Lionstone's position was not as powerful as it had once been. A great many younger sons of the aristocracy, unable to inherit a title, had ended up making careers for themselves in the Army and the Fleet. And as they advanced in rank, so their influence grew, so mat the Army and the Fleet were no longer the unquestioning servants they had once been.
All of which meant that the political structure at court was one of complete chaos, over which the Empress presided through canny politicking and sheer force of personality.
After the Members of Parliament came the bulk of the crowd: Family members, political hangers-on, businessmen and officers, and anyone else who could bribe, beg or steal an invitation. The imperial court was the political and social hub around which the Empire resolved, and everyone wanted to be there, or to be seen to be there. You weren't anybody if you weren't seen at court.
And finally, right at the back, in hard-worn clothes, with hard-worn faces, came the ten commoners who'd won the Imperial lottery that year. They had won the right to visit the court and petition the Empress in person for her aid or charity or justice. Of course, actually raising your voice at court was a risky business. A commoner had no friends there, and sometimes it was better if the Empress didn't notice you. Her sense of justice was whimsical at best, though occasionally she might rule in favor of a commoner just to upset some noble with whom she was displeased. On the whole, lottery winners tended just to enjoy the occasion. Some spent the whole year at court and never did ask their question.
The court itself was a swamp, this time. Thick curls of mist hung on the humid air between gnarled and twisted trees, and everywhere was at least ankle-deep in dark, smelly water. Knotted vines hung down from lowering branches to trail in the water, and the air was thick with flies and other insects. The courtiers splashed doggedly on through the swamp, keeping a wary eye open for crocodiles or other unpleasantnesses that might be lurking in the deepening muddy water. Just because it wasn't a real swamp didn't mean there weren't real dangers to be found in it.
Most of it was holograms with just enough physical reality here and there to make it authentically uncomfortable. Lionstone liked to keep her court interesting, and her tastes were both devious and wide-ranging. In the past, she'd turned her court into a desert, an arctic waste, and an inner city slum. That one had been really dangerous, and everyone had suffered from fleas afterward. The desert had been the most sneaky. Sand everywhere, and air so hot you could hardly breathe it And just to liven things up a little, Lionstone had had tiny metal scorpions hidden in the sand; nasty little copper devices with neurotoxins in their stingers. A minor Lord had been at death's door for a week, and Lionstone still got the giggles when she thought about it.
The courtiers slogged on, muttering darkly, their mood not helped by the knowledge that the whole Empire was watching them suffer. Every planet, no mater how poor or how far flung, had access to the workings of the court thanks to the artfully concealed holocameras. The Lords and the Members swore every year that they were going to put a stop to the ancient custom, but somehow they never did. No one could resist the thought of so large a watching audience.
Every now and again, a gleaming silver statue would appear out of the mists, fashioned to show the form of one of the many alien species that had been brought into the Empire and taught their place. There were a hell of a lot of them. No one knew exactly how many. No one really cared. Some of the statues had actually outlasted the species they represented. There weren't many who cared about that, either. It was, after all, first and foremost a human Empire. Some of the older courtiers leaned on the statues to get their breath back, after first checking for booby traps.
The Empress sat casually on a great throne of black iron and gleaming jade, set just high enough to keep her feet out of the water. She looked perfectly at ease, even though the throne had obviously been designed for someone rather larger. The mists curled away from where she sat, calm and comfortable in her own little circle of cool air. She looked cold and regal and perfect in her royal robes and diamond crown, every inch an Empress. Her maids-in-waiting crouched naked in the muddy waters at the base of the throne, like so many hunting dogs straining at unseen leashes.
The courtiers slowly assembled before the throne, careful to maintain a respectful and safe distance, and bowed to their Empress. She looked down at the hundreds of bowed heads and yawned. The courtiers stayed bent over, hot and sweating, waiting to be released. Once she'd kept them there for an hour. She finally gave a signal with a bored wave of her hand. A fanfare sounded, and the courtiers straightened up with some surreptitious massaging of the back here and there. No one was stupid enough to say anything. One look at the maids-in-waiting was enough to put the thought out of anyone's mind. Their faces were blank, inhuman, and their artificial eyes had the direct, unblinking gaze of insects.
They watched the courtiers with unwavering concentration, and now and then metal claws eased out from under their fingernails, ready for use.
A muffled cry sounded among the Company of Lords, as Lord Gregor Shreck stared in open horror at one of the maids. He started to move forward, and the maids tensed. Shreck's Family quickly closed in around him, holding him in place and muttering earnestly in his ears. Finally he had enough sense to look away, though his hands and
