Zindel as the Emperor lowered his hands with a smile as bleak as northern sea-ice.
'Chava Busar is going to see his opportunity in this,' the Emperor said. 'Shamir Taje is out talking to the heads of the various delegations to the Conclave right now, and you can be damned certain Chava will soon have his … representatives doing exactly the same thing. They're going to use my son's death any way they can. As if what's happened to Janaki wasn't going to do damage enough all by itself.'
'How bad is it, Your Majesty?' Alazon asked quietly.
'They've taken at least five universes,' Zindel said flatly. 'As far as we know, every soldier-and civilian-we had in those universes is either dead or prisoner. And somehow-' he met the two Voices'
eyes '-they managed to keep a single Voice from getting the warning out, as well.'
Kinlafia's belly muscles clenched, and he felt Alazon's sick awareness of what the Emperor was telling them.
'They've advanced over four thousand miles in less than two weeks,' Zindel continued. 'The sort of transport and logistics capability that suggests is going to be terrifying as soon as its implications sink in, and the existence of these … dragons, and these lion-eagle things of theirs, is going to be even worse.
But, frankly, what's going to hit home the hardest, going to have the most catastrophic effect on public opinion, is that they launched this entire attack while they were negotiating with us.'
Kinlafia's teeth grated together with fresh fury, and Zindel snorted with cold, bitter anger of his own.
'They've truly done it this time,' he said harshly. 'First, Shaylar's murder. Now this … this treachery and the murder of my son. The heir to the throne. The whole of Sharona is going to explode in fury. Any possible hope we ever had for stopping this insanity is gone forever. Whether we're ready for it or not, whether we want it or not, we're in a fight for our very survival, and my son-'
His voice broke savagely. It took him three tries to get it under control again.
'My son's death will not be in vain.' He grated at last. 'We're going to take every one of those portals back. We're going to drive those bastards back into the universe they came from. And I don't mean the universe on the other side of the portal you helped capture, Darcel-I mean their home universe. We're going to shove them back and bottle them up and blow them apart so hard it'll knock them back into the godsdamned Stone Age.' He stared hard into Kinlafia's eyes. 'And you, Parliamentary Representative Kinlafia, are going to help me do it.'
'Yes, Sir.' Kinlafia met that hard, bitter stare of steel across Alazon's head and nodded once, sharply.
'Yes, Your Majesty,' he agreed in the voice of a man swearing an oath. 'No matter what it takes.'
'Good.'
Zindel's voice was different, too. It was the voice of an emperor accepting an oath of fealty. Then the grief, the anguish, in his eyes shifted. It turned into something else, equally hard, and yet somehow almost … desperate.
'And the other thing you're going to help me do, Darcel-' he added in a chilling tone '-you and Alazon both-is to find a way to keep that bastard Busar from forcing Andrin to marry one of his monstrous sons.'
Kinlafia's heart lurched.
'Oh, dear gods …' he half-whispered.
How could he have missed it? He'd already realized that Andrin had just become the Crown Princess of Sharona, or shortly would, and that meant-
'I will personally put a bullet through every last one of Chava Busar's sons before I let any of them marry your daughter, Your Majesty,' he said, and felt Alazon shudder in his arms. Shudder with the thought of Andrin wed to any member of Chava's family … and with her Voice's knowledge that he meant every single word he'd just said.
'Good.' Zindel chan Calirath's eyes could have frozen the heart of hell itself, but then he made himself inhale deeply.
'Good,' he repeated. 'But now let's try to figure out a way to stop it without throwing our world into a civil war at the same time we have to deal with these Arcanan butchers.'
'Yes, Your Majesty.'
Kinlafia nodded and the Emperor turned to Alazon.
'Shamir is canvassing our allies' delegations,' he told her. It was a sign of his own grief and shock that, despite his outward self-control, he'd clearly forgotten that he'd already told them that. 'I expect him back within the hour. Please contact the members of the Privy Council. This crisis won't wait; tell them we'll meet two hours from now, and I want Orem Limana present, as well. We'll need him to help us coordinate portal traffic.'
'Yes, Your Majesty.'
'Thank you. Thank you both,' Zindel said.
Then he drew a deep breath, turned and walked back out the door through which he'd entered the room.
Kinlafia heard the sound of weeping from beyond that door, and the Emperor moved like an exhausted swimmer in deep water as he returned to his grieving family.
The door closed behind him, and Alazon buried her face in Kinlafia's shoulder and spent one long, desperate moment weeping while he held her close. Then she tilted her face up and gave him a trembling smile full of courage, and he kissed her very gently.
'Let me know when you have a free moment,' he said. 'I'll feed you some dinner and rub your feet.'
'That's an offer more precious than diamonds,' she said, making herself smile once again even while her eyes swam with fresh tears. 'Consider it a date.'
She rose on her toes to kiss him once more, and then they both gathered themselves to face what must come next.
Chava Busar stood in his strategically chosen spot beside the buffet tables, watching the hysterics which were now fully underway in the Grand Ballroom, and worked hard to keep from smiling in delight.
The truth was still sinking in, he thought. Out on the dance floor, women sobbed into silk handkerchiefs and men wore murderous expressions. He heard curses and vows of dire vengeance in a score of languages, and the sound was sweet, sweet to his ears.
Janaki chan Calirath had gotten himself killed. Gotten his head nipped clean off like a chicken by some sort of huge bird or monster, if the rumors were to be believed.
It was absolutely delicious. In one fell swoop (his own choice of verb made him chuckle mentally behind his impassive expression, considering the nature of Janaki's executioner), the utter disaster which his political ambitions had suffered was reversed. All he had to do was grasp the opportunity swiftly and intelligently. By this time next week, that horse-shaped, gangling, hideous giant of a schoolgirl was going to find herself profoundly married. And not long after that … .
He looked up as the Seneschal of Othmaliz waddled over to his corner of the ballroom. The Seneschal contemplated the weepers and cursers, then looked Chava in the eye.
'What a pity,' he said.
'Yes, isn't it?' Chava agreed, allowing one corner of his mouth to quirk upwards ever so slightly.
'I imagine tomorrow will be quite a busy day for us all,' the Seneschal continued. 'There'll have to be another session of the Conclave to deal with this latest crisis. And, of course this is going to force a postponement of the Coronation. So sad.' He sighed. 'So very sad.'
'True.' Chava nodded, then cocked his head to one side. 'One's heart goes out to the Emperor's family at such time, of course. Still, there are responsibilities which must be met, aren't there? And plans which must be adjusted. Or in some cases-' he looked deep into the Seneschal's eyes '-accelerated. I do trust that the Comforters will be keeping the Emperor and his entire family in their thoughts.'
'Oh, I think you need have no fear on those grounds, Your Majesty,' the Seneschal assured him.
Someone knocked on Darcel Kinlafia's door at three o'clock in the morning.
He jolted awake and jerked upright in bed, momentarily confused by the soft white moonlight falling through open windows where warm breeze stirred white draperies. He'd been dreaming of combat-a ghastly, nightmarish mishmash of his own memories, fighting at the swamp portal, the massacre of his survey crew, and the combat he'd seen through the Glimpse he'd shared with Zindel-and he wasn't certain, at first, what had awakened him.
Then the knock sounded again.
'Darcel,' a familiar Voice Called softly in the back of his brain, and he was out of bed in heartbeat. He snatched up a night robe as he crossed the apartment, somehow managing, with the moonlight's aid, to avoid stubbing his
