'I could tell you the answer to that,' said Khmar. 'They're spawned by sons with their cocks up their mothers' bums.’
'Not that kind of gaplax. It's an insect. It's half as long as your arm. They live in the sea, and they're caught in pots. They're caught with rotten meat, not by whistling. They're bright red. Not before, but after. They're cooked in boiling water.’
Yen Olass realized she was babbling, and stopped abruptly. Then she added – she could not help herself-
'But they're very nice to eat.’
'Then we will have some cooked for us,' said Khmar, clapping his hands, once, to signify that the audience was over. 'We will eat alone. Alagrace can go. He has already eaten, and we have no wish to overfeed him.’
Yen Olass and Lord Alagrace both made reverence to the emperor, and began to withdraw.
'Yen Olass,' said Khmar, 'I said that we would eat alone. Not me. We. We is two people.’
In the mouth of an emperor, of course, 'we' can mean many things. But Yen Olass did not say this. For once, she was lost for words.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A man does not eat with a woman. A master does not eat with a slave. And the emperor most certainly does not eat with a female slave. Yet this happened.
The kitchen did not talk of this. The kitchen talked, instead, of the gaplax. What if Khmar developed a taste for them? What if he called for a gaplax when he was a thousand leagues inland? How many chefs' heads would it take to teach him the difficulties of transporting live gaplax as far as Locontareth or Gendormargensis?
Khmar was usually content with horsemeat, and that was the way the kitchen liked it. This Yen Olass had a lot to answer for.
Halfway through the meal, the kitchen had other things to worry about. Khmar's bodyguards burst into the kitchen tent, seized the entire staff, dragged them outside and bound them to execution posts. Khmar's foodtaster was writhing on the ground, vomiting his heart out. If the same happened to Khmar, heads would roll.
Fortunately, Khmar did not suffer. The foodtaster had proved allergic to seafood, but the emperor suffered no ill effects, to the great relief of the kitchen.’
Even at the best of times, the incident with the foodtaster would have spoilt the meal. Yen Olass had a very uncomfortable time. Khmar always seemed on the point of saying something – and always withdrew. What was he afraid to tell her? Perhaps he wanted to ask for a reading, yet was too… too embarrassed to?
The day and the danger were not yet over. On the principle that it is always best to die with a full stomach,
Yen Olass ate her way through four gaplax. She had invented the principle on the spur of the moment, to justify making a pig of herself.
'You have strong appetites,' said Khmar.
'I was born biting,' said Yen Olass.
And that was as near as they came, to small-talk.
After the meal, Khmar resumed his audience with Lord Alagrace, with Yen Olass in attendance.
'Not all your actions have pleased me,' said Khmar to Alagrace, opening his attack without ceremony.
'I have done my best in accordance with the law,' said Lord Alagrace, stiffly.
It was exactly the kind of opening Khmar was looking for. If Alagrace had not given it to hirn, Khmar would have created it.
'I know all about your version of law,' said Khmar. 'Warming your hands with your arse while voices clock the sun to the western horizon. That's your law – now you see mine. Bring in the pirates!’
Armed guards brought in four swarthy-faced men who were forced to the ground in front of the Red Emperor.
'They claim to be ambassadors,' said Khmar, 'going to see Ohio of Ork. Do you hear that? Ohio of Ork! Some pirate pretending to be a king. There'll be no pirates in my waters, not once I'm finished with them. We have to build seapower. Wipe them out. You've seen what they've made of my son, Alagrace, but a grease-arse diplomat like him could never get rid of the pirates. This is the way to do it!’
So saying, Khmar grabbed one of the men – scooped him up, lofted his body toward the roof of the tent, then hauled it down from the air, breaking the spine across his knee. Then he tore out the throat with his teeth. Then grinned: blood and sharpened ivory.
One of the three remaining men got to his feet and charged. He died before his second step – nine pieces of metal sticking into him. Six knives, two spears, one tomahawk. Khmar's bodyguards were the best. That left two men.
One cowered down on the floor, but the other spoke rapidly.
'What is that rabble speaking?' said Khmar.
'He is speaking one of the southern languages,' said Celadric. 'The Galish Trading Tongue. It is one in which I have acquired some fluency. He asks for the oracle to give him a reading.’
'A reading!' said Khmar, displeased at this interruption to the outright slaughter he had planned. 'Who told him about oracles and readings? You? No, don't answer, I've no time to listen to any lies. Well – is he entitled to a reading? Yen Olass?’
'No,' said Yen Olass. 'He is an outlander. He is not entitled to a reading.’
'So what should we do with him?’
Nobody answered.
'Yen Olass? I asked you a question.’
'I am a woman,' said Yen Olass, cautiously. 'I do not dispose of the lives of men. It is not for me to say.’
Truth to tell, Yen Olass believed that girls can do anything, but she told her emperor what she thought he wanted to hear.
'Oh, most excellent of liars,' said Khmar. 'Yen Olass, you can be emperor for a moment. More: you are emperor. Decide.’
Yen Olass hesitated. What kind of game was this? She did not dare presume that the meal Khmar had given her was a sign of favour: he might turn on her in a moment, and butcher her, then joke about how he had been fattening her up for the table. As.she hesitated, Celadric spoke:
'Since when did you take instruction from a female?’
'I want to see how a female rules,' said Khmar. 'Then I will know how things will be when my dear Celadric comes to power.’
Why did Khmar dart such insults at his son? Perhaps he wanted Celadric to attack him, and die in the attack. Perhaps he wanted Celadric to try and kill him – and to succeed. Celadric himself understood Khmar's bitter words as the last sport left to a dying man, and perhaps he was right.
'Speak, Yen Olass,' said Khmar. 'Silence, all. Hear the woman emperor.’
Yen Olass now held in her hands the lives of two men. She doubted if she could save them both. One of them, perhaps? Perhaps.
'Certain acts unthink certain thoughts,' said Yen Olass, pointing to a fresh-killed corpse. 'A man lies dead. Another man hears of it. His destiny was to be an assassin of great fame; instead, he earns his fame by knifing wood for block prints. This is necessary. Power must be manifest – but likewise mercy.
'A ship confronts the navy. If captured, all die. They have heard of this. With no hope, they fight to the death. Men die for no purpose. If there is the possibility of mercy, hope will disarm trapped men. Victory comes easy. Mercy is a potent weapon in the arsenals of a great power.
'Yet the emperor lives by strength. The emperor must show mercy, but must not cherish weakness. So preserve the survivor. As a free man or as a slave – by your judgment. Let them fight for the privilege.’
Khmar laughed.
