They stood looking at each other for a protracted moment. Then they embraced, and their kiss was long and involved.
Starlight threw the shadow of the window's tracery across the big bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The imperial palace was a huge many-columned affair of marble and granite. Now deserted, it rang with the banging and clanging of outland pillagers trying to find something of value overlooked by local looters. The imperial family and court had long since vamoosed, taking what valuables they could carry with them.
The emperor himself was dead, assassinated, it was rumored, by a cabal of his own imperial guardsmen, who were themselves put to death by loyalists.
The city of Orem was open to rapine and looting.
Gene went out onto one of many terraces overlooking the city. The palace stood on the highest of Orem's many hills and afforded a good view. Faint screams rose on the blood-tinged air. A bit of rape going on out there. He'd ordered there be no more rape, no more murder. But it was hard to stop barbarians from doing what they did best.
The emperor was dead, and so was his empire, finally overrun by outlanders. Rognar was dead, too, as of yesterday; he'd taken ill during the siege. Heart attack, or so Gene had diagnosed it. Poor Rognar had all the symptoms. There was little medicine in this world, and the barbarians had almost none. Rognar had succumbed, and Gene and Snowy, who had risen in the ranks very quickly, had taken over field operations.
'My lord Gene…'
Gene turned to find Gruesome standing in the doorway. 'What is it?'
'My lord, the imperial guard has surrendered.'
Gene chuckled. 'Thought they would. They're not about to fight to the last man.'
'On one condition,' added Gruesome (whose proper name was Hurvaat, but let that pass).
'What? They're in a position to ask for conditions? We already have the palace. Tell them we'll just seal 'em into that garrison of theirs and let 'em rot.'
'They could last indefinitely with the stores they have,' Gruesome pointed out.
Gene sat on the balustrade. 'Very well. What condition?'
'That you become emperor.'
'What? Me? I'm no emperor.'
'They say there must be an emperor, even an outlander one.'
'Sure, if there's no emperor, they're out of a job.'
'True, my lord.'
Gene looked out over the scene below. It was a grand city, full of beautiful temples, libraries, theaters, and other fine structures. There was art here, culture. Learning. The libraries were being looted, their books hauled away for cooking fuel. Statues had already been toppled, frescoes. defaced. It was a pity.
'Maybe they're right,' Gene said. Gruesome was silent.
Gene nodded. 'Yeah, they are right. There's stuff here that needs to be saved. The fall of any civilization is a terrible thing. A dark age is to be avoided at all cost. Sure, the Empire had its rotten aspects-slavery, foreign bullying-but it also had stuff worth preserving.'
'Surely you're right about these things, my lord. I myself am ignorant of such matters.'
'Yeah, yeah. Okay, tell the guard that I agree to act as emperor until I find a suitable replacement, one wham they can accept as well. And while you're at it, tell them to fan out into the city and see what they can do to stop this wholesale rapine.'
'But our men will oppose them.'
'Send out word that the imperial guard has capitulated and sworn loyalty to me.'
'Yes, my lord.'
Gruesome bowed and took his leave just as Snowclaw walked out onto the terrace carrying a bloody battle- axe across his huge shoulders.
'Hey, guy.'
'Hi, Snowy. Had your fill of fighting yet?'
'There's no one left to fight.' Snowy let the axe clatter to the floor and sat on the balustrade. 'Actually, I'm bushed.'
'It's been three weeks,' Gene said. 'We've done a hell of a lot of fighting. I'm bushed myself. And I should get back to the castle.'
'What for? You missed the wedding, didn't you?'
'Don't think so. I figure about two days have passed at the castle since we left. If I get back to the portal by tomorrow, I just might make it. I have to leave now, though.'
'Up to you,' Snowclaw said.
'But there's a political crisis to deal with. A power vacuum.'
'I don't know about that stuff. But anytime you're ready to go, so am I.'
'No, I want you to stay here, as my lieutenant. I'll go back to the castle, get married, and return immediately.'
'Yeah, but what do I do in the meantime?'
'Nothing. Just relay my orders, which I'll write down… Hell, no one can read. Never mind. Just listen to me and remember what I tell you.'
'Hey, wait a minute. You know I don't know anything about human affairs. I can't make any decisions.'
'It's easy, just remember my orders. Snowy, you're smarter than you think. In fact, sometimes I think you're trying to hide how smart you are. Don't think I've forgotten how many times you beat Linda and me at bridge.'
'Bridge is just a game.'
'If you can remember what cards have been played, you can remember my orders.'
Snowclaw sighed massively. 'Oh, all right.'
'I want the looting and rape and killing stopped. You'll have to keep issuing orders on that, and see that they're carried out. The guard will back you up. There's some kind of city police force here. Try to round them up and enlist their support. See what you can do to get the water supply moving again. The city needs water. Once the fighting dies down and the looting stops, refugees might come back to the city, and among them will be the city managers to accomplish all this. Just let things take their natural course. The Empire might wither away, but the city of Orem is eternal, or so the legends say.'
Gene stood and looked out over the array of grand buildings again.
'Actually, it's a hopeless task. I think the whole kit and caboodle is doomed. But we've got to try to save it. I'll be back as soon as I can.'
'Okay, Gene. Say hi to Linda for me. I miss her.'
'I will. If she even speaks to me.'
Gene left the terrace.
Snowclaw looked down at the plaza below. Growling, he pointed a clawed finger.
'Hey, you! Put that down and clear out of here! Yeah, you, you little weasel!'
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A brilliant flash of lightning split the night sky. Raindrops beaded on the windows like glistening jewels; it had been threatening to rain in earnest all night but never really got around to it. Thunder rolled across the heath, and the wind kept the willows busy rattling their bare branches.
'Three murders,' Dalton said, shaking his head. 'Three murders and not a lot of clues.'
'Or too many,' Thaxton said.
