“I don’t know what to say,” she said finally.
“Try, ‘I forgive you, Kordas, for acting impulsively,’” he suggested.
“I suppose I have to,” she admitted, grudgingly. “So this Imperial messenger will arrive today?”
Star spoke up. “At about mid-morning, Lady Duke,” the Doll said. “The Record Keeper will wait until it is certain that the messenger will not be noticed carrying an unusually large burden. The Record Keeper cautions you not to send someone to linger at the Gate in order to intercept him. The Record Keeper suggests that you note that the Messenger had far to walk, suggest that he must be very weary, apologize, and offer refreshment that includes the spirits. That will make the offer of refreshment all the more welcome and not at all suspicious.”
Isla nodded. “I think I like your Record Keeper,” she said dryly. “It has all the good sense the Duke lacks.”
“I heard that,” Kordas grumbled.
“You were meant to. All right, my side is short, but all good. We’ve gotten all of the stockpiled grain out of the manor, into the barges, and to the other side without any incident. We’re already getting people across and in temporary settlements; Ivar is shockingly good at organizing them, and his cousin Alberdina is even better. I’ve put them in charge, rather than sending Hakkon as the original Plan suggested. It’s really useful that they are the son and cousin of one of your Counts. People accept their authority without question.”
“Well, the original Plan had me at home,” he said unhappily.
“I would very much welcome any suggestions from the Record Keeper about how to keep scrutiny off us while we’re emptying the countryside,” she said. “And even more would I welcome ideas about how to keep the Emperor from taking out his ire on the ones left behind. I think about ten percent of them are going to stay, based on what I know right now. And we can’t force them to go, Kordas, so don’t suggest that I bespell them or something to make them go. I won’t do it.”
He shrugged helplessly. I don’t know. I just don’t know. And I certainly can’t lie and say I know, because she knows I don’t know.
But Star had that “listening” look about it again. “The Record Keeper suggests that you and Kordas’s cousin Hakkon have an affair.”
Kordas was glad he wasn’t drinking anything, or he would have choked. He had never seen Isla look so surprised in all the time he had known her, not even when he’d put a grass snake down her back. Her eyes popped, her mouth fell open, and it looked as if someone had hit her on the back of the head. It was several long moments before she took a breath.
“What?” she finally replied. “What the hell?”
“The Record Keeper suggests that you and this Hakkon have an affair,” Star said calmly. “A very open one, where you are often seen going into each others’ bedchambers. The moment any Imperial spy discovers this information, they will buzz about the rumor like flies around jam, and will ignore virtually everything else going on. If you string it on, it will pull the spies along with it.”
“I . . . I . . . I . . .” Isla stammered, for once taken entirely at a loss. She was silent for so long that Kordas began to wonder if she was literally stunned. Finally she spoke. “That’s . . . not entirely a bad idea.”
“The Record Keeper believes it will occupy their attention,” said Star, “since salacious information is far more attractive to humans than any other sort.”
Kordas just shrugged again. “I have nothing to add to this suggestion,” he said.
“I will . . . consider it. And consult with Hakkon,” she replied hesitantly.
“You should cease this conversation soon,” Star advised. “The mages are waking.”
“Three days,” said Kordas. “Good luck with the messenger.”
“Three days,” confirmed Isla, and he waved his hand to end the scrying.
Kordas picked up the mirror and hid it again, and glanced over at Star. “Did the Record Keeper really suggest that?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. The Record Keeper has been studying humans the longest of any of us, and those here at the Palace around the Emperor the most. The Emperor is very fond of salacious information, and even fonder of using it. You may be sure he will wish to hear every possible detail to use in humiliating you and tormenting you. He has done this before, many times.”
“Why?” Kordas asked, unable to help himself. This seemed petty, for someone as powerful as the Emperor.
“This one does not know. The Record Keeper does not know. We can only observe. Our most educated guess is that the Emperor is essentially an awful person.”
Kordas pondered that as he went back to bed, exhausted enough that he wouldn’t need to feign sleeping late. The scrying had taken more out of him this time—possibly because there had been substantial emotional content to it. Possibly because it was still all coming out of him, and he was not about to trust any source of power around here but himself. He might not be “in love” with Isla, and he knew very well that Hakkon had no interest whatsoever in women, but facing the prospect of being lambasted in public as a cuckold was exceedingly unpleasant.
And how was he going to respond to that? He certainly wouldn’t have to imitate being humiliated. Even though he knew it wasn’t true. Even though if Isla had wanted to take a lover, he probably wouldn’t care. Well, he would if they were still married, but if she was truly in love with someone, he’d be perfectly willing to have the bond annulled.
He could only decide, ugly as it was going to be, that he’d have to play at feeling betrayed. Oh, he could pretend not to believe it, but he was pretty certain that when the Emperor or his sycophants pulled this one out of the bag for his humiliation, they’d have lots of evidence he couldn’t deny. And doing something like shrugging and saying, “Well, arranged marriages, don’t you know. I have my own little playthings put where she can’t find them,” wouldn’t give the Emperor what he wanted. No, the Emperor wanted amusement out of his pet bumpkin, and the best amusement for the Emperor seemed to be mental torture. They were getting close to the Regatta, and the closer they got, the more likely it was they’d be discovered. At all costs, the eyes of the Emperor had to be diverted from Valdemar proper, lest the leakage of people and resources be seen.
And we must, for the sake of Valdemar, give the Emperor what he wants.
“This just seems so . . . petty,” he said aloud, but Star had left, and there was no one there to hear.
“Petty” seemed to be what the Emperor reveled in.
Too much inbreeding, he thought sourly. Though that was not really the answer. The Emperor was a petty, cruel tyrant, a man who was the center of his own universe—but the reasons that he was the way he was? They could be complex.