You know what. You’ve tried not to think of it, wondering if you had the nerve, or the skill, or what you’d have to face to accomplish it—but there is an opportunity now. There is a moment to act. The moment is soon. Think fast, think well. The Dolls. That has to be how.
“But, anyway. The Emperor,” Merrin went on. “I argued your worth, and instead of being carted away still Blinded, you were given a Barony. Grudgingly. So it came to this—I want—that the real power in the Duchy remains with you, which I will . . . assuming . . .” He trailed off.
“Assuming that the Emperor’s plan isn’t to strip the Duchy once you’re in the saddle,” Kordas said bitterly. “Which it probably is. Nobody would be given a title unless there was a demand in return. The Emperor wouldn’t make you a Duke unless he expected you to strip Valdemar bare to prove your loyalty to the Empire and its war. And most especially to him.”
Merrin’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head. “You don’t sound like a bumpkin right now.”
“You have no idea what I am,” Kordas replied in an ominous tone. His tone wasn’t by mistake. His expression was hard-jawed and stormy now, like the shirt revealed as he began unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat at the top. “Star, have Beltran meet us at the Record Keeper’s desk. Now.”
* * *
—
“What is known of the Imperial Office is this,” the Record Keeper showed them on an architectural plot. “The receiving area is divided from the desk by a barrier impervious to all but air and sound. The eastern wall has a door from the Petitioner’s Position and one from the Conquest Throne. The western wall has a Gate for egress from the receiving area, and another—on the other side of the barrier—for the Emperor. He generally only uses it to retire to the Imperial bedchamber. The floor is extra thick wool carpeting, and the Emperor’s side is walled in trophy cases and prizes of war.”
Kordas traced fingers across the barrier line. “Can Dolls pass through this?”
“No, my Lord,” the Record Keeper answered, “but this one gathers your intentions by the nature of your questions. This one finds itself not disapproving.”
Merrin had been seated for some time, while Beltran told him an abbreviated explanation of the Plan. As Kordas put it, now Merrin was in the Plan up to his neck, so he had the choice of being an ally or being found dead in a canal—granted at least that much mercy. Something in Kordas’s tone made Merrin acquiesce immediately.
“And the talismans you gave us to pass through Gates only Dolls could use—will they take us through here?” He tapped on the drawing.
“Yes, my Lord,” the Record Keeper replied. “This one recommends you not move directly there from the receiving area, as the destination command might be overheard.”
“Agreed. We’ll need one more Doll pass talisman, then.” Kordas turned part way around to look sharply into Merrin’s eyes. “Are you with me? Completely?”
Merrin took a deep breath and replied, “I can’t say I have no choice, because I do. You’d be better off killing me, though—if I’m arrested, they’ll get everything out of me. Somehow. But yes—it is incredible to think anyone could have been as bold as you and yours have been, but yes. I am in.”
Kordas turned back to the Record Keeper. “I need to know what Dolls can do to the Emperor without his specific permission—what those Dolls closest to him have been given blanket permission for. Dolls must be the Emperor’s body-servants, so do they need to ask to disrobe him?”
The Record Keeper would have stared in shock, if it was able. The momentary pause told Kordas that the Doll had just been shocked by a realization, and had double-, maybe triple-checked it. “It was established many years ago that when the Emperor raises his arms we are free to disrobe or dress him, with no further command needed.”
Merrin’s brows furrowed deeply and he raised a single finger. “Are you thinking of—”
“Oh yes. Beltran, are you ready? You know how to use a Spitter, right?” The young man nodded and within moments of the nod, a Doll came from the Records halls bearing three cases, laid them on the Record Keeper’s desk, and opened all three up. An orange glow came from within one of the cases.
“Is that—” Beltran began.
Kordas nodded. “Amazing what Dolls have just lying around, isn’t it?”
They conferred for another half-candlemark, practiced a few times, and then it was time to go.
* * *
—
The softest of mage-lights was all that kept it from being unbearably bright. The initial shock of seeing the Emperor’s office left you with only one impression: unimaginable wealth, in gold.
The furniture was gilded, with cloth-of-gold cushions. The ceiling was gilded. The doors had gold plate hammered over them. Anything made of metal was either solid gold or at least gold plated. The floor was gold carpet of tufted wool a knuckle deep, with a woven pattern of pure gold thread. The walls were not gold—they were a mosaic of actual amber of every possible color, and quite literally more valuable than gold. Golden frames enclosed daggers, swords, crowns, headdresses, polearms, and chalices.
There were seven giant wolf statues made of gold and iron positioned around the office, in places where windows might have been. I’m surprised they aren’t of the Emperor, Kordas mused.
There were guards everywhere outside of the Emperor’s private office, but once the doors were closed, there were no humans anywhere to be seen. Of course, given the amount of protections that Kordas could see with mage-sight, the Emperor didn’t need human guards in here after the doors were locked. There was a Gate in the wall to the left, the Dolls could come and go and bring him whatever he needed, and the magical protections around him would ensure no physical harm could come to him.
All of those protection spells seemed to be emanating from a single object in the room. Which also made sense, given the decades—centuries!—the High Kings, and then the Emperors, had been sitting on the Conquest Throne.
But that object was not, as Kordas had thought, the Wolf Crown. No, it was the heavy gold-and-iron carcanet that the Emperor wore. And that made sense, too. The spells had been forged into the gold—but the iron would by itself deflect any counter-spells. However much of a fool the current Emperor was, his predecessors had been shrewd indeed.
In addition, there was a protective barrier between the desk and where they were standing. That came from the desk itself. Anyone who tried rushing the Emperor by going over that desk would just bounce right off it.
He and Merrin stood side by side in the Imperial Office’s receiving area, as the Emperor pretended to read something. This, of course, was another demonstration of his power. Another petty demonstration. And Kordas knew that he would keep them standing there until he started to get bored. Only then would he get on with the business that brought them here—making official Kordas’s demotion, and Merrin’s promotion. There was nothing on that desk except a little gold statue of himself, a pen, and the two sets of documents.