Fortunately, the Emperor had a short attention span.
He finally looked up. Kordas made certain he was wearing a fatuous grin. Merrin was sober, his hands resting on the grip of his Spitter.
“Well, there you are. Heh. Heh. Heh.” The Emperor’s nasty little smile was back, and he looked more like a toad with hair than ever. “I have your new patents of nobility right here,” he said, and made that “heh-heh” sound again, which was nothing like a laugh. “I trust you will make something noteworthy from your new land, Merrin.”
Merrin made an inarticulate little sound as the Emperor’s seal-ring came down on each document, burning the certifying sigil in.
“And you are done.” He did not stand up. Behind him, several more Dolls padded in through the Gate, but the Emperor took no notice of them; Dolls were beneath an Emperor’s notice. The new Dolls took equidistant places among the four already standing immobile against the display cases. Yet another Doll came through the Gate on the other side of the Office, laid down several folders of documents, and refreshed the pens. The Emperor tapped the two newly sealed pages once, then flicked the same finger toward Merrin and Kordas as if flicking off something just pulled from between his teeth. That Doll brought them through the Emperor’s Gate and to the receiving area, giving one copy to each. There was no fanfare, no—anything. Kordas fought back bile at the simplicity of it all; the Emperor could have an entire Duchy change hands without any more effort than swatting a fly. Or eating one, the toad.
Kordas and Merrin left the receiving area through the gate, following the single Doll, and emerged into the Records Complex, where they were quickly relieved of their outer coats, swords, footwear, and anything else that might have made noise. They took deep breaths, then spoke the destination: the Emperor’s Office.
They stepped silently onto the woolen carpet and, at the same pace as a Doll would use, took up positions between the other Dolls in line by the cases.
A moment later, Kordas’s brave Herald Beltran stepped through the same opening, his forearms aglow with the protective bracers—and in each hand, one dueling Spitter—that had belonged to the Emperor’s father. “Put your hands up!” the Herald yelled, making the Emperor startle.
Mockingly, the Emperor replied, “Oh, a boy with Spitters! I’m so scared!”
But despite the mocking tone, the Emperor did raise his hands, and that was enough.
Outstanding, Beltran.
Instantly, the Dolls behind the Emperor leapt into action. One worked the combination for the carcanet and yanked it aside, while another snatched the Wolf Crown. It happened incredibly quickly.
Within a single breath, the Emperor was stripped naked, including everything. Robes, shirt, trews, underwear—
The wolf statues stirred and came to life, ruby eyes suddenly blazing brightly, and stared at the tableau before them.
Oh, hells.
The seven wolves howled, incredibly loudly. All seven, and the horrific sound increased in volume and pitch as they prepared to leap. It was more than just sound, it created a dizzying disorientation that weakened everybody that wasn’t either wolf or Doll.
Now, with the protective items he’d worn removed from him, that included the Emperor.
Herald Beltran swayed and fired both Spitters into the Emperor, striking him with two gut-shots before dropping both weapons to cover his ears.
It happened so fast the Emperor was only just beginning to understand when Kordas and Merrin moved. Merrin drew his Spitter, jammed it into the Emperor’s throat, and fired, sending the bolt into his larynx. Anything the Emperor might have been about to say died in a gurgling, gagging sound.
Then Kordas drew his Spitter, twisted the handle, reversed it, and smashed the pommel into the Emperor’s forehead.
The mercy-piston, meant to pierce a horse’s or cow’s thick skull, had no problem with a mere human skull. The bolt drove soundlessly into the Emperor’s brain, enveloped in frost clouds from the six jet-vents of the piston, and rebounded back in Kordas’s grip.
The Emperor was dead before his knees gave and his body hit the lush golden carpet.
The wolf statues silenced, and stared, their eyes still bright.
Merrin grabbed the Wolf Crown and jammed it onto Kordas’s head, as Kordas clasped the Carcanet around his own throat, then bent down and yanked the ring off the Emperor’s forefinger and jammed it onto his own.
Then the wolf statues closed their eyes and froze in place once more.
Oh . . . hells. That was too close.
Kordas turned to the Dolls, who had also frozen in place. Clearly they had not expected him to do that.
“Who do you serve?” Kordas demanded, barely hearing his own voice over the effects of the howling earlier.
There was a short pause. “He who wears the Crown, the Carcanet, and the Ring,” they said.
Kordas leaned hard against the desk, panting. Everything spun a little, and his head pounded. He’d worked out earlier that the set of items were powerful, but the sensation of actually wearing them was enough to do his head in. As soon as Merrin and the Dolls pulled the Emperor’s body away, Kordas fell into the chair, mopping at his forehead with the left sleeve of his thunderstorm-dyed shirt. He closed his eyes.
There was only one way to be certain the Emperor wouldn’t pursue us. We had to kill the Emperor.
Kordas fumbled with a pen and the papers in the folders, then gave up to spend another few moments with his eyes closed. Finally he said, awkwardly, “Can you please find me some blank paper? And take that body on the floor and put it in the Emperor’s bed.”
One of the Dolls extracted paper from somewhere behind him and placed it on the desk in front of him. Others dragged the body away. There was, surprisingly, very little blood. And very little else. The Emperor must have used the jakes before he’d sat down to meet with them.
Poised with pen above the paper, Kordas’s hand shook. “Beltran. Come—come help me here. Star—you too.” He felt queasy, but it had to be because of the enormity of what they’d just done. He took up the pen again and scrawled out:
As of now, and forever on, all vrondi are free.
He dated the paper, and turned the Imperial ring face-down on the page and pressed. The seal burned in. Tiredly, but with a hint of a smile, he said to Star, “Is that official enough for you?”
“The Record Keeper says that all Dolls are free of Imperial compulsion now. Our appreciation is immeasurable, my Lord.”
Kordas laughed a little. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, Star.”
“I don’t have to, my Lord. But I want to.”
Kordas knew there was still much to be done, but he did indulge himself for a moment in the feeling of wearing the Crown and sitting at the desk. It didn’t feel good at all. In fact, it felt repugnant. He heaved as he pushed himself away from the desk, knocking the chair over and stumbling. He felt the hands of Merrin, Beltran, and Star steadying him. This—this was not who he was.