“I picked her up, swaddled her as best I could and tried to find somewhere to hide until morning. A Red found us before I could. I had a small amount of product left. Luckily, it proved sufficient, though the beast put up quite a fight, I must say. In the morning I took the child to Mrs. Torcreek’s hospital, intending to leave her in the care of more experienced hands. But the place was in such a terrible state, and what better hands to protect her than mine?” Her lips formed another smile, her face brightening with a cherished memory. “So I kept her, and I named her Aledina, my grandmother’s name. It was my intention to formally adopt her on return to the empire, should we survive the evacuation . . .” The emotion drained from her face as she trailed off, taking several moments before continuing. “It wasn’t the flames that killed her. I shielded her from those. But the heat sucked all the air out of the cabin, just for a few seconds, and her lungs were too small . . .”
Electress Dorice turned her face out to sea, eyes closed and expressionless save for the tear that trickled from the corner of her eye. Lizanne lowered her gaze, suppressing a grimace as memories of Carvenport’s fall crowded in. “I’m sorry . . . ” she began.
“No,” the Electress said. “Do not be sorry. I came to thank you. You were right, I came to Arradsia in search of excitement. I was so terribly bored in Corvus. Life amongst the Imperial elite is an endless drudge of gossip and petty rivalry. I barely knew my own parents, so distant and wrapped up in their own prestige were they. I have had several lovers, none of whom I have loved. Only amidst war and horror did I discover what it feels like to love. A life without it is a barren, wasted thing, Miss Lethridge. Thanks to you, that fate, at least, has been denied me.”
She took a small silver jewellery box from the pocket of her dress. “I would like you to have this,” she said, offering the box to Lizanne. “I believe it may be of use in your future endeavours.”
Lizanne accepted the box, opening it to find a small circular pin of plain silver adorned with the oak-leaf symbol of the Imperial crest. “This was yours?” she asked, unable to keep an incredulous note from her voice. “You were an agent of the Blood Cadre?”
“A mostly honorary position,” the Electress said, apparently unruffled by Lizanne’s scepticism. “But one that involves certain inescapable responsibilities.” She met Lizanne’s gaze before continuing, her expression intent and, as far as Lizanne could tell, completely sincere. “I tranced with the Blood Imperial this morning. He instructed me to acquaint you with certain facts regarding the Imperial Court. Firstly, everyone you will meet there is a self-serving liar, although I assume that won’t come as any great surprise. Secondly, since infancy Emperor Caranis has suffered from a very unusual malady. For extended periods he will appear to be of an entirely rational, if somewhat coldly practical frame of mind. However, throughout his life there have also been periods when his behaviour could best be described as erratic. I am instructed to inform you that the Emperor’s most recent erratic episode began three days ago.”
“You mean he’s mad?” Lizanne asked. She had assumed, given the Emperor’s warmongering, that his character must possess some delusional elements. But the fact that he was truly unhinged had so far escaped the notice of Exceptional Initiatives.
“It means,” the Electress said, “that your prospects of securing an alliance with the Corvantine Empire are now extremely remote.”
“Is there no regent or proxy we can negotiate with?”
“For centuries the empire has run on one simple principle: all power rests in one man. Be assured, whatever order Caranis gives during his madness will be followed, and to the letter. During his last episode he ordered every remaining temple to the elder goddess Sethamet be destroyed and her followers purged from the empire. When some of his chamberlains pointed out that there had never, in fact, been an elder goddess named Sethamet, Caranis had them disembowelled for treason. So, the understandably unnerved surviving chamberlains set about creating the cult of Sethamet from scratch, building temples and hiring poor folk to worship her, even employing a group of theologians to pen a body of scripture. She had actually begun to build up a genuine following by the time they unleashed the purge. Hundreds died and the newly built temples were destroyed as per Imperial Dictum. When Caranis returned to sanity, he professed no knowledge of any such orders.”
“Then this mission is hopeless,” Lizanne said. “We may as well turn the ship about and go home.”
“The Blood Imperial is very keen for you to continue the mission. He has something of considerable importance to share, but only with you.”
Lizanne’s thoughts returned to the design Bloskin had given her, and the curious tale of its origins. Had the Blood Imperial been behind it? A device to lure her here for purposes unknown. For an operative accustomed to relying on her own resources, the sense of being a piece in someone else’s game was an unpleasant one. It reminded her too much of Madame Bondersil. “Can’t you share it now?”
“I am not privy to it. Besides”—Electress Dorice nodded at the box containing the silver pin—“my tenure as a Blood Cadre agent has now come to an end. The Blood Imperial feels I am not best suited to the work. A judgement I find it hard to argue against.”
She moved back from the rail, then paused. “I buried Aledina in the graveyard at the Church of the Seer near the bluffs east of Feros. It would ease my mind to know the grave will be cared for.”
“Come back with us and care for it yourself,” Lizanne said. “You are an ambassadress, after all.”
The Electress gave another small smile and shook her head, turning to go before lingering awhile longer, as if compelled to share something further. “Did you know,” she said, her voice soft and reflecting the sadness in her smile. “My family once ruled a kingdom even greater in size than the entire land-mass of Arradsia. When the empire swallowed it up they allowed the ruling house to keep its titles, even though they were now utterly powerless. And so I am permitted to call myself an Electress, a figure who once held sway over millions. Now, regardless of what titles I possess and all the finery with which I adorn myself, I am in fact no different from any other subject of the Emperor, and he has given me a command.”
She inclined her head at Lizanne and walked away, leaving Lizanne to contemplate her gift. The pin sat in the box, a small piece of silver catching a dim gleam from the muted sunlight. A token of esteem? she wondered. Or a marker for some nefarious design of the Blood Imperial? She was decidedly unsure if she wanted to accept a gift from the most highly ranked Blood-blessed in the Corvantine Empire, fearing acceptance might signal some form of compliance. Diplomacy, it seemed, could be just as aggravatingly complex as espionage.
Sighing, Lizanne returned the pin to the box and gazed once more at the sea, glimpsing the first hazy shadow of land on the horizon. She had always suspected her profession would bring her to the Corvantine capital, though hardly under such odd circumstances. She had no target to assassinate, no secrets to steal. Just a tantalising clue to the existence of something impossible.
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