“An impressive form you’ve chosen,” Caranis said, sparing her a brief glance as he continued his purposeful march. His voice now possessed a brisk, business-like tone, as if greeting a trusted colleague rather than the servant of a long-standing enemy. “Pleasing to the eye, but not ostentatiously so. I suppose it must be useful.”
He doesn’t think me human, she realised. Rather, some manifestation of his invented religion. She had dealt with the deluded and outright insane before. Some required lies in order to become useful, whilst others responded best to the harsh, unalloyed truth. But none had possessed the power that rested in the hands of this particular madman.
“I have often found it so, Divinity,” she responded, deciding bland agreement would be the best course.
“Does it age?” he enquired. “The shell you wear.”
“It . . . ages as do all others, Divinity.”
He grunted and nodded in acceptance. “Of course. Unnaturally prolonged youth would attract undue attention.”
“My missions often require anonymity, Divinity,” she said.
“Enough pretence!” he grated, coming to an abrupt halt and rounding on her. Lizanne kept all emotion from her face as he came closer, merely blinking as he spoke in a harsh, rapid whisper, “I’ll have no more of this mummery. I am no more your superior than a bug is superior to the sun. Sethamet has set her beasts loose upon this earth and the Guardians have sent you as our deliverer.”
Although she tried to conceal it, some measure of confusion must have shown in her expression, for he frowned, face darkening in uncertain suspicion. “You are sent by the Guardians, are you not?”
Realising the time for half-measures had passed, Lizanne straightened and met his wide-eyed gaze before replying in as flat and certain a tone as she could manage. “We know them by a different name.”
He gave a sharp intake of breath, eyes flicking to the sides to ensure no one was listening. “Am . . . am I permitted to know it?”
“You will be, in time. Such knowledge must be earned.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “I do not . . . presume to overstep. But you must realise how much I have already sacrificed. My best troops sent to die by the thousand, little more than bait for Sethamet’s horde. This I did because the Guardians commanded it, plaguing my dreams every night until I complied, risking yet more rebellion. I realise the import of drawing out her minions, but do they not know how vulnerable my position is?”
“The whole world is vulnerable to Sethamet’s horde,” Lizanne replied evenly. “This they know.”
“Yes. Do not think I question their commands. When word reached me that you had arisen in Carvenport, I knew I had chosen the correct course. Who else but Sethamet’s Bane could have defeated both my army and her vile horde?”
“Your insight does you credit. But we are far from done.”
He nodded, face grave. “To prevent the Dread Goddess from seizing this world, I will give all I have.”
“The Guardians will expect nothing less. However, at this juncture they require only two things. First, you will sign the treaty with the Ironship Syndicate, allying your forces with theirs to defend against the hordes of the Dread Goddess. They will push for an agreement to launch an immediate invasion of Arradsia, but this you will refuse. Their actions are driven by greed, keen as they are to restore the source of their wealth. Whereas your actions, Great Emperor, are motivated by compassion and love for humanity. It is for these virtues that the Guardians chose you.”
He lowered his head in a servile bow, making Lizanne cast a cautious glance at the surrounding troops. An Emperor would never bow to a corporate underling.
“Stop that,” she told him in a soft hiss. “Others must never know of your true role. They would not understand.”
He straightened, features resuming a regal mask, though she saw tears shining in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “It is just . . . I am so humbled.”
“Humility will not save us. But strength and wise leadership might. From this point on you must be Caranis the Great, the Warrior Emperor who will save the entire world. You will speak no more of Sethamet, for merely giving voice to that name renders power unto her.”
He straightened further, blinking the tears away. “Yes. That . . . that makes things clearer to me now. It seemed strange that her power grew with every warning I gave.” He met her gaze, features stiff with resolve. “What is the second thing?”
“Merely information. You must impart to me all the information you hold concerning the man known to history as the Mad Artisan.”
A mystified frown passed across the Emperor’s face. “The old legend Kalasin used to witter on about? One of his many obsessions.” Caranis gave a rueful grimace. “In truth, I think my Blood Imperial may be a little touched in the head.”
“Touched or not, the Artisan is of interest to Sethamet’s minions, and also, therefore, to us.”
“Then it pains me to confess I have little to tell you. Kalasin comes to me every now and again with his arcane stories, begging funds for expeditions or scholarly investigations. Usually, I endeavour to indulge him, his other qualities being so useful. I will have his archive seized and conveyed to you forthwith . . .”
“No,” Lizanne cut in. Even in his madness the shock on the Emperor’s face indicated this may have been the first time anyone had ever interrupted him. Lizanne maintained her composure, meeting his gaze with an unwavering stare until he recovered. “We must be circumspect,” she went on. “There are far too many distrustful eyes in your court. Countess Sefka, for one.”
“You think she plots against our purpose?” Caranis’s voice held little sign of surprise. “She wouldn’t be the first Cadre Commandant to succumb to treasonous intentions. I suppose a quiet disappearance would be preferable to public trial and execution. Rest assured, all intelligence will be extracted from her first.”
Vengeance is indulgence, Lizanne reminded herself, though not without a pang of regret. “Best to leave her in place, for now,” she said. “Under careful watch. She may lead us to other plotters in time.”
He nodded and smiled in admiration. “Clearly the Guardians chose well.”
“I wasn’t chosen, I was made.” She glanced back at the palace from where an orchestra could be heard playing an old waltz. “We should rejoin the ball.”
“But what of the information you require from Kalasin?”
She dropped into a deep curtsy, head bowed low as if acknowledging dismissal. “Leave him to me, and know well how much the Guardians favour you.” She looked up, meeting his gaze and colouring her voice with a harsh note of command. “Remember; never again speak her name. Now return to your court and prepare to save the world, oh Caranis the Great.”
? ? ?
She lingered at the ball for another hour, noting how the other guests made scrupulous efforts to avoid her gaze and the only invitation to dance came from Director Thriftmor. Countess Sefka was also conspicuous by her sudden absence. It appeared holding the Emperor’s favour made Lizanne something of a dangerous acquaintance to make.