Heirs of the Enemy (12 page)

“Jaar had a son when his father died,” snarled the Badger Leader. “Where is he?”

“My son died six years ago,” answered Janay. “You are too late to kill him.”

“Liar!” shouted Franco as he prepared to backhand the woman again.

Janay closed her eyes and waited for the blow, but it never came. She opened her eyes to find Franco holding a knife to the throat of one of the younger women.

“Where is your son?” Franco said threateningly.

Janay lost her iron will. “Don’t hurt the girls,” Janay pleaded with tears running down her cheeks. “I have told you the truth. My son died of fever six years ago. No amount of torture can change that. Jaar is heirless.”

A Badger came down the stairs carrying the severed head of Colonel Jurgon. “That is exactly what Jurgon said before he died. The boy died of a fever in the winter six years ago.”

Franco pulled back the knife and returned his attention to the mother. “Then why is he still protecting you out here?”

“Why would he change things?” retorted Janay. “The soldiers posted out here have served for twenty years. Do you think he would transfer them to a different army? They were useless to Jaar, and the emperor would not want to admit that he was heirless. He couldn’t stand the shame. He hasn’t even visited here since the day our son died. All you have accomplished is killing a bunch of old men and capturing three women who have been held captive for twenty years.”

Janay’s words came out in such a biting tone that Franco knew there was some truth in them. The bitterness in Janay was palpable, and he knew that it would be easy enough to verify if the emperor had left Despair within the last six years.

“Get Jurgon’s head to Despair,” ordered Franco, “and find out if what she is saying is true.”

The Badger holding the head nodded and ran out the front door of the mansion. Franco stood and stared at the three women for a while and then sighed with exasperation. He knew the reason for the mission, but he was not responsible for faulty intelligence. His part in things were proceeding according to plan, and he intended to keep it that way.

“Hood the women and bind them,” Franco ordered. “I want every nook and cranny of this place thoroughly searched. Make sure that no one is left alive. Assemble back here within the hour. I want to be well on the way to the Citadel before dawn.”

The Badgers spread out and started searching the mansion. Franco signaled to one of his men and nodded towards the front door. He then turned back to Janay who already had a hood over her head.

“Where are the birds used to send messages to your husband?”

“At the rear of the building,” Janay replied. “It is only accessible from the outside. There is a short flight of steps leading down.”

Franco nodded and exited the building. One of his men was standing outside waiting for him.

“They keep their birds around the back. Send one of them off. The message is ‘Jurgon’s head is on the way to Despair’. Then get one of our birds off. Let the Master know exactly what happened here. Inform him that I am taking the women to the Black Citadel. I will await his instructions there.”

Grand General Kyrga entered the emperor’s office. The room was dark, but Kyrga was familiar enough with the layout that he managed to traverse the room without a torch. He opened the door to the emperor’s suite and walked in. The sitting room was less familiar, but it was uncluttered, and Kyrga moved through it to the emperor’s sleeping chamber. He opened that door without any attention to stealth, and the emperor sat up in bed.

“I am pleased to find you awake,” Kyrga said softly. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“What do you want?” snarled Emperor Jaar.

“You are to address the monarchs in the morning,” answered Kyrga. “They are to be told about the coming war with Alcea.”

The emperor was slow to stir, but he soon realized that the Grand General was going to allow him to leave his suite. For a moment he felt elation, but his mood soon dimmed. Kyrga would never be foolish enough to allow him to get word of his capture out to the nobles and officers attending the celebration. There had to be a catch.

“What are you not telling me?” asked the emperor.

“You should have received a message in the past few hours,” Kyrga smiled as he lit a torch. “Have you retrieved it yet?”

The emperor frowned with confusion as he slid his feet to the floor and donned a robe. If anyone had sent a message, it would have to have passed through Kyrga’s guards. Why would he ask if it had been delivered? The fog of sleep started to recede, and the emperor rolled the words through his mind once more. Retrieved, not delivered. Jaar inhaled deeply as Jaar’s meaning struck home. The only message the emperor would retrieve would be from his personal birds, but the significance of such a message drove a chill through the emperor’s body.

“I see that you have not,” smiled Kyrga. “You should do so now.”

“Why don’t you stop playing games and tell me what it is you want me to know?”

Grand General Kyrga sighed with disappointment. “Jurgon’s head is on its way to Despair. It was thought that you would not believe my words if I told you, so a bird was sent from your secret estate. The message awaits you in your private coop.”

Jaar began to tremble. He tried to hide his hands so that Kyrga would not have the pleasure of seeing the reaction his words caused, but it was futile. The Grand General’s grin grew wide as he watched the emperor. Jaar rose and moved across his room to the balcony door. He opened the door and walked through it. Kyrga did not even bother to follow as the emperor made his way to his private coop and retrieved the message. Jaar’s hands trembled so much that he dropped the message after he had read it. Tears flowed from his eyes as he stared off into the darkness. The minutes dragged by as the emperor mourned the loss of his family. Eventually, Kyrga appeared on the balcony. Jaar hastily wiped his tears, but he refused to turn towards the Grand General. He would not give Kyrga the satisfaction of seeing him in a weakened state.

“The women are not dead,” Kyrga said softly, “although they are the only survivors.”

Jaar whirled around and glared at the Grand General. “Where are they?”

“Do you really expect me to answer such a question?” smirked Kyrga.

“If you harm them, I will flay you alive.”

“Ah, so you worry for your women,” Kyrga taunted, “but no tears for your son?”

Jaar’s face clouded with confusion. “What?”

“Your son, Emperor,” probed the Grand General. “Are you not concerned of his fate?”

“Why should I be concerned about him? Even you cannot reach into the horse countries. He will be safe enough until the time comes for him to avenge my death.”

Kyrga’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. He found it hard to believe that Jaar would risk his son’s life in the territory of another country.

“Nowhere is safe from my reach,” Kyrga stated, “but I do not believe your story. Why don’t you save us both some time and tell me the truth? You must realize by now that you cannot keep a secret from K’san. How do you think we learned the location of your secret estate? K’san can reach into your mind and extract every thought. Where is your son?”

Emperor Jaar gasped at Kyrga’s words. He had wondered how they had found the estate, but Forshire’s warning about the priest’s abilities suddenly surfaced. Jaar wept openly. He pushed his way past the Grand General and returned to his sleeping chamber. He sat down on the bed and cried. Kyrga calmly returned to the room and closed the door. He stared at the mighty emperor and shook his head in disgust.

“Where is he?”

Jaar looked up at the Grand General, his eyes swollen with tears. He made no move to hide his grief. “He is dead,” Jaar said in the softest of voices.

“I don’t believe you,” retorted the Grand General.

“I do not care what you believe,” snapped the emperor. “Once it is learned that I have no heir, I am finished anyway. Return my wife and daughters to me, and I will make you the Emperor of Barouk.”

Kyrga’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He knew that Jaar would never make such an offer if he truly had an heir, but he had to make sure that the boy’s death was as the women described.

“When did he die?”

“Six years ago,” answered Jaar. “He caught a fever up in that forsaken place I hid my family. Moving them out of Despair was the worst decision I ever made.”

“Worse than making me Grand General?” snickered Kyrga.

“Yes,” sighed the emperor, “even worse than that. Take the empire, Kyrga, but give me back my family.”

Grand General Kyrga really wanted to be emperor, but he knew it was not to be. K’san had already stated as much, and he was not about to betray his master.

“Your family will be returned when we no longer need you. In the meantime, you will do what I tell you, or your women will pay the consequences. Do you understand?”

Emperor Jaar frowned in thought. Kyrga’s words clearly indicated a wider conspiracy than merely Kyrga acting alone. Was the priest the one playing the pipe? Or was there someone even higher?

“Do you understand?” repeated the Grand General.

Emperor Jaar turned and glared at the Grand General. “I understand you completely,” he said in a threatening tone, “but you had best understand me as well. I will cooperate only as long as I am assured that my family is safe. I demand a weekly letter from Janay.”

Grand General Kyrga balked. “You can’t be serious? He will never allow that. Janay could easily write you clues of her location. It is out of the question.”

“You may censor the letters to ensure that I am not trying to plot against you, but I will get those letters. Deny them to me, and you will find that your scheme, whatever it is, will lay in tatters at your feet.”

Kyrga stared at the emperor as if he were insane, but Jaar gave him no time to dwell upon the demand.

“Run back to your master, Kyrga. Relay my demands and gain acceptance of them. If you do not, I will take my own life and throw the Federation into turmoil.”

“You are bluffing,” accused the Grand General. “And who said that I had a master?”

Emperor Jaar actually laughed in Kyrga’s face. “You are a scheming little snot with a bent for bloodshed and an addiction to spying, but you are not capable of what has been cast against me. You do not have the brains to see it through to its completion. As for my bluffing, try me.”

Grand General Kyrga reddened with anger. His first impulse was to strike out at the emperor, but he restrained himself.

“I will relay your demands, but you will start obeying immediately. You will meet with the major monarchs this morning and divulge our plans for attacking Alcea. If any of them gets wind of something wrong in the Imperial Palace, you will wish you had taken your own life instead.”

Kyrga turned and stormed out of the room. Moments later, Emperor Jaar heard the outer door of his office slam shut. He rose from the bed and began pacing the room, trying to figure out who the conspirators were and what they were after. It was certainly not an ordinary coup, or Jaar would already be dead. From what he had been able to squeeze out of Kyrga, it was clear that they needed him at the helm of the Federation for some reason, and that perplexed the emperor. Why were they letting him stay in power? What could he accomplish that Kyrga’s master could not?

After several minutes of pacing, the emperor stopped. He sighed heavily and shook his head as if to clear the confusion that dogged him. With the sky outside beginning to lighten, he moved about the room methodically, getting dressed and grooming himself, a chore in itself since his servants had been denied to him. When he was fit to be seen in public, the emperor entered his office and lit the lanterns. He sat down at his large desk and began to gather his thoughts and plot a way to regain his power.

* * * *

The Imperial Palace was aflutter with the announcement that the emperor would soon address the Council of the Federation. When the emperor appeared at the head of the staircase, the nobles and generals lined up to greet him. Word had previously spread throughout the palace that the emperor was seriously ill, which would have accounted for his absence from the festivities, but Emperor Jaar looked superbly fit when he appeared in his ceremonial robes and walked down the stairs. Two lines of people quickly formed to create a human corridor from the bottom of the staircase to the council chamber. Soldiers formed a protective detail at the foot of the stairs, some of them preceding the emperor, and others following closely behind.

Many of the celebrants offered their best wishes as the emperor passed, and Emperor Jaar smiled warmly and thanked each of them. Near the council chamber, Colonel Taerin managed to squeeze to the front of the crowd so that he could speak to the emperor, but he could have avoided the bother for all he came away with. When the colonel asked how he was, the emperor merely smiled and nodded and thanked him for his concern, just as he had done for all the other nobles. The colonel frowned in confusion.

The joyful procession ended quickly as the emperor entered the council chamber, followed closely by Grand General Kyrga. The doors were closed and the crowd dispersed. Moments later, Kyrga reappeared and admitted the three monarchs of the original Federation. King Anator, King Harowin, and Queen Samir entered the chamber and took their seats at the large trapezoidal table.
 
Grand General Kyrga closed the door and stood behind the emperor. Queen Samir noticed the chairs set against the wall of the chamber and frowned questioningly.

“Are we having visitors to this session?” she asked the emperor.

“After we get through with our own discussion,” replied Emperor Jaar. “It would hardly be fitting to snub the other monarchs or their representatives during this celebration week. First we need to settle any real issues the Federation might have, such as the attacks on the reeducation centers. I don’t think any of you wish to have word of your failures spread throughout the Federation, so I will merely admonish you for your failures, and we can move on from there.”