"Haven't you seen the way she's been looking at Nahrmahn the Younger?" Sharleyan said, and Cayleb's eyes widened.
"You're not serious!"
"Never more so, my dear." Sharleyan shook her head. "She's three years older than Zhan, you know. Trust me, she's even more aware of how . . . interesting the opposite sex is than he is right now. Not only that, but she sees everyone else getting married right and left. I'm not saying she cherishes any overwhelming need to leap into young Nahrmahn's arms. For that matter, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if someone else displaced him in her thoughts in the next several months. But given her rank and his, he's about the only youngster here in Tellesberg she could realistically consider. And the fact is that he really isn't all that bad looking. For that matter, I can actually see what Princess Ohlyvya sees in his father, although it wouldn't hurt Nahrmahn the Elder a bit to lose a little weight. Like half his body weight, perhaps."
"My God, you are serious!" It was Cayleb's turn to shake his head. Then he frowned. "I suppose, in some ways, it could be a beneficial match," he said slowly.
"I hate to think in cold-blooded dynastic terms, Cayleb," Sharleyan replied in a rather more serious tone, "but however beneficial it might be, I have to suspect that an even more advantageous match is likely to offer itself—possibly quite soon—in Zhanayt's case."
"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she waved her fan gently. "The match between Zhan and Mahrya is already going to bind the House of Ahrmahk and the House of Baytz together," she pointed out. "I happen to think Nahrmahn the Younger is actually quite a pleasant young man, but I don't think we need to put Zhanayt on the Emeraldian throne as princess consort just to ensure his future loyalty to the imperial crown. He's bright enough to see the advantages, and by the time he takes the throne, Emerald will have been part of the Empire for decades, and he and his family will be deeply involved in and committed to governing it. I don't think he'll have the least motive or inclination to be anything except a loyal supporter of the Crown. But Corisande is going to be rather a different case. To be perfectly blunt, there's no way I'd trust any member of Hektor's house as far as I could throw one of those new guns of Baron Seamount's. There's been far too much blood spilt between Corisande and the House of Ahrmahk and the House of Tayt, and Corisande isn't going to be peacefully and willingly integrated into the Empire. I don't know about you, but given all that, I could never trust one of Hektor's children, far less Hektor himself."
"I'm afraid I agree with you," Cayleb said, and his nostrils flared. "In fact, it's given me the occasional nightmare. I don't have the stomach for slaughtering all the possible pretenders to the Corisandian throne, but I'm not at all sure that simply removing Hektor from it and leaving his children alive to plot against us—or to be used as cat's-paws by someone else . . . like Zahmsyn Trynair or Zhaspahr Clyntahn, for example—is going to be enough."
"I'm quite certain it isn't," Sharleyan said bluntly. "I'm no more in favor of killing children just to keep them from being potential future threats than you are, but the fact remains that we have a responsibility here. One that doesn't end when we take Hektor's head. That's what I'm thinking about where Zhanayt is concerned."
"In exactly what way?" Cayleb asked, but his tone suggested he was following Sharleyan's thoughts quite well now.
"What we're going to have to do is to find some Corisandian noble who's sufficiently popular in Corisande to have at least some chance of gradually winning public acceptance as our vassal and Prince of Corisande, but smart enough—or pragmatic enough, at any rate—to realize we can't allow him to survive if he isn't a loyal vassal. And then we're going to have to bind him to us as closely as possible. Which may well mean. . . ."
She allowed her voice to trail off, and Cayleb nodded. It wasn't an entirely happy nod.
"I see your logic," he conceded. "I hate to think of putting Zhanayt on the marital auction block so cold-bloodedly, though."
"Did that stop you from proposing to someone you'd never even met?" she asked gently. "Did it stop you from doing exactly that with Zhan?"
"No, but that's—"
"That's different," she finished for him. "Cayleb, I think I really do love you, but to be perfectly honest, that wasn't something I counted on, and it wasn't something that was necessary, either. Can you honestly tell me it was different for you?"
"No," he admitted softly.
"But Zhanayt is your baby sister." Sharleyan smiled just a bit wistfully. "I wish sometimes that I'd had at least one sibling, just so I could really experience what you're feeling about Zhanayt right now. Of course, if I had—and especially if it had been a younger brother—Mahrak would have had an even harder time keeping me alive and on the throne, I suppose. But the fact is, you were ruthless enough to make a necessary marriage of state for yourself, and you were ruthless enough to do the same thing with Zhan, for the same reasons. If the time comes, my love, you will make the same decision for Zhanayt. I only hope it works out as well for her as it has for us and as it seems likely to for Zhan and Mahrya."
"And what do you think the odds of that are?" he asked even more softly.
"Honestly?" She met his eyes unflinchingly. "Not that high," she said then. "The fact that you and I are able to do more than merely tolerate one another because we have to already puts us ahead of the game, Cayleb. The fact that Mahrya looks like being an ideal mate for your younger brother puts us even farther ahead. But it has to even out somewhere, you know."
"Yes, I do," he half murmured, and she reached out to squeeze his hand.
"However it works out in the end, there's no need for us to rush to meet it," she told him. "One of the very first lessons Mahrak taught me when I inherited the crown was that more troubles than not work themselves out with the passage of time. I'm not trying to suggest to you that you have to start scheming about who you're going to marry Zhanayt off to right this minute. I'm only suggesting that it might be wise for you to not encourage any possible yearnings on her part at this time."
Cayleb looked at her for a moment and started to open his mouth. Then he changed his mind and lifted her hand with his to kiss it once more. She looked a question at him, obviously wondering what he'd begun to say, but he only shook his head with another smile.
I really wish I could tell you how thoroughly events have proven that Merlin was right when he told me to make you my partner, and not just my wife, he thought.
* * * *
"I thought that went fairly well," Cayleb said again, later that night, to a considerably different audience.
Sharleyan had gone on to bed, and he'd discovered that, since his marriage, he felt much less temptation to stay up late drinking too much wine or telling too many bad jokes with Merlin or some other crony. At the moment, however, he didn't have much choice, and he, Archbishop Maikel, Rahzhyr Mahklyn, and Merlin sat on a palace balcony sipping Desnairian whiskey while they gazed up at the stars. The distant chips of light—lights, he knew now, which were every one of them a sun as fiercely bright as Safehold's own—glittered like jewels in the heavens' velvet vault, with that cool hush that comes only in the hours before dawn. It was scarcely a setting most people would have associated with a meeting between an emperor and three of his most trusted advisers, but that suited Cayleb just fine. If he simply had to deal with matters of state instead of the bedroom, he could at least do it as comfortably as possible.
"As a matter of fact, I thought it went quite well myself," Staynair agreed.
"And a good thing, too, if you'll pardon my saying so, Your Majesty," Mahklyn put it. "I'm delighted to have that particular arrangement made and solidly accepted well before you go sailing off to invade Corisande."
Merlin nodded, although the doctor's observation showed a far greater degree of pragmatism and political awareness than he'd ever expected to hear out of him. He'd known all along that the perpetually bemused look Mahklyn presented to the rest of the world was deceiving, but he'd never appreciat
ed how acute the older man's political insights were likely to prove when he chose to exercise them.
And he's been exercising them a lot more ever since Cayleb moved the Royal College into the Palace, hasn't he? Merlin thought. Well, that and since the Brethren cleared him for the complete story of Saint Zherneau.
Judging from Cayleb's next words, the same thought might well have been passing through the emperor's brain.
"I agree with you, Rahzhyr," he said. "But that brings me back to my ongoing concern. I am going to be leaving the Kingdom within the next few five-days now. And Sharleyan is going to be ruling as my regent, with Rayjhis as her first councilor. Don't you think it's about time for the Brethren to make up their minds to let me tell at least one of them the full story?"
Mahklyn had the good sense to keep his mouth firmly shut. Cayleb's tone was determinedly pleasant, but that only emphasized the very real anger at the backs of his brown eyes.
"Cayleb," Staynair said after glancing at Merlin, "I understand your impatience. Truly, I do. But it's simply not reasonable to expect the Brethren to reach that decision this quickly."
"With all due respect, Maikel, I disagree," the emperor said flatly. Staynair started to open his mouth again, but Cayleb raised his hand in a gesture which, while far from discourteous, was undeniably imperious, and continued speaking.
"The fact is that Merlin was absolutely right when he told me how smart this woman was," he said. "In fact, if anything, I think Merlin underestimated her. She's not just 'smart'; she's a hell of a lot more than that, and keeping her in the dark about something this fundamental is depriving us of one of our most valuable resources. Not only that, but as I believe I've mentioned before, she's my wife, as well as the Empress of Charis. As Empress, she very definitely has Merlin's 'need to know.' And as my wife, she has every right to expect me to be open and honest with her, especially when it comes to something as fundamental as this!"
None of the other three spoke for several seconds. Then Merlin cleared his throat, which, despite the tension, won an involuntary grin from Cayleb. The emperor still might not fully grasp everything involved in the concept of a PICA, but he was aware that Merlin would never have any physical need to clear his throat.
"First, Cayleb, let me say I agree with you completely. But, however deeply I may agree with you, there are certain practical realities we simply can't ignore. And one of them is that the Brethren are still concerned by that possible 'youthful impetuosity' of yours. Let's face it, you just married a beautiful, smart, and—if you'll pardon me for saying it—sexy young woman. Nothing could be more natural than for you to be besotted with her. Or, at least, for all of those factors to push you into making something less than a careful, fully reasoned decision where she's concerned."
"Kraken shit," Cayleb said bluntly. "Oh, I suppose a sufficiently older, close-minded, cranky monk under an oath of celibacy in a bare monastery cell somewhere might think that way. I'll even go so far as to drop the oath of celibacy. But I'm a king, Merlin. In fact, I'm a bloody emperor now! This isn't just a decision to be made by a new husband. It's a decision to be made by a ruling head of state on what's effectively the eve of his departure for the invasion of a hostile princedom. I know the odds are against my getting myself killed. But don't any of you forget that the odds were against my father getting himself killed, too. It can happen. And if it does, and if Sharleyan has to be told the truth after my death, how do you think that's likely to affect her willingness to accept the trustworthiness of the Brethren—or of you and Maikel, for that matter?"
"That's a very telling argument," Staynair said after a moment. "And, by the way, one I agree with wholeheartedly. But there's an aspect of this that Merlin left out of his analysis a moment ago."
"Such as?" Cayleb challenged.
"The truth is that in the past few months the Brethren have admitted more people into what we might call the 'inner circle' than in the preceding ten years, Cayleb. Don't forget that some of these people, like Zhon Byrkyt, have spent literally a lifetime—and a long lifetime at that—protecting that secret, worrying about what would happen if their security arrangements had even the tiniest flaw. At the moment, they're feeling exposed and off-balance. To be blunt about it, they don't want to tell anyone else unless they absolutely have to."
"That's not the best basis upon which to be making decisions, Maikel," Cayleb pointed out, and the archbishop nodded.
"I couldn't agree with you more about that. Unfortunately, it's what's happening. And as important—even vital—as it may be to bring the Empress fully into the 'inner circle' as soon as possible, it's equally important that we maintain the confidence of those already inside that circle."
"Much as I hate to admit it, Cayleb, I think he has a point," Merlin said quietly. Cayleb half glared at him, and Merlin shrugged. "I don't say not telling her is a good decision. I'm just afraid that at this particular moment, given the pragmatic constraints of the situation, there really isn't any 'good' solution available to us. So we're just going to have to do the best we can choosing between less than optimal ones."
Cayleb made an irate grunting sound, but his grimace also indicated at least unwilling acceptance, if not outright agreement. He wasn't quite done, though, and he leaned back in his chair once again.
"All right," he said. "I'll concede where Sharleyan is concerned. . . for now, at least. But what about Rayjhis? He's going to be her primary political adviser here while I'm gone, and God knows he spent the last two or three decades showing that he knows how to keep secrets of state secret! Don't you think it's about time we told him the truth?"
"Actually," Staynair said, "I'm afraid that I rather think the time to tell Rayjhis the entire truth will never come at all, Cayleb."
The emperor looked at him in obvious surprise, and Staynair sighed.
"I've known Rayjhis Yowance since he was little more than a boy, Your Majesty," he said rather more formally than had become his wont with Cayleb. "He was still a midshipman, and I was only a novice, when we first met. I hold him in the deepest affection, and I would cheerfully trust him with my life or the life of my Kingdom. But I have to tell you that as disillusioned as he may be about the Group of Four, as committed as he may be to the separation between the Church of Charis and the Church of the Temple, I don't believe he is—or ever will be—prepared to accept the full truth about Langhorne, Bédard, and Pei Shan-wei. I'm actually more than a little frightened about how he might react even to the discovery that Merlin, here, isn't actually 'alive' after all. He believes in the Archangels, Cayleb. Deep inside, where the very things that make him so strong, so determined and trustworthy, come together, he believes. I don't think he'll be able to step beyond that. And, to be completely honest with you, I don't know that we have any right to ask him to do that."
Cayleb's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the archbishop. It was obvious he was thinking hard, and the better part of a full minute dragged past before he exhaled noisily.
"I'm afraid you may be right," he said then, slowly. "I guess it's just that I've never thought of Rayjhis as being . . . parochial, or narrow-minded."
"This is neither parochialism nor closed-mindedness," Staynair said. "It's faith—the faith he's been taught literally since the cradle. And it's what's going to make this struggle so extraordinarily ugly once its full dimensions become known to all. Which, as I suggested to Merlin once, is the reason we can't afford to make those full dimensions known yet."
"I agree, Cayleb," Merlin said. "And, on a pragmatic level, I have to say I don't really think it matters a great deal where Rayjhis is concerned."
"No?" Cayleb cocked his head, and Merlin shrugged.
"Whatever he might or might not be able to accept about Shan-wei, he's obviously accepted my 'seijin' abilities. I think he's pretty sure they go beyond mere seijin-hood, in fact. But the fact that both your father and Maikel here have accepted those abilities as serving the Light and not the Dark is enough fo
r him. And I know he's learned to allow for them and to make the most effective possible use of them. There's an old saying, one I haven't come across here on Safehold, but one I think we'd all do well to bear in mind upon occasion. 'If it isn't broken, don't fix it' "
"I agree," Staynair said, nodding vigorously. "Rayjhis is a very good, very loyal, and very capable man, Cayleb. You know that as well as I do. And you also know he's been using that goodness, loyalty, and capability in effective partnership with Merlin for almost three years now. Admittedly," the archbishop smiled without any humor at all, "their relationship got off to a rocky start, but since he accepted that Merlin was on Charis' side, he's worked wholeheartedly with him. I don't think we need to tell him anything more than we've told him so far—all of which, mind you, has been the truth, if not the entire truth. And if, as you've suggested is possible, anything should 'happen to you' in Corisande, there are already several people here in Tellesberg, including myself, who do know the full secret and who Rayjhis already trusts."
"All right." Cayleb nodded again, then laughed a bit sourly. "I seem to be being defeated on all fronts tonight. I hope it isn't an omen for how well things are working out for Domynyk at Ferayd!"
"If it's an omen of any sort, let's hope it's an omen from the theater," Merlin suggested, and all three of the others chuckled. Safehold's theater tradition continued to enshrine the ancient belief that a bad rehearsal was the best guarantee of a good performance.
"Still, that does bring up something else I've been thinking about, Merlin," Cayleb said, turning to the man who had once been Nimue Alban.
"That sounds ominous," Merlin remarked, and Cayleb snorted.
"Not quite that bad, I think. The thing that's occurred to me is that all of us, except you, of course, have only the most imperfect understanding of what humanity was like before Langhorne and the Church of God Awaiting."
"I'm afraid that's unfortunately true," Merlin acknowledged.