Scion of Cyador

LXXI

The two men stand in the shade of a fourth-floor eastern balcony of the Palace of Eternal Light. The light sea breeze gusts around them, removing the heat that oozes outward from the stone walls.

“How do you find Vyanat’mer?” asks Luss.

“He is a merchanter of much intelligence,” replies the Second Magus. “He takes great pains to hide it behind a facade of simple honesty and bluntness, although he is, for a merchanter, both honest and blunt.”

“But not simple,” replies the Captain-Commander with a laugh.

“He is simple in what he believes. He is not simple in how he moves to support those beliefs.”

“What does he believe?” questions Luss, almost idly, as if he cares little for the answer, but feels he should ask the question.

“That traders should be fair, and so should the Mirror Lancers and the Magi’i.” Kharl smiles. “He knows this is unlikely, yet he believes it, and will scheme and support those who come closest to those ideals.”

“He might prove more dangerous than Bluoyal.”

“Far more…especially when we do not know who will be the next Hand of the Emperor.”

Luss raises his eyebrows. “I had not heard.”

“It is never announced. There is but one Hand, and none know him…save some guess.”

“I would not have guessed.”

“Good.”

“That may change matters…in Inividra.”

“It may, but not to make matters for you better, Captain-Commander. The Hand tempered matters.”

“When will…?”

“There may not be one appointed soon.”

“No Hand?” questions Luss. “Is this because Toziel becomes more tired, and his thoughts wander? What will you do?”

“Captain-Commander…there is little any of the Magi’i can do. Not at this moment. The Emperor appoints the Hand, not the First Magus, and even if the First Magus were to press for young Rustyl, he is far too young and to direct to be a Hand, and far too well-known because of Chyenfel’s favors. And Chyenfel has groomed him to succeed Toziel, if necessary, not himself or the Hand.”

“If you…once Toziel…”

Kharl shakes his head, and laughs. “Would any accept a magus known to have been one of the Three on the Malachite Throne?”

“They might accept you.”

The Second Magus laughs. “Your flattery is welcome and most obvious.”

“Yet the Empress…Toziel listens to her more and more.”

Kharl laughs again. “He has always listened to her. As he has aged in these last seasons, he has become less able to conceal that he does. Do not worry about dear Ryenyel. She is sensible, and she will not long survive the Emperor.”

Luss frowns.

“It is not like that,” explains the red-haired Second Magus. “None of any sensibility would, I think, plot for her death. She can neither hold the Malachite Throne nor advise an heir of her body. And she understands Cyad, perhaps better than Toziel. They have been…so close…that she will follow him within eightdays, perhaps a season or so, but no longer. So…the Emperor will do without a Hand. None love the Hand, and so, none will complain. All will advance their candidates to be Toziel’s successor, but he likes none of them. So we wait, and hope that blood does not stain the sunstones of the Palace of Eternal Light. Or that what blood falls is but a few droplets and not a storm.”

Luss frowns, but does not speak.