Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [245]
The deuteroscopist bit his knuckle and said nothing.
JandolAnganol contemplated him, then spoke again.
‘If you decide to become my chancellor, return here tomorrow. We will then speak more. Meanwhile, I will keep this atheistic bauble. What will your answer be, do you think? Will you become my chief advisor?’
Seeing the king place the bracelet within his clothes, CaraBansity was overcome.
‘I thank your majesty. On that question, I must consult my own chief advisor, my wife …’
He bowed low as the king passed him and swept out of the room.
*
In a nearby corridor of the palace, the C’Sarr’s envoy was preparing to attend the king.
The portrait of Queen MyrdemInggala was painted on an oval piece of ivory cut from the tusk of a sea beast. It showed that unmatched face with a brow of flawless beauty, and her hair piled high above it. The queen’s deep blue eyes were shielded by full lids, while the neat chin lent a delicate aspect to an otherwise rather commanding mien. These features Alam Esomberr recognised from earlier portraits he had examined in Pannoval – for the queen’s beauty was known far and wide.
As he gazed upon this image, the official envoy of the Holy C’Sarr allowed his mind to dwell upon lascivious thoughts. He reflected that in a short space of time he would be face to face with the original masterpiece.
Two agents of Pannoval who spied for the C’Sarr stood before Esomberr. As he stared at the picture, they reported the gossip of Ottassol. They discussed back and forward between themselves the danger the queen of queens would be in once the divorcement between her and JandolAnganol was complete. He would wish to have her removed entirely from the scene. Entirely.
On the other hand, the general multitude preferred the queen to the king. Had not the king imprisoned his own father and bankrupted his country? The multitude might rise up, kill the king, and place MyrdemInggala on the throne. Justifiably.
Esomberr looked mildly upon them.
‘You worms,’ he said. ‘You hrattocks. You tit-tattlers. Do not all kings bankrupt their countries? Would not everyone lock up his father, given the power? Are not queens always in danger? Do not multitudes always dream of rising up and overthrowing someone or other? You chatter merely of traditional role-playing in the great but on the whole somewhat typecast theatre of life. You tell me nothing of substance. Agents of Oldorando would be flogged if they turned in such a report.’
The men bowed their heads. ‘We also have to report that agents of Oldorando are busy here.’
‘Let’s hope they don’t spend all their time rumboing the port wrenches, as you two evidently do. The next time I summon you, I shall expect news from you, not gossip.’
The agents bowed more deeply and left the room, smiling excessively, as if they had been overpaid.
Alam Esomberr sighed, practised looking severe, and glanced again at the miniature of the queen.
‘No doubt she’s stupid, or has some other defect to counterbalance such beauty,’ he said aloud. He tucked the ivory into a safe pocket.
The envoy to C’Sarr Kilandar IX was a noble of deeply religious Taker family with connections in the deep-dwelling Holy City itself. His austere father, a member of the Grand Judiciary, had seen to it that promotion of his son, who despised him, had come early. Esomberr regarded this journey to bear witness to his friend’s divorcement as a holiday. On holiday, one was entitled to a little fun. He began to hope that Queen MyrdemInggala might provide it.
He was prepared to meet JandolAnganol. He summoned a footman. The footman took him into the presence of the king, and the two men embraced each other.
Esomberr saw that the king was