Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [21]
The dining chamber was a narrow room, but the numerous mirrors everywhere made the palace seem larger than it was. Early Jamur murals depicting gridlike astrological phenomena were painted between a myriad of identical arches. No one knew what they really meant. A row of plinths held the smoke-stained busts of previous Emperors, all Johynn’s ancestors, like silent guests, while a handful of servants looked on, as always, from behind the pillars, neither wanting nor required to be seen. There was always a hint of fear in them as Brynd walked past, an inhalation of breath, a straightening of the back. Maybe they just feared this military intrusion because Brynd himself usually felt relaxed and informal in the Emperor’s presence. They had developed over the years a relationship of intimacy, till Johynn could trust few people apart from the albino. Maybe that was because as Johynn had once hinted, it looked as if Brynd had some secrets to conceal himself.
“Killed to the last man, my Emperor. All apart from those of us you’re now looking at.”
“So this means …?” Johynn made a steeple of his hands.
“No firegrain, Majesty, so the only resource there will be now is wood.” Brynd stood to attention alongside Apium, but Fyir had been allowed a chair, a rare concession in the Emperor’s presence.
“So, commander …?”
“Our heat sources are therefore questionable,” Brynd continued. “But let’s not overlook the fact that half your personal guard has been slaughtered.”
“No heat, no heat …” Johynn moaned, as if reciting some destructive mantra.
Brynd glanced across at Apium. The captain merely shrugged.
Jamur Johynn walked over to the window. “And how, how am I now going to keep the people of my city—of my Empire—warm?”
Brynd thought, As if you give a shit about anyone who’s not Empire-issued nobility or a landowner.
“How can I look after them now the moons are in place? Everyone depends on me, Commander Lathraea. Everyone needs me.”
“Perhaps we’ll manage okay without—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Johynn snapped. “This failure makes it even worse for everyone. They’re going to rebel and have me killed now, aren’t they?”
“Who?” Brynd said.
Johynn turned to face him again. “Them.” He tilted his head toward the window, and the city beyond. “My people.”
“But it’s not your fault an ice age is starting. There’ve been hundreds of years of accurate predictions, you were merely the Emperor to face the challenge. There’s always stocks of wood—”
“But I have to look after them. It means four hundred thousand responsibilities. You wouldn’t have a clue what that’s like.”
“They know you try to look after them,” Brynd insisted. “Your Imperial lineage has always been popular.”
“The ones already living here, perhaps. But any other idiot arriving from whatever benighted corner of this Empire they inhabit will be surprised when we can’t let them enter. Then they’ll hardly love me, will they?”
Johynn’s voice started to falter. His fingers were drumming the sill as he stared out of the window again. Every movement suggested an increasing sense of panic.
Johynn said. “But I’m their savior, oh yes. It is my right, before the Dawnir, before the movements of Bohr and Astrid. I’m their savior.”
“My Emperor, perhaps this isn’t the best time to ask, but do you know who else was aware of our mission?”
“What mission?”
“The one from which we’ve only just returned,” Brynd said patiently, looking to Apium, who raised his eyebrows, shook his head, and mouthed the word “nuts.”
“Only a few of our Council members—Ghuda, Boll, and Mewún. Chancellor Urtica, too. Only those four, no one else. No one else. No, absolutely nobody.”
“Is it possible that any of them could’ve informed an enemy? Is it possible one of them didn’t want us to succeed?”
Johynn spun around, approached Brynd. “Are you saying we’ve a traitor within our own halls now? For the love of Bohr, what next? Are you quite sure, Commander Lathraea, that such accusations have good foundation?”
“Our force was almost wiped out. You say no one outside the Council knew of our mission, yet we