Shadow War - Deborah Chester [126]
A flurry broke out, and one of the men was thrown to the ground. Elandra watched intently, wishing she understood what she was seeing.
“Well done!” the emperor called out.
The tall man glanced up, and Elandra blinked. Disbelieving, she leaned a little farther over the railing. He looked like the Traulander slave, the man who had begged her to get him an audience with the emperor. But it couldn’t be.
“Yes, Majesty, it is,” Lord Sien said softly over her shoulder.
Startled, she turned around and found the priest much too close. His deep-set eyes were gleaming as though at a joke.
He nodded. “Yes, that is the man.”
Wondering anew if the priest could read minds, she frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“We have been talking about that man,” Sien said smoothly. “He looks very like Prince Tirhin’s gladiator. We are curious to see the man more closely.”
Now she did not have to pretend she was bewildered, for she truly was. “I do not understand. How could a gladiator be among our guardsmen?”
At her question, the emperor chuckled. Prince Tirhin turned red and swung away from the rest of them.
Elandra frowned. “Are they not drawn from the elite of our fighting forces? Or have I been misled?”
Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she didn’t care. She was suspicious of all of them now.
“No, Majesty,” said a new voice, one she did not immediately recognize.
Vysal, captain of her guard, walked into the gallery and bowed to them. Wearing his gold cloak, with her coat of arms half-hidden on his sleeve, he walked forward with a faint swagger common to military men.
“All of these candidates are members of the Guard,” he said to her.
Kostimon turned around to stare at the man. “Are the men ready?”
“Yes, Majesty,” Captain Vysal said respectfully.
Kostimon grunted. “The last time I chose a protector, I had the old one fight the candidates, one at a time. The one who defeated him took his place.” He tossed a grin at Hovet, who was looking grim again. “That was Hovet, who has been at my side ever since.”
“Is that what you wish?” the captain asked. “Some kind of trial by combat?”
“No,” Elandra said quickly before the emperor could reply. “I prefer to talk to the men, one at a time.”
The men exchanged glances, and Kostimon scowled.
“Talk!” he said impatiently. “Ela, for Gault’s sake. That’s no way to choose a protector.”
“Why not?” she asked. “If they are all equally good at fighting, and equally intelligent, how am I to choose among them, save one I feel I can trust?”
“Don’t forget. Majesty,” Sien said smoothly, “that I have the truth-light to determine who you can trust.”
“It must be my judgment. No one else’s,” she said with growing vehemence. “How am I to judge if I cannot see them for myself?”
The prince murmured something too soft for her to hear, but Kostimon heard it. His face darkened.
“Tirhin!” he snapped, and the prince widened his eyes in feigned innocence. “If you cannot be useful, you may leave us,” the emperor said.
Tirhin bowed, but did not depart.
Kostimon glared at his son for a long, tense moment before he returned his gaze to Elandra. “Very well,” he said grouchily. “If you must, do so. But I do not like it.”
She smiled at him. “May Hovet accompany me?”
“I would rather Hovet fought them!” Kostimon snapped.
Something flashed through the protector’s eyes, and Elandra felt a moment of pity for him. Hovet was old, a man clearly struggling to maintain his usefulness. How he must fear that any day Kostimon would decide to replace him with a younger, stronger man.
“Please,” she said.
“Bah!” Kostimon said, but he gave Hovet a curt nod.
Hovet seemed reluctant to leave him, but he followed Elandra down the steps and into the arena. Her guards trailed behind them.
Picking up her skirts slightly to keep them out of the dirt, she approached the soldiers, who were swiftly lined up by the sergeants.
Not exactly sure how to go about her inspection, Elandra copied her father’s manner of stopping before each man and staring at him openly, rudely, almost