Shadow War - Deborah Chester [69]
But what if the slave was right? What if there was little time? What if her indecision and delay cost the city dearly?
What if she broke protocol and risked demanding an audience with the emperor? Even she had not the right to go to him unbidden. What if Kostimon heard her secondhand tale of supposition and hearsay and disbelieved it?
After the events of this morning, her ground had become very shaky. She did not think Kostimon would receive her at all, much less listen.
Besides, if she took the risk and Kostimon did believe her, that would mean Tirhin’s arrest. An investigation would be carried out. Possibly he would be tortured. If the charges were proved true, Tirhin might be executed.
Elandra frowned to herself as she hurried along. She held a man’s future in her hand, and she was not certain she liked it.
But if she kept quiet, deliberately suppressing the knowledge she had been given. How could she live with her own conscience? Would her silence not make her a coconspirator against her husband?
What was she to do? What was the wise course? The right course? They did not seem to be the same.
Did not Kostimon genuinely want his son to succeed him? Had he not hinted as much to her earlier? If she accused his son, would that not enrage him? The relationship between father and son was clearly a troubled and complex one. She would be foolish to step between them in any way. Besides, Kostimon had been laying many secret plans lately. His network of spies informed him of everything, and he had Tirhin watched constantly. Was he not already informed of where his son had been last night?
The easiest course would be to consult with Lord Sien. He would know how to handle this news and whether it should be mentioned to the emperor.
Such thoughts brought her no relief. She did not like Sien, or his priesthood. Something about the man chilled her. In his presence she always longed for the protection of a jinja, and until now she had avoided him as much as possible. He did not approve of her, nor did he approve of the emperor’s recent decision to make her a sovereign.
To approach him for his advice might be the avenue toward making peace. However much she disliked him, it would be better to have him for an ally than an enemy.
Her chin lifted, and by the time she reached her chambers her difficult decision had been made.
Her ladies clustered around her, fussing and scolding, and hastening to remove her cloak and veil. She was terribly late. Where had she lingered so long? Was she not frozen from being outdoors for nearly an hour? The delegation of Penestricans had arrived. She had kept them waiting. No, there was no time now for anything except her preparations. No, she was very late, too late to think of writing notes to people. She had no time for discussions with priests and chancellors. Everything must now wait.
Resignedly, Elandra allowed herself to be led into her bedroom, where she was undressed and bathed in warm water scented with rose petals and fine oils. Then the preparations began, with each lady in waiting standing in line with the one article of clothing she was responsible for. Each lady walked up to Elandra in turn, curtsied low, handed over the item of clothing to Elandra’s dresser, and curtsied again before retreating. It took an inordinate amount of time, but it was the customary ceremony of dressing the empress and it occurred several times a day, for every separate function. Late or not, protocol must be maintained.
Today, she was not impatient with it. Her mind busily turned over every aspect of what she intended to do. And she decided against putting herself under an obligation to the high priest. It was too risky. Elandra stilled her uneasy conscience. If Tirhin had done serious wrong, the emperor’s own spies would bring word to him soon enough.
“Keep your place,” Kostimon had shouted at her this morning.
Elandra’s eyes narrowed as her gown