The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [222]
On the throne, the emperor let out a groan as several of the maidens tangled their fingers through his hair. He batted them away.
“Begone with you! All of you! Starting tomorrow, I’m going back to eunuchs. They’re dull as stones, but at least they don’t giggle all the time.”
Lirith hesitated, then approached the dais, where she curtsied nearly as elegantly as Melia.
“Forgive me, Your Magnificence.”
The emperor glared at her. “Why should I forgive you, girl? Have you insulted me?”
“Just a precautionary apology, Your Magnificence.”
Ephesian laughed. “I like this one, Melia. She’s clever. Can I have her?”
“I fear she’s not mine to grant.”
“Too bad. Well, go on, girl, you’ve made your apologies. I’m in a good mood at the sight of Melindora, so I’m quite likely not to have you flogged for your insolence.”
Lirith swallowed. “I just thought I might make a suggestion, Your Magnificence. If all of this”—she gestured to the bodies clustered around the throne—“this decadence and indulgence has grown tedious to you, you might consider an alternative.”
The emperor rested his hands on the shelf of his stomach. “An alternative? Such as what?”
“Well, such as virtue and morality.”
Ephesian mouthed these words as if they had been spoken in a foreign tongue. “Virtue and morality? Let me be certain that I understand you, girl. You mean, give up indulging in wine and food and sex?”
“You don’t have to give them up, Your Magnificence. Not entirely. Just partake of them in moderation.”
“Moderation?” The emperor clapped his hands together, eyes shining. “Yes, moderation. How positively perverse! People will be absolutely disgusted—I adore it. Please, you must tell me more about this virtue, as you call it. It’s a northern concept, no? All wind and stone and icy water up there, I hear. It twists men into deviants, right?”
Lirith opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment the soldier the emperor had dispatched earlier sprinted across the throne room to kneel before the dais.
Ephesian scowled. “I thought I told you to fetch me the Minister. Yet I do not see him.”
“Forgive me, Your Magnificence,” the soldier said. “I could not bring the Minister to you.”
“And why not?”
“Because the Minister is dead, Your Magnificence.”
Grace felt her heart skip in her chest.
“Dead?” Ephesian said with a frown. “But how? I don’t recall ordering his execution today.”
“It was poison by the look of it, Your Magnificence. And we found something with him. Something strange.”
These words sent a jolt through Grace. No, it couldn’t be.
“Well, what is it?” Ephesian demanded.
The soldier held out a hand. On it, crumpled but still recognizable, was a spider made out of gold.
74.
Ephesian peered forward, squinting as Melia and Falken described what they had learned about the murdered gods. The nubile maidens and pretty young men had all been sent away—in search of some clothes, Grace hoped.
“Is this all true, Melindora?” Ephesian said, scowling. “You knew what faction was behind the deaths of Ondo, Geb, and Sif, as well as the vile attacks on my city’s temples, and yet you did not tell me?”
“Please recall, Your Magnificence,” Melia said as one might speak to a dear but somewhat trying child, “prior to today, the Minister of Gates refused me entry to the First Circle, nor did he bring you my petitions.”
“And I think now we know the reason why,” Falken said. “The Minister must have allied himself with the Scirathi. These sorcerers didn’t want you to know the truth about the murdered gods, Your Magnificence, and they were keeping anyone who might be able to warn you from entering your palace. But the god Misar must have discovered the Minister’s treachery. And when the Minister finally did let us inside, the Scirathi rewarded him at once. With death.”
Ephesian gripped a jewel-encrusted goblet. “This is unacceptable. I do not tolerate deception and treachery in this city—unless I am the source of it. I wish the Minister wasn’t already dead so I could have him executed myself