The most terrifying thought for him was that perhaps it was there all the time, lurking behind the respectful faces of the men who followed him, and the servile grimaces of the servants. If that were the case he thought this whole world was in trouble.

Perhaps those who said the Shadow made this world were right, he thought. He took another sip of victory wine. It tasted very sour.

 

 

Azaar's tent was surprisingly spartanly furnished, Rik thought. He sat beside Lady Asea and a small number of the higher officers of the General's staff. A few eyed him resentfully, a few enviously, no doubt because of the carefully spread rumours that he was Asea's lover. Some of them looked at him calculatingly. His stock was high, and it was said that news of his bravery had reached the ears of the Queen of Talorea. They were no doubt trying to work out how to take advantage of that fact. It was the Terrarch way. Their lives were politics and politics were their lives. Now the same was true for him.

Azaar gestured for his guests to be seated. Servants in the livery of his house produced wine and filled goblets. Azaar raised his glass. All present did the same.

"To victory," he said. His voice was flat and dry, but it carried through the tent as clearly as a shout. Rik would have given a lot to master that trick.

"To victory," the guests echoed.

The glasses were refilled. "To her Majesty, Queen Arielle of Talorea."

"To her majesty."

"To her majesty, Queen Kathea of Kharadrea."

"To her majesty."

The General seemed to be taking a mocking pleasure in making the toasts and getting his guests drunk. Rik took only sips from each glass. He wanted a clear head this evening.

The elaborately spiced food of the Terrarchs was set on the table. The drinking and chatter proceeded. "I thought Lord Elakar basked in his triumph very graciously," said a colonel from the far end of the table.

"He was entitled to speak first," said Lady Asea. "The Queen gave him precedence."

Rik's glance flickered from her to Azaar. Both of them were unreadable. They ought to be, having had thousands of years to practise hiding their thoughts. "He has the airs of a Viceroy," said someone else.

"And the garb of one too," said the Colonel. “Where did he dig up that sceptre?”

"We are not here to rule Kharadrea," said Azaar. His voice was flat and calm but there were compulsions in it that commanded belief, despite the subtle hints of mockery. More magic, Rik thought. "We are here to see that Queen Kathea gains what is rightfully hers."

"It would seem our job is almost done then," said the Colonel.