Deathstalker Coda (9 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
Even so, there were still security cameras and all kinds of sensors tucked away in every nook and cranny, watching the guards as well as the corridors they guarded.
Things grew worse the farther in Joseph went, and his breathing grew fast and shallow as he followed the familiar path to the dark heart of the new court. There were severed heads nailed over doorways, stinking of cheap preservatives. Joseph thought he recognized a few of the faces. Once he passed a row of hanged men, with blackened faces and protruding tongues, the nooses sunk deeply into the stretched necks. The last one was still swaying slightly. Unexplained bloodstains smeared the floor and walls, as though some monstrous dog had been marking its territory. And sometimes there were screams, and other disturbing sounds. All symbols of the Emperor’s power and authority, and perhaps his state of mind.
Joseph walked on through the shadowy passages, carefully looking neither left nor right, and just the discipline of doing so meant he was sweating hard by the time he reached what had once been King Douglas’s private quarters, since commandeered by the Emperor Finn for his own use. Two large and muscular guards at Finn’s door put Joseph through a full body search with handheld scanners before reluctantly letting him pass. They knocked on the door for him, and pushed it open. The smell of a good dinner wafted out, but Joseph didn’t feel any less uneasy. He took a deep breath, arranged his features becomingly, and walked as casually as he could manage into the lair of the Beast.
The reception room was unfurnished except for the dinner table, and the surroundings were practically austere. No visible comforts or luxuries anywhere. The floor was polished wood, no carpeting, and the walls were bare. The lighting had been turned down only pleasantly low, and the table was covered with all kinds of food and wine, with settings for two. Joseph allowed himself to relax just a little. It seemed he was expected to last the length of the meal, at least. Finn came around the table to meet him, smiling warmly.
“Joseph, dear old thing, right on time! Dinner’s ready, come on and tuck in! And when dinner’s done, we’ll have a nice little chat, yes?”
Any appetite Joseph might have had disappeared with those last words, but he smiled bravely as Finn took him by the arm and led him to his place at table. Finn chattered on amiably enough, about nothing in particular, while Joseph examined the dishes laid out before him. It all looked very good, enough to make even an experienced gourmand like Joseph sit up and take notice. His mouth actually began to water a little. He unfolded his napkin, still bearing the old Campbell family crest, and allowed Finn to pile up both their plates with a little of this and a lot of that. The Emperor finally settled down into his chair, facing Joseph across the table, and gestured imperiously. A nondescript little man in a page’s outfit appeared out of nowhere, and Joseph jumped despite himself. Finn chuckled easily.
“Relax, Joseph; he’s just the food taster. The kitchen has all the latest scanners, but a wise man doesn’t place all his faith in tech. My taster checks everything before I try it. Marvelous fellow. He’s a clone I had specially made from a famous chef, able to identify every ingredient from the merest taste, and preprogrammed with knowledge of every poison in the Empire. Doesn’t leave much room in his brain for anything else, but we all have to make sacrifices. Well, everyone but me, naturally.”
The food taster tried a little bit of everything from Finn’s plate, considered for a moment, and then bowed and left the room as silently as he had arrived. Joseph looked at the food on his plate.
“Isn’t he going to taste mine?”
“Don’t be silly, Joseph,” said Finn. “Who’d care if you got poisoned?”
“But . . . you are our beloved Emperor!”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “I said relax, Joseph. You’re not in public now. Feel free to speak your mind on all things.”
Yeah, right,
thought Joseph, but had enough sense not to say it out loud.
thought Joseph, but had enough sense not to say it out loud.
They ate for a while in silence, Joseph studying his Emperor as closely as he thought he could get away with. Finn looked as robust and handsome as ever, in good health, and certainly there was nothing wrong with his appetite. He smiled frequently, clearly enjoying his food. He used his fingers as often as his cutlery, stuffing the food into his mouth. Joseph didn’t even try to keep up. The main meat course in particular took a lot of chewing. The meat’s flavor was pleasant enough, but unfamiliar. Joseph cleared his plate finally and considered a second helping, and Finn was right there, piling up his plate again.
“Good, isn’t it?” Finn said cheerfully. “Enjoy it while you can; supply is limited.”
“It’s a bit gamey,” said Joseph, chewing thoughtfully. “I can’t say I recognize it. Is it some new import?”
Finn grinned. “You could say that.”
“What is it?”
“More like
who,
actually. We’re dining on the last of the alien ambassador from Chanticleer. He’s lasted quite a while. I’ve had him roasted, fried, and broiled. I think fried was best; went very well in a nice bed of rice.”
who,
actually. We’re dining on the last of the alien ambassador from Chanticleer. He’s lasted quite a while. I’ve had him roasted, fried, and broiled. I think fried was best; went very well in a nice bed of rice.”
Joseph’s stomach churned, and it was all he could do to keep his face calm. There had been rumors about what had happened to the bodies of all the alien ambassadors Finn had executed, but . . . He stabbed a medium-sized piece with his fork, and ate it carefully. Finn was watching. Joseph swallowed the mouthful eventually, and poured himself more wine with a steady hand. Finn was still chattering away.
“I’ve eaten at least some of all the ambassadors. Seemed a pity to let them go to waste, and I do so love new experiences. In this job, you have to take your fun where you can get it. I think the Trall’Chai was the worst, though I tried it with every seasoning I could think of. You just can’t help some people.”
The meal ground interminably on, through many courses, including a pudding so sweet and sticky that Joseph couldn’t force down more than a few mouthfuls before giving up, but eventually the meal came to an end. Finn summoned servants to clear the table, and then got up and escorted Joseph into the next room, which was just as austere, if not actually spartan. Finn poured two large glasses of brandy, and saw Joseph settled into one of the oversized chairs in front of the fireplace before sitting down himself. Joseph sipped his brandy cautiously and waited for the other shoe to drop.
“At ease, Joseph,” Finn said finally. “You’re not here to be reprimanded or punished. I’m actually very pleased with you. My people tell me you’re doing an excellent job as my First Minister. Firm discipline, clear policy with no exceptions, and lots of purges to keep everyone on their toes. It must keep you very busy, though, being in charge of the Church Militant, Pure Humanity, and the Transmutation Board. Are you sure I’m not working you too hard? I could always have some of your responsibilities passed on to someone else . . .”
“No, thank you, Your Majesty,” Joseph said quickly. Power and influence were the only ways to keep safe these days, and Joseph had no intention of giving up any of it. There’s no one more dangerous than an ambitious second-in-command. “I am happy to serve Your Majesty to the full extent of my abilities.”
“Are you? That’s really very sweet of you, Joseph. And do call me Finn. No need for all that formality among friends in private. Of course, if you ever slip up in public I’ll have your nuts off in a trice. Standards have to be maintained. Where was I? Oh, yes . . . you’re here, Joseph, because I need someone to talk to. Someone on my level, that I can be frank and open with, without reducing them to hysterics, or having to have them executed afterwards. After all, what’s the point in achieving things, or triumphing over your enemies, if you haven’t got anyone to boast about it to? Gloating’s very little fun on your own.
“I used to have Brett Random and Rose Constantine, and later Tel Markham; but they all ran away and left me on my own. Never did understand why. And after all I did for them, the ungrateful little shits . . . They betrayed my trust. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Joseph? No, you’re not the sort to frighten easily. I feel I could talk to you, tell you things I couldn’t tell anyone else. You should know better than most, there’s no fun in doing awful things unless you have someone around who can appreciate the subtleties.”
And Joseph Wallace, who, as head of the Transmutation Board had wiped out whole species of aliens for being too intelligent, nodded and allowed that he did indeed understand better than most. Still . . .
“You are the Emperor,” Joseph said cautiously. “Surely there must be any number of people you work with who could—”
“Zealots and fanatics are no fun at all,” Finn said firmly. “Far too polite, and no sense of humor. Now, you sit and listen while I talk, and we’ll get along famously. Try and chime in with the odd appreciative comment from time to time.”
So Finn talked and Joseph listened, and rather to his surprise Joseph was genuinely fascinated. There was a lot more going on inside Finn’s head than most people ever realized.
Finn had made himself Emperor because it amused him. Partly because now he was greater than King Douglas had ever been, and partly to rub everyone’s nose in the fact that he was in charge now, and had absolutely no intention of sharing power with anyone. And yet, now that he was Emperor, Finn was just a bit at a loss as to where to go next. He lived in austere, almost spartan surroundings, with only the most basic comforts because lesser pleasures just didn’t do it for him anymore. He still satisfied his various appetites to excess, wherever possible, but they were fleeting things. Only power and success really pleased him now, and power was an addictive drug. The more you had, the more you wanted.
And, much to Finn’s chagrin, instead of tearing down the Empire and pissing on its ruins, as he’d always intended, Finn now spent most of his time working hard to keep the Empire strong and united, so that it could fend off the coming Terror. Finn had always understood about priorities.
Joseph knew all about the Terror. Knew a great deal more than most, in fact, which was why he slept so badly. The Emperor had raised him to the highest level of importance in what remained of the civil government, which meant Joseph saw all the latest reports on the Terror as they came in. The bad news was that the Terror was still coming, and the Empire had no way of stopping it. The good news . . . well, there wasn’t any good news. They couldn’t tell the people that, so Joseph made lots of public appearances, saying vague and reassuring things in a loud and confident voice. (The Emperor didn’t go out in public much anymore, rather to the civil government’s relief. The Emperor couldn’t be trusted to stick to the script these days, and some of his casual remarks could be downright distressing.)
“Do you have any family, Joseph?” Finn said suddenly.
Joseph’s heart jumped painfully in his chest. Any other time, he would have taken a question like that as a veiled threat, with emotional blackmail lurking eagerly in the wings, but Finn seemed genuinely interested in the answer.
“I have a wife, a mistress, two sons,” said Joseph. “The usual.”
“Ah,” said Finn sadly. “I have no one. I was an only child, and my parents died young. I always thought that was very selfish of them. There was a time when Douglas and Lewis were my family, in as much as anyone was . . . I didn’t think I’d miss them, but I do, sometimes . . . Tell me about the sightings, Joseph. The Deathstalker sightings.”
“Just gossip,” Joseph said easily. “There are rumors, but nothing worth listening to. People saying they knew someone who claims to have seen Lewis walking the streets of the Parade of the Endless. Or sometimes it’s Owen, or one of the other legends. It’s always a friend of a friend who sees these things; nothing you can pin down.”
“Not anymore,” said Finn. “Two of my Paragons have been killed, right here in the city. And the word is, a Deathstalker did it.”
“Impossible,” Joseph said quickly. “My people have this planet sewn up tight. There isn’t a ship that even passes by that we don’t know everything about. Can’t you ask the ELFs controlling the Paragons who did it?”
“The possessor was the uber-esper Screaming Silence,” said Finn, his mouth moving briefly in a moue of distaste. “And unfortunately none of the uber-espers are talking to me at the moment. This would worry me if I was the worrying sort, so it’s just as well that I’m not. Besides, Lewis wouldn’t sneak back in. Not his style. He’d think it was beneath him, the fool. No, he’d send a formal challenge first, and a chance to surrender honorably. He never did understand the possibilities in treachery. Lewis has his own fleet now, after the debacle on Haden, and when they come calling we’ll all know about it.”
Joseph was surprised to hear Finn discuss the matter so calmly. When the Emperor first learned that the fleet he’d sent to Haden to kill Lewis and his companions had not only failed to do so, but had actually gone over to the rebels’ side en masse, people could hear the Emperor screaming his rage all over the palace. Servants had run for their lives, and even some of the guards. Finn had only just started to come down when reports came in that his supposed allies, the AIs of Shub, had also betrayed him and seized control of the Madness Maze, and that had set him off again. The purges that followed had been particularly vicious and far-reaching, and next morning all over the city there were men and women hanging from lampposts.
Finn took in Joseph’s anxious face, and laughed quietly. “Don’t panic, I’m over that now. The loss of Shub is a set-back, but I had made plans, just in case. I have secret allies and hidden super-weapons, just waiting for my call. I’ll blast the Shub homeworld into so much radioactive dust, and my loyal fleet will blow the rebel ships apart like so many rotten apples in the night.”
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