Page 85 of Beyond

Merrin took a deep breath and replied, “I can’t say I have no choice, because I do. You’d be better off killing me, though—if I’m arrested, they’ll get everything out of me. Somehow. But yes—it is incredible to think anyone could have been as bold as you and yours have been, but yes. I am in.”

Kordas turned back to the Record Keeper. “I need to know what Dolls can do to the Emperor without his specific permission—what those Dolls closest to him have been given blanket permission for. Dolls must be the Emperor’s body-servants, so do they need to ask to disrobe him?”

The Record Keeper would have stared in shock, if it was able. The momentary pause told Kordas that the Doll had just been shocked by a realization, and had double-, maybe triple-checked it. “It was established many years ago that when the Emperor raises his arms we are free to disrobe or dress him, with no further command needed.”

Merrin’s brows furrowed deeply and he raised a single finger. “Are you thinking of—”

“Oh yes. Beltran, are you ready? You know how to use a Spitter, right?” The young man nodded and within moments of the nod, a Doll came from the Records halls bearing three cases, laid them on the Record Keeper’s desk, and opened all three up. An orange glow came from within one of the cases.

“Is that—” Beltran began.

Kordas nodded. “Amazing what Dolls have just lying around, isn’t it?”

They conferred for another half-candlemark, practiced a few times, and then it was time to go.

* * *

The softest of mage-lights was all that kept it from being unbearably bright. The initial shock of seeing the Emperor’s office left you with only one impression: unimaginable wealth, in gold.

The furniture was gilded, with cloth-of-gold cushions. The ceiling was gilded. The doors had gold plate hammered over them. Anything made of metal was either solid gold or at least gold plated. The floor was gold carpet of tufted wool a knuckle deep, with a woven pattern of pure gold thread. The walls were not gold—they were a mosaic of actual amber of every possible color, and quite literally more valuable than gold. Golden frames enclosed daggers, swords, crowns, headdresses, polearms, and chalices.

There were seven giant wolf statues made of gold and iron positioned around the office, in places where windows might have been. I’m surprised they aren’t of the Emperor, Kordas mused.

There were guards everywhere outside of the Emperor’s private office, but once the doors were closed, there were no humans anywhere to be seen. Of course, given the amount of protections that Kordas could see with mage-sight, the Emperor didn’t need human guards in here after the doors were locked. There was a Gate in the wall to the left, the Dolls could come and go and bring him whatever he needed, and the magical protections around him would ensure no physical harm could come to him.

All of those protection spells seemed to be emanating from a single object in the room. Which also made sense, given the decades—centuries!—the High Kings, and then the Emperors, had been sitting on the Conquest Throne.

But that object was not, as Kordas had thought, the Wolf Crown. No, it was the heavy gold-and-iron carcanet that the Emperor wore. And that made sense, too. The spells had been forged into the gold—but the iron would by itself deflect any counter-spells. However much of a fool the current Emperor was, his predecessors had been shrewd indeed.

In addition, there was a protective barrier between the desk and where they were standing. That came from the desk itself. Anyone who tried rushing the Emperor by going over that desk would just bounce right off it.

He and Merrin stood side by side in the Imperial Office’s receiving area, as the Emperor pretended to read something. This, of course, was another demonstration of his power. Another petty demonstration. And Kordas knew that he would keep them standing there until he started to get bored. Only then would he get on with the business that brought them here—making official Kordas’s demotion, and Merrin’s promotion. There was nothing on that desk except a little gold statue of himself, a pen, and the two sets of documents.

Fortunately, the Emperor had a short attention span.

He finally looked up. Kordas made certain he was wearing a fatuous grin. Merrin was sober, his hands resting on the grip of his Spitter.

“Well, there you are. Heh. Heh. Heh.” The Emperor’s nasty little smile was back, and he looked more like a toad with hair than ever. “I have your new patents of nobility right here,” he said, and made that “heh-heh” sound again, which was nothing like a laugh. “I trust you will make something noteworthy from your new land, Merrin.”

Merrin made an inarticulate little sound as the Emperor’s seal-ring came down on each document, burning the certifying sigil in.

“And you are done.” He did not stand up. Behind him, several more Dolls padded in through the Gate, but the Emperor took no notice of them; Dolls were beneath an Emperor’s notice. The new Dolls took equidistant places among the four already standing immobile against the display cases. Yet another Doll came through the Gate on the other side of the Office, laid down several folders of documents, and refreshed the pens. The Emperor tapped the two newly sealed pages once, then flicked the same finger toward Merrin and Kordas as if flicking off something just pulled from between his teeth. That Doll brought them through the Emperor’s Gate and to the receiving area, giving one copy to each. There was no fanfare, no—anything. Kordas fought back bile at the simplicity of it all; the Emperor could have an entire Duchy change hands without any more effort than swatting a fly. Or eating one, the toad.

Kordas and Merrin left the receiving area through the gate, following the single Doll, and emerged into the Records Complex, where they were quickly relieved of their outer coats, swords, footwear, and anything else that might have made noise. They took deep breaths, then spoke the destination: the Emperor’s Office.

They stepped silently onto the woolen carpet and, at the same pace as a Doll would use, took up positions between the other Dolls in line by the cases.

A moment later, Kordas’s brave Herald Beltran stepped through the same opening, his forearms aglow with the protective bracers—and in each hand, one dueling Spitter—that had belonged to the Emperor’s father. “Put your hands up!” the Herald yelled, making the Emperor startle.

Mockingly, the Emperor replied, “Oh, a boy with Spitters! I’m so scared!”

But despite the mocking tone, the Emperor did raise his hands, and that was enough.

Outstanding, Beltran.

Instantly, the Dolls behind the Emperor leapt into action. One worked the combination for the carcanet and yanked it aside, while another snatched the Wolf Crown. It happened incredibly quickly.

Within a single breath, the Emperor was stripped naked, including everything. Robes, shirt, trews, underwear—