‘That’s God’s own truth, friend Tynian,’ Kring said. ‘Their cavalry general took me to the stables and showed me what they call horses here.’ He shuddered.
‘Bad?’ Ulath asked.
‘Worse than bad, friend Ulath. Their mounts wouldn’t even make good plough-horses. I wouldn’t have believed that horses could get that fat. Anything faster than a walk would kill the poor beasts.’
‘Are we agreed then?’ Tynian asked them. ‘The imperial army is totally useless?’
‘I think you’re flattering them, Tynian,’ Ulath replied.
‘We’ll have to phrase our report rather carefully,’ the Alcione Knight told his companions. ‘We probably shouldn’t offend the emperor. Could we say “undertrained”?’
‘That’s the truth certainly,’ Kring answered.
‘How about “unversed in modern tactics and strategy”?’
‘No argument there,’ Ulath grunted.
‘“Poorly equipped”?’
‘That’s not exactly true, friend Tynian,’ Kring disagreed. ‘Their equipment is of very good quality. It’s probably the best twelfth-century equipment I’ve ever seen.’
‘All right,’ Tynian laughed, ‘how about “archaic weaponry”?’
‘I could accept that,’ the Domi conceded.
‘You’d rather not mention “fat, lazy, stupid or inept”, I gather?’ Ulath asked.
‘That might be just a shade undiplomatic, Ulath.’
‘True, though,’ Ulath said mournfully.
Pondia Subat did not approve. Emban and Vanion could sense that, although the prime minister’s face and manner remained diplomatically bland. Emperor Sarabian had, as promised, spoken at length with his prime minister, and Pondia Subat was going out of his way to be co-operative and to conceal his true feelings. ‘The details are very commonplace, my Lords,’ he said deprecatingly, ‘but then, the details of day-to-day government always are, aren’t they?’
‘Of course, Pondia,’ Emban shrugged, ‘but when taken in the mass, the accretion of detail conveys the sense of governing style, wouldn’t you say? From what I’ve seen so far this morning, I’ve already reached certain conclusions.’
‘Oh?’ Subat’s tone was neutral.
‘The guiding principle here seems to be the protection of the emperor,’ Emban told him. ‘That principle’s very familiar to me, since it’s identical to the one that dominates our thinking in Chyrellos. The government of the Church exists almost entirely to protect the Archprelate.’
‘Perhaps, your Grace, but you’ll have to admit that there are differences.’
‘Oh, of course, but the fact that Emperor Sarabian’s not as powerful as Archprelate Dolmant doesn’t really change things.’
Subat’s eyes widened slightly, but he instantly gained control of his expression.
‘I realise that the concept is alien to you, Pondia,’ Emban continued smoothly, ‘but the Archprelate speaks for God, and that makes him the most powerful man on earth. That’s an Elene perception, of course, and it may have little or nothing to do with reality. So long as we all believe it, though, it is true. That’s what those of us in church government do. We devote a great deal of our effort to making sure that all Elenes continue to believe that Dolmant speaks for God. So long as they believe that, the Archprelacy’s safe.’ The fat little churchman considered it. ‘If you don’t mind an observation, Pondia Subat, your central problem here in Matherion stems from the fact that you Tamuls have a secular turn of mind. Your church has been diminished, probably because you can’t bring yourselves to accept the notion that any authority might equal or exceed that of the emperor. You’ve erased the element of faith from your national character. Scepticism is all very well and good, but it tends to get out of hand. After you’ve applied it to God – or your Gods – it starts to spill over, and people begin to question other things as well – the rightness of government, imperial wisdom, the justice of the tax system, that sort of thing. In the most perfect of worlds, the emperor would be deified, and church and state would become one.’ He laughed in a self-deprecating little way. ‘Sorry, Pondia Subat. I didn’t mean to preach. It’s an occupational compulsion, I suppose. The point is that both Tamuls and Elenes have made the same mistake. You didn’t make your emperor a God, and we didn’t make our archprelate an emperor. We’ve both cheated the people by placing an incomplete authority over them. They deserved better of us. But I can see that you’re busy, and my stomach’s telling me rather pointedly that it’s lunch-time. We’ll talk again – soon. Coming, Lord Vanion?’
‘You don’t actually believe what you just said, do you, Emban?’ Vanion murmured as the two Elenes left the ministry.
‘Probably not,’ Emban shrugged, ‘but we’re going to have to do something to widen the crack in that stone shell around Subat’s mind. I’m sure that the emperor’s offer to have his head docked opened his eyes a bit, but until he starts actually thinking instead of simply plodding along the well-worn paths of his preconceptions, we’re not going to get anything out of him. Despite his general disapproval of us, he’s still the most important man in the government, and I’d rather have him working for us than against us. Do you suppose we could step right along, Vanion? I’m definitely getting hungry.’
‘It should be blue, though,’ Danae was saying. She sat with Mmrr in Emperor Sarabian’s lap, looking directly into his eyes.
‘For an Elene, yes, but-’ The Emperor sounded dubious.
‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘Tamul skin tone would be better with –’
‘But not red-red, though. More scarlet, perhaps even –’
‘No. Maroon’s too dark. It’s a ball, not a –’
‘We don’t wear dark clothes at funerals. We wear –’
‘Really? That’s a very interesting notion. Why do you – ?’
‘It’s considered insulting to –’
‘The dead don’t really mind, Sarabian. They’re busy someplace else.’
‘Can you even begin to follow them?’ Ehlana murmured to Sparhawk.
‘Sort of. They’re both thinking about the same thing, so they don’t have to finish sentences.’