emperor’s assault against Marik, and one she herself might not have been aware of.
Now, perhaps, the treachery had come to fruition. “Is one of his concubines with child?”
“Yes,” Worlen answered. “Only a few months along. His ömem believe it will be a boy. The woman has been isolated, in the meantime.”
By law, the son of a concubine could not inherit the throne unless the empress consort—his wife by law—was declared incapable of bearing children and the emperor recognized the child as his heir. The first was a legal matter and largely involved paying a sufficient sum to the royal caedan . The latter could only be done after the child was born. And Donegh had already heard rumors, strictly kept within the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood, that the empress consort was seeking a contract against the concubine in question.
“Why is this a concern?” Donegh asked.
“Because as long as the emperor is without an heir, the reigning vek is one of the possible legal successors to the throne.”
Not the successor, Donegh knew, but a possible one. “I would think that declaring war against the emperor and killing him would render that null and void.”
“My dear assassin,” Worlen replied with a cold chuckle, “I intend to take the throne, regardless. But to keep it, I must appear to be legitimate. If an heir is recognized by the high chancellor and the royal court before I am coronated, then I shall be forced to either kill the boy or keep an eye on him for the rest of his life. If my enemies believe the boy has a legitimate claim to the throne, they will rally around him and cause me endless problems.”
“Then have the mother assassinated.”
Worlen snorted. “I will not have my legacy tied to the murder of a mother and her unborn child. No, the best course of action is to prevent him from ever being named heir to begin with.” He turned to face Donegh and added, “And now I believe it is time for us to go.”
Donegh bowed and extended a hand, which the vek took in one of his own. Then silently they dropped through the floor.
I T WAS after nightfall when Gonim arrived at the temple dormitory. He’d been forced to perform Nemom in the street of the second ring. The guards at the courtyard shared by the keep and the temple were more cautious than their counterparts at the ring gates and sent for a caedan to vouch for him. Gonim did not recognize the middle-aged caedan who appeared a short time later, looking extremely put out, on the heels of the page who’d gone for him. “What is this all about?”
“This boy claims to be a tadu from Worlen, Father.”
“So?” He looked Gonim up and down with only mild interest. “He’s pretty enough. But I don’t claim to know all the tadu in Worlen.” To Gonim he said, “Who is your mentor?”
“Father Deid,” Gonim replied. “But he was killed in the destruction of the temple.”
The caedan looked distressed. “Father Deid? Killed? These are truly dark times. Yes, I knew your master. This news much aggrieves me. What is your name?”
“Gonim, Father.”
“I am Father Kosün. Come along, then. The evening meal has just begun. Perhaps there will be something left for us.”
The meal was simple, as it always was in the dormitories—chunks of heavy wheat bread; a soup made from potatoes, carrot, and turnips; and ale. While the wealthy citizens were expected to pay their tithes in coin, farmers donated from their harvests and kept the fathers and acolytes well fed. Gonim had hoped to get a taste of the local stosam , since the local brewers no doubt kept a steady supply coming in, but the ale served was a simple, uncomplicated brew. Nevertheless, the meal was filling and satisfying.
There were twenty-seven caedan living in the dormitory and sixteen tadu . During dinner, Gonim ate with the tadu , of course. He hadn’t forgotten his purpose—to find out how the valley had been cut off from the rest of the kingdom, and why—but he
Now, perhaps, the treachery had come to fruition. “Is one of his concubines with child?”
“Yes,” Worlen answered. “Only a few months along. His ömem believe it will be a boy. The woman has been isolated, in the meantime.”
By law, the son of a concubine could not inherit the throne unless the empress consort—his wife by law—was declared incapable of bearing children and the emperor recognized the child as his heir. The first was a legal matter and largely involved paying a sufficient sum to the royal caedan . The latter could only be done after the child was born. And Donegh had already heard rumors, strictly kept within the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood, that the empress consort was seeking a contract against the concubine in question.
“Why is this a concern?” Donegh asked.
“Because as long as the emperor is without an heir, the reigning vek is one of the possible legal successors to the throne.”
Not the successor, Donegh knew, but a possible one. “I would think that declaring war against the emperor and killing him would render that null and void.”
“My dear assassin,” Worlen replied with a cold chuckle, “I intend to take the throne, regardless. But to keep it, I must appear to be legitimate. If an heir is recognized by the high chancellor and the royal court before I am coronated, then I shall be forced to either kill the boy or keep an eye on him for the rest of his life. If my enemies believe the boy has a legitimate claim to the throne, they will rally around him and cause me endless problems.”
“Then have the mother assassinated.”
Worlen snorted. “I will not have my legacy tied to the murder of a mother and her unborn child. No, the best course of action is to prevent him from ever being named heir to begin with.” He turned to face Donegh and added, “And now I believe it is time for us to go.”
Donegh bowed and extended a hand, which the vek took in one of his own. Then silently they dropped through the floor.
I T WAS after nightfall when Gonim arrived at the temple dormitory. He’d been forced to perform Nemom in the street of the second ring. The guards at the courtyard shared by the keep and the temple were more cautious than their counterparts at the ring gates and sent for a caedan to vouch for him. Gonim did not recognize the middle-aged caedan who appeared a short time later, looking extremely put out, on the heels of the page who’d gone for him. “What is this all about?”
“This boy claims to be a tadu from Worlen, Father.”
“So?” He looked Gonim up and down with only mild interest. “He’s pretty enough. But I don’t claim to know all the tadu in Worlen.” To Gonim he said, “Who is your mentor?”
“Father Deid,” Gonim replied. “But he was killed in the destruction of the temple.”
The caedan looked distressed. “Father Deid? Killed? These are truly dark times. Yes, I knew your master. This news much aggrieves me. What is your name?”
“Gonim, Father.”
“I am Father Kosün. Come along, then. The evening meal has just begun. Perhaps there will be something left for us.”
The meal was simple, as it always was in the dormitories—chunks of heavy wheat bread; a soup made from potatoes, carrot, and turnips; and ale. While the wealthy citizens were expected to pay their tithes in coin, farmers donated from their harvests and kept the fathers and acolytes well fed. Gonim had hoped to get a taste of the local stosam , since the local brewers no doubt kept a steady supply coming in, but the ale served was a simple, uncomplicated brew. Nevertheless, the meal was filling and satisfying.
There were twenty-seven caedan living in the dormitory and sixteen tadu . During dinner, Gonim ate with the tadu , of course. He hadn’t forgotten his purpose—to find out how the valley had been cut off from the rest of the kingdom, and why—but he
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