H - 79: What Do You Mean (Patreon)

The palace complex of Rhivkabat had been built up over the centuries, most of its wings designed by the Golden Empress as government offices, but these were all built around and in harmony with a central edifice which predated her rule—which, itself, had its upper floors built upon an even older foundation which might be the most ancient structure on the continent not made by the Timekeepers. Atop this central section stood a flat space open to the sky and encircled by looming pillars, affording a magnificent view of the surrounding city. That view was slightly interrupted, now, by towers and obelisk spires attached to the surrounding palace complex, but Izayaroa had carefully planned it all such that these stood at a remove from the rooftop garden.

In the days of the last King of Rhivaak, this place had been lush and verdant, featuring fountains and waterworks fed by an ingenious system of Timekeeper-inspired pumps and pipes to nourish a profusion of exotic plants, a veritable forest atop the palace. Though Rhivkabat was a river city and not short on water, Rhivaak was still a desert kingdom, and Izayaroa had always found this an unseemly decadence. The garden had died during the Lost Century, when water truly had been scarce and she had ordered all such fripperies cut off from their plumbing. After the nation and city had recovered, rather than restoring it, she had had the space designed anew.

The old fountains were now beds filled with sand, their waterspouts replaced by black marble obelisks inlaid with the Empress’s teachings in gold, the dry earth surrounding them sparsely planted with hardy desert flora. It was a stark place, now, but still beautiful in its way. It was also private, which was one of the reasons she favored it for meetings. Between the pillars stood panels of intricately carved ornamental stone, heavily perforated to admit light and wind; standing near one, a person could easily see out over the city, while the carvings effectively blocked the view from outside. Those pillars and panels also held potent enchantments to dissuade eavesdropping and intrusion.

The other reason Izayaroa favored the open rooftop garden was that it was the only spot in the Palace complex on which a dragon could land, and the only one in the city where she could do so without being immediately thronged with attention. Of course, on this as on most recent occasions, her arrival had been far more discreet, but her fondness for the location remained.

Percy was now over by the edge, peering through the decorative apertures. Rhivkabat’s sandstone cityscape, spotted with palms, obelisks, and minarets, and partially carved into the cliffsides above the river, must have been a truly novel sight to her. Yet, she’d only just gone over to admire it; for the first several minutes after their arrival she had been gazing straight upward in delight at the cloudless blue sky.

Izayaroa was, by that point, familiar enough with the girl to understand her motives; doubtless her family and other intimates would have likewise. It did help her begin to see, however, how others in Boisverd might have come to dismiss Percy as not worth educating.

For now, however, she directed her attention upon the subject of their visit, now that said subject had arrived.

“Il-Senna,” she said aloud. “Thank you for your punctuality.”

A shadow cast by the closest obelisk shifted, one patch of darkness sliding along the ground from it and rising up in the form of a swift-moving, inky mist—very different from the manifestation of Kaln’s Entity, Izayaroa noted—and resolved itself into the form of a Rhiva woman kneeling before her.

She was dressed in utterly nondescript attire of white and sandy beige, loose garments of the kind favored by the working class in the city. Her face was equally unremarkable, neither notably pretty or the opposite, with no particularly striking features—just a face beginning to show the faintest lines of middle age around the eyes, the first silver threads appearing in her black curls. It was just a face, and not the means by which Izayaroa recognized Il-Senna Rhaket. She had plenty of faces.

“Your Excellency,” her spymaster answered, lowering her head. “I apologize for making you wait.”

“I chose to wait by arriving early,” Izayaroa assured her. “You have not disappointed me in the slightest. I thought I would give my new apprentice a chance to take in the view. This is Percy.”

“Percy,” Rhaket repeated, cutting her eyes toward the young Verdi woman as she approached, and inclining her head once.

“I know you are well-versed in current events,” Izayaroa said evenly, “and more than able to read between the lines. Percy’s presence, attachment to me, and anything else these facts might imply are not to become public knowledge.”

“I am your eyes, my Empress,” Rhaket replied, bowing her head again. “I see nothing at which you choose not to look.”

“What progress have you made?” Izayaroa asked.

“A start. I have ascertained the means by which Samed Melchavidan was able to so thoroughly circumvent the Lord Scribe’s countermeasures. As it turns out, this was central to the establishment of his power base, not merely an exercise of said power. I have come to suspect that his vendetta against the scribe Ar-Kaln Zelekhir was partly performative—a pretext to target a public official of the Lord Scribe’s rank which the Lord Scribe himself would not question.”

Izayaroa narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Explain.”

“Melchavidan has been able to circumvent the Lord Scribe and even Lord Regent because it was my people he initially compromised,” Rhaket continued, toneless as ever despite the rage and embarrassment Izayaroa knew she must feel at this admission. “Via means which I have not yet ascertained but which I believe must be magical, he has systematically identified several of my Ghosts operating in the city. He then cultivated amicable relations with each individually, ultimately reaching seven separate operators and cooperating with them in counter-intelligence operations against Zouzhi interests in Rhivkabat. None of said Ghosts were aware that he was in contact with any others. Each has afforded him only very limited access to the government’s resources and only as necessary to ensure this role as a good citizen assisting your agents in protecting Rhivaak from foreign intrusion. Between the seven of them, their cooperation has given him a wide breadth of coverage and a vast capacity to operate in the city without official notice. Further, the interests of Zouzhi princes thus thwarted were all rivals of Prince Accatio, with whom Melchavidan has cultivated a business and personal relationship including the betrothal to his daughter Haktria. Melchavidan persuaded my Ghosts to be involved by implicating the Lord Scribe in various malfeasance; they believed they were helping root out both corruption and hostile foreign influence from the highest levels of your Excellency’s government.”

“Ghosts?” Percy finally burst out; Izayaroa had noted sidelong that she looked increasingly aghast as Rhaket spoke. “That cannot be meant literally, surely.”

“Ghosts are agents of my intelligence apparatus,” Izayaroa explained, “who operate with great autonomy. They do answer to Il-Senna, but as an institution they are meant as a weapon against public corruption and thus are less tightly controlled by the government than most of their peers.”

“What?” Percy exclaimed. “Why—what? How? Why? You allowed— what possible result could this have had other than…well, this? Why did it take this long?”

“Percy,” Izayaroa said gently, “please allow Il-Senna to complete her report before I must diverge into explaining the background to you.”

Percy clapped both hands over her mouth, going wide-eyed, and physically took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking anyway, you obviously can’t explain something like that to a foreign national.”

“I will obviously be reforming this entire system anyway,” Izayaroa said. “It was time; the fact that it has been penetrated and suborned only makes it more urgent. Il-Senna, since you understand what has happened, I assume you now have control over this?”

“Yes, your Excellency. All relevant operatives are now in communication and answering directly to me. Samed Melchavidan is unaware that his efforts have been discovered; my Ghosts are continuing to cooperate with him as before, and will until I give the word. We are in the process of building the complete map of his illicit contacts you ordered.”

“And this Prince Accatio?”

“I have of course investigated him myself, on the theory that all this was arranged to conceal his own illicit dealings in Rhivaak. Thus far, I have found nothing unbecoming a foreign businessman in good standing—he is scrupulous about complying with regulations and paying all relevant taxes and fees promptly and precisely. I think that was the point. Previously, he has made a public point of this in a manner which, in Zouzhi culture, could have been taken as a sign of weakness and a provocation for his rivals to attempt to outflank him by taking advantage of the opportunities he disdains. My present operating hypothesis is that his plan is to dominate trade between Rhivaak and Zouzh by making himself the last man standing after his rivals have been purged for various offenses against Imperial law.”

“I am grudgingly forced to admire that,” Izayaroa mused. “Parts of it. You said you have not ascertained how Samed Melchavidan identified any of my Ghosts, much less seven of them.”

“Yes, your Excellency, I am forced to report failure on that point. There exists no trail of him even making relevant inquiries, hence my belief that this was done through magical means.”

“The Ghosts should be protected from that specifically,” the Empress murmured. “Obviously we must learn how he has done this.”

“Yes, your Excellency. Not knowing has hampered my own efforts. If he is employing information-gathering magic, sending agents into the Melchavidan household’s compound is a greater risk than it should be. I wished to report to you and seek your approval before ordering such an operation.”

“You were correct to do so,” Izayaroa stated. “Not yet. I will address this matter myself, Il-Senna; it goes without saying that my resources exceed Samed Melchavidan’s. It seems obvious that he did not expect my involvement. Wait for my order before proceeding with that; in the meantime, continue as you were. I want as complete an understanding of any such networks of influence as can possibly exist before moving against them.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“What other major players are there?”

“Samed is the only one I would consider major, your Excellency. His operations obviously encompass a number of corrupt officials and various well-placed professionals willing to flout the law. I am placing each under observation as I become aware of them in turn, and as you have ordered, do not intend to move until I am ready to strike everywhere simultaneously. Complete coverage may not be possible, but I see no reason we will be unable to uproot so much of the network that any remaining nodes will be frightened back into compliance with the law. I find no hint of any motivation besides the usual desire for wealth and power, from Samed on down—no plot against the Empire itself. Even the various Zouzhi involved are mostly guilty of bringing the infighting of their own homeland to our shores.”

“I will have to appropriately express my opinion of that to Prince Zhiocatta in good time,” Izayaroa said. “Any further discoveries?”

“Yes, your Excellency. I do not know the significance, but Haktria Melchavidan has been replaced by a body double for the last eight months. Prince Accatio has either been fooled or is in on the plan and unconcerned. The actress is a close match for the original, and quite skilled.”

Izayaroa narrowed her eyes again. “Oh? Have you any hint what happened to the original?”

“At this time, my Empress, only speculation.”

“Your speculations are rooted in your awareness of the situation on the ground, Il-Senna. I would hear them.”

“Yes, your Excellency. I deem it likeliest that the real Haktria is injured, ill, or deceased, and that not by any deliberate malfeasance, but this is based only on my analysis of the personalities involved. It would be out of character for her to run away or otherwise defy her father, and likewise for him to have deliberately harmed her. Their relationship is emotionally distant, but he is not prone to outbursts of temper nor excessive personal cruelty, and regards her as an important asset in his plans. I will undoubtedly learn more when I am able to have the Melchavidan compound searched.”

“I see,” Izayaroa mused. “Interesting…but probably not of central importance. She is a relatively minor piece in this game, but one which has accidentally brought about changes on the board already. Inform me at once if you learn anything of interest in this matter, but do not risk your people or plans to achieve this.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“I am most pleased with your progress, Il-Senna, the hostile penetration of your agency notwithstanding. It is the failure of my government on multiple levels which has forced me to come here and take the reins myself—and in your case specifically, it is clear to me that the fault stemmed first from the constraints under which I have required you to operate. That, then, will be the first correction I make. I will be tripling the budget of your department; the Lord Regent will be given orders to begin ramping up intelligence spending at a sufficiently restrained pace to avoid giving alarm to our neighbors.”

“I shall of course endeavor to be the best steward of your Excellency’s assets I am able,” Rhaket promised in the same flat tone she had been using so far. “I must caution your Excellency, however, that our current problems are mostly not of the kind which can be solved by heaping coin upon them. The training and placement of intelligence assets requires time and meticulous attention to detail.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Izayaroa agreed. “This goes beyond the needs of the present moment. I spoke of the way I have restrained you; I will communicate specific details in due time, but for now, know that those restraints are to be removed. Carefully, at such a pace as to avoid disrupting operations more than necessary. The Ghost program, obviously, must be completely overhauled. With the demise of Atraximos, the force hobbling the Vale kingdoms is gone, and they will naturally grow in both power and ambition. I have deliberately allowed them their power and taken a conciliatory stance to keep Rhivaak’s relations with the Vales as calm as possible, since I must assume the heads of state at least are aware of my…compromise with Atraximos. It was only their relative weakness which made this possible, however, just as it made it necessary. With no terrible power constraining their ambitions, Rhivaak will need an intelligence service capable of contending directly with the Vale states.”

“That will indeed take time to build, your Excellency,” Rhaket said evenly. “Even in their subjugation, the Vale countries are justly famed for their mastery of the craft.”

“Well, you’ll have time,” Percy said suddenly. “Most of the Vale states will be occupied with wars for the foreseeable future.”

Both Empress and spymaster turned to regard her, at which she blinked owlishly.

“What wars are these, Percy?” Izayaroa asked.

“Well, I mean…” Percy shrugged. “With the Dread gone, Vale powers will definitely try to assert themselves more, but they’ll obviously start on each other before trying to pick a fight with Rhivaak. I know my history—even back when Valereld was an empire and Rhivaak was a few cities and floodplain farms along the river, the Valeri never sent armies south. The geography alone makes it untenable. And now, it would be insane to attack a superior power. Also,” she continued, frowning, “speaking of Valereld, any claim of continuity with the old Empire is a major source of legitimacy in the Vales, for any government or religion or other institution. Everybody who aspires to be anybody claims some direct descent from Valereld. Quietly, though, as anybody raising that standard tended to set off Atraximos—um, which I guess you knew, obviously. Once news gets out that he’s dead, about six different Valereld Empires are going to be declared, with hugely overlapping claims. It’ll take decades for that to get sorted out.”

“Hm,” Izayaroa murmured, noncommittal. “How do you think that might be resolved, in the end?”

Percy grimaced and shook her head. “My mother would be a better person to ask, she’s very up-to-date on all the politics. I’m not sure how something like that could be called in advance—the Vales are just too complicated. So many overlapping agendas and key players and rogue elements… I think the only way that might shake out that would be a problem for you is if one faction got an early, decisive win. That doesn’t seem likely, but… I don’t really know what the odds are, or how well anyone is positioned to pull it off.”

“Well done,” Izayaroa said with a smile. “That is in essence the analysis of my own foreign minister. Hold that thought for a moment, if you would, Percy. Il-Senna, have you anything else to report?”

“These are the matters I deem most urgent to bring to your Excellency’s attention. I will provide a more detailed report in writing to be perused at your convenience, my Empress.”

“Then I thank you,” Izayaroa said, inclining her head graciously. “For this, and for your years of diligent service. I know that I have often not made it easy for you—and don’t think I am unaware that these events have validated some of the concerns you have expressed to me in the past. My faith in you has been amply rewarded, Il-Senna, even as I have found cause to worry about other aspects of my Regency.”

“You honor me greatly, my Empress,” Rhaket whispered.

“You know how to reach me should you require my aid; in this fraught moment in our history, do not hesitate to do so. For now, please resume your duties.”

“Your Excellency,” the spymaster replied, bowing her head again. Then her whole body seemed almost to crumple in upon itself, dissolving into a swirl of smoke, which streamed away into another shadow.

Silence was left behind.

“I shall have to find a way to reward her,” Izayaroa commented after Rhaket had departed. “It’s tricky; she’s one of those who cherishes the work above all else. What do you give the person who desires nothing?”

“I’m basing this only on one short conversation, but I have the strong feeling she would absolutely treasure anything you gave her, because it was a gift from you,” Percy said.

Izayaroa turned to study the princess thoughtfully; Percy gazed back, her expression seemingly neutral.

“I am glad I asked you to join me,” the Empress said after a pensive moment. “This was an illuminating exchange—for me, at least. We shall have to build up your self-esteem, Percy. Your explanations have given the impression that you thought yourself useless to the royal family, but you just showed solid political instincts.”

“Oh, um, well…” Percy began to look uncomfortable. “It was just…common knowledge, really. Knowing things isn’t enough—I really struggle to, you know, understand people’s motives. And to communicate properly.”

“Yes, I did know that was the area upon which we would need to work the most. I do insist that you give yourself credit, however. Knowing things is less important than being able to interpret and apply the knowledge you possess, and that was the crucial trait you just displayed. Also, you are rather personally perceptive. I was impressed that you noticed the different peppers in four bowls of a breakfast dish you had never seen before.”

“Oh that?” Percy shrugged. “To be honest, I struggle to focus on things that aren’t interesting to me, but I do pay attention to food. Historically Boisverd has had less of an issue with it than some of our neighbors, but, um… Upper-class Valefolk tend to get poisoned.”

“Ah. A wise point of focus, then.”

“And speaking of poison, what do you mean your spies operate autonomously?” Percy exclaimed.

“Only domestically,” Izayaroa said, her demeanor deliberately mild in contrast to the princess’s increasing agitation.

Percy clapped a hand to her forehead. “That doesn’t make it—okay, actually that makes it a little better, but barely. Except in the ways it makes it worse! Embedded agents, sure, but counterspies in the capital? Reporting to no one? How has this not blown up in your face years ago? What could possibly—”

“Percy,” Izayaroa interrupted, now wearing a tiny smile, “one of the secrets of communication which you most need to learn is that the thoughts you express are, in practice, ultimately less important than the effect they have—and to predict this, you must account for the emotional reaction your statements will engender in your interlocutors. For example, to express open exasperation at someone who has just suffered a failure due to personal misstep will in nearly all cases be taken as calling them stupid, right to their face.”

Percy immediately went pale and began gibbering so violently that no coherent syllables emerged.

“It’s all right,” Izayaroa said very gently, reaching out to rest one claw on Percy’s shoulder, and it was a testament to how accustomed the girl was becoming to dragons that this gesture did seem to calm her rather than making her agitation worse. “I tell you these things because they are important for you to understand. I, personally, will take no offense unless I believe you intend to give it—and, depending on circumstance, possibly not then. Be calm, and absorb the lesson; we are still friends. Now, concerning my spies: I did mention my reasons for cultivating a weaker intelligence posture while Rhivaak could afford to, and there are further measures in place to ensure the loyalty and effectiveness of my Ghosts which I cannot so casually reveal. Even this much I would not have told you, unless the program was due to be overhauled so imminently that by the time you go home the information will be of no practical use.”

“I’m… I would like to go home,” Percy said slowly, “but I think that’s a ‘someday’ kind of proposition, not something I should plan for the next few weeks. I have so much to learn first.”

“And for that, there is time.”