Consider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long way you've come to-day. Consider what o'clock it is. Consider anything, only don't cry! -- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There

"It began... oh, the day after the coronation, I think," Balaeron said, wiping a tear away with her sleeve.

It suddenly struck Kilan that they were standing at the door, in their night-clothes, in the middle of a cold night. Feeling a prize fool, he said, "Why don't you come in?"

She stepped in and sat down in one of the armchairs. Kilan rifled through his drawer for a clean handkerchief, and handed it to her when he found one. She took it without seeming to notice what she was doing.

"Where was I?" she asked, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. "Oh, yes. The day after the coronation, a maid came to me and said she thought my husband was trying to seduce her."

Oh gods.

From the day he was old enough to visit the temples, Kilan had been made to recite the Law of the Ancients until he knew it as well as he knew his own name. Those words sprang to mind now, and seemed to sear themselves into his consciousness. The gods will grant forgiveness of all sins, save these three only. For those who commit rape or adultery, or who out of the malice of their hearts kill one who did their kin no harm, there is no forgiveness. Though they repent upon their hands and knees and cry out to the gods for mercy, they will be granted none. Their souls will be cast down to the lowest parts of the universe, where the abominations birthed by Yerachaol[1] will gnaw on them for all eternity.

Balaeron was still speaking. Kilan tore himself free of his thoughts to listen to her.

"I was sure it was just a misunderstanding. But tonight..." She stopped and took a deep breath. "He never came to see Fenye. His own son, and he didn't care enough to come and see him. I tried to convince myself he was just busy with his duties."

Kilan suppressed a snort. Marin? Busy? He wouldn't know the meaning of the word!

"The doctors said I was to stay in bed for a week. But I wanted to see Marin, and ask him why he hadn't visited." Balaeron spoke slowly and quietly, as if each word physically pained her. "He wasn't in his office. I went to our bedroom--"

She broke off. Her eyes filled with tears and she clenched her fists, as if longing to punch someone.

It seemed she wasn't going to continue, so though the words left a sour taste in his mouth Kilan said quietly, "He wasn't alone?"

She shook her head. In a voice so low he had to strain to hear her, she said, "Duchess Jathelrim."

Kilan vaguely remembered the Duchess in question. She had congratulated his mother on Marin becoming Emperor, he thought. Then he remembered something else. Hadn't Marin attended several parties at her mansion, the first time they came to Esergot? Or was he getting her mixed up with some other Duchess?

Never mind; that wasn't important now. He had to find some way to break this news to his parents -- and Balaeron's, confront Marin over it, and help Balaeron get a divorce.

How in the name of Hadrael[2] was he to do all this without revealing the scandal to the world?

~~~~

After Balaeron had left, Kilan paced around his room for what might have been hours or mere minutes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force his mind to accept what he'd just heard. His own brother, an adulterer? How could it be possible?

How could he tell his parents?

How could they keep this quiet? The people would want to know why the Empress needed a divorce, and no one in his or her right mind would want an adulterer as an Emperor when the truth was revealed. Marin would be deposed. And who would the crown fall on then?

As Kilan lay down and tried to go back to sleep, the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to advance around him like hands grasping at him. The phantom weight of the Emperor's crown seemed to weigh down on his head.

Sleep was a long time coming.

~~~~

Nimetath had expected to be removed from her position, and possibly put out of the way permanently. That was what tended to happen to those who knew too much about the previous ruler's reign when a new ruler took the throne. Until then, however, she continued with her duties as calmly and thoroughly as she always did.

She was not removed. Nor was she officially told she would keep her position. Indeed, the new Emperor scarcely seemed aware she existed. If ever she needed to speak to him, she had to go to his younger brother. To say this was highly unusual was an understatement.

As she always had, she kept her mouth shut and her eyes wide open. She knew almost at once, then, that things were not going as they should. Emperor Marin was rarely in the Palace at all, and when he was he never bothered to attend to his duties. Prince Kilan looked more and more haggard and careworn as the days passed, and dark shadows took up permanent residence under his eyes.

In the long history of the Carann Empire, there had been many incompetent or neglectful Emperors and Empresses. Some of them had insisted their siblings or children take care of ruling the Empire for them. It had never ended well for those rulers. Even the least ambitious Prince or Princess would eventually get tired of being Emperor in all but name, and would decide they wanted to be Emperor in name as well.

She wondered how far along that sorry road Prince Kilan had already travelled.

She wondered if he could ever retrace his steps, or if it was already too late for that.

When a knock at her door came early one morning, she expected it to be one of her Inquisitors with news of some scandal or emergency. She did not expect to open the door and find Prince Kilan outside.

Her sister's nephew-by-marriage looked as if he hadn't slept at all. His hair was tangled and uncombed, his tunic looked as if it had been thrown on, the laces of his shoes were sloppily tied, and there was a strange light in his eyes that made her remember the stories of madness in the House of Caranilnav.

"Your Highness," Nimetath said, bowing courteously. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

She hoped he wasn't going to ask her help in overthrowing his brother. To engage in treason, even against an incompetent Emperor, would be against her oath as Chief Inquisitor.

Prince Kilan looked at her as if he were lost in a world of his own and couldn't see her clearly.

"You're the one who knows all the secrets and scandals in the family, aren't you?" he said, almost breathlessly.

The Chief Inquisitor nodded warily. What was this all about? "Come in, my Prince, and tell me why you're here."

~~~~

"What?" Nimetath could hardly believe her ears. "How could this have happened without my spies telling me?"

"Never mind your spies," Prince Kilan said miserably. "What am I supposed to do?"

For the second time in less than a year, someone was looking to Nimetath as if she had all the answers for dealing with a scandal involving the Emperor. For the second time in less than a year, Nimetath had no easy answers. This time she was in a worse position than last time. This time she had no answers at all. If the new Emperor were to mysteriously die so soon after his coronation, and if Duchess Jathelrim were to die at the same time or shortly after, questions would be raised.

The Carann Empire was a house of cards. No one knew that better than Nimetath. And with the right questions, someone could make the house of cards come tumbling down.

"I need to think about what we must do," she said quietly, holding onto her composure with an iron grip. "Ask the Empress to come and see me. And I think you should inform your parents as soon as possible."

Perhaps Grand Duchess Arásy would come up with some way of dealing with her son's crimes. Gods knew Nimetath couldn't think of one.

~~~~

Somehow, in the past days Kilan's world had been reduced to having a set goal to carry out, completing it, and moving on to the next one. Remove the old desk from my office: completed. Begin to repaper the walls: partially completed. Speak to the Chief Inquisitor: completed. Speak to Mother and Father: in progress. This system kept him from thinking too much about the mess they were all in.

Death's visits had become more sporadic lately. Sometimes she would appear two nights in a row, sometimes there would be no sign of her for a week. She hadn't appeared at all since the night Balaeron had visited. Kilan was torn between being glad he had one less thing to worry about and disappointed that he had no one to talk to about his problems. He would give another ten years of his life, he thought, to ask Ranoryin's advice.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. Death appeared that very night.

"Do you want to visit my realm tonight?" she asked without preamble.

"Yes!" Kilan had never had to give an answer less thought before. Another thought occurred to him as he reached out to take her hand. "Did you know?"

Her curiously wide, white-blue eyes never wavered from his face as she answered. "I do not know everything, but I know the major events of a person's life and I can see their immediate future. So yes, I knew from the moment we met what would happen."

Part of him wanted to rage at her, to curse her for not telling him, for not giving him some warning. Another part, the part that watched his life unfold with a detached air, wondered what good it would have done if he had known.

He said nothing and took her hand.

~~~~

"Are you serious?" Varan asked incredulously. "Marin? An adulterer?"

"Do you think I'd make this up for a joke?" Despite his waspish tone, Kilan couldn't fault her for her disbelief. He had a hard enough time believing it himself.

"Oh, that--!" Varan broke off and took a deep breath. She sat down on the couch beside him, then almost immediately jumped up and began to stalk about the room. "How could he? How could he break the ancient laws? How could he defy the gods? How could he bring such shame on us?"

All very good questions. All questions Kilan had asked himself, in fact. And all questions he couldn't find any answer to.

"I don't know," he said, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands. "How are we to get through this? Marin will have to be deposed and sent somewhere out of the way. The Monasteries of Thölméno[3], perhaps. But this is going to cast a shadow over all our lives."

Silence reigned for a moment.

"I never thought I would be happy to die so young," Varan said with a bitter, humourless smile, "but considering this, I must say it's a relief that I won't be tainted by the disgrace. What about Sazua?"

Kilan's thoughts leapt to little Sazua, Varan's daughter. She would be three soon, he realised with a start.

"She's fine. She's with your husband and his parents. Former husband, I suppose I should say now. He's remarried."

A wistful look appeared in Varan's eyes. "I hope he's happy."

Kilan didn't know what to say to that.

~~~~

"You're very quiet tonight," Death remarked as she returned him to the Land of the Living.

Kilan shrugged. What was there to say? Shouting and cursing, as appealing as they seemed, wouldn't make things better. Neither would weeping and wailing. He simply had to grit his teeth and go on with life.

Death turned to leave. It suddenly struck him that when she was gone, he would be all alone without a true friend in the palace until she decided to reappear.

He grabbed her cloak, as he had done so many years ago. This time Death stopped before pulling him back with her to the Land of the Dead.

"Stay... please?" He hated how desperate his voice sounded, but he didn't know if he could get through tomorrow alone.

Death smiled faintly. "If you want me to."

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] Yerachaol = God of evil in the religion of the Empire.

[2] Hadrael = Goddess of marriage, and so also of divorce.

[3] Monasteries of Thölméno = Monasteries reserved for disgraced members of the royal family or aristocracy, where they would be given new names and their old lives would, to all intents and purposes, cease to exist.