Some other terror came upon him quite removed from this of being pursued, suddenly, like an electric shock, as he was creeping through the streets. Some visionary terror, unintelligible and inexplicable, associated with a trembling of the ground,—a rush and sweep of something through the air, like Death upon the wing. He shrunk, as if to let the thing go by. It was not gone, it never had been there, yet what a startling horror it had left behind. -- Charles Dickens, Dombey and Son

Nalginton's first act as Iqui was to pick up his father's crown from where it had rested beside the bed. He didn't put it on yet. Instead he turned to Jalakanavu.

"Quickly," he said. "We must change and order everyone to the throne room."

They fled the scene of the murder, leaving the headless corpse still lying on the bed. Jalakanavu locked the doors behind them.

~~~~

Miles away in Carann, Death felt a cold chill run down her spine. She knew what it meant. The Iqui was dead, and Nalginton had seized the throne.

~~~~

Each of Death's children had their own realms, inhabited by themselves and their servants. War's realm looked more like an enormous armoury than a land someone lived in. Everywhere one looked, there were weapons of every shape, size and description.

War herself was busily sharpening a sword. A new war was about to break out. She had better be prepared.

~~~~

A large crowd assembled in the Iqui's throne room. Princes, princesses, aristocrats and servants all stood around in separate groups, gossiping and wondering what this unexpected summons could mean. Had the Iqui chosen an heir?

The main doors opened. The guards bowed. Everyone else followed suit. It was only when they straightened up that they realised who had just walked in... and who hadn't. Everyone began to murmur amongst themselves as it dawned on them that the Iqui was nowhere to be seen, and that Nalginton-Gudea was wearing his crown.

The former prince walked to the throne and sat down. He surveyed the gathered crowd with no indication of embarrassment or alarm.

"My father Ridanwes-Iqui was murdered less than an hour ago," he proclaimed. His voice echoed through the throne room. A chorus of gasps greeted this announcement. "My wife and I found his body. There can be only one conclusion: there is a traitor in the palace. I have claimed my father's throne. If anyone wishes to challenge me for it, they may do so now. But first and foremost, I command every guard in the palace to find my father's murderer."

Confused muttering filled the room. Everyone was caught off-guard by this sudden pronouncement. The princes who had schemed to become Iqui were so disorientated that they could only gape at their brother in disbelief.

It was the free-servants who first called out, "Hail to Nalginton-Iqui! May he live forever!"

The free-servants, unlike the royals and nobles, cared very little who was on the throne as long as they were allowed to continue with their lives -- and as long as their wages were paid. They would have cheered any prince who proclaimed himself Iqui. If Nalginton was deposed and murdered tomorrow, they would cheer the next prince to claim the throne.

Everyone else followed their lead, more from not knowing what else to do than from any loyalty to Nalginton.

The new Iqui and his wife looked at each other and smiled.

~~~~

Carann's ambassador to Malish was the first person to let Kilan know about the change in ruler. Kilan woke up one morning to find a letter informing him of Ridanwes-Iqui's death and Nalginton-Iqui's ascension to the throne. Qihadal learnt the news only a few minutes after Kilan did, thanks to the newspapers having got hold of the story.

Qihadal stormed off to her husband's rooms the minute she was dressed. She found Kilan reading the diplomat's letter with a grim, drawn expression.

"Good morning," he said, setting the letter down.

She didn't waste time with pleasantries. "This is a disaster."

Kilan stared. "...The new Iqui?"

Qihadal scoffed and began pacing to and fro. "Iqui? Nalginton has no right to be Iqui. He stole the throne like he stole my revenge!"

I thought every Malishese prince had a claim to the throne, Kilan thought. He decided against saying this. "What do you mean? How did he steal your revenge?"

She stopped pacing. "I wanted to kill my father. I wanted to strip away all his pride and all his riches. I wanted to see him reduced to nothing, a mere worm beneath my foot. And I wanted him to know I had done this before I killed him. Now Nalginton has stolen that from me!"

Kilan wisely said nothing.

"Now Nalginton will try to have us assassinated," Qihadal continued. "He will find any pretext for war, no matter how foolish. You had better increase the guards around the palace and begin to mobilise the army."

On the one hand, openly preparing for war would give Nalginton the very reason he needed to declare war. On the other, doing nothing would mean they were caught off-guard and unprepared. Suddenly this war had become inevitable. It was no longer something that could be avoided but instead something that must be minimised.

"I must speak to my High Council," Kilan said, even though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He got up to leave. Qihadal's next words stopped him short.

"Why don't you speak to Death instead?" Her mouth twisted into an expression of distaste and her voice was full of sarcasm. "She must love this situation."

He decided not to dignify this with a response. Not least because he didn't have one.

~~~~

The new Iqui's servants and guards were carefully moving through the palace, gathering evidence against the other princes that could be used as a pretext to have them executed as traitors. Some of the princes had packed up their belongings and fled back to their homes, where they would have some measure of protection. Others, the more stupid ones, were determined to stay and brave it out. Or perhaps they were planning to assassinate Nalginton and didn't want to give up their plans, even if it cost them their lives.

Shuradin-Gudea was many things, but he was neither a coward nor a fool. He was Nalginton's full brother, and he knew what the new Iqui was capable of. Going back to his home or staying in the palace would both end with his death. Therefore he made another plan.

He was going to flee to Carann.

He would tell Emperor Tinuviel all the secrets he knew. He would reveal the strengths and weaknesses of the Malishese army. He would tell the Carannish emperor the best ways to attack Ihalāiksonen. And he would do all this in return for Tinuviel granting asylum to himself, his wives and his children.

Was Empress Qihadal not his half-sister? Did that not make Tinuviel his relative? How could any man refuse to aid a relative who begged for help? That was Shuradin's train of thought, and he imagined it was a very good idea.

So while Nalginton-Iqui was preparing to execute several of their half-brothers, Shuradin gathered up his family and a few trusted servants, and fled for the border.

~~~~

Ixerthi knew only too well what a new Iqui meant. It meant uproar, and instability, and many deaths for at least a year. Istogu's smugglers would have the time of their lives providing Malishese people with food and weapons that were otherwise in short supply. She included a footnote about this in her latest letter to Prince Gialma. She still doubted his motives, but the boy genuinely seemed to care about what happened to her people.

She had just finished her letter when one of her servants arrived.

"Excuse me, your Highness," the girl said, "but there's a Malishese man here to see you. He says he's a prince."

~~~~

"What should we do about the silly little prince?" Jalakanavu asked as she and Nalginton had their evening meal.

Her husband blinked. "Prince?"

She rolled her eyes. "The Carannish prince. We no longer need his help, so what should we do with him?"

Nalginton idly stirred his cup of dirythni[1]. "Do we not need his help?" he asked rhetorically. "Think, my dear. I wish nothing more than to destroy Carann and to kill Tinuviel and his whore wife. This foolish prince gives us a perfect opportunity. And to go to war against Carann, we will need plenty of weapons. He has promised to get them for us. Surely you can see the advantages of this."

Jalakanavu nodded slowly. "Tinuviel must suspect nothing," she said, thinking aloud. "We must appear to be eager to stay on good terms with Carann. Then, when he least expects, we can declare war, kill him, and crown the prince as a puppet emperor."

While they ate and plotted, one of Nalginton's brothers was stabbed to death in his room. Varan was the Reaper who came to collect his soul. On her way back she stopped to listen to their conversation. What she heard made her fly back to the Land of the Dead in record time.

~~~~

"I don't care what Fate says! We must do something!"

"Are we going to stand by and let Malish declare war?"

"I say we should--"

"No, that won't work!"

"What this situation needs--"

Death could cope with Varan alone, or with Ranoryin alone. But Varan and Ranoryin together were enough to drive her to despair. To make things worse they had recruited a small army of past Emperors and Empresses. This delegation, if it could be called that, appeared to have no purpose beyond seeing who could shout loudest and most futilely. She had long since given up on trying to be heard over the noise.

She disappeared from her throne room and reappeared in the High Council chambers. Back in the throne room, the argument raged on.

And it seemed to be her fate to encounter angry debates today. For she had just walked into the middle of one.

"We have no proof that Malish has any ill intentions!" one of the Counsellors was yelling. "To gather an army will be tantamount to a declaration of war!"

Some of her friends voiced their agreement. Others shouted objections.

"But to not gather an army will leave us defenceless if they attack," Kilan said. He didn't raise his voice or demand everyone pay attention, but they all listened to what he said. "We must find some excuse for it, but I believe we must take this precaution."

The meeting adjourned amidst much grumbling and disagreement, but it looked decidedly as if Kilan's suggestion would be accepted.

~~~~

Kilan had sensed the minute Death appeared. But she only announced her presence later, when he had returned to his rooms.

"So Carann is preparing for war," she said, leaning against the mantelpiece.

"Not necessarily," Kilan corrected her. "I hope it won't come to that. But in case it does..."

Death shook her head. "It will come to that. Varan has just told me what Nalginton is up to. He's planning to kill you and make Gialma a puppet emperor in your place. Do you still believe it's a good idea to put your cousin on the High Council?"

"If I didn't, he would be free to plot even more with the new Iqui." Kilan knew perfectly well that he was taking a risk in allowing Gialma so close to him. But he also knew that it would be an even greater risk to leave him unsupervised. And speaking of supervision... "I must go and speak to Aunt Nimetath."

~~~~

Nimetath had spies even in Malish. She heard about the new Iqui long before Kilan did. And she knew this spelt no good for Carann. Her spies in Malish had told her all about Nalginton. His hatred of Carann was well-known. She wasn't surprised to hear Tinuviel was taking steps to defend the empire.

What did surprise her was what she'd just heard from her spies in Istogu.

She was pondering what this latest development might mean when Tinuviel arrived. She got up and bowed to him. "Your Majesty."

"Aunt," Tinuviel said. "I want to ask your advice on how to gather the army without giving Nalginton an excuse to declare war."

"He'll declare war no matter what you do or don't do," she said with the certainty of one who had seen it all happen before. "What you must do is make sure everyone knows he was the aggressor. But there is a related matter I must speak with you about. One of Nalginton's brothers has arrived in Istogu. He claims he is fleeing for his life. And he says he can give you important information in exchange for your granting him asylum."

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] dirythni = A sort of mildly alcoholic drink that tastes like coffee, usually drunk in the evening.