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  "Given this situation," Hadrian asked Nimbus while keeping his eyes on Gilbert, "how much generosity am I required to extend to these fellow knights?"

  In the common room, Murthas swiped at Breckton, who caught the sword with his little blade and cast the stroke aside.

  "Given the situation," Nimbus said quickly, "I think the virtue of generosity is not applicable."

  "Indeed!" Breckton shouted. "They have forfeited their right to honorable treatment."

  Hadrian smiled. "That makes this a lot easier." Drawing his own dagger, he threw it into Gilbert's thigh. The knight cried out and fell to his knees, looking up in astonishment. Hadrian punched him in the face, and his opponent collapsed. Taking both his and Gilbert's daggers, Hadrian advanced.

  Elgar sneered as he turned to face Hadrian, leaving Breckton to Murthas.

  "I hope you joust better than you wield a sword," Hadrian said, approaching.

  "We haven't even fought yet, you fool," Elgar bellowed.

  "That's hardly necessary. You hold your sword like a woman. No, that's not true. I've actually known women who can swordfight. The truth is, you're just terrible."

  "What I lack in style, I make up for in strength." Elgar charged Hadrian, raising his blade over his head and leaving his entire chest exposed. Hadrian's training made him instinctively want to aim a single thrust at the man's heart, which would kill Elgar instantly. He fought the urge and lowered his weapon. Saldur and Ethelred would not approve. Besides, Elgar was drunk. Instead, he dodged to one side and left a foot behind to trip the knight. Elgar fell, hitting his head on the stone.

  "Is he dead?" Nimbus asked, watching Hadrian roll the big man over on his back.

  "No, but I think he might have chipped the slate. Now that's a hard head."

  Hadrian sat down next to Nimbus and inspected the tutor's wounds.

  "Shouldn't you help Sir Breckton?"

  Hadrian glanced up as Murthas made another lunge.

  "I don't think that's necessary, nor would it be proper to step into another man's fight. However…" Picking up Elgar's sword, Hadrian yelled, "Breckton!" before throwing it across the common room. Breckton caught the weapon and Murthas stepped back, looking less confident.

  "Damn you!" Murthas shouted, taking one last swing before fleeing.

  Hadrian could not suppress the temptation to stick out his foot once more, tripping Murthas as he ran by. Murthas fell, got back to his feet, and ran off.

  "Thank you," Breckton said, offering Hadrian a slight nod.

  "It's Murthas who should be thanking me," Hadrian replied.

  Breckton smiled. "Indeed."

  "I don't understand," Nimbus said. "Murthas lost, why would he thank you?"

  "He's still alive," Hadrian explained.

  "Oh," was all Nimbus said.

  ***

  Hadrian managed to stop Nimbus's bleeding. The tutor's nose did not appear broken. Even so, none of them was interested in returning to the banquet hall. Hadrian and Breckton escorted Nimbus to his room, where the slim man thanked the two knights for their assistance.

  "You fight well," Breckton said as he and Hadrian walked the palace corridors back toward the knights' wing.

  "Why did they attack you?"

  "They were drunk."

  "Where I come from, drunks sing badly and sleep with ugly women. They don't attack rival knights and courtly gentlemen."

  Breckton was quiet for a moment then asked, "Where do you come from, Sir Hadrian?"

  "Saldur explained-"

  "Some of the men that fought with Lord Dermont and survived the Battle of Ratibor joined my army in the north. Captain Lowell was one of them. His accounting of that day in no way resembles the tale Regent Saldur described. I would not embarrass the regent or yourself by mentioning it in public, but now that we are alone…"

  Hadrian said nothing.

  "What Lowell did tell me was the entire Imperial Army was caught sleeping on that rainy morning. Most never managed to strap on a sword, much less mount a horse."

  Hadrian simply replied, "It was a very confusing day."

  "So you say, but perhaps you were never there at all. A knight taking credit for another's valor is most dishonorable."

  "I can assure you, I was there," Hadrian said sincerely. "And that I rode across the muddy field leading men into battle that morning."

  Breckton stopped at the entrance of his own room and studied Hadrian's face. "You must forgive me for my rudeness. You have aided me this evening, and I have responded with accusations. It is unseemly for one knight to accuse another without proper evidence. I will not let it happen again. Good night."

  He offered Hadrian a curt nod and left him alone in the corridor.

  Chapter 12

  A Question of Succession The sun reached its midday peak and Arcadius Vintarus Latimer, the Headmaster of Lore at Sheridan University, still waited in the Grand Foyer of the imperial palace. He had been there before, but that was back when it had been called Warric Castle and was the home of the most powerful king in Avryn. Now it was the seat of the New Empire. The imperial seal etched in the white marble floor was a constant and unavoidable reminder. Arcadius read the inscription that ringed the design, shaking his head in disgust. "They misspelled honor," he said aloud, even though he waited alone.

  Finally, a steward approached and motioned for him to follow. "The Regent Saldur will see you now, sir."

  One step closer, Arcadius thought as he headed toward the stairs. The steward was nearly to the fourth floor when he realized Arcadius had only reached the second landing.

  "My apologies," the lore master called up to him, leaning on the banister and removing his glasses to wipe his brow. "Are you certain the meeting is all the way up there?"

  "The regent asked for you to come to his office."

  The old professor nodded. "Very well, I'll be right along."

  Another positive development.

  While it was unlikely that Saldur would agree to his proposal, Arcadius judged his odds of success tripled with each flight he climbed. He did not want to speak in a reception hall filled with gossipy courtiers. Not that he held much hope, no matter where the subject was broached. Still, if this meeting went well, he would be free of his guilt and the burden of responsibility. A private meeting with the regent would be perfect. Saldur was an intellectual, and Arcadius could appeal to the regent's respect for education. However, when he reached the office, Saldur was not alone.

  "Well, of course we need a southern defense," Ethelred was saying when the steward opened the door. "We have a nation of goblins down there now. You haven't seen them, Sauly. You don't know…er…yes? What is it?"

  "May I present Professor Arcadius, Headmaster of Lore at Sheridan University," the steward announced.

  "Oh yes, the teacher," Ethelred said.

  "He's a bit more than that, Lanis," Saldur corrected.

  "Not at all, not at all," Arcadius said with a cheerful smile. "Instructing young minds is the noblest act I perform. I am honored."

  The lore master bowed to the four people in the room. In addition to the regents, there were two men he did not recognize. One, however, was dressed in the distinct vestments of a church sentinel.

  "You are a long way from Sheridan, Professor." Saldur addressed him from behind a large desk. "Did you come for the holiday?"

  "Why no, Your Grace. At my age it takes a bit more than the allure of jingling bells and sweetmeats to rouse one such as I from warm chambers in the depth of winter. I don't know if you noticed, but there's a great deal of snow outside."

  Arcadius took a moment to examine his surroundings. Hundreds of books sat on shelves, locked behind glass cabinets with little key holes. A pretty carpet, somewhat muddled in its colors and partially hidden by the regent's desk, portrayed what appeared to be a scene of Novron conquering the world while Maribor guided his sword.

  "Your office is so…clean," the professor remarked.

  Saldur raised an eyebrow and then
chuckled. "Oh yes, I seem to recall visiting you once. I don't believe I made it through your door."

  "I have a unique filing system."

  "Lore master, I don't mean to be short, but we are quite busy," Ethelred said. "Exactly what has brought you so far in the cold?"

  "Well," he began, smiling at Saldur, "Your Grace, I was hoping to speak to you-in private." He glanced pointedly at the two men he did not recognize. "I have a sensitive matter to discuss concerning the future of the Empire."

  "This is Sentinel Luis Guy and over there is Lord Merrick Marius. I assume you already know our soon-to-be emperor, Ethelred. If you wish to discuss the empire's future, these are the men you need to speak with."

  Arcadius paused deliberately, took off his spectacles, and cleaned them slowly with his sleeve. "Very well then." The lore master replaced his glasses and crossed the room to one of the soft chairs. "Do you mind? Standing for too long makes my feet hurt."

  "By all means," Ethelred said sarcastically. "Make yourself at home."

  Arcadius sat down with a sigh, took a deep breath, and began. "I have been thinking about the New Empire you are establishing, and I must say that I approve."

  Ethelred snorted. "Well, Sauly, we can sleep better now that the scholars have weighed in."

  Arcadius glared at him across the top of his glasses. "What I mean is that the idea of a central authority is a sound one and will stop the monarchial squabbles, bringing harmony from chaos."

  "But?" Saldur invited.

  "But what?"

  "I just sensed you were going to find fault," Saldur said.

  "I am, but please try not to get ahead of me-it ruins the drama. I've spent several days bouncing over frozen ground, preparing for this meeting, and you deserve to experience the full effect."

  Arcadius adjusted his sleeves, and waited for what he thought was the precise amount of time to draw their full attention. "I'm curious to know if you've thought about the line of succession?"

  "Succession?" Ethelred blurted from where he sat on the edge of Saldur's desk.

  "Yes, you know, the concept of producing an heir to inherit the mantle of leadership. Most thrones are lost because of poor planning on this front."

  "I'm not even crowned, and you complain because I haven't fathered an heir, yet?"

  Arcadius sighed. "It is not your heir I am concerned about. This Empire is founded on a bedrock of faith-faith that the bloodline of Novron is back on the throne. If the bloodline is not maintained, the cohesion that holds the Empire together might dissolve."

  "What are you saying?" Ethelred asked.

  "Only that should something tragic happen to Modina, and no child of her blood be available, you would lose your greatest asset. The line of Novron would end, and without this thin strand of legitimacy, the Empire could face dissolution. Glenmorgan's Empire lasted only three generations. How long will this one endure with only a mere mortal at its head?"

  "What makes you think anything will happen to the empress?"

  Arcadius smiled. "Let's just say I know the ways of the world, and sacrifices are often required to bring about change. I'm here because I fear you might mistakenly think Modina is expendable once Ethelred wears the crown. I want to urge you not to make a terrible, perhaps fatal, error."

  Saldur exchanged a look with Ethelred, confirming that the lore master had guessed correctly.

  "But there is nothing to fear, gentlemen, for I've come to offer a solution." Arcadius gave them his most disarming smile, which accentuated the laugh lines around his eyes and showed off his round cheeks, which he guessed were still rosy from his trip. "I am proposing that Modina already bore a child."

  "What?" Ethelred asked. He stood and his face showed a mixture of emotions. "Are you accusing my fiancee-the empress-of impropriety?"

  "I am saying that if she had a child-a child born a few years ago and no longer dependant on the mother-it could make your lives a great deal easier. It would ensure the continued unification of the Empire under the bloodline of Novron."

  "Speak plainly man!" Ethelred erupted. "Are you suggesting such a child exists?"

  "I am saying such a child-could-exist." He looked at each of their faces before focusing back on Saldur. "Modina is no more the Heir of Novron than I am, but that is not relevant. The only thing that matters is what her subjects believe. If they accept she has a child, then the pretense of the heir can continue and the masses will be satisfied. After ensuring the line of succession, an unfortunate incident involving the empress would not be such a tragedy. Her people would certainly mourn her, but there would still be hope-hope in the form of a child who would one day take the throne."

  "You bring up an interesting point, Professor," Ethelred said. "Modina has…been ill as of late, but I'm sure she could hang on long enough to bear a child, couldn't she, Sauly?"

  "I don't see why not. Yes. We could arrange that."

  The lore master shook his head and displayed an expression he had used hundreds of times when hearing an incorrect response from one of his students. "But what if she were to die in childbirth? It happens far too often and is too great a risk for something as important as this. Do you really wish to gamble all you are trying to accomplish? A child conceived before the empress even knew Ethelred would not reflect poorly on him. There are ways to present the child that would bolster the new emperor's standing. He can profess that his love for Modina is boundless and agree to raise the child as if it were his own. Such sentiments would endear him to the people."

  Arcadius waited a minute before continuing. "Take a healthy child and educate it in philosophy, theology, poetry, history, and mathematics. Fill the vessel with training in civics, economics, and culture. Make the child the most learned leader the world has ever known. Picture the possibilities. Imagine the potential of an empire ruled by an intellectual giant rather than the thug with the biggest stick.

  "If you want a better Empire, you need to create a better ruler. I can provide this. I can bring you a child that I have already begun to educate and will continue to groom. I can raise the child at Sheridan, away from life at court. We don't want a spoiled brat, pampered from birth, swinging little legs on the imperial throne. What we need is a strong, compassionate leader without ties to the nobility."

  "One you control," Luis Guy accused.

  Arcadius chuckled. "It is true that such a child might be fond of me, and while I know that I cut quite a dashing figure for someone my age, I'm a very old man. I will be dead soon. Most likely, I will pass on long before the child reaches coronation age, so you'll not have to worry about my influence.

  "I should point out that I don't intend to be the child's only tutor. Nor could I be in order to ensure success. A task of this magnitude would require historians, doctors, engineers, and even tradesmen. You can send as many of your own instructors as you wish. I would hope you, Regent Saldur, would be one of them. I suspect much of the vision of the New Empire comes from you, after all. Once the wedding is over and things are operating smoothly, you could join us at Sheridan. She will require training that you are uniquely qualified to teach."

  "She?" Ethelred said.

  "Beg pardon?" Arcadius asked, peering over his glasses again.

  "You said she. Are you speaking of a girl?"

  "Well, yes. The child I am suggesting is a young orphan whom I have been taking care of for some time. She is extremely bright and at the age of five has already mastered letters. She is a delightful girl who shows great promise."

  "But-a girl?" Ethelred sneered. "What good is a girl?"

  "I'm afraid my fellow regent is correct," Saldur said. "The moment she married, her husband would rule, and all your education would be wasted. If it was a boy…"

  "Well, there is no shortage of orphan boys," Ethelred declared. "Find a handsome one and we can do the same with him."

  "My offer is for this girl only."

  "Why?" Guy asked.

  Arcadius detected a tone in the question he did not like
.

  "Because I sense in her the makings of a magnificent ruler, the kind who could-"

  "But she's a girl," Ethelred repeated.

  "As is Empress Modina."

  "Are you saying you would refuse to tutor another child? One of our choosing?" Saldur asked.

  "Yes." Arcadius said the word with the stern conviction of an ultimatum. He hoped the value of knowledge that only he could bestow would be enough to win them over, but he could see the answer before it was actually spoken.

  Saldur was respectful at least and politely thanked him for bringing the subject to their attention. They did not invite him to stay for Wintertide, and Arcadius was uncomfortable about the way Luis Guy watched him as he left.

  He had failed.

  ***

  Royce waited patiently.

  He had been in Imperial Square that morning, speaking with vendors who regularly delivered supplies to the palace, when the old battered coach passed by and entered the imperial gates. Recognizing it immediately, Royce wondered what it was doing there.

  The palace courtyard had insufficient space for all the visitors' carriages during Wintertide and soon the coach returned and parked along the outer wall. The old buggy, with its paint-chipped wheels, weathered sides, and tattered drapes, looked out of place amidst the line of noble vehicles.

  He waited for what must have been hours before he spotted the old man leaving the palace and approaching the carriage.

  "What the-"Arcadius began. He was startled by Royce who sat inside.

  The thief placed a finger to his lips.

  "What are you doing here?" Arcadius whispered, pulling himself in and closing the door.

  "Waiting to ask you that same question," Royce said quietly.

  "Where to, Professor?" the driver called as he climbed aboard. The coach bounced with his weight.

  "Ah-just circle the city once will you, Justin?"

  "The city, sir?"

  "Yes. I'd like to see it before we leave."

  "Certainly, sir."

  "Well?" Royce pressed as the carriage jerked forward.