style="font-size:15px;"> “That dried fish? And he calls himself a tutor!”
“Don’t, Vordius. Please. Everything will quiet down once I’m gone. If you stir things up, it will be worse for everyone. You wouldn’t go up against a man like that, would you?”
“We’ll see about that! He’s been a thorn in our side long enough.”
“In whose side?”
“The guards. The army. And some other people.”
“Vordius!”
“I don’t care! Someone tried to kill my best friend. Whoever it was, I’ll drag them out into the open!”
Uni started to feel ill again. “Listen, this is no joke…”
“Vordius!” Sevelia and Uni’s other friends were tired of waiting for the private conversation to end.
“One moment!” Vordius raised a finger and smiled. Then he put his mouth close to Uni’s ear. “Remember one thing, brother. My last piece of advice is this: don’t ever let anyone get away with anything. Ever!”
Their friends surrounded them, and there was no more time to talk.
Feeling weak, Uni clenched his fists and looked around at his friends’ faces. He didn’t even feel Luvia’s kiss, light as a breeze on his right cheek. Dag Vandey finally approached. Doing his best to look happy for his friend, he slapped the new interpreter on the shoulder and told him to make them all proud. Uni recalled Vandey’s talk about reforming society: how pale and unreal it seemed on a day like this one!
Sorgius, smiling like a friendly innkeeper, reached out and gripped Uni’s shoulder with a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Find yourself a nice girl,” he said quietly.
At the word “girl,” Uni shuddered. He had forgotten about the dream from that morning, but now it came roaring back in all of its excitement and beauty. That memory made him suddenly reflective, and he did a poor job of saying farewell to his mother as she embraced him and looked for even a small sign that he was sad to part with her.
“Goodbye, Mother. I hope you will be well,” was all he could manage. Sevelia kissed him three times, according to custom, and turned away, hiding the tears in her eyes with her brown head covering.
Uni turned to his friends and put his right hand over his heart. He smiled self-consciously and, shaking slightly with the feeling that something big and important was about to happen, turned and strode toward the palace, where the richest and most powerful men in the empire were waiting impatiently.
“Uni, I mean, Unizel Virando, interpreter,” he stated to the greeter in white. The man glanced up at him, and Uni’s insides quaked. I bet I’m in trouble. I should have been here earlier, he thought in shame. The greeter gestured to another man to show Uni the way and then promptly forgot about both of them. Uni’s guide was short, but he walked quickly, making it hard to follow him through the crowd. Instead of preparing himself mentally for what would come next, Uni was focused on not losing sight of his guide.
When they reached the line of guards, Uni shuddered again: he didn’t have any proof of his role in the delegation, and his stomach started to slide toward his heels. However, the imposing guards parted before him without a word, and Uni and his guide entered the square. The crowd inside the square was just as thick, but the people here stood in two neat rectangles, all facing the palace’s grand staircase. There was a walkway between the rectangles, and here Uni’s guide handed him over to another short man in a white robe.
“How many of these little guides are there?” the young diplomat wondered. His new guide quickly led him down the walkway toward the palace, and all the nobles in their bright robes stared at him as if he were being led down the gauntlet.
This torture ended when the sea of bodies opened and Uni caught sight of the column of Norius the Founder, which portrayed the leaders of the eleven kingdoms raising their hands to hail the first Herandian Emperor, who held his palms up in praise of the Sun. There was a small group of people standing around the base of the column, and Uni suspected they might be the delegation. He was right. His guide led him to yet another greeter, who turned out – to Uni’s horror – to be the ambassador’s personal secretary, Zimius Groki.
That dirty fraud, he exclaimed to himself, keeping his eyes off to one side as if he didn’t see his recent adversary. You’re the tool now, aren’t you?
Meanwhile, his guide opened a scroll and read from it, “Enel Unizel Virando, interpreter,” and waited for the secretary to respond. Groki turned to Uni with a look of skepticism and suspicion, as if he were about to snap at the guide, “Who did you bring up here, fool?”
Uni had steeled himself to be afraid of nothing, but now his heart hung over an abyss and goosebumps broke out on his skin. He knew that it was silly to be scared and that he didn’t need to prove or explain anything, but he couldn’t stop his stomach from quivering. A drop of sweat ran from his neck down his back. Groki leaned forward and gave a slight nod. The guide turned and was gone, leaving Uni alone with a man who was clearly his enemy.
“If you’re late again, we will leave you to bake in the desert!” Groki spat at him.
Uni nodded, trying to remember if there were any deserts in Virilan and what, now that he thought of it, the landscape and weather conditions were like. His place – at the far-left in the last row – spoke to his lowly status. The men standing near him turned to look at him before turning away in indifference. In the center of the front row, Uni spied Sanery’s extraordinary ears. The ambassador had heard his name announced and turned around to give him a slight but friendly smile. Uni was embarrassed, but reflected that a smile was better than nothing. The rest of the delegation ignored him, to his relief. The young diplomat stared at the men around him and soaked up the atmosphere of overblown formality.
The palace square was situated between the Emperor’s Residence, where the Great Lord lived, and the Cathedral of Light, which was the Empire’s most important religious building. Educated Herandians loved to argue about the proper relationship between religious and secular authority. On the one hand, the Empire’s subjects were exceedingly religious, referring to the Heavenly Deity early and often, in everything from market gossip to official documents. On the other hand, most people’s beliefs went no deeper than these words and the occasional attendance at a ritual. Judging by the prominent works of imperial art, the Empire was founded with the protection of the Heavenly Deity, and the Emperor was merely his steward. As the official imperial terminology put it, he was a servant like all the other subjects. In reality, however, the Empire’s religious leaders had so little influence on government matters that they were not considered a political force. Priests of the Sun were content with their many privileges and high salaries (paid each year by the treasury), and they rarely raised their voices unless the issue concerned their own internal affairs, which were always in a foul tangle.
Some people saw this as a sign of the inherent practicality of Herandians, while others complained that the government had drawn too close to the Cult of the Sun and strangled it in its embrace. The Emperor generally played the main role in the most important religious rites throughout the year, but he led the government on the basis of the law, the bureaucracy, and the army, not as a high priest, as was the custom in Mustobrim.
The Cathedral of Light reflected the fate of the religion underlying it. Built of granite and marble under Norius to host all manner of government ceremonies, it was soon competing with the imperial bureaucracy and the Great Lord’s Chambers.
