Children of Earth and Sky Read Free

Another man appeared at the doors and greeted him. This, he knew, was the chancellor. A name they’d discussed back home. Chancellor Savko nodded his head. Ambassador Faleri nodded his.
    They entered a large, long room together. There was a throne on a carpet most of the way towards the far end. There were fires lit, but it was still cold.
    The clock had been placed on a table beside the throne. It was ticking. Faleri heard it when he rose heavily after the second set of obeisances. He managed to stand without help, which was gratifying, but he was perspiring under his heavy clothing, even in a chilly autumn room. It would not be seemly to mop his forehead at this point. His silk shirt under his doublet clung damply to his body. He worked to control his breathing.
    If he had to do this every time he was presented for a year—or two!—it would kill him, he thought. He might as well die now.
    Rodolfo was looking at the clock. He lifted a vague hand, in what might be construed as a greeting to the newest ambassador to his court. Or it could be a cautionary gesture to keep quiet. No one spoke. Faleri had not been introduced by anyone. He
couldn’t
speak. He didn’t exist here yet. A good thing, in a way. He needed to regain composure, and his breath.
    The clock ticked loudly in a silent room.
    Rodolfo, Jad’s Holy Emperor, King of Karch, of Esperaña in the west, of the northern reaches of Sauradia, laying (disputed) claim to parts of Ferrieres, some of Trakesia, and diverse other territories and islands, Sword of the High Patriarch in Rhodias, scion of an illustrious (inbred) family, said thoughtfully, “We like this device. It divides eternity.”
    No one replied, though there were forty or fifty men in the room.No women, Faleri realized. In Seressa there were always women at times such as this, adornments of life, often sublimely clever. He shifted his legs. His head was still swimming; the room wobbled and swayed like a child’s top. He felt hot, dry-mouthed. They
would
kill him with these obeisances. He would die kneeling in Obravic!
    The emperor was taller than expected. Rodolfo had the beaked nose and receding chin of the Kohlberg dynasty. He was pale-skinned, fair-haired. His hands were large, his eyes narrow above that nose, which made it hard to read their expression.
    The chancellor finally broke the ticking stillness. “Excellency, I have the honour to present the distinguished emissary from the Republic of Seressa, arrived to take up his position among us. This is Signore Orso Faleri, who carries ambassador’s papers attested by the seal of that republic, and who wishes the privilege of saluting you.”
    He had
already
saluted, Faleri thought grimly. Six times, head to marble floor. Was he now to crawl forward and kiss a slippered imperial foot? They did that in Asharias, didn’t they? That great, triple-walled city wasn’t called Sarantium any more, it had been conquered. It was where the khalif ruled. They had renamed the City of Cities since the fall, the terrible disaster of the age.
    Twenty-five years ago. It was still difficult to grasp that it had happened. They lived in a sad, harsh world, Orso Faleri often thought. There was still money to be made, mind you.
    The emperor finally looked at him. He actually turned from the ticking gift-object and regarded the ambassador of a power wealthier than he was, which lent him money, which was less beleaguered, and more sophisticated in almost all ways.
    Well, good
, thought Orso Faleri.
    Rodolfo said, quietly, “We thank the Republic of Seressa for its gifts, and for sending Signore Faleri to us. Signore, it is our pleasure to see you again and to welcome you to Obravic. We hope to enjoy your presence here.”
    And with that he turned back to the clock. He did add, by way of explanation as he looked away, “We are waiting to see the man with the mace come out and strike the infidel.”
    He was,