Emperor and Clown Read Free

there.
    Surely
she wouldn’t go back to Leesoft without coming to see him? He wouldn’t mind a
hug from Aunt Oro. It wouldn’t be unmanly to let her hug him just once-it wasn’t
as if everyone did. Or anyone, really. Of course it would be unmanly to mention
the beatings. All boys got beaten, and princes were special and had to be
specially beaten. So Ythbane had said last time, making a joke-he’d added a
couple of strokes, saying Shandie was being impudent by not laughing.
    If
Aunt Oro asked any questions, of course, he’d have to tell the truth, and if he
was still limping ... “The matter of Krasnegar has already been settled, signed
and sealed!” Ythbane was shouting. Bad sign. He shouted a lot these days. He’d
never shouted before Grandfather got old.
    Shouting
wasn’t going to do him much good with the jotunn, though. The big silver beard
parted to show big yellow teeth. “With respect, Eminence-” He didn’t look
respectful. “-the document we initialed was merely a memorandum of agreement.
It was always subject to the approval of the Thanes’ Moot.”
    “And
you were to send it-”
    “It
is on its way to Nordland. I respectfully remind your Eminence, though, that
Nordland is months away, and the Moot meets only once a year, at midsummer.”
    The
ministers were whispering at Ythbane’s back, the secretaries and heralds
fretting and shuffling. The jotnar were smirking. Ythbane seemed to swell, all
pompous in his toga with a purple hem. “So it will not be ratified until next
summer-”
    “Isn’t
that obvious?”
    “-but
until then-”
    “No!
Until the news reaches Hub! You do realize that the return journey will also
take months?” The pale-skinned old man leered down at the consul, and his
manner was so like the one Ythbane himself used on Shandie that Shandie almost
disgraced himself by giggling. Ythbane would kill him if he did that.
    Ythbane
swung around and whispered for a moment with Lord Humaise, and Lord Hithire,
and a couple of other new advisors Shandie didn’t know; then he turned around
to confront the ambassador again, his face dark as a postilion’s boot.
    “The
wording of the memorandum was very specific. Until the Moot’s decision is
conveyed to his Imperial Majesty’s council, both sides shall act as if the
agreement has been ratified in formal treaty. The king will remain in-”
    “King?”
    “Oh
... what’s his name? ... the former Duke of Kinvale!” Ythbane was snarling. He
was ever so mad now, and ... Oh, no! Shandie’s dead arm had drooped so low that
the train of his toga was starting to slide off it. God of Children! What did
he do now? “ . . and you were to nominate a viceroy pro tem, subject to . . .”
The consul was growing even louder and madder. He would stay mad for days after
this. Shandie needed to yawn. His toga was falling off him. He really needed to
go pee. He wasn’t much interested in Krasnegar-he’d overheard a few whispers
that it was a sellout, that the Council had settled for a paper triumph and
given the kingdom to the jotnar. If that was so, then Shandie would take it
back when he was grown up and a warrior imperor, but right now he was too weary
to care. Another pleat slid off his hand.
    Ythbane
had finished, but whatever he’d said had not impressed the big blond bear.
    “I
am an ambassador, not a plenipotentiary, Eminence, as you know. I never
professed to have the power to override the thane’s personal rights in this
matter. Indeed, if he chooses to press his claim, then the Moot itself would
back him as King of Krasnegar. The thanes would never infringe a privilege of
one of their own number.” He glanced round at his companions, who grinned; then
he added, “Not this one’s, anyway!”
    “Kalkor
is a murdering, raping, barbar-”
    Now
the ambassador swelled, and to much better effect than Ythbane had managed. He
stepped closer, his fair face ominously flushed. “Do I report your words to the
thane as official Imperial