Chương 19

I listened to the symphony. The living musicians were playing immaculately. As though this were the performance of their lifetime. Possibly their last performance. It might be. Three weeks ago, I had heard of a playwright who had written a mocking script and was performing it in the streets with puppets. I had brought him and his troupe into the court to perform it. I promised that if I laughed, I would spare him, and that if I did not laugh, I would feed his entrails to pigs while he still drew breath.

I did not laugh at the mocking play, but not because I was insulted. I did not understand why it was insulting, nor why it was funny. When the play ended, he begged me for mercy. I made an allowance. He had six days to make me laugh. If he managed, I would spare him. Six days later, the pigs were fed. What is left of the playwright stood behind me now. He stinks of rot and pig feces. I regret carrying through with my promise, because the the flutist is sweating terribly and her music is discordant.

I can't appreciate the rest of the symphany, and I debated having her replaced. A hand on my wrist.

"If you murder everyone around you who you frighten, then you will frighten everyone around you," Aemalia says gently.

"You must show mercy sometimes." I considered her words.

"I do not care what happens to the flutist," I said at last.

"But see that she does not spoil the music again. I can't appreciate it if it is done improperly." Although I did not truly appreciate it when it was done properly either. I could sense the harmony. I could name the composer. I could tell you the feelings that it was meant to evoke. But to feel them myself? You had might as well ask me to laugh. One of the Inalten attending me walked forward. The music stopped as the flutist was dragged away. Then the music started up again, minus one flute in the woodwind section.

It was better, but not perfect. The concert came to an end. The living applauded politely, many of them looking to my box. I held out a hand, signaling that I was pleased, because I did not particularly care whether these men and women lived or died, which meant they could live. I did not learn the flutist's fate. She never appeared in another performance. As we returned to the palace, Aemalia studied me. She, of all the living, perhaps understood me the best.

"Anything?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Are you disappointed?"

"If I felt disappointment then I would feel something," I pointed out. She was silent.

"It's admirable that you try to understand us, Tal. Don't give up hope."

"I believe you misunderstand. I do not try to understand you to be like you," I clarified.

"I try to understand you so that I might predict you better. I understand how the living responds to fear, but fear is not the only emotion that motivates you. Love, hate, greed, jealousy. I would understand them so that I might predict them."

"Ah."

"For example, you cling to power by serving me. You have thrown away your pride when you surrendered, but your—" This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I would give up my position in a heartbeat if it meant saving lives," she said quickly.

"It is not lust for power that motivates me, Tal. I fear you. A part of me hates you. You have done terrible things and you will continue to do terrible things, and most of the time there is nothing I can do to stop you from doing them. But sometimes there is." I considered her words.

"It seems I do not understand you as well as I thought," I admitted.

"What would you do if I stopped the carriage and murdered the next hundred living that I saw?"

"I would watch in silence and wait for you to return," she said.

"But what purpose would it serve you to do such a thing?"

"It would help me understand you better," I said. I sent a flicker of control to the driver of the carriage, and the carriage stopped a moment later. I got out silently, then walked up to the horse. Stroking her side, I stepped out of the way as the driver snapped the reins and the carriage started off again. I watched and listened through the eyes of the undead rats following the carriage. I heard crying from within it. I walked out into the night. I did not kill anyone that night. There was no point in it.

I had learned what I wanted to learn. I returned to the castle several hours later. The living ministers were waking up, and it would be time to rule soon. I had settled into a comfortable routine lately. As my manservant changed my clothes for me, I closed my eyes and— —A thousand miles away, a skull's eyes lit up violet.

"Purge them," the skull said. The living officers went pale.

"They are willing to discuss terms," one of them objected.

"They had their chance," I said coldly.

"The entire point of the demonstration was that I could repeat it, and that I would repeat it if they did not surrender. They thought they had the forces to hold us off, and now that they are being proven wrong they wish to turn back the clock. But I do not make ultimatums lightly.

"Anyone who does not participate in the purge shall be purged themselves." The living in the room were silent, many of them pale or gray. I had, after all, just ordered a quarter million deaths. Satisfied my will would be carried out, I— Three hundred miles east, a skeleton suddenly sat up. It looked around the room. I sat in the darkness, with a merchant wearing too many rings sitting on the table across from me.

"Well?" I asked.

"How much for your fleet?"

"You-you must understand. My livelihood, my trading company, what you are asking for—""I am not asking. I am offering recompense for what I am taking," I clarified.

"I am told this is justice. You have a fleet of ships, and now they are mine. I have a vault of gold. Some of it is now yours. I wished for an accounting of how much you think that should be, and I gave you until today to do your sums and figures. What is the answer?" The merchant swallowed, then nodded.

"If I am to rebuild what you are taking, it would cost me eighty pounds of gold bullion." I considered.

"That is less than what I was told you would ask for."

"I am only asking for what it will cost me to rebuild my fleet," he explained.

"I am not asking for you to pay me for my lost business while I rebuild. I lose five years worth of trade. Many of my contracts will move on to my competitors. I will—""Name your competitors, and I shall make the same arrangement with them as I make with you," I said spontaneously. He blinked in surprise.

"If you do that, then trade between the eastern and western continents will crawl to a stop."

"So?" He swallowed. And he began to list off a series of companies. I committed them to memory.

"You shall have your eighty pounds of gold bullion," I promised him.

"For your honesty I will give you an extra ten percent above what you have asked." The merchant swallowed again.

"You are kind to me, Lord Tal." Kindness? I was being efficient. I had been expecting him to demand two hundred pounds, and was prepared to accept one fifty. I needed ships. He had ships. I had gold. I didn't need it. Not in the quantity that I had, at least. And it was, apparently, bad for the economy to destroy a company like his. Even for reasons of state.

"Prepare whatever documents you will prepare. My people will come to collect them soon, and then we shall begin taking possession of the ships."

"My lord," he asked hesitantly.

"What do you need so many ships for?"

"Do you truly want to know? If I answer that question, I will likely have you killed."

"Never mind! Never mind!" he exclaimed"Very well," I said. I closed my eyes and— On a vessel in the ocean, another skull's eyes lit up. The ship's captain looked up at it; it was hanging from the ceiling on a bit of string, sideways.

"My lord," he said.

"It's time," I said.

"Yes, my lord," he said. The Zozheimians were massing for their border, intending to defend themselves once the final kingdom between Tal-sha-shenk and the empire fell. According to my little spies, they were not prepared at all for a naval strike. But that's not why I needed the merchant's ships. I'd already sent all the naval forces I intended to send to Zozheim. And now? Now they would sack the capital and thirteen other port cities on the same day. I closed my eyes, and— I opened them again.

My servants had finished dressing me. I walked into the throne room, sat upon the dais, and waited for my ministers to begin speaking. After twelve hours of ruling the living, Aemalia brought me to an opera after making me promise not to kill any of the singers. After hearing them sing, I understood why she'd extracted that promise. Their performance was terrible. Or perhaps I just don't like opera.