The content of this page is © copyright Stephen Deas 2001 and is used here with permission.
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Lostra and I stayed inside the steel hull while his ship burned to ash around us. We spent many days trying to fathom its workings, but to no avail; fortunately, the sorcerer who had piloted it had food and water enough to last us both until Lostra's people found us. After a deal of celebration, Lostra and I boarded one of their graceful catamarans, which carved its way across the Silver Sea towards the Bone Empire. I had made no promises, but for now, it seemed, our paths ran together, and I must learn more of these death-pirates in my search for the Well of Shadow.

In the court of the Bone Emperor, Alexiun fell to his knees and touched his head to the floor as the Emperor floated out of the room, black silk robes, so fine they seemed to glisten and glow, flowing behind, shrouding every part of him except the pristine white mask of bone. Faint, reedy music ushered its welcome across the white marble floor. No one moved - to move, even the slightest motion, to even breath while the Emperor entered his court, was death, instant and painful.

Alexiun's foot began to itch. He gently bit his tongue. Alexiun had been a part of the Emperor's court for more than twenty years; twenty years of biting his tongue and refusing to move, no matter what. Other people, he knew, would forget to take a deep breath at the right moment, and had learned to control their breathing so the Emperor's guards who stood, ever vigilant for any sign of disrespect, wouldn't see. Alexiun knew better. One by one they failed, were seen, and died. Perhaps they would last for years, but one day it would come to them.

In twenty years, he had risen from the position of lowest scribe to being Precursor to the Emperor's Will in Matters of Dissent. Alexiun wrote down the Emperor's decrees. When the Emperor placed his seal on them, they became law. Absolute. Incontrovertible. And often, of late, Alexiun had wondered what would happen if he wrote his own decrees, mixed in with those of the Emperor - would they be sealed as well? Become law? Ten Precursors sat in the Imperial court. Surely the Emperor couldn't read everything each and every one of them wrote.

Of course he didn't. There would be others. The men who hid behind the court. The men who controlled the Imperial guard and enforced the Emperor's law. A single word out of place, and he would be found out. And executed.

Yet still, he wondered...

The music ended. The obsidian doors to the court slammed shut. Alexiun rose to his knees and took a gulp of air, while around him, the other Precursors did the same.

He gathered his notes together and hurried outside. He had three hours to write everything the Emperor had decreed in Matters of Dissent - and it seemed to Alexiun there were more and more of these - before the Imperial couriers would come to him, politely requesting his submissions for the Imperial seal. The Imperial couriers were famous for their politeness. Almost as famous as they were for their influence, for they alone carried the Emperor's orders.

He had been in his chamber, writing, for less than half an hour when the courier appeared. He bowed low, respecting Alexiun's technically senior status, then entered anyway, without waiting to be invited.

"Good evening, Precursor."

Alexiun knew this one. He knew most of the couriers by now, and suspected the other Precursors did as well. Those that had lived long enough.

"Good evening, Jojang. I am afraid I have not completed the writing of the Emperor's will."

"I have come early. I am sorry. I do not wish to speak to you about the decrees of the day. I have other matters which must seek your most valuable attention. If, of course, you may spare time for such an unworthy as I, Precursor."

"I always have time for the Emperor's will, Jojang," said Alexiun carefully. "It is the utmost duty of all of us. However, I have much to do in the writing of it. I would not wish it any delay."

Jojan purred. "Precursor, I will come, later for the Emperor's decrees, and I fear I shall be delayed quite some time in doing so by pressing matters. Should this arouse the Emperor's ire, I shall take the blame in full."

Alexiun bit his tongue, then slowly rolled up his papers. Perhaps tonight would be the night, then, when the Emperor's will was not quite what had been declared in the court. They would have less time to check his words.

"Jojang, what is this matter, then?"

"Precursor, we are old friends, you and I. We have served the Emperor for many years. May I speak informally with you."

"Of course you may, Jojang. We are, as you say, old friends." Insofar as it was possible to be old friends with someone like Jojang. The sudden discovery of a poisonous snake in his bedding would have been a welcome alternative to any such 'informal' conversation.

"I hesitate to step beyond my station, Alexiun, but I have an eye to the Emperor's actions and an ear to his words in the same way as you. Perhaps even a more intimate eye?"

"I dare say this may be true."

Jojang smiled. "Your caution is second only to your dedication to your Emperor, and both of these traits have come to his attention. Or could do."

"I am flattered to think the Emperor would even notice such a lowly servant as myself."

"Ah, humility as well." Jojang clapped his hands. "You have all the qualities the Emperor needs for his new Speaker. Should he mention your name in that respect, shall I assume you will assent to the position?"

Alexiun gulped for air. Speaker? The highest position the court could offer...?

"I will always serve my Emperor," he gasped. "In whatever faculty he sees most fits or my unworthy talents."

Jojang smiled a smile full of teeth, and bowed low again. "I am glad we had this conversation, Precursor. I shall return later to collect your decrees for the Emperor's viewing."

The door closed. Alexiun stood, staring blankly as his room began to slowly tumble. Speaker. To be the one who actually spoke for the Emperor. Stood at his side by the skull throne. Entered and left with him. To be the one whose words were written down and made law...

His thoughts mixed honey and ash. To be the one whose words would condemn thousands to death for some pointless act of a 'dissent' they didn't even know they were showing. Or to be the one whose words forgave them...?

The court fell to its knees and faces; all movement stopped. Except for Alexiun. For the first time, he could breath freely as the Bone Emperor wafted to his throne.

Speaker.

For a few wild hours, he'd thought he'd finally see what lay behind the Emperor's bone mask, for surely, as the Emperor's speaker, he would have to hear the words from the Emperor's mouth itself. Or how could they be law? But in the end, it came as no surprise to discover he was wrong, he would be disappointed. The decrees he was to issue on behalf of the Emperor were given to him buy Jojang, carefully scribed by a hand he'd never seen before.

"These are the words of the Emperor," Jojang said, and his lips had curled with a smile of menace. "Speak them precisely, Precursor. I'm sure you understand the penalty for deviation." The smile had broadened to include some teeth. "But of course, I have no need for concern. Your work as a Precursor has been exemplary. Word perfect, even. Your precision is what chose you for this work."

"I am no longer a Precursor, Jojang."

Jojang had frowned. "Precursor, surely you know better. You will be Speaker once you have spoken for the Emperor and not before. It's a trivial matter, perhaps, but our empire is built on such distinctions."

He parted, leaving Alexiun to wonder what his years as a Precursor had been for. After all, the words he was supposed to record were already written down. What was the point? Were there other Precursors, who sat with the Emperor in private, recording his words for the Speaker? Or were they, too spoken too by yet another Speaker, who in turn received the Emperor's words, written down from yet another court, by yet another Precursor. He saw, for a moment, the Empire, trapped between two mirrors, an endless cycle of repetition, of Precursors and Speakers and courts. And of all this, only the Emperor remained, until he, too, faded, and only the bone mask remained.

Alexiun followed the Emperor, appalled by the obvious sufferings of those who had once been his colleagues. He wanted to pause, stoop beside Precursor Johiro, and tell him he could see him breathing, that his days were surely numbered unless he stopped. And as he stepped up beside the throne, Precursor Li, quivering, red in the face.

The Emperor sat down. The court continued to hold its breath. Alexiun stared at Li, head bowed, trembling, and wondered what they were waiting for.

"You must open the scroll," whispered a voice behind him. One of the imperial guard, only, as he turned to see who it was, Alexiun caught the eyes, glittering from within the mask-like helm. Jojang.

He turned back, quickly began to unfurl the scroll of the Emperor's words.

Li spasmed. Gasped for air. Looked up, a look to Alexiun of pure hatred. No one else moved.

Alexiun finished unfurling the scroll. The words Jojang had given him. The words of the Emperor, and the court burst into life, gasping for air, sighing with relief, another day survived, rising, taking their seats, the elders bent, clasping their tortured knees. And of course, the soldiers, the imperial guards, crashing through the court, seizing Precursor Li.

"You know what you have to do," whispered Jojang. "You must have hated him very much. I was not aware of a disagreement between you. I applaud you, Precursor. You have hidden something from me."

Soldiers pulled Li before the throne, trampling him until he lay prostrate before the Bone Emperor, soldiers standing on his hands and feet, another boot on his head, forcing his eyes into the ground. They turned to Alexiun, expectant.

Alexiun sighed. I am sorry, Li. I did not mean for this.

"Precursor Li, you have demonstrated a lack of respect for this court. For that you are banished, never to return. You have demonstrated a lack of respect for your Emperor. For that you are to die and dusk. The Emperor has spoken."

He turned, glanced at Jojang. The masked face gave a very slight nod, and Alexiun could feel the malice within. He turned back. The soldiers were picking Li off the stones.

"Stop!" Alexiun shouted. "Before you take him, there is another." He whirled round, an accusing finger pinning Jojang to the spot. "This soldier has also shown disrespect. He has spoken when he should have been silent."

He saw Jojang's shoulders slump a little, a tiny shake of the head. None of the soldiers moved.

"You have made a mistake, Alexiun. I am sorry for you."

"Take him away," Alexiun thundered. At last, more of the soldiers lining the walls of the courts jerked into life and ran towards the throne.

"An innocent man will die," whispered Jojang. "I will be here again tomorrow. But you will not."

"You have dishonoured the Emperor, Jojang." Alexiun made no attempt to quieten his voice. Let the whole court hear it. Let the Precursors write it down. Let them write it all down. "Jojang, imperial courier, whatever position you hold, the penalty is the same. The Emperor still demands your respect."

Soldiers rushed onto the dais, grabbed Jojang's arms. Jojang made no attempt to resist. No one ever did. But as they pulled him away, he stopped them, paused, faced Alexiun one last time.

"No, he does not," he whispered, so quietly Alexiun barely heard it.

And he was gone. Dragged away. With far more dignity that poor precursor Li, Alexiun thought.

And who commanded the Imperial guard. The Emperor, surely?

"You will now read the Emperor's words," hissed a voice behind him. "You will read them without error or deviation, or you will be cut down on the spot, and executed by the ritual of the Seventeen Agonies."

Alexiun looked behind him. The soldiers were all there, the same as before. He could not tell which one of them had spoken.

He turned to the scroll.

And gasped.

The words had changed.

Were changing. Before his very eyes.

The first decree. He remembered it. He'd read the scroll a dozen times before the court had begun. Some petty discipline to be administered to the Foale region for failing to meet their grain quota on the exact day specified and forcing an imperial courier to wait for a day before he could return to report that the quota was met. One man to die from each and every village in the region. To be chosen at random. It had made him sick.

The words were gone now. That decree, and all the others, slowly erasing themselves. In their place....

The court is to be adjourned for the day. The speaker is dismissed. For slander against my loyal Imperial guard, Precursor Alexiun is to have his hands removed at the wrists and cast out into the wilderness of the silver sand. For causing this court to adjourn, and thus inflicting bodily harm to the person of the Emperor through the manifestation of the Empire, he shall then die the death of Wilting. For presenting an inadequate speaker, one in twenty members of the court shall also be executed by the death of Wilting, to be chosen at random.

Alexiun stared at the scroll in horror. He turned, glanced at the Emperor, but the bone mask and not moved since the Emperor had first sat down.

And then, in another hand.

You were warned, Precursor. You are a grave disappointment. After you are gone, I shall have no choice but to eradicate your name from the records and your family from the Empire. You will never have existed.

Alexiun stared at the scroll. He stared at the Emperor.

"Read it," hissed the voice behind him. Without turning, he knew a steel point now lay poised behind his back.

"I speak the Emperor's will..." he shifted his weight, ever so slightly.

"The court will be adjourned for the day..." A hand dropped from the scroll.

"The speaker is dismissed..." he began to turn.

And jumped, forwards, away from the ready blade, in front of the Emperor's throne.

"These are not the Emperor's words! Let the Emperor speak for himself!" he cried, and he tore the bone mask away.

And stared at the gaping nothing beneath.

He stepped back, tripped, as the throne gave way to the dais, fell down the steps into the mass of the court. He saw the soldiers behind the Emperor move, and then stop. Heard the gasps. The shouts.

"There's no one there!"

"Where is the Emperor!"

And then all was mayhem, as the Imperial guard descended on the court with sword and spear, while the empty robes of the Emperor fell to the floor.

Of course, Lostra knew nothing of this outrage and turmoil as our ship reached the shores of the Silver Sea and we set first foot on the soil of the Bone Empire, and I knew even less. Together we set our course, blissfully ignorant of the cataclysm racking this oldest of Empires, and the path it would set before us.

The content of this page is © copyright Stephen Deas 2001 and is used here with permission.
It may not be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the permission of the author.