Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

nothing where Blue Block was concerned. King and Queen would bow down to Blue Block. Or else.
    Brendan smiled at the thought. He'd already had one little chat with Robert, but apparently that hadn't taken as strongly as he would have liked. So this time, he was calling in the heavy artillery. And either Robert submitted to what they had planned for him, or there would be no wedding.
    Brendan moved unhurriedly through the crowd, bestowing smiles and blessings as he passed, untouched by the general riot, until he reached his chosen partner in crime. Chantelle was talking earnestly with Donna Silvestri, a broad, motherly figure and one of the Empire's more subtle movers and shakers. The Silvestri had risen to prominence in her Clan by the usual methods of treachery and murder, but always in such carefully planned ways that no blame could ever be traced to her. Now people jumped to obey her every murmured word, inside and outside her Family. She had a gift for intrigue, and enough quiet malevolence to ensure that her will always took precedence over others'. She ran things from the shadows, and liked it that way. She was, of course, Blue Block.
    In person, Donna Silvestri looked like everybody's favorite aunt, round and broad and always a few years out of fashion. She had an ear for every problem, and a shoulder for everyone who needed one, and if her warm smile never entirely
    reached her faded blue eyes, people were usually too preoccupied to notice.
    Donna Silvestri listened patiently, made all the right supportive noises, and forgot nothing. She stored everything away in her rat-trap of a mind until some muttered confidence might prove useful, at which time some poor fool would suddenly find Blue Block knew the one thing he would have sworn nobody knew.
    Nobody ever suspected the warm and kind and comforting Donna Silvestri.
    Suspecting her would have been like condemning your own mother.
    Cardinal Brendan bowed to Donna Silvestri, and Chantelle, and they both nodded politely in return.
    "Sorry to bother you, but I need a word in private, Chantelle," said Brendan. "A minor problem, concerning Royal etiquette."
    "Of course," said Chantelle. "We can use one of the private rooms. No one will disturb us there."
    She led the way, and Brendan followed demurely after her. There were a number of small private rooms leading off the main hall of the House, where by long tradition deals and discussions could be had in complete privacy. The rooms were soundproofed, guaranteed unbugged, had no windows, and only one door, with a first-class lock. More of the really important debates took place in these small rooms than ever occurred in the House itself. Real politics was too important to be practiced in public. Some of the rooms were already in use, as politicians and aristocrats fought out their new pecking order in the face of a constitutional monarchy. Everyone had his or her own plans for the future King and Queen. Even in the face of utter destruction by so many of Humanity's enemies, Golgotha concentrated on what was truly important.
    Chantelle had claimed one of the private rooms for her own personal use, and as in so many other things, no one felt secure enough to argue the point with her.
    She unlocked the door with her own personal key, ushered Brendan in, and then closed and locked the door behind them. The room was bare, save for a functional table and set of chairs. There were no comforts. This was not a room where people lived; it was just a meeting place; somewhere people passed through on their way to their respective destinies. Chantelle turned to face Brendan, and the Cardinal bowed low to her.
    "All goes well, so far," he said, just a little nervously. "The Elves are running security so tightly not even a ghost could walk in unchallenged. There will be no interruptions to what we have planned."
    "We?" said Chantelle icily. "Don't flatter yourself, Cardinal. These are my plans. Everything that is to happen here, happens through my will."
    "Of course," said Brendan quickly. "I mean no challenge to your authority."
    "Damn right you don't. If I even thought you had a mind of your own, I'd have had you shot and replaced long ago. Now; let's keep this short and to the point.
    I don't want to leave Donna Silvestri in charge of things for too long. She has a good mind, but in the end she's just another Blue Block drone, like you. I need to be on the spot, to keep things under control."
    "Of course, Chantelle. Robert and