Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

a terrible kind of grandeur about them. “Congratulations on your victory,” she made herself say.
    “There are no victors here today, Captain.” The Deathstalker’s famously ugly face held no triumph, only regret. “Too many good men and women died, for no good reason. Finn has betrayed us all. I never was a traitor, and no more were Douglas or Jesamine or any of the others denounced for daring to take a stand against his evils. And yes, it is true; my ancestor Owen has returned. He has gone to stop the Terror, so that we can be free to deal with the Emperor. Will you fight beside us, Captain?”
    Vardalos felt a rush of relief. So many of her worries fell away in a moment, it was like putting down a dreadfully heavy weight she’d been carrying for far too long. She smiled at the Deathstalker, who didn’t seem nearly as terrible now.
    “Of course,” she said. “Our fleet is yours. If Finn would lie to us about something as important as the return of the blessed Owen, he’d lie about anything. He is not fit to be Emperor. Lead us, Deathstalker. You will not find us wanting again.”
    And so the huge combined fleet slowly got under way again, heading towards Logres with rage and justice on their minds. Accompanied by Carrion and his army of Ashrai, and all the ships of Mistworld and Virimonde.
    An avenging army was coming home, and nothing would stop them this time.

CHAPTER SIX

    LAST CHANCES
    T he Emperor Finn was talking at rather than to Joseph Wallace, who was more than wise enough to just sit there and listen, and try to smile and nod at what seemed like the right places. Joseph never looked forward to those infrequent occasions when he was summoned to the Imperial Palace so Finn could have one of his little chats. He rarely heard anything to make him feel good. Although he was, technically speaking, head of the Church Militant and Pure Humanity, and therefore, theoretically, the second most powerful man in the Empire, Joseph knew he held that position only because Finn liked having someone he could talk to and confide in, someone safe he could boast to about all the awful things he’d done, and planned to do.
    The Emperor’s private quarters were a mess, bordering on actually distressing to the nerves. Finn never cleaned up after himself, and he refused to allow servants in anymore, on the not unreasonable grounds that they might be rebel spies sent to kill him. He kept the lights turned up far too bright, so nothing could hide in the shadows, even when he slept. Papers were scattered across every surface, often weighed down with plates containing the remains of discarded meals. More rotting bits of food had been trampled into the rich heavy carpet. The room stank, despite everything the air conditioners could do to clear the air. It was like being in an animal’s den, Joseph decided. Some great and powerful carnivore, that didn’t care about appearances because it didn’t have to.
    Finn had reached a position where he could do anything he liked, and mostly he did. And he never did anything he didn’t want to. That was, after all, what being Emperor was all about. And yet the state of his Empire kept changing. No matter what he did, or ordered done, things kept going from bad to worse, and Finn was unable to halt the decline. He wouldn’t have cared, except he needed a strong and stable Empire to fight off the Terror. Which was why Joseph had been summoned so abruptly, so Finn could complain to him. Joseph Wallace, the second most powerful man in the Empire, with the power of life and death at his slightest whim, sat uncomfortably on his comfortable chair and did his best to look attentive while Finn strode up and down before him, gesturing angrily.
    “Sometimes I actually wonder if I’m cursed, Joseph.” The Emperor kicked out petulantly at a pile of papers, and they scattered like leaves across the stained and discolored carpet. “I do everything I can, kill all the right people, order purges and persecute the people to within an inch of their lives, and still the bloody Empire won’t work properly. All I want is for them to shut up and do what they’re told, for the good of the Empire and me in particular, and all they can do is whine and complain and burn down important buildings. Disorder is spreading on the outer worlds, and there have been occasions of outright defiance here on Logres, in the Parade of the Endless itself. And just when I’m really short of people I can depend