Dust of Dreams

no closer to finding a suitable gift in reciprocation.’
    Tehol leaned forward. ‘And why, dear Chancellor, is that?’
    ‘Because none of us has a clue what that thing is, sire.’
    Tehol grimaced. ‘How can this thing defeat the greatest minds of the kingdom?’
    ‘I didn’t know we’d tried them yet,’ murmured Janath.
    ‘It’s bone, antler, inlaid pearl and it has two handles.’ Tehol waited, but no one had anything to add to that succinct description. ‘At least, I think they’re handles . . .’
    Janath’s breath caught, and then she said, ‘Oh.’
    King Tehol scratched his jaw. ‘Best the emissary wait a little longer, I think.’
    ‘Sound decision, sire.’
    ‘Such opinions, Bugg, are invaluable. Now, dear wife, shall we retire to our private chambers to further our exploration of this, uhm, offering?’
    ‘You must be mad. Find Shurq Elalle. Or Rucket.’
    ‘Finally, proper advice!’
    ‘And I’ll buy myself a new dagger.’
    ‘That hints of high emotions, my beloved. Jealous rage does not become you.’
    ‘It doesn’t become anyone, husband. You didn’t really think I wanted you to follow my suggestion?’
    ‘Well, it’s true that it’s easy to make suggestions when you know they won’t be heeded.’
    ‘Yes it is. Now, you will find a small room with a stout door and multiple locks, and once the emissary has departed, in goes that gift, never again to see the light of day.’ And she settled back on the throne, arms crossed.
    Tehol eyed the gift forlornly, and then sighed once more. ‘Send for the emissary, Bugg.’
    ‘At once, sire.’ He gestured to a servant waiting at the far end of the throne room.
    ‘While we’re waiting, is there any kingly business we need to mull over?’
    ‘Your repatriation proclamation, sire—that’s going to cause trouble.’
    Tehol thumped the arm of his throne with a fist. ‘And trouble is precisely what I want! Indignation! Outrage! Protests! Let the people rail and shake their knobby fists! Let us, yes, stir this steaming stew, wave the ladle about, spattering all the walls and worse.’
    Janath turned to eye him speculatively.
    Bugg grunted. ‘Should work. I mean, you’re taking land away from some very wealthy families. You could well foment a general insurrection. Assuming that would be useful.’
    ‘Useful?’ demanded Janath. ‘In what context could insurrection be useful? Tehol, I warned you about that edict—’
    ‘Proclamation—’
    ‘—and the rage you’ll incite. But did you listen?’
    ‘I most certainly did, my Queen. But let me ask you, are my reasons any less just?’
    ‘No, it was stolen land to begin with, but that’s beside the point. The losers won’t see it that way.’
    ‘And that, my love, is precisely
my
point. Justice bites. With snippy sharp teeth. If it doesn’t, then the common folk will perceive it as unbalanced, forever favouring the wealthy and influential. When robbed, the rich cry out for protection and prosecution. When stealing, they expect the judiciary to look the other way. Well, consider this a royal punch in the face. Let them smart.’
    ‘You truly expect to purge cynicism from the common people, Tehol?’
    ‘Well, wife, in this instance it’s more the sweet taste of vengeance, but a deeper lesson is being delivered, I assure you. Ah, enough prattling about inconsequential things—the noble Akrynnai emissary arrives! Approach, my friend!’
    The huge man with the wolf-skin cloak strode forward, showing his fiercest scowl.
    Smiling, King Tehol said, ‘We delight in this wondrous gift and please do convey our pleasure to Sceptre Irkullas, and assure him we will endeavour to make use of it as soon as an opportunity . . . arises.’
    The warrior’s scowl deepened. ‘Make use? What kind of use? It’s a damned piece of art, sire. Stick it on a damned wall and forget about it—that’s what I would do were I you. A closet wall, in fact.’
    ‘Ah, I see. Forgive me.’ Tehol frowned down at the object. ‘Art, yes. Of course.’
    ‘It wasn’t even the Sceptre’s idea,’ the emissary grumbled. ‘Some ancient agreement, wasn’t it? Between our peoples? An exchange of meaningless objects. Irkullas has a whole wagon stuffed with similar rubbish from you Letherii. Trundles around after us like an arthritic dog.’
    ‘The wagon’s pulled by an arthritic dog?’
    The man grunted. ‘I wish. Now, I have something to discuss. Can we get on with it?’
    Tehol smiled. ‘By