The Emperors Soul

ruined my ability to think—you could have sold my soul itself. I’m not sure if I should punish you or reward you for taking that risk.”
    “I assure you, Your Majesty,” Gaotona said as he left, “I have given myself both great rewards and great punishments during these last few months.”
    He left then, letting the emperor stare at himself in the mirror and consider the implications of what had been done.
    For better or worse, they had their emperor back.
    Or, at least, a copy of him.

Epilogue: Day One Hundred and One
    “And so I hope,” Ashravan said to the assembled arbiters of the eighty factions, “that I have laid to rest certain pernicious rumors. Exaggerations of my illness were, obviously, wishful fancy. We have yet to discover who sent the assassins, but the murder of the empress is not something that will go ignored.” He looked over the arbiters. “Nor will it go unanswered.”
    Frava folded her arms, watching the copy with satisfaction, but also displeasure. What back doors did you put into his mind, little thief? Frava wondered. We will find them.
    Nyen was already inspecting copies of the seals. The Forger claimed that he could retroactively decrypt them, though it would take time. Perhaps years. Still, Frava would eventually know how to control the emperor.
    Destroying the notes had been clever on the girl’s part. Had she guessed, somehow, that Frava wasn’t really making copies? Frava shook her head and stepped up beside Gaotona, who sat in their box of the Theater of Address. She sat down beside him, speaking very softly. “They are accepting it.”
    Gaotona nodded, his eyes on the fake emperor. “There isn’t even a whisper of suspicion. What we did . . . it was not only audacious, it would be presumed impossible.”
    “The girl could put a knife to our throats,” Frava said. “The proof of what we did is burned into the emperor’s own body. We will need to tread carefully in coming years.”
    Gaotona nodded, looking distracted. Days afire, how Frava wished she could get him removed from his station. He was the only one of the arbiters who ever took a stand against her. Just before his assassination, Ashravan had been ready to do it at her prompting.
    Those meetings had been private. Shai wouldn’t have known of them, so the fake would not either. Frava would have to begin the process again, unless she found a way to control this duplicate Ashravan. Both options frustrated her.
    “A part of me can’t believe that we actually did it,” Gaotona said softly as the fake emperor moved on to the next section of his speech, a call for unity.
    Frava sniffed. “The plan was sound all along.”
    “Shai escaped.”
    “She will be found.”
    “I doubt it,” he said. “We were lucky to catch her that once. Fortunately, I do not believe we have much to worry about from her.”
    “She’ll try to blackmail us,” Frava said. Or she’ll try to find a way to control the throne.
    “No,” Gaotona said. “No, she is satisfied.”
    “Satisfied with escaping alive?”
    “Satisfied with having placed one of her creations on the throne. Once, she dared to try to fool thousands—but now she has a chance to fool millions. An entire empire. Exposing what she has done would ruin the majesty of it, in her eyes.”
    Did the old fool really believe that? His naiveness often presented Frava with opportunities; she’d considered letting him keep his station simply for that reason.
    The fake emperor continued his speech. Ashravan had liked to hear himself speak. The Forger had gotten that right.
    “He’s using the assassination as a means of bolstering our faction,” Gaotona said. “You hear? The implications that we need to unify, pull together, remember our heritage of strength . . . And the rumors, the ones the Glory Faction spread regarding him being killed . . . by mentioning them, he weakens their faction. They gambled on him not returning, and now that he has, they seem foolish.”
    “True,” Frava said. “Did you put him up to that?”
    “No,” Gaotona said. “He refused to let me counsel him on his speech. This move, though, it feels like something the old Ashravan would have done, the Ashravan from a decade ago.”
    “The copy isn’t perfect, then,” Frava said. “We’ll have to remember that.”
    “Yes,” Gaotona said. He held something, a small, thick book that Frava didn’t recognize.
    A rustling came from the back of the box, and a servant of Frava’s