Deathstalker Coda (41 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
Captain Vardalos studied the man and woman standing before her. They didn’t look all that special, but there was 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.
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 on. It seems like only yesterday that I had armies of fanatics and followers all but falling over themselves to do my every bidding. But where are they, now I need them? I’m down to just a skeleton staff on some planets.” He stopped pacing and fixed Joseph with a glittering eye. “People are taking advantage. Defying my orders and regulations, and thinking they can get away with it, just because I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment. They’ve even started to feel they can walk the streets in safety, and we can’t have that, can we? My peacekeepers should inspire respect, fear, horror, and an urgent need to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. A cowed population is an obedient population. Right, Joseph?”
“Oh, of course, Your Majesty. Absolutely. People should know their place.”
“I’m glad you see it my way, Joseph. Because I want you to take every transmutation engine you have, and put them in orbit around all the most troublesome worlds. And then I’ll let the shifty little bastards know that if they don’t behave, I’ll have every living thing on their planet reduced to protoplasmic goo. That should concentrate their minds wonderfully. Why are you frowning, Joseph? You know I hate it when you frown, especially when I’m being visionary.”
“Oh, it’s an excellent plan, Your Majesty, it’s just . . . well, we don’t actually have all that many transmutation engines left, after what happened at Mog Mor. You . . . we deployed most of our engines there, to deal with the Mog Mor threat, and nearly all of them were destroyed. And, as I’m sure you recall, it takes a lot of time and money to build transmutation engines. Work is progressing, but . . .”
“Joseph,” said Finn, calmly and very dangerously, “tell me something I want to hear, or I’ll have your testicles stitched together.”
“Of course, the people don’t know just how short of engines we are,” said Joseph, thinking quickly on his feet. “Due to your wise decision not to allow any news coverage of what happened at Mog Mor. So, if we just put engines around a few selected worlds, we should be able to bluff the other worlds with the implied threat.”
Finn sniffed loudly. “I don’t like to bluff. I like to do appalling things to people who upset me. And I can’t afford to have a bluff called, even once. Most of the outer planets are only waiting for one definite sign of weakness on my part, and then the ungrateful little shits will rise up. And where one leads, others will follow . . . Maybe we should destroy a world anyway, just to show we mean business. Yes, I like that. Find me a planet no one will miss much, Joseph, and put an engine in orbit. And one day when I’m feeling really depressed . . . we’ll have a nice fireworks display.”
He threw himself happily into a chair opposite Joseph, and crossed his legs languorously. “If only all my problems were that simple. Most of my loyal people are currently manning the fleet I had to send out to stop the Deathstalker’s fleet. That man is a pain. I killed his whole family, and he still won’t take a hint. But my fleet will stop his. I’ve packed my ships with the very best military minds, and my most zealous and hard-core fanatics, to be absolutely sure they’ll have no compunctions about firing on their fellow ships. Still no reports, I take it? No, of course not. Too early yet. But I want it to happen soon. I want to hear about a massive victory, and hundreds of ships burning in the night. I want to see Lewis’s head on a spike . . . I need a victory, Joseph. A really impressive demonstration of how powerful my forces are, and how vicious and merciless I can be to my enemies. Something to cow the peasants and make them think twice about doing anything that might attract my attention. They just don’t worship and adore me the way they used to, the ungrateful little turds. I always knew the public were fickle and not to be trusted, even back when I was just a Paragon. The number of times I had to reinvent myself, just to hold their attention . . . So, it seems I am forced to desperate measures.”
He smiled at Joseph, waiting for him to ask the obvious question. Joseph thought frantically. What the hell else could Finn have in mind, that would be worse than murdering a whole world with a transmutation engine?
“What . . . precisely, did you have in mind, Your Majesty?”
“I’m going to make a deal with the ELFs, and use their thralls on the streets to restore order and discipline. While wearing my colors, naturally. They won’t take any crap from the peasants. They think they had things bad before; wait till the ELFs get to work! They have such wonderfully inventive minds, when it comes to terrorizing people.”
“The ELFs?” said Joseph finally, so outraged he didn’t even bother to keep it out of his voice. “You must be crazy! You can’t trust those people!”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Finn said calmly.
“But . . . I thought they weren’t talking to you anymore?
You were really quite . . . vehement, a while back, about how they’d disappointed you and let you down.”
“Ah,” said Finn, smiling widely. “It seems the ELF leaders and the uber-espers have been having their differences of late, about who exactly should be running things. They both contacted me separately, offering their services in return for help against their enemy. And it really was simplicity itself to get both of them to agree to work for me, rather than risk being shut out. It won’t last, of course, such arrangements rarely do, but as long as I can play divide and conquer, they’ll be too busy trying to do each other down to think about double-crossing me. This is strictly between the two of us, of course. People wouldn’t understand. I’m only telling you because you need to know; because the thralls will be wearing your Church Militant uniforms. And because it’s just too good a secret to keep to myself. Ah, Joseph, sometimes the look of shock and horror on your face is what makes it all worthwhile! The ELFs will give me fear and panic and terror on the streets again, and everything will be the way it used to be. This is my Empire, Joseph, and no one is going to take it away from me.”
And so thousands of ELF thralls, innocent men and women possessed by cold and powerful minds, went out to patrol the streets of Logres, and most especially the Parade of the Endless. The irony of maintaining order while wearing Pure Humanity and Church Militant uniforms pleased them greatly, and they took every opportunity to destroy the reputation of the esper-hating groups they supposedly represented. They imposed order and harsh discipline through humiliating and terrifying punishments for even the smallest offences. They showed a great fondness for hangings, crucifixions, and autos-da-fé. The dead were left to hang and rot in the streets, as a warning to others. All too soon people were afraid to go out on the streets for any reason. The new peacekeepers were everywhere, looking for any excuse to demonstrate their authority through fear and suffering. People stopped going to work, for fear they’d be stopped on the way. When they had to go out, for food or other necessities, they went in groups, starting at shadows and ready to break and run at a moment’s notice. And slowly but steadily, the social and business infrastructure of Logres began to break down. Shops closed, with no one to buy their goods. Businesses closed, with no one coming in to work anymore. Basic services were also breaking down, because the ubiquitous Shub robots that usually took care of such things had all ceased to function, and no one else knew what needed to be done.
As if all this wasn’t disturbing enough, what was happening in the Arena was worse. The ELFs had demanded a price for their support, so Finn gave them control of the Arena, for their own personal use. And on the ancient bloody sands, the ELFs played out their nasty games for everyone to see. At first, they just possessed the existing gladiators, and set them against each other. But the ELFs soon broke their new toys, or wore them out, and so the ELFs sent peacekeepers to break into nearby houses at random, and haul the people out to be new meat for the Arena. Men, women, and children ended up on the bloody sands, some possessed and some not, and the ELFs’ games grew steadily worse. Hag-ridden and helpless, the thralls played out all the wildest fantasies of the ELFs: rape, torture, mutilation, and murder were the order of the day, every day, often on a grand scale. The ELFs delighted in mounting epic dramas, and staged vast reconstructions of famous atrocities from the past. The details were rarely accurate, but all that mattered to the ELFs was that people suffered and died. There was power to be gained, from leeching off the energies released through pain and emotion and death. The ELFs grew fat and potent, bloated like leaches. There was a very old name for the kind of creatures they were.
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