It was ironic, perhaps, that the god-emperor's greatest ally in the Tyrian court was the reason for the tardiness of the Queen of Tyria. She had spent the hour leading up to her departure from the palace in a heated debate with the Dowager Queen
Jaliah, who seemed unwilling or unable to accept that her granddaughter had every intention of meeting Gerra without her.
"It is unseemly," the old woman had wheezed at first, standing behind Xaviera as the Queen sat before her looking glass, adjusting her makeup and jewelry for the meeting. If Xaviera didn't know any better, she could mistake her conniving grandmother's concern for genuine. "A young, unmarried woman in the company of a powerful man without a chaperone. What will people say?"
"They will say that their Queen sought an end to the crisis that was draining the city's finances and threatening the livelihood of almost everyone who lives here," Xaviera said, taking off the tiara she had placed on her hair and replacing it with something less ornate. Perhaps better to stroke the ego of an emperor to appear as a supplicant. It was still gold, and obviously of fine quality, so she hoped it would not be insulting -- or appear that she was not treating it seriously.
"But your advisers -- someone should be with you to assure you are not taken advantage of -- that
Tyria is not taken advantage of," Jaliah insisted.
Xaviera paused then, in the process of putting in an earring. She fiddled with the backing as she examined her grandmother's appearance in the looking glass. "You worry about this, when you yourself have been pressing me to seek
Amol-Kalit's protection since before the shipments started being hit?"
"Well, I - "
"Enough, Nani, enough now. I am Queen, as much as I know it pains you, and this bickering has delayed me enough." She stood and made one or two final adjustments to her dress -- white, with a Tyrian purple chlamys pinned in place with a golden brooch over her left shoulder -- and armlets. She took her grandmother's face in her hands and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Thank you for your counsel. I'll see you when I return."
Jaliah followed her to the door, blocked it with one brittle arm. "Xavi," she murmured, the other hand going to take her granddaughter's wrist. "If he has the power to save Tyria, believe he has the power to destroy it. Whatever he asks, you have to find a way to say
yes to him."
Thus it was a few minutes after the appointed time that the Queen's litter arrived and she emerged, to be quickly ushered inside out of the heat. The residence was kept ready for visitors of import, and the fact that the so-called god-emperor of Amol-Kalit had come to stay, when he could have easily summoned the Queen of Tyria to Amol-Kalit had the staff at the residence and the palace -- not to mention the rest of the city -- abuzz with gossip. This, coupled with reports that naval
battles of striking ferocity were taking place across the great bay, gave Xaviera some idea of what this was all about.
Amol-Kalit was saving Tyria's metaphorical and economic bacon. Gerra was here to settle the debt.
Whatever he asks, you have to find a way to say yes
to him.
The herald cleared his throat briefly before announcing: "Her Majesty
Xaviera, Queen of Tyria." Xaviera took a breath, adopted what she hoped was a humble -- but not humiliated -- persona, and stepped through the doorway to the god-emperor's dining chamber. She approached him and offered a perfunctory curtsy (as advised by her protocol officers, though it galled her to be instructed grovel to a potentate in the realm that she supposedly ruled autonomously and by right of blood and the gods.
"Your Imperial Highness," she said upon rising. "I must apologize for keeping you waiting. There were... urgent and late-breaking communiqués to review. I hope I have not inconvenienced you. Are you finding the hospitality here to your liking?"
