Free Kalpa Imperial by Ursula K. Le Guin LAngelica Gorodischer Page B

said, defeated, when she could speak.
    Nobody moved, nobody spoke, and a long while, a very long while passed in that unmoving silence.
    “Who are you?” said the pale empress.
    “Two humble workmen in the service of Your Majesty’s palace,” said the enormous brown man. “I’m called Renka and my pal’s called Loo’Loö, a very unusual name. So unusual that I’ve often thought it isn’t really his name. But I’ve never been able to find out, because he knows how to keep a secret.”
    And then Renka smiled still more broadly, pleased with his speech, perfectly happy and cheerful, as if he weren’t in danger, as if there weren’t ten men pointing their weapons at him and Loo.
    The captain of the guard, on the other hand, was disconcerted; he didn’t yet know why he was there and whether he ought to kill these two fellows, or go silently away, or await further orders from his lady. A captain of the guard is invariably a brainless brute, but some, not always the least brutish, acquire a certain training, which in the best cases may lead to subtlety, making them act as appropriately as if they were capable of thought or reason. This captain knew, knew in his guts, that he was out of place in whatever was going on here. And so he signaled his men to lower their arms and step back, and he himself stepped back a few paces, and they waited behind the empress in case she needed them.
    “You must die,” she said, but she didn’t sound as if she believed it.
    “We all have to die, my lady,” Renka said, still smiling. “In our case it’s a pity, because there’s a lot of foreign countries we haven’t seen yet, a lot of rivers to cross, a lot of wine we haven’t tasted, a lot of sweet women to cheer us up and for us to cheer up, nights. In your case, who knows?”
    That was an insult, in case you didn’t notice, and yet the captain didn’t stir from where he stood. It was the ferret prince who spoke: “I pray you, Mother, take care,” he said. “It is not my wish that these men die.”
    That wasn’t an insult, it was an order. Remember what I told you at the start, remember that Livna’lams was heir to the throne, and when he was a little older or when his mother died, he’d be emperor. The empress kept her gaze fixed on one of the two men; she didn’t look at her son, and paid no heed to the captain and his men or the executioner.
    “But, thanks to the generosity of the prince,” she went on as if nothing had been said, “your lives will be spared, on the condition that you leave the palace and the capital at once and never set foot again in the eastern provinces.”
    Renka got up; he made a heap of the unfinished rope ladder and shook the bits of hemp off his hands. “What do you think of the deal?” he asked.
    “The lady is generous,” said Loo’Loö.
    “Oh really?” the big man sneered. “She’s so generous, maybe you should ask her for another favor.”
    “It’s all right, Renka. Let’s go,” said Loo’Loö, still looking at the empress.
    “No,” said Prince Ferret. “I don’t want you to go. Renka, Loo, stay here.”
    “I hate to let a ferret down, but this time there’s no help for it. We’re going, young ’un.”
    “It is an order,” said Livna’lams.
    “Aha, ha, ahaha!” Renka boomed. “I don’t like saying this any better, but there it is: Nobody gives us orders.”
    Loo’Loö turned to Prince Ferret. “Renka’s always joking, Prince,” he said. “But we can’t stay here. Not now. It wouldn’t be a good thing.”
    The future Tenth Emperor of the Hehvrontes dynasty understood. “Where will you go?” he asked.
    “Oh, my little ferret,” said Renka, “who knows, since we don’t know? All the provinces aren’t in the east, you’ll find that out when you’re emperor. In the western provinces there are mountains, in the north there’s snow, in the south are marshes where barbarians live who’ll kill you at a word and give their life for a friend. So