Eliminating the real Eteocles from the equation was, by a vast margin, the easiest part of the operation. All that Shirrin had to do was approach the man and cim that a matter of great import had come to her attention, and he obediently went away to be drugged into unconsciousness. With only a touch of aid from Shirrin’s servants, Eteocles was stowed away. Cd in his form, Shirrin returned to the courtyard and curtly dismissed his entourage to make merry as they saw fit. She made her way towards where she had seen Athan st, but was interrupted by the sounding of the Tertalia bell.

  Several minutes ter, Shirrin was fighting a losing battle against her own bemusement. It was far from appropriate to openly guffaw at an ill omen, but how could she be bmed? When she had begun robbing Peleus of his sleep, she had expected an increase in rashness, perhaps a few visible signs of ill health upon his face, not that he would openly make a mess out of one of his most public and ritually significant appearances!

  Fortunately, she quickly found a way to conceal her ughter by hiding it in the middle of a coughing fit. Ever since her birth, Shirrin had had weak lungs, easily infmed by any irritant or over-exertion, and for reasons that she had never been able to understand, this weakness persisted no matter what form she took. Perhaps it was a divine curse. There was something present in the air, yet so thin as to be imperceptible by any other means than the subtle irritation of her lungs. It was an unwanted distraction, but it would not stop her from her mission.

  Athan was, of course, seated in the vicinity of her husband, but thankfully not so closely that her every word could be overheard. The feast of Tertalia was a less formal occasion, where husband and wife could socialize with their individual circles.

  “Make way,” Shirrin said. “The general of the armies has arrived and wishes for a seat.”

  Athan looked up fondly at who she believed to be Eteocles. It had been several days since the first meeting, and in that time they had engaged in some light correspondence, Shirrin’s letters including far more geniality than the real Eteocles was capable of. She wondered, briefly, how the real Eteocles thought of Athan’s change in attitude, or if he had even noticed.

  “This is a feast, Eteocles, not a parade. There will be no soldiers carrying banners to announce your every movement.”

  “Well how else am I going to get a seat next to the Empress herself? You’re certainly in high demand.”

  Athan rolled her eyes. “By asking?”

  Shirrin nodded. “Then I shall. Athan, Empress of the—”

  “Yes, you may.” Athan shoved at the woman sitting next to her. “Out of the way, Kyra, give the man room to properly lounge.”

  There was much shuffling around, and Shirrin did her very best to hide her disgust at her present form. Eteocles truly was a block. She would have bled herself dry into the soil for a pn that would allow her to seduce Athan in any other form than that one, but as, there was no other way. Once she had spyed out on one of the eating couches and had her fill, she and Athan quickly fell to continuing the conversation from their most recent round of letters, a discussion about Sarton’s most recent treatise on philosophy of governance.

  It was not easy, taking up a philosophical debate while representing someone else’s opinions. Indeed, Shirrin had been forced to do some actual research, scouring the pace library for a recent response to Sarton’s work. She reached the limit of her understanding well before Eteocles would have, and was forced to redirect the conversation.

  “I never would have thought that a general would sue for peace so easily,” said Athan.

  “There is a time for war, and a time for peace,” Shirrin replied with a dismissive wave of Eteocles’s thick, hairy arm. “And discoursing with one’s Empress is not the time for war. You invoke my gentler side.”

  Athan ughed. “Oh, stop that. But what else shall we speak of… Perhaps you could tell me again about how you held the line against the Trabakondai? That was a roaring tale if ever I’d heard one.”

  Shirrin’s expression went bnk. This must have been a story told by the real Eteocles, and as she had not been present for it, there was no chance that Shirrin would be able to replicate the telling as Eteocles had made it.

  “Please, Athan. A time for war and a time for peace.”

  Athan raised an eyebrow. “You must be trying for something. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you refuse the opportunity to tell one of your war stories.”

  A spike of panic shot through Shirrin’s heart. She was risking the integrity of the pn. She sucked in a deep breath, frantically searching for some deflection or some other way she could tell the tale and tell it right; but the breath was her undoing. It was a particurly foul lungful of air that she took in, as a horrible cough wracked her entire frame, causing her to bend double. She clutched at her magic charm, the one she wore habitually around her neck, and which was now stored out of sight on the inside of Eteocles’s uniform.

  “Oh! Eteocles, are you alright?”

  “As alright as I can be. There’s something awful in the air tonight, some thin miasma that seems to trouble only myself.”

  Athan pressed her lips together, eyes narrowed with maternal concern. “I did think that I smelled smoke on the air, perhaps it is that? Try some honey, that usually serves to soothe Aissa.”

  Shirrin fell into another coughing fit at the mention of the daughter. The curse Shirrin had pced upon her was already beginning to take its toll, though hardly a week had passed since then. More waves of fear and uncertainty washed over her, and it was quite some time before she was able to sh together enough control over her own breathing in order to reestablish a sense of calm. She dled some honey over a bit of meat and took a bite.

  “How goes Aissa?”

  Athan became rather quiet, her eyes naturally falling on a section of bare stone. “Well enough,” she said. “Her sickness has been steady the st few days; she is dreadfully ill, coughing and feverish, but her spirits remain high. I have had to step back from some of my duties as Empress to remain by her side.”

  Shirrin nodded. For a moment, she was overcome by the tragic sadness written across the curl of Athan’s lip, the deep consideration in her brow. Would only that she were not who she was, second highest in a stack of monsters that started at the lowliest soldier and ended at the master of the world, that Shirrin could sway in and assuage her suffering.

  Instead, she was forced to use it to drive wedges. “And Peleus? Has he done anything for your daughter?”

  “No. Why would he? He is the Emperor; the city is his domain, as the hearth is mine.”

  Shirrin shook her head. “How unjust. He should be a father as well as Emperor. Is it not a father’s duty to protect the child?”

  Shirrin knew too well that Peleus cared nothing at all for family. Nothing at all.

  “From invaders, perhaps,” said Athan. “It is not protection that she needs right now, but care, and Peleus is far too strong to give that to a little girl. Why does this matter so much to you?”

  Shirrin groaned, feigning annoyance on Eteocles’s behalf. “Peleus is my friend. It behooves me to care for his morality, and brings me shame when I see that my friend has not lived up to his potential. A man who does not care for his children is a lesser man.”

  “Do not judge him so harshly,” Athan said, growing even more quiet. “He is Emperor, he is a very busy man.”

  “And I am a General. Has that stopped me from having time for you, and to express my concern for your ailing child? No.”

  “And for that concern I am deeply grateful,” Athan said. “But there is no need for you to disparage my husband on account of that concern. Do we disparage the businessman who pays only a little coin to the poor, because another man hands away vast sums?”

  “We do, in fact, disparage men so,” Shirrin said. She poured a little of her anger into her voice; with the deep resonance of Eteocles’s throat, even that slight touch of emotion had a great effect upon Athan. “And I shall do so now. Unless you have any reason why I should not?”

  Athan choked on her own words for a moment. “He, he has not totally abandoned us. He makes an appearance at her bedside every day. And he prays for her recovery. And of course only the best doctors in the realm care for her…”

  Shirrin rose from her seat. “A man commands a realm from one end of the world to another, and that is all he can do? The shame. I shall confront him about it at once.”

  In a panic, Athan threw herself forward, pcing both hands around Eteocles’s brawny wrist. Shirrin had pnned for this. The entire escation had been calcuted precisely so as to bring about that moment of contact. And yet, the feeling of Athan’s soft hands on her skin sent a thrill of excitement running through the entirety of her flesh. The sensation must have brought about a change in her expression, even if only a small one, for Athan saw it. Her eyes widened, only very little, and her breaths became light.

  Shirrin turned an expulsion of breath into a sigh of emotion, and slowly sat back down. They did not break contact until somewhat after that had happened; only a second, no longer.

  “I am sorry, Athan. Please forgive me.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “My rage overcame me; it must have been my soldier’s spirit. I very nearly committed the sin of brashness.” Shirrin paused. “I am gd that you pulled me back from the edge. And I am gd that it is you who was here to do that, for I do not think any other person could have managed it.”

  “Whatever makes you say that?” Athan said. Her voice had grown soft, not quite a whisper but gentle like the breeze.

  “Only the exceeding gentleness, the softness and mercy of a woman whose character is as temperate as yours, my Empress, could hope to soothe a man whose anger had been roused. As a virgin maiden can soothe a raging lion.”

  “Perhaps you should take up poetry,” Athan said. “If you are driven to say such things, the outlet could be useful.”

  “Ha. If I have the soul of a poet, then you have the soul of a horse. No, it’s not poetry that drives me to think in such ways. I have simply felt… strange, of te. Have you felt strange at all?”

  Athan’s expression was confused, even conflicted. Shirrin leaned in, maintaining eye contact, and a legitimate thrill surged inside her. Had she indeed begun to sway the Empress’s heart? Even if she did not accomplish her task on that night, for any attraction at all to show in Athan would mean that her task was well underway. Second after second, the Empress warred with herself, unable to answer. She shifted away, took an olive in her fingers and ate it, and continued to think.

  Suddenly, in the midst of that moment of quiet, Shirrin and Athan both became aware of a commotion forming far away on the edge of the courtyard. Athan became perturbed, and ordered one of her attendants to go and report back on the nature of the disturbance. She was gone for only a short period of time, and although Shirrin tried to catch Athan’s attention then, the Empress was entirely focused.

  The woman rushed back, almost terrified. “The docks! The docks are gone!”

  “What?” said Athan.

  Shirrin frowned grimly. She had expected this, but not today.

  “There was a great fire,” the attendant girl continued. “A great fire that spread and spread and, oh, almost every ship in the Chrysopolis harbor has been consumed! They say it has turned the sky red with smoke!”

  Athan turned to Shirrin. “The smoke! That was what was on the air.” Then, back to the attendant. “Do they know how this has happened?”

  “No,” she said. “Nobody does. It had spread so far before anybody even knew what was happening, and it was only thanks to the fire brigades that it has not consumed the whole of the city. Oh…”

  Shirrin knew how it had happened, of course. It had started with a ship named Storm, burned down by hired thugs in the employ of a senator by the name of Bellerophon. No doubt the men who did the deed did not know for what reason it had been ordered, having no more knowledge of the circumstances than Bellerophon did of the nature of Storm’s cargo. It had been carrying raw grain from Kemtry; and if there is one thing which grain does very well, especially when it has been sitting in harbor generating dust due to a lengthy legal dispute between the ship’s owners, it is to ignite. Shirrin hoped very dearly that none had lost their lives to the confgration, but she was not so naive as to think that was particurly likely.

  Two tables down, Peleus, still wearing most of his armored costume, rose from his seat and began to move with great purpose. No doubt there would be much work to be done, accounts to be settled over the next several hours. But for once, he was not Shirrin’s main concern.

  Athan was on the brink of tears from shock and confusion. “The whole of the harbor…” she moaned. “The whole of the harbor!”

  Shirrin moved in close, unsure of how best to comfort her while still maintaining the cover of masculine gruffness. She settled on a non-tactile approach, speaking softly and making full use of Eteocles’s powerful timbre.

  “There is nothing to worry about, dear Athan,” she said. “Did you not hear the woman? The fire brigades which your father-in-w established have already contained the bze, it will do no more damage.”

  Athan fell in on herself, back colpsing into a harsh arc and face pressing into her hands as she lost all ability to hold up her torso. “But the damage has already been done. How could this have happened?”

  Shirrin’s expression darkened, but she did not dare to retreat. “I do not know,” she said. “The gods have shown their great displeasure this day. But I am sure that the people of Chrysopolis will rebuild, the ships will resume someday, and silver will once more pass through the hands of merchantmen in the rebuilt port.”

  Athan’s mood reversed at once, rising up to gre at Shirrin. “Silver?”

  She had made a mistake. “Silver, passengers, news, many things. I tell you, my Empress, the harbor will be—”

  “How can you speak of silver at a time like this? Have you ever even seen the harbor, or do you only know of it by the expense reports your assistants show you?”

  “Athan, what is this?” Shirrin said, desperately trying to recim control of the situation. “Have I ever spoken of my business to you? I apologize for my wrong speech, and as a general I cannot help but know the sympathetic pain of knowing another’s life has come to an end, but this anger is unjustified.”

  Athan could not decide whether to be morose or furious, her eyes resigned to misery and her lips a sneer. “Do you think I am a fool? I know well your love of money, Eteocles. I thought that perhaps you had abandoned it, but I see now that you were merely covering it up for my sake.”

  Shirrin frothed with rage internally, rage that the man who she was impersonating had still found a way to interfere. But she could not let that rage show, and in the moment she could not find any emotion to repce it. Eteocles’s face fell totally bnk. Athan apparently took that as an admission of defeat.

  “Leave me alone, Eteocles,” said the Empress. “Go assist my husband, if the loss of some silver bothers you so greatly. There will be more, I am certain.”

  She turned away, speaking softly to one of her attendants. There was nothing Shirrin could do; any possible advance would be construed only as total disdain for Athan’s wants. So she rose, then scanned the courtyard. It was all in chaos, people and groups rushing about to share the news and hear reactions. Peleus was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Abderus. With no more business to take care of, Shirrin retreated. She found a pce out of sight, obscured by a caryatid pilr, and reverted to her proper form to think.

  It was perhaps possible that she would be able to repair the bond between Athan and the false Eteocles that she had built, but it would be difficult. Athan did not view Eteocles nearly so positively as she had assumed, and what could Shirrin do about the actions of the real Eteocles? She had been trying to mimic another and had overcompensated, walking herself into a trap purely so that Athan would not know she had seen it.

  The truth of it was that she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pull this all off. It had been so easy, when she had plotted it all out. A simple sentence. Take Eteocles’s form and seduce Athan in it. But seduction was never going to be simple, and it certainly was not going to be simple when she had to spend the entirety of the seduction pretending to be someone else, someone who was still alive and always waiting in the wings to ruin the attempt one way or another. But the pn did not work without it. Turning public opinion against an Emperor such as Peleus would require more of a spark than when he had done the same against the Pale Prince, a spark so brilliant and so bright that it could not be ignored.

  Shirrin’s breath began to hitch, and for a moment she found herself on the verge of tears. Twelve years of hard work, and it all fell apart so near to the end. But it had not fallen apart! Shirrin clenched her fist, pressed the heel of her palm to her heart, and turned her vengeful eyes skyward. She would find a way.

  SaffronDragon