Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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nonchalant; the plundered clothing she wore were at least as expensive as Shkai'ra's, but understated, as
if in deliberate contrast.
A Marble Palace flunky, an Arkan, came down the steps to meet them, excruciatingly polite but standing
a little away as if dreading proximity to these unclean foreign females. That meant he had to hold the
heavy ceremonial umbrella at arm's length, quite a strain.
"After you, old son," Shkai'ra said, with a cheerful wave to the guards as they passed; several of them
stamped their spears on the steps in reply, grinning. Megan and she followed the functionary, walking
hand in hand, herding the boys in front while Sova limped beside.
They were ushered through courtyard after courtyard, gradually rising, in splendor as well, till the very
marble tiles were edged with electrum. Down a hall with chryselephantine statues of ancient Imperators;
someone had stripped the golden hair and eye-jewels, leaving blind white sockets, and gone down the
line with a war-hammer breaking off the noses. Then into the one where sculpted maidens upbore a
ceiling half crystal skylight and half golden sunbursts; Megan hadn't noticed that, in the dark. "Zaik
Mother of Death," Shkai'ra said, fingering the hilt of her saber. "I had to miss the sack ofthis ?"
"Shut up," Megan saidsotto voce , as they passed a knot of deliberately unintimidated but
harassed-looking Yeoli bureaucrats, their wool ponchos looking rough and primitive against this decor.
Then into a smaller series of rooms, still sumptuously appointed. More guards outside the final inlaid
door; Yeolis, and—astonishingly—an Arkan with the stone face of a Mahid.
"Under new management," Megan muttered in Zak. A rebirth, perhaps, but still one had the sense that
something grand if wicked had died here.
They were ushered into a relatively plain office. Relatively: the desk and wall-mirror were edged with
gold filigree.Yes … Megan remembered.I did sneak through here the night I came to see him .
Chevenga waited, face looking harried, wearing a half-poncho in the Yeoli style, amarya , they called it,
but made of white Arkan sun-cotton, feather-light and translucent so the casts on his arms showed only
faintly, the seals still slung around his neck. He smiled.
Suddenly Lixand's shoulders were gone from under Megan's hands; both boys in unison were dropping
to the floor.Arkans —they prostrate themselves in front of the Imperator. In a single motion, she and
Shkai'ra grabbed one each by the collar. "No, no. You don't have to do that. He's afriend , not the
Imperator. Well, he is the Imperator," A sudden thought came:maybe he isstanding on ceremony …
then,nyata. Not him . She was right: Chevenga just chuckled, gold teeth flashing.
"You're free citizens of F'talezon," Shkai'ra added. "Bow, like this." She did, one hand on her chest and
the other resting in its usual place on her sword-hilt; as the Imperator-by-conquest's eyes met hers, she
winked. The boy's repeated the motion, but without the wink, with dance-trained elegance.
"You found him," said the familiar soft voice.
"Ia," Shkai'ra said. "Them, actually." She looked around. "You and your Killer Mountain Boys and Girls
seem to have found new jobs, too, changed wool and water for silk and wine, hmm? Your
Imperatorness."
"So it seems," he said, in that impossibly ingenuous way. "Though you know that wasn't the purpose.
Everyone have a seat and say what you want to drink. Lixand— I am very pleased indeed to meet you."