"Next, my lord, I have a somewhat personal item, a possibly distasteful matter." Nyas peered around his nearly round nose with wide-set eyes, awaiting She'lu's leave to continue.

"Go on," She'lu said, his attention fully focused again.

"It concerns your daughter Hezhi."

"It isn't another complaint from the librarian, is it, Nyas? I thought we had settled that matter." He picked at his robe, frowning.

"Perhaps so, my lord. That is not what I must speak to you about."

"Good." She'lu frowned as Nyas actually looked around him—as if every person within earshot had not been Forbidden to speak anything they heard. As if anyone he did not know about could approach this throne. This must be a delicate matter indeed.

"You remember the incident in the Hall of Moments, just outside of the Leng Court."

"Of course. Three of my elite guardsmen and a priest were killed before they banished the thing. Apparently the priesthood has become complacent—more intent on playing politics than keeping dangerous ghosts out of the Hall of Moments." He aimed this remark, with a flash of his eyes, not at Nyas, but at the pale, pudgy man who occupied a lower seat to his right. The man—today's representative from the priesthood, one De Yehd Shen—colored visibly but did not respond verbally. Not here, anyway, and not without the support of a more eminent priest.

Nyas, of course, caught the exchange, and so shook his head. "Our records show that the hall was swept the day before, in preparation for court, and was being swept again when the attack occurred. It is hard to find any fault…"

"Something was not done right. I still feel the track of the damned thing whenever I walk there. It was strong, more demon than ghost. Almost like something summoned. But I did not summon it."

"Perhaps it slipped through or awoke when you called the Riverghosts," the priest suggested, his little-boy voice clear and piping.

"I would have felt that," She'lu retorted, narrowing his eyes. "Do you think I have no more sense or control than to summon such a thing?"

"Perhaps if some other person took advantage of your summoning, however…"

"Stop," She'lu snapped. "Darken your mouth! I've been through this, and with members of the priesthood far more competent and knowledgeable than you. I don't wish to discuss this further. And what does this have to do with my daughter?" he demanded, suddenly realizing, to his chagrin, that he was somehow missing the point.

"Your daughter," Nyas said, "was seen in the Hall of Moments with her bodyguard at the time of the creature's appearance and attack." He looked meaningfully at She'lu.

The emperor glared back at him. "And?" he asked.

Nyas sighed. "If you remember, Lord, Hezhi is nearly of age— some twelve years old."

"Oh? Oh."

"Indeed. It may be a coincidence, but it could be something more."

"Is my daughter being watched?" he asked. Was the priest actually hiding a smirk? She'lu trembled with the sudden exertion of not striking the simpering fool down. The urge to reach out, slap his soul a bit, was overwhelming. He was emperor, he reminded himself, because he could resist such temptations. His brother, after all, had been born with more power—but no self-control at all.

"She has been watched diffidently, my lord. There has been no formal assignation to her."

"I suppose we should make one then, just in case, though I find it inconceivable that my daughter…"

"Even you are not completely apprised of the River's will," his vizier reminded him.

"Yes, yes. Assign someone to watch her, then."

"My lord," the priest chirped. "That is the business of the priesthood."

"I suppose it is," She'lu grudgingly admitted.

"If you will permit me, I will bring this to the attention of the order."

She'lu drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne, looked tiredly around the chamber. The black columns that supported the roof and gave the court its name seemed to mock him, somehow. Like the priest; nothing he could overtly do anything about. Yet. "Very well," he said at last. "But I want to know who it is."

"I suspect I know who will be assigned, my lord, if you will permit me."

"Go on."

"A new Jik has recently been initiated. He shows enormous potential. He will be very discreet."

"Why a Jik?" She'lu asked irritably. "I see no reason for an assassin to watch my daughter."

"Please, my lord. The Jik are not assassins. They are priests."

"Yes. The sort of priests who assassinate people."

De darkened again. "It is common practice, my lord, when the child is a direct descendant of the Chakunge. You yourself were certainly watched over by a Jik."

She'lu aimed a smoky stare at his vizier. "Is this true, Nyas? You were my father's vizier."

Nyas nodded yes.

She'lu ceased tapping his fingers and glowered at the priest. "Very well. Send him to me, and tell him to have a care. I have high hopes for a good marriage for the girl."

"Very good, Lord," the priest acknowledged. "If you would but give me your leave…"

She'lu sighed heavily, drank some power from the River, felt it course and shimmer in his veins. He sent a finger of it out to the priest, touched his tiny, fragile soul. He stroked it a bit harder than necessary; the man shuddered and his eyes rolled up.

"You may speak of the matter of my daughter, and that only," he commanded. He held the command there for a moment, then pulled the touch away. The priest sagged in his chair, sweat beading on his forehead. She'lu smiled, feeling a bit better. He could have merely released his Forbidding entirely; it would have been less painful for the priest. Nothing that had been discussed was of any real importance, after all. But it pleased him to bring the man discomfort. Indeed, the fellow had been allowed to take notes on much of the court's business—the financial matters, for instance—and he would be allowed to keep those notes, so that the priesthood would not register a complaint. But leaving him Forbidden to talk about those same things would make the priesthood suspect he held unknowable secrets. It would keep them guessing.

"Now," She'lu snapped. "Is that all, Nyas?"

"No, my lord. There is still the matter of the Southtown Levee…"

Suppressing a snarl behind a courtly smile, She'lu settled back into his throne, resigned to an even longer day than usual.