‘I’d like to say this was a pleasant surprise, but I think I know you better than that. I’ll have to confine myself to saying it is merely pleasant.’

Underminister Mwendwa indicated a bench surrounded by thorny bushes with brilliant orange flowers. The functionary with the parasol took up a position a little way away; not so close as to overhear, not so far as to not come when called.

‘The emperor sends his greetings to the emissary of the People over the Sea.’

‘The king, I’m sure, would reply in kind, Underminister. Though I’m not certain what he’d say about your following me around. Perhaps he’d thank you for keeping his representative safe in this wild and lawless city.’ Certain that the irony in his voice had been understood, Benzamir fetched out a paper bag of rose-water sweets he’d bought from a street vendor. ‘Care for one?’

‘You’re kindness itself,’ said Mwendwa, and licked his fingers free of icing sugar. ‘But I’ll ask you plainly: why do royal sons choose to stay in shabby guest houses and visit our iron works? I can’t believe you do it for enjoyment.’

‘The iron works were a wonder. Everyone should go. My father will be amazed when he hears of them. Though,’ added Benzamir, ‘you might want a word with the forge-master about this morning’s castings. Some impurities found their way into the mix. As to our lodgings? I’ve slept in worse.’

‘I hope you understand our caution, Prince. These are strange days. There are many visitors in Great Nairobi, and not all of them wish the empire well.’ Mwendwa gave Benzamir a sideways glance. ‘I call you Prince because I believe you have Kenya’s best interests at heart. Not because I believe you to be a prince.’

Benzamir chose his words carefully. ‘I’ve no reason to harm either empire or emperor, though you have to take my word for that. Underminister, why haven’t you arrested me yet?’

Mwendwa bent his head low. Benzamir leaned in to hear him. ‘You know of the trial of Solomon Akisi which takes place today?’

‘Great Nairobi talks of nothing else.’

‘He was an underminister, like myself. But he defied the emperor, who is wise in all things.’

‘Even if he’s wrong?’

‘Ah,’ said Mwendwa, ‘you see clearly. You brought the emperor a generous gift, but perhaps you would have done better to bring a cart-load of gold, or sacks of pearls from the sea.’

‘Underminister, I can’t help but be aware of the party factions of the Kenyan court; our delegation isn’t the only one to have arrived recently. As far as the Sea People are concerned, the gift of the book was most appropriate.’ He let that sink in, and added, ‘Then there’s the Russians.’

‘Will they press their case?’

‘Yes. They’re as passionate about their stolen property as the emperor is about his.’

Mwendwa played with the fleshy part of his chin. ‘That, perhaps, is to our advantage. I and my colleagues want the empire strong, because it benefits all people, not just us. Do you get my meaning?’

‘A weak empire is no use to anyone,’ agreed Benzamir, ‘except those who would make it deliberately weak. I’m not one of those people.’

‘I had thought so, and I’m glad to confirm this. We need all the friends we can get, Prince.’ Mwendwa sat pensively on the edge of the seat and looked up at the towers, the mills spinning on their high posts, the greenery cascading from rooftop gardens and windowsills. ‘If all this were swept away, we’d lose so much more than mere stone and tile. The Users? They were vain and stupid. Somehow they let their vices destroy them. I like to entertain the thought that the Kenyan empire is neither vain nor stupid, and that we’ll escape sharing their fate.’

Benzamir listened to the water fall and the leaves rustle. He shouldn’t choose sides, as he already had his own side to be on, but Mwendwa’s transparent passion for his city swayed him. ‘I’ll do what I can. Perhaps you can do something for me.’

Mwendwa nodded, and he carried on.

‘The trial. I’d like to take the opportunity to see how the empire dispenses justice.’

‘You will have an honoured place.’ Mwendwa stood up and beckoned his servant. ‘My presence is required at the palace. Will you walk with me? I’d like to show you more of what we might lose if we fail in our enterprise.’

Benzamir fell in at the underminister’s side, and together they walked back to the citadel, shimmering in the noonday heat, high on the hill.

CHAPTER 34

THE THRONE ROOM had changed. Filled with brightly coloured dignitaries from the emperor’s lands, every single minister of state in their high-hatted finery, the polished brilliance of soldiers’ shields and the plumed headdresses of the rich and powerful: what had been empty and impressive had been transformed into a carnival.

Sunlight fractured overhead, spearing down in coloured fragments from the windows, and the full circle of the dais was illuminated by a dome of metal and glass that had been invisible during the night.

The hall was full: the ordinary people of Great Nairobi had taken the singular opportunity to see inside the citadel walls. In front of them, holding back the masses, was a line of soldiers. Then came the plutocrats and political masters of the empire occupying gilded seats in neat rows, placed at the front of the hall.

Benzamir and Said sat with them, uncomfortable and agitated. Mwendwa had moved them from the precious but lowly positions Said had managed to obtain, and ejected two high-ranking officials from the first row. The Kenyans either side of them gave sidelong glances and whispered behind their hands at the affront.

Wahir, overwhelmed by the crowds, the strange smells and the size of some of the Masai, had retreated to the side aisle. He climbed part way up a pillar to get a better look. Alessandra stood by him, mainly to make sure that he didn’t get into any trouble.

‘I still don’t understand why we’re here, master,’ said Said.

‘Because something is going to happen.’

‘But what, apart from what’s supposed to take place?’

‘If I knew that,’ said Benzamir, ‘I wouldn’t be so nervous.’ It was true: his mouth was dry, and his pulse fast and thready. He felt light-headed with anticipation.

There was a buzz of anticipation. A line of soldiers marched from behind the drapery that flanked the throne and formed a barricade of shields and broad-bladed spears. Then the sombre, black-robed lawyers took their places at the front, where desks had been set out for their pens and papers.

A commotion grew from the far back of the hall, complete with boos and jeers: the prisoner was being brought in. Wahir, from his vantage point, waved at Benzamir and pointed over their heads.

An avenue of spears advanced down the length of the throne room. Jostled despite their fearsome appearance, the escort resorted to pushing the crowds back with their shields. Ripples of movement swirled through the hall as everyone tried to keep their places and their feet.

Akisi arrived at the front and shrugged off a thrown banana skin from his shoulder. He nudged it away with his shackled feet while one of the lawyers, a man with skin so black it was darker than his robes, whispered final words of encouragement and hope. The escort fanned out to surround the throne.

Then it began. A drum beat a slow, steady rhythm, and gradually the sound of chatter drained away. Those sitting stood, adjusted their dress, tried to look as fine as they could for their ruler. By the time the first of the emperor’s attendants emerged from behind the curtains, all was silent but for the booming of the drum.

The emperor, dressed in full ceremonial lion-skin and many-pointed crown, glided to the throne and paused for a moment before he sat. His gaze took in the crowd of expectant but respectful subjects, from the narrow slit of light at the far end of the vaulted hall to the helmets of the soldiers lined up to protect him with their skill and their blood.