She wondered if he even suspected how well she understood that, and decided the likelihood was vanishingly small. That thought caused her to smile to herself, which arrested the attention of several Privy Councilors, who paused in the middle of speculative conversations to wonder what their Emperor's daughter knew that they didn't. They also wondered why she was in the chamber at all.
Most decided they would really rather not know, since the only reasons they could drum up to explain her presence were uniformly bad ones. Some bordered on catastrophic, so the Councilors eyed one another and kept conversation light in an attempt to steady jangled nerves until everyone had arrived.
It took what seemed to Andrin to be an agonizingly long time before the last Councilor hurried into the room, out of breath from having run most of the way, and her father stepped to his place at the head of the long table. The table's ornate inlay gleamed in the lamplight, which was necessary, because the Privy Council Chamber had no windows. The thick oak tabletop's warm honey-gold was inlaid with darker wood, ivory, silver, and even mother of pearl in beautiful patterns. The ancient eight-rayed sunburst imperial crest of Ternathia took up the entire center of the vast table, glittering with precious metals and gemstones, and faithful representations of trees, flowers, and fruits from all across the vast sweep of Ancient Ternathia swept around its periphery.
The Councilors moved quickly to claim their own assigned chairs, but remained standing while the tall, reed-thin chaplain intoned the brief benediction which preceded all official Imperial functions. His voice was surprisingly deep, coming from such a frail-looking chest, as he requested guidance from the double Triad which had watched over the Empire for five millennia. The Emperor stood quietly, respectfully attentive, as he prayed, but the moment the ritual was completed, Zindel seated himself in the chair that had stood at the head of this table for three centuries, which allowed the councilors to sit down, as well.
Zindel XXIV's massive oak chair was as intricately decorated as the table, with matching inlays, including the glittering imperial crest which shone above and behind his head and the carved image of the famous Winged Crown of Ternathia which formed the top of its solid back. One thing Zindel chan Calirath's ancestors had understood very well was the power of symbolism. He was no less aware of it himself, and knew he would have to call on all of that power to shepherd his people through the coming crisis. He settled into the cushioned comfort of the chair, lingering briefly on the realization that this chair was a good deal more comfortable than many of his duties, then spoke in a brisk tone.
"Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for arriving so promptly. We've received an urgent message from the Portal Authority. First Director Orem Limana has invoked a worldwide Conclave, scheduled for this afternoon at one-thirty, Ternathian time."
"Conclave, Your Majesty?" Ekthar Shilvass, Treasury Councilor, repeated sharply.
"That's right, Ekthar. I've called this session to discuss the reason for it. We don't have much time to prepare, and I need advice, my friends?advice and information. Unless I'm very seriously mistaken, Sharona is at war."
A shocked babble exploded around the table. Zindel had expected it, and he used the momentary confusion to glance at his daughter. Andrin had jerked bolt upright in her chair, her face white, as the import of his words hit home … along with the reason for her own presence. Then Shamir Taje rapped his knuckles sharply against the table in a brusque signal for silence.
"Your Imperial Majesty," he said, using the deliberate formality to remind the other Councilors of proper protocol during an imperial crisis, "the Privy Voice gave me only part of the message from Director Limana when she asked me to bring you here. Perhaps you would clarify my most urgent question."
Zindel inclined his head, positive he already knew what the question would be.
"With whom are we at war, Your Majesty?" Taje asked, and the Emperor met his old friend's gaze levelly.
"That, unfortunately, is the question of the hour. No one knows."
"But?" Captain of the Army Thalyar chan Gristhane, the Ternathian Army's uniformed commander, blurted out, "how can that be? If we don't know who we're fighting, how do we know we're at war with them?"
"We don't know who yet," Zindel said grimly, "but unless the gods themselves intervene, we are most definitely at war, ladies and gentlemen. At war with someone who's slaughtered one of our survey crews, apparently to the last man." He paused, then added harshly, "And woman."
Stunned silence held the room for three full heartbeats. A swift glance at his daughter caught the sudden knife-sharp grief in her eyes as his last two words registered, and she began to weep, silently, biting her lip to keep the sound from distracting the Council. He was fiercely proud of her?and more frightened for her than she would ever know.
Then he turned his attention back to his Councilors and explained?briefly but fully?what had happened. The Privy Voice answered question after question, as best she could, but there was a limit to what she could tell them. There were no answers to most of the questions, and Zindel finally interrupted the fruitless queries.
"Rather than use precious time speculating in the dark about people about whom we know nothing, I would suggest turning our attention to Ternathia's role in this afternoon's Conclave. The leaders of every nation on Sharona and those of our largest colony worlds will meet via the EVN, and, at that meeting, we'll have to forge some kind of plan to meet this emergency. We've been attacked, and we must assume we'll be attacked again, given the savagery these people have already demonstrated."
"I agree we must prepare for the worst, Your Majesty," Shamir Taje said. "At the same time, however, surely the possibility that this attack was a mistake, or that it was carried out by some rogue junior officer, must also exist. If we assume war is inevitable, may we not make it so?"
Most people would not have recognized the true question in the First Councilor's voice. But that was because most people hadn't known him as long as Zindel chan Calirath had. He recognized exactly how surprised Taje was to hear his Emperor, of all people, sounding so ready to embrace war and so dismissive of the chance for peace.
"Old friend," Zindel said quietly, "I pray from the bottom of my heart that war is not inevitable. I would give literally anything, for reasons of which you cannot even dream at this moment, for that to be true. But," his expression was grim, his eyes dark, "for the last week?since, in fact, shortly before this message was sent upon its way to us?both Princess Andrin and I have been experiencing a major Glimpse."
The Council Chamber was deathly silent, for these were Ternathian Councilors.
"Nothing I've Glimpsed at this time says war is absolutely inescapable," Zindel continued in that same, quiet tone. "But everything I've Glimpsed shows fighting, bloodshed, death on a scale Sharona hasn't seen in centuries."
Andrin's face was carved from ivory as she heard her father's deep, resonant voice putting the nightmare imagery of her own Glimpses into words that tasted of blood and iron.
"I've Glimpsed men with weapons I cannot even describe to you," the Emperor told his silent Council. "I've Glimpsed creatures out of the depths of nightmare, and cities in flames. Not all Glimpses come to pass. No one knows that better than someone born of my house. But it is my duty as Emperor of Ternathia to prepare for the possibility that this one will come to pass."
"I … understand, Your Majesty," Taje said softly into the ringing silence when he paused. "Tell us how we may serve the House of Calirath."