Most of the Imperium’s history lies ahead of us, beyond our view. But mark my words: I will be remembered.

—EMPEROR SALVADOR CORRINO, coronation speech

Though Roderick was two years younger than his brother, he often felt like the more mature one.

He bit his tongue as he listened to Salvador stumble through a practice speech in one of the garden salons of the Imperial Palace. The prismatic doors were closed, and Roderick was the sole audience. He sat on a stiff divan facing his brother, hoping to offer advice.

After Manford Torondo’s appearance before the Landsraad Council, and continuing outbreaks of Butlerian fervor, Roderick had dusted off an anticomputer speech Emperor Jules had delivered more than once; he substituted simplified phrasings to better suit Salvador, rather than the more flowery language that their father had favored. Roderick was happy with how he’d updated the speech, but as he listened to his brother practicing, he noted Salvador’s tendency to slow his words and stumble over them, without using the proper timing or inflection.

“The defense against temptation ends at home, I mean, begins at…” Salvador looked back at the text, and shook his head. “I shall never be a great orator, Brother, so let’s set a simpler goal of not causing any further damage.”

“That was perfectly acceptable,” he lied, “but I’ve heard you do better. Even so, the people will understand your message. And it should serve to quell some of the Butlerian antics for the time being.”

Salvador seemed to see through the feeble effort to raise his spirits. He just shook his head in dismay and again studied the words on the holo-prompter.

*   *   *

AFTER HELPING HIS brother prepare, Roderick still had a great deal of work to do and no time to talk with his wife, Haditha. She had sent messages to him through servants, and now he hurried home to dress for the public speech. He didn’t even learn of an emergency involving Haditha until he entered the royal apartments.

His wife was already gone, and the glum chief of staff told him about a confrontation between Haditha and her personal secretary, Sister Perianna, a nosy and humorless woman who had also been trained on Rossak (though Roderick did not find her at all comparable to Sister Dorotea). Apparently, Perianna had left her position on short notice and was no longer welcome at the Palace.

Right now, though, Roderick could not worry about a domestic squabble. Haditha was able to handle her own household staff. He barely had time to dress for the evening, grab a quick platter of bread and cold meats, before he had to leave for the Hall of Parliament. He hoped Salvador had practiced the speech a few more times.

He found Haditha already waiting for him in the private box they shared on one side of the central stage in the cavernous open hall. With long, curly auburn hair and patrician features, she resembled portraits Roderick had seen of her late grand-uncle, a military figure in the Jihad, but with more delicate features and darker eyes. She wore a black lace gown with a pearl necklace; her hair was held in place with a ruby-studded barrette.

As Roderick sat down, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Today has been quite a rush.” He was attired in a tuxedo with tails in preparation for a society party to be held after the speech. His stomach churned from the food he had downed so quickly.

From her intense, flashing eyes, he could tell Haditha was upset. “Today has been a disaster. Perianna is gone—and good riddance.”

He could see the deep hurt on his wife’s face, and assumed this was more than just an argument with her personal secretary. “What happened?”

“For weeks now, I have been noticing small details … some of my possessions moved, drawers not quite closed the same way I left them, documents a little straighter, a stylus out of place on my writing desk—and on yours.”

“My writing desk? Was anything taken?”

“Not that I could tell. Perianna is the only one who had access, but she denied everything when I asked her. Today, though, I saw her slip out of my private study. I hid, so she didn’t know I’d caught her—and when I asked her later, Perianna claimed she had never gone there, which I knew was a lie. So I exposed her. She made a great show of indignation, insisted that I search her quarters and all her possessions if I thought she was a thief.”

Roderick narrowed his eyes, feeling a growing concern. “And did you?”

“I had to, once she’d pushed me to it. Of course, we didn’t find anything—as she must have known.” Haditha’s eyes flashed with anger. “Perianna said she could no longer serve me properly if I didn’t trust her, and she resigned from my service. I let her go.”

Roderick felt cold. The departed servant had been trained in the Sisterhood, and he knew from Dorotea’s openly demonstrated skills that Perianna could well have memorized anything she saw, without carrying physical evidence. “Maybe we should have held her for further interrogation.”

“That’s what I realized—but too late, and she was already gone. She’s departed from Salusa.”

Roderick clenched his jaw. He knew that his wife kept no dangerous state secrets in her private chambers, so Perianna wouldn’t have found anything critical. Even if she’d caught a glimpse of his own private journal, it contained only a few personal entries about his family, nothing politically significant. And there was no proof of her spying, but he still felt a sinking sensation in his already roiling stomach.

Emperor Salvador emerged on the stage below, walking toward the podium. The brothers each wore implanted transceivers, so that Roderick could provide comments to Salvador, if necessary. When Roderick kept the transceiver switched off so he could think about what his wife had told him, Salvador flashed an uneasy glance up at the box.

“It’s probably nothing,” Roderick said, and then turned his focus on the Emperor’s speech. He squeezed his earlobe to turn on the transceiver, and noticed Salvador’s expression of great relief before he took to the podium.