As Zalas stared into the woman’s pleading eyes, he knew that this was an opportunity to garner favor from multiple groups if he handled it wisely.  But how could he follow the law and show proper leadership?  “Perhaps the child doesn’t need to die.  What if you take her to the outer borough and place her with a commoner family there?  She would never be able to return to the noble district, so we would not risk weakening noble blood.”

“Absurd!” Tovam snapped.  The mother gasped and squeezed her baby to her chest.  “Do not think to make your own interpretations of the law, Zalas!  This law is a simple one.  Anoth wants to keep the blight out of the nobility.  The entire purpose of leaving these worthless children in the desert to die is to keep them from breeding and contaminating more bloodlines.  This child is weak and of no value; it must be destroyed!”

Zalas flinched again.  He was the emperor, but Tovam threw his weight around as if he had even greater authority.  Zalas, even though he was born under the seventh house of ormé, stood no chance against the power of any hadir, much less the eldest of them all.  Tovam would get his way whether Zalas agreed or not.  “I’m sorry,” Zalas finally murmured to the noblewoman, “but Tovam is correct; the law must be satisfied.  You will immediately surrender this child to the hadirs.”

“Wise words at last, Zalas,” Tovam hissed before turning to address the couple.  “You are free to have another child.  Pray that the next one does not suffer a similar—defect.”

The father, sensible despite his grief, bowed his head in submission.  He moved to his wife and grabbed her arm to help her stand, but she pried herself free.  “No!  This is my daughter!  Please don’t make me give her up!  You are a high priest, are you not, Emperor Zalas?  What if the priests who named my daughter and divined her house of ormé were not accurate?  Test her yourself, Emperor Zalas, to be certain that she’s not a member of a higher house!”

Zalas frowned.  Even if he wanted to intervene, he couldn’t.  He already knew his political power was a farce, but the idea that the emperor was the highest of high priests was an even bigger farce.  Religious training was withheld from him his whole life, and while he knew plenty of destructive patterns, he didn’t even know how to use a naming crystal to divine the house of his own unborn child.  And what need did the Anotites have for learning about their God?  Anoth walked among them.  What Zalas longed to understand was what Anoth worshiped as even greater than himself: the Orb.  But the Orb, from which they had received so many of their laws, was still missing, and the Anotites all labored and awaited the day when the Orb would be found within Mount Thayl.

“I’m sorry, but your daughter must be taken to the wastes,” Zalas finally whispered as the woman let loose a wretched-sounding howl.  “As a token of Anoth’s mercy, I will make sure that the next infant born under the third house or greater among the commoners will be placed in your home.”

“It’s not the same!” the woman shrieked.

The woman’s husband brushed past Tovam and attempted to hush her.  He then bowed nervously to Zalas.  “We would like very much for you to have another infant placed in our home, Emperor.”

“This isn’t fair!” the woman screeched.  “First you condemn my daughter to death for no fault of her own, and then you suggest that I rob some other poor woman of her child in order to ease my suffering?  We don’t deserve the ormé you’re trying to protect if you resort to murdering children and taking others from their families!”

“Take the child and lead them to the desert!” Tovam barked, before gesturing to one of the other hadirs.  “Ensure that it is left behind, and if they refuse to leave it, kill all three of them.”  When the babe was snatched away, the woman flopped to the floor in hysterics, shrieking to have her daughter returned.  The second hadir promptly forced her to stand.

“We must do what they say!” the young father pleaded with his wife.

“Tovam, this might be a little hasty,” Zalas murmured, half beneath his breath.

Tovam simply turned and laughed derisively.  “If a couple so young is producing children born under the first house, what makes you believe their next attempt won’t result in a similar failure?  This girl speaks open sacrilege and should die for it.  I only show mercy for her stupidity because females are irrational creatures, especially when it concerns their offspring.”  Tovam turned back to his subordinates.  “Now get them out of here!  I want this matter concluded before sundown!”

The other hadirs bowed and obediently left the hall, the first carrying a now squealing infant in his murderous arms, while the other pushed the wailing mother out the double doors.  The father followed behind, his shoulders hunched and face entirely gaunt.

When the entrance of the hall was sealed shut and the woman’s shrieks had finally faded, Zalas let out a long sigh through his nostrils.  He shouldn’t have let the hadirs be present during the judgment.  They had no place in the courts; their role was only in enforcement of the decisions of the courts.  He alone should have decided the fate of the infant based on Anoth’s laws and his own interpretation of them.  Had Tovam simply given him the respect he deserved, he could have ensured the life of the newborn, and for his wise and selfless deed, he would have been praised as a hero by the child’s parents.  But here he was, having sent a child and probably its parents to their deaths, while the white-skinned bastard simply stared at him with a smug grin.

“Is there something wrong?” Tovam asked serenely.

“You overstep your bounds,” Zalas challenged.  “It’s my responsibility as the emperor to rule according to Anoth’s edicts.”

“It is also your responsibility to ensure that Anoth’s will is done,” Tovam replied.  “Your willful defiance often does the opposite of Anoth’s will, and necessitates correction.  You require more instruction.  Personal instruction.”

“I receive all the instruction I need from Anoth,” Zalas spat.  “Your job is to see that my commands are carried through.  I don’t need you to interfere in court matters!”

Tovam narrowed his eyes, then turned menacingly toward everyone else in the audience hall.  “All of you will leave.  Now!”  The advisors and Zalas’s wife immediately fled, needing no additional encouragement.  The dalanai slave followed, shutting the doors behind her with a soft boom.

After a few moments of silence, Tovam clasped his hands behind his back and began circling Zalas, his black caftan drifting behind him ever so slightly.  “Did you know that the very first emperor chosen by Anoth and the Orb to rule Nejim—one of your forefathers—was my younger brother?”

“I have heard the stories,” Zalas muttered.

“The eshtans of those days were warriors and worthy of respect.  I was considered too weak to take the throne, given my condition, but Master Anoth saw fit to grant me a far greater gift.  Everlasting life.”

Zalas frowned.  What was his point?

“As my brother the emperor grew weak with age, I grew strong in Anoth.  When Naltena trespassed through the parting to exact vengeance on Anoth for siding with the Orb, she underestimated our power.  We could not prevent her from snatching the Orb and sealing it within the mountain, but I will always relish the look on her face as I and my subordinate hadirs tore her, quite literally, limb from limb.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Zalas asked pointedly.

Tovam’s eyes flashed just a hint of rage, and he stopped his pacing.  “Your generations have never seen the Orb, nor have you truly served it as Anoth and I have.  This has made you soft.”

Zalas refused to respond.

“Anoth has seen this as well, and has seen fit to assign me to coordinate hadir activities with you in his stead.  Permanently.”

“What?”  Zalas’s hands balled into fists as he turned to face Tovam head-on.

“My report for today,” Tovam continued coolly.  “One of our units has just returned from a successful raid beyond the parting in the dalanai empire, Chalei.  They have claimed a dozen or so dalanai slaves to be sold in the markets over the next few days.  They ate their fill and left no witnesses, as usual.  According to reports, the Naltites still believe that we are dead and that their lesser race beast men are responsible for our raids.”

“More dalanais?” Zalas scoffed.  “I hope these aren’t useless old males like last time.” 

“This crop includes many young ones.  Several will be suitable for excavation work, and there are some that will fetch a high price as bed slaves.”

Zalas folded his arms across his chest.  “That’s fine.  I will inform my brother-in-law to prepare for the new slaves at the excavation site.”

“And I surmise that Anoth has not yet returned from beyond the parting?”

“No.  I have not seen him since your unit left for the last raid.”  Zalas scowled.  “Certainly, you would have seen him much more recently, since you’re now his personal liaison with me.”

“I see,” Tovam responded cryptically.  “He has not participated in the raids in some time, but when scheduled to be in the capital he disappears through the parting quite often, and for lengthy periods.  Curious.”

Zalas shrugged his shoulders.  “If you care so much about Anoth’s activities, I suggest you keep a better eye on him.”

“Perhaps,” Tovam mused, then nodded ever so slightly in Zalas’s direction.  “I will take my leave.  Think on my words.”

Zalas watched silently as Tovam turned to exit the audience hall, alone in his thoughts well after Tovam’s footsteps had faded from earshot.