Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)(96)

She stared at him in confusion, her arms full of muddy couture. “But . . . but my clothes . . .”

“I shall buy you new ones. Vite, s’il te pla?t.”

Her lips tightened, and for a moment, I thought Louis-Cesare was going to have a rebellion on his hands. Night was fading, and Christine’s good humor was going with it. But after a moment, she threw down the clothes and stomped past us, still muttering.

Louis-Cesare started across the street, where Radu was talking to a couple of cops. But I knotted a fist in the fabric of his shirt and pulled him back. It didn’t sound like we had a lot of time, and I wanted some answers. “What did you mean about Anthony?”

He gave me an aggravated look, which I caught in glimpses. The cops’ lights were strobing his face along with the front of the battered old house. But he stayed put. “How much do you know about the European Senate?”

“Not a lot, why?”

“Because to understand Anthony, you have to understand how he rules.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“There is not time to go into specifics—”

“Then go with generalities! Just tell me.”

“Unlike other consuls, who have to work with their Senates, Anthony dictates to his,” Louis-Cesare said quickly. “He can do so because the senators know that they cannot lose their seats as long as they accede to his wishes. Any challengers for their positions are automatically referred to me.”

I stared at him, sure I’d heard wrong. “You’re saying you take all challenges?”

“Yes.”

“But every time you step into a ring, you can lose. I don’t care how good you are! It only takes one slip—”

“And then Anthony would have to find himself a new champion,” he agreed. “But that has not happened yet, and my reputation has grown to the point that there are few now who make the attempt.”

“Like Cheung.”

“Yes. The rumor is that he is good—very good. But he chose not to challenge, although he could easily have defeated Elyas and possibly three or four others on the Senate. But he knew he would not be facing them; and he chose not to face me.”

“But . . . why take that kind of risk for Anthony? You’re clearly not that fond of the guy, or you wouldn’t be trying to leave.”

“You do not understand what the Senate was like when—” He stopped, staring across the street.

Radu appeared to be having trouble with one of the cops. The man must have had some mage blood somewhere, or else he was just exceptionally strong-minded. Either way, he wasn’t buying what Radu was trying to sell.

The others were nodding in time to ’Du’s somewhat-strident tones, but not him. His hand was on his gun, and he was shaking his head and backing toward his police car. Any minute now, he was going to—

He made a run for it, and ’Du started after him. Normally, it would have been no contest, but rain, mud and satin slippers don’t mix well. ’Du took off in one direction, his shoes went in the other and his face hit asphalt, hard.

“Don’t even think about it,” I told Louis-Cesare. He sighed and pushed damp hair out of his eyes. He’d lost the slide he usually used to keep it confined, and it was straggling around his face.

“When I joined the European Senate, it was in constant chaos,” he told me. “The numerous factions and the amount of infighting had almost frozen its ability to do anything, leading to disorder in its lands and rebelliousness by its subordinates. Some of the oldest senators were also some of the most intransigent and difficult to dislodge. And together, they were formidable enough to challenge Anthony’s authority.”

“But then he found you.”

“And thereby discovered a way out of the quagmire. The older senators were challenged, and one by one replaced by those more willing to work with his agenda. For a time, it led to a stronger, more unified Senate and better governance.”

“And now?”

“Anthony has had too much power for too long. He has become accustomed to having the Senate agree to any and all of his policies. Including those that are short-sighted or detrimental.”

“He’s become a tyrant, in other words.”

“Let us say that some of his actions have begun to worry me,” Louis-Cesare said drily. “And then I came here two months ago, to assist your consul in a duel, and saw a very different type of Senate. The senators were loud and unruly, and the consul had to flatter and cajole and threaten to get anywhere with them. Factionalism was rife and tempers were quick, and some measures had been stuck in debate for decades with very little movement. It was chaos.”

“Made you rethink your conclusion?”

“No. It made me realize how . . . sterile . . . our Senate had become. There is no debate anymore, no discussion, no need for compromise. All anyone wishes to know is what Anthony wants to do. And then I met you and—”

He was interrupted by a shout. It looked like the fall had broken Radu’s concentration—and his mental hold on the cops. Three of them were staring around like sleepwalkers waking up in an unfamiliar location. But a couple others had already shrugged it off. One of them had ’Du by the arm, while his colleague went for a CB.

“And?” I demanded.

“And by the time the date came for my return, I found that I did not wish to go.”