Supper for the royal couple, that evening, was a chopped salad, a salad as aesthetic visually as in flavor. There were green and red vegetables of several sorts, and cubes of tender-flavored fish, with a clear, delicately tart dressing. As usual, they ate to the evening news, watching intermittently as it took their attention.
The kalifa had recovered readily from the events of The Prophet's Day. Probably because Nertiilo Parsavamaatu had been a certifiable madwoman, while by and large, the guests had been friendly and admiring. Equally important to the Kalif, the hurt she'd felt from his invasion plan was in abeyance, at least now that the subject wasn't prominent.
It helped greatly that Tain was good at directing her attention to other things. She was on her second reading of An Abstract of History, this time calling up elaborative material she'd passed by on her first reading. He wondered if her avidity for the subject was partly due to having lost her own history, and that of her home world and empire.
"It seems to me," Tain was saying, "that the empire would be better off if the peasants were taught to speak Imperial. And read it. Especially since it's not so different from their own speech.
The Kalif grunted. The observation wasn't unique to her, but it got angry reactions from most nobles, or at least most noble politicians. "Arguably true," he said. "But to impose a change would offend the nobles more than I care to just now. They're mad enough at me over the invasion issue." Damn! There he was, bringing it up! "Along with other matters. And when the Pastorate starts promoting the pastoral vote from the pulpit..."
He stopped in mid sentence; the news anchor had taken his attention.
"...Kalif Coso has released the cube of last Five-day's Diet session. A session in which the House castigated him severely over his duel with the late Lord Siisru Parsavamaatu."
He stared at the wall screen, unbelieving. He'd released no such thing!
"Their criticisms," the man went on, "were interrupted by a spirited defense of the Kalif by Elder Dosu. We'll show you excerpts of the House's verbal assaults, beginning with a motion by Lord Agros for formal denunciation, then show you Elder Dosu's defense in its entirety."
The man had Tain's attention now, too, and they watched, the Kalif in a state of near shock. Dosu's speech had stunned and embarrassed the nobles, and broken their indignation. But played before the public like this, it humiliated them. They'd be angry now with Dosu, and enraged at himself for its release. But he hadn't released it! Nor did he have any idea who could have; it was something only he had the authority to do!
Tain, engrossed in what she was watching and listening to, didn't notice his reaction till he got up from the table. "Darling! Is anything the matter?"
"That was not supposed to be released. I gave no such order, but the House isn't going to believe me when I tell them. They're going to want my body on a stake!"
He realized by her expression then that she'd taken his words literally. "Not literally on a stake," he added quickly, "but they're going to be very angry with me. I have to make some calls, and try to patch this up as well as I can."
Then he hurried from the dining room, leaving her with the television.
He placed a call to Lord Agros, who hadn't watched the news, telling him absolutely that he'd had nothing to do with it. After that he called several others. Finally he called Alb Thoga, who'd seen the news and wondered if the Kalif had taken leave of his senses; Thoga promised to make some calls, too, and to assure the Diet tomorrow that the Kalif was truly upset by it. Next he called Jilsomo, who'd also watched and been stunned by what he'd seen. Jilsomo would call Elder Dosu and make clear to him that the Kalif had had nothing to do with the fiasco. And that an investigation was being started to find out who had.
After talking briefly with Jilsomo, the Kalif called the Minister of Justice and told him he wanted the affair investigated. Starting that night, with questioning of the producer of the evening news. The ministry was to call him with every piece of information they got, till midnight. If possible, he wanted to attend the Diet tomorrow with something more than unsupported denials to offer.
Without supporting evidence, though—at least a little bit—he'd stay away from the Diet, he told himself. His failure to show up would bring angry ranting, he had no doubt, and quite possibly an actual, formal denunciation. Those he could live with. If he did show up, things would be shouted in his face that could hardly be retracted and would make future collaborations extremely difficult. There might even be a walkout by part of the House—a much greater possibility in his presence than if he wasn't there. Historically that had happened several times, blocking even minimal appropriations and largely stalling government. The first two times it had happened, the reigning Kalif had declared himself dictator "for the duration of the walkout," and the result had been insurrections, one expanding into armed revolt, the other into a civil war whose ravages on several worlds had taken decades to heal.
No, he'd stay away until he had evidence to offer that it hadn't been he who'd released the cube—evidence that at least pointed elsewhere. Or, lacking that, until the temperature of the House had dropped a few degrees.
Finally he called Elder Dosu himself. It was desirable that the Elder's message to the Pastorate not go out yet. It would be impolitic to have the pastors begin their campaign until this particular fire was out. It would look as if the two were coordinated, and tend to discredit the Pastorate's campaign.
Before he went to bed at midnight, he'd had a report from the Justice Minister. The chief archivist at the Library of the Sreegana had been questioned under instrumentation, and had sworn he'd had a call from the Kalif, telling him to release a copy of the cube to the Imperial Broadcasting Network. Yes, the call had been on visual, and by hindsight, the visual had been unusual; usually the Kalif sat close to the pickup. This time he'd sat or stood several feet back from it, and the lighting had been poor.
No, he'd noticed nothing different about the Kalif's voice.
The investigator had then checked the computer for the time and origin of the call: it had been placed a little before noon, at 11:17 P.M. But not from a Kalifal office; from a conference room in the Sreegana administration building. There'd been nothing scheduled in the room at the time; anyone could have used it who had access to a staff security card.
Eleven-seventeen, the Kalif thought now. He recalled Elder Dosu's comment just before he'd left that noon: it had been eleven-fifteen. No doubt others of the Elders would remember it, too. And from there he'd walked them to the palace entrance. He couldn't have called from the Admin Building at eleven-seventeen. But to cite them as witnesses would bring up the question of why they were meeting with the Kalif.
For now he'd simply have to take the heat.