The official had tried to provide for every known imperial fancy. He smirked delightfully when Vyrtl caught sight of the lozards tethered at one side.
"By Pollux!" exclaimed the Emperor, his eye brightening. "We hadn't expected the pleasure of riding till this was over."
"He tells me they have built a forest, Sire," reported the aide. "About half a mile square. At least, you will have some relaxation."
"Good! It is all very well playing the soldier and roughing it informally, but a man must have something!"
He surveyed the reptilian mounts that were led forward and chose one whose eight legs were a trifle longer than average. With reasonable agility, considering his bulk, he hoisted himself into the saddle and set off toward the miniature palace awaiting him. His guardsmen trotted alongside while the rest of his retinue mounted and followed as best they could.
He drew rein once, to gaze up through the dome at the yellow-green disk of Jursa. Wilkins overtook him.
"Note the dark line in the southern hemisphere, Sire," he said. "The result of Marshal Tzyfol's sweep—the one that broke through their fleets and led to their plea for terms."
"Excellent!" said the Emperor. He lowered his gaze and stretched his neck uncomfortably. Vyrtl was unaccustomed to looking up at anything or anybody. "They will bear our mark."
"It will teach them the lesson they deserve," agreed Wilkins dutifully. "Autonomy, indeed!"
"Quite," said Vyrtl, urging his lozard forward. "Who are those fools to think they can demand exemption from established imperial laws ... they should be satisfied with the standard textbooks and forget their puttering! Ha—what's this?"