After hours in the Great Rotunda, every sound seemed loud in the gray cavernous silence. As many times as Sereiné chose to rehearse here at this time of night, Palpatine believed he should be quite used to the change in the acoustics, yet it never failed to surprise him anew.
Sereine had borrowed Bail's Senate pod for this endeavor; that was new. Every time he thought she had certainly run out of new hoops for him to jump through, she came up with something else. She floated out over the floor and called out, "Sheev! Drive the pod out here!"
He stepped up to the lectern, hit the approach button, and drew abreast of her, just where the pods would float to address the Box, of course not present at this time of night, and cued up his notes. She had decided he would make up this speech about the history of Naboo and the exploitation of the Trade Federation, and she had allowed him only minimal notes, which she insisted he jettison before the actual day.
He looked down and blinked. "There seems to be a problem, here, 'Reine. This is …" He did a double take and squinted at her across the space. "This appears to be Berenko's Inferno. Looks like the Purgatory Canto."
She crossed her arms and gave him that irritating smug look of hers. "Mm-hmm. That's your warm-up. Let me hear it."
He crossed his own arms. "Sereine, I am not here to read poetry."
"You're not here to put people to sleep, either. It's the perfect warm-up, and you'll sound beautiful reading it. That is, if you don't insist on vocal laziness."
Great Lords of the Sith. And then he reminded himself he needed to stop thinking that phrase, lest he utter it aloud one day. It was nearly as bad as lapsing into ur-Kittât in bed.
He cleared his throat and began.
She interrupted him. "Think about the lines and tell me the story."
He cast her an ugly look and started over.
"You're being lazy, Sheev. Walk around the pod twice and start over. You're the one who's into the classics!"
He looked down his nose at her. "To enjoy, not to perform."
"You can read that as well as any actor." She lifted her arm and pointed at the floor, rotating her finger in a circular motion. "Walk around a bit, loosen up, and start over."
Lord Sidious growled deep in his throat, then walked the perimeter of the Naboo pod, littered with splinters where Sereine had ordered the bench seating taken out. He stopped at the podium, took a sip of water, and started again.
Behind her customary bravado, Sereine felt very sad.
She was beginning to see that much of what a consultant gave a politician came early in their career. She attempted her usual harsh style with him, but he was already warming to the poetry and appreciating what she was asking him to do. He began attacking the stanzas with gusto, his voice traveling up and down with the travails of the poet, soft, proud and with verve, soft again. On his own, he began to use the space, picking up the datapad and carrying it with him, gesturing with his free arm with all the grace that had wielded the foil the first time she had ever seen him, so many years ago.
She had given Finis the same exercise when he ran for the Box. The Supreme Chancellor could carry the Inferno off with dignity and grace, but Palpatine slowly lost himself in the poetry, putting Finis quite in the shade. As she had known he would.
What a far cry this man was from the petulant little fellow who had scowled his way through committee assignments just three years ago, who couldn't handle an obvious sneak attack from a journo and had just about tanked his career. The Palpatine of today handled any situation with aplomb. He needed her less and less, and he knew it, too. Soon she would be relegated to the common tasks any campaign manager did, her usefulness limited to a speech or two between reelections and whatever networking she could do for him as she circulated among her other clients.
He was handsome, he was classy, he was accomplished, he was polished. If this weren't the last time they worked together this intensively on a speech, it was close to it.
When he ran for the Box. Maybe they could do this together again then.
Sereine felt bereft, as if she were watching her child move out for university. And she wondered if their relationship would change now.
"All right, Beauty!" she called out to him when he finished his third reading of the poem. "Now. Don't look at your notes. Put your datapad down, and just sweep gracefully around the pod and talk to me about Naboo and the Trade Federation. And in the Congressional Record, it will simply say, 'Extemporaneous Remarks.'"
Her Palpatine stopped and looked at her. "Ah. I see. But of course, the cameras …" He stopped again and cracked a wide smile. "Unless, the Senate holocams just … happen to malfunction, that day?"
Sereine lowered her chin and laughed. "We're not trying to speak to the entire galaxy about the slavery issue. Just a few thousand Senators about a hyperspace lane."
"And whatever reaches Tapalo's ears is merely hearsay," said Palpatine. "Ederra, you are brilliant."
She lifted her skirts, bowed her head, and gave him a low curtsy. "And you, Zora, are Somethingroyal."
Her Palpatine's laugh echoed across the Rotunda.
For those of you who want to hear "Palpatine" read the Inferno, it's available on You Tube, posted in a channel called The Man Behind The Emperor.
(I'm sick of trying to get links to work on here.)