Blood of the Emperor (40 page)

Soen rose up, a sly grin forming over his sharp teeth. “I believe I have never been better, K’yeran. Thank you.”

The shackles instantly vanished from Soen’s wrists and ankles.

Ch’drei stood in a rush with unexpected agility for an elf of advanced age. She raised the Baton at once, aiming it squarely at Soen’s chest.

Nothing happened.

The complete absence of the deadly Aether discharge was more shocking to the Keeper than if the bolt had found its mark. She staggered backward, falling onto her throne.

“K’yeran,” Soen said with offhanded confidence. “Would you mind leaving the Keeper and me alone now? We have so much to catch up on.”

“Of course, Soen,” K’yeran replied, casting a glance toward Ch’drei. “As it turns out, I have business to attend to. I’ll just leave you two alone.”

K’yeran turned and, with quick strides, moved back toward the entrance to the hall.

“Oh, K’yeran?” Soen called over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Please see to it that we are not disturbed,” Soen smiled, his eyes fixed on the astonished Keeper.

“By your will,” K’yeran replied, slipping between the doors and pulling them closed behind her.

Ch’drei blinked, her blank black eyes shining. The lips that curled back from her sharp teeth were quivering.

“I’m home,” Soen said in lusterless tones. “Miss me?”

“Soen,” Ch’drei began. “My son…I…”

“Getting in was, of course, the easy part,” Soen said, stepping over to the nearest of the wide pillars supporting the low, stone ceiling. He leaned back against it, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. “I mean, when all of the Iblisi Order has been tasked to bring you in, who would question when one of their own Inquisitors showed up with the very elf everyone wanted captured. No, the difficult part was in contriving the time to drain that charmingly powerful artifact in your hands of all its power before you decided to use it.”

“The shackles,” Ch’drei nodded as she turned the now useless Seal in her hands. “The slow, beaten walk to my throne.”

“I knew you would appreciate the performance.” Soen shrugged.

“I should have killed you the moment you entered the room,” Ch’drei said, shaking her long, pinched head.

“How sentimental of you not to,” Soen sighed.

“You have done it, my son,” Ch’drei said, looking up from her throne. There was relief in her aged features, as though a great burden had been lifted from her. “I had always hoped it would be you.”

“Indeed?”

“I sent the best after you,” Ch’drei said with genuine admiration.
“And you survived every test, every hunter. You’ve proven yourself, my son. You are worthy of this chair.”

“Ah, my dear Ch’drei,” Soen smiled. “Why would I want to pull the chair out from beneath you?”

Ch’drei’s eyes narrowed. “You are surprising as always, Soen. What do you want?”

“What I have always wanted,” Soen replied. “What
you
said you wanted; not to save the Empire—which we both know is going to fall—but to determine that the fall happens in a way that will benefit us both.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Ch’drei asked quietly.

Soen cocked his head to one side. “By taking the Emperor’s place.”

“With just that much ease?” Ch’drei said, arching her thin brows.

“Well, I could use a little assistance in the matter,” Soen acknowledged. “In particular,
your
assistance.”

“Indeed?” Ch’drei turned the now powerless Seal over in her hands. “And what assistance would that be?”

“Why, nothing at all,” Soen said.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Soen continued, stepping away from the column and approaching Ch’drei on her throne. “In fact, I
insist
on you doing nothing. Recall every member of the Iblisi—every Assesia, every Indexia and especially every Inquisitor located in and around Rhonas Chas into the Keep before nightfall tonight. You will barricade the members of our Order in here, answer no summons no matter who issues it, and remain here—in the Keep doing
nothing
—until I send word for you to come to the Imperial Palace.”

“And just what will be happening while I do nothing?” Ch’drei asked.

“Rhonas Chas will be under siege by Drakis’ Army of Rebellion,” Soen replied in tones so matter-of-fact that Ch’drei thought for a moment she might have misunderstood him. “They will arrive before morning, through folds they will open on the outskirts of the city. Their Legions suffered in the fall of Tjarlas but their victory has brought the Chaenandrians into this rebellion on their side. They are a reinforced army of more than five Legions, with magic that nearly matches our own, and dragons.”

“Tjarlas fell?” Ch’drei gaped.

“It is a burning ruin,” Soen nodded. “The Aether from the Northreach and Southern Ephindria has been usurped by the rebellion for their own use. This Drakis Army slipped behind the northbound Legions and cut them off. Xhu’chan’s Army of Shebin’s Vengeance have no folds to transport them back to defend Rhonas Chas and no other armies can reach us before Drakis’ forces are at our gates.”

Ch’drei’s eyes widened. “How can you stop this?”

“I can’t. Nothing can stop them now,” Soen said, stepping up to the Keeper’s throne. “
But
I will arrange it so that I will take the Emperor’s place, make it appear to be a victory for the rebellion, and that I have taken the government in the name of Drakis.”

Ch’drei raised her bony chin. “Won’t this ‘Drakis’ have something to say about this?”

“Not much, I think,” Soen answered with a nod. “You see, he’ll be dead.”

“Ah,” Ch’drei sighed.

“Every great cause deserves a martyr,” Soen said. “Don’t you agree? Besides, Drakis is what holds this rabble together. Without him, who will they follow? Their rebellion will fall apart amid petty squabbles…”

“…And we will still be here,” Ch’drei finished.

“And we will still be here,” Soen agreed.

Ch’drei considered Soen’s plan in silence. It was dangerous but if it failed, she could already think of a number of ways her absence could be explained to the Imperial Court—especially if the city were under siege. Furthermore, if Soen’s plan failed and the rebellion succeeded in taking the capital city, she might be able to strike a bargain with the invaders based on her Order’s refusing to resist them during the battle.

But if Soen succeeded, her Order would take control of the Empire. She decided in that moment that if Soen were to succeed, she would have to do more than nothing.

“Soen,” Ch’drei said, rising from her throne. “Come with me, my son. If you are to be Emperor, there is one last truth that you will need to know.”

So Far to Fall

“S
HEBIN, AWAKE.”

“Go away,” murmured Shebin Sha-Rhonas, daughter of the Empire. She kept her eyes closed tightly in the hopes that the lovely dream she had been having would continue. “It is too early.”

“No, Shebin,” insisted the female voice. “It is too late.”

Shebin groaned, feeling the ire rise with her consciousness. Whoever was responsible—and for that matter any number who weren’t responsible—were going to suffer for their presumptuous inconvenience to her sleep. She pushed herself up from the warm comfort of her bed, turning to glare at the first chambermaid to come into sight. “I left no instructions to be disturbed! I am the Emperor’s chosen daughter and will not be treated in this insolent manner by…!”

She stopped her rant short, disappointed as she sat up in her bed. The elegant bedchamber with its arching panels of interlacing petals shaped from white coral that surrounded her was devoid of the usual bevy of servant girls that she demanded rush to her first call each morning. The pale, delicately carved doors on either side with their opal windows remained shut. The enormous bed, finished to a gleaming white, floated above the polished floor—an avatria in miniature—but no servants, anxious or otherwise, pressed against it.

The dark, hooded shape of a woman in a black robe stood in silhouette against the brilliant morning light streaming into the bedchamber
from the sitting room beyond. The curtains to the balcony were open, allowing the dawn to intrude around the standing figure that held a Matei staff in her hand.

Shebin suddenly felt her head pounding. She had been somewhere the night before—she could not remember where or with whom just at the moment—but she knew of a certainty that she needed more sleep. The pounding was distracting. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“My name is K’yeran Tsi-M’harul,” the woman said, pushing back her hood. “I am an Inquisitor of the Iblisi.”

“I can see that by that dreary robe you’re wearing,” Shebin answered, rubbing her bony hand down her pinched face, hoping it would help the pounding go away. “What are you doing here? Who let you into my presence?”

“I let myself in,” K’yeran answered, “but that is not important. Why I have come is to save your life.”

“My life?” Shebin sneered in disbelief. “The Guardians of the Imperial Palace are tasked with my protection!”

“And yet I stand here in your bedchamber,” K’yeran observed. “You must dress quickly, Shebin, and come with me if you wish to live.”

Shebin realized that the pounding was not coming from within her head. It was coming from beyond the sitting room, beyond the balcony overlooking the Imperial City.

Shebin slid out of her bed, snatching a robe from where it lay draped over a chair next to one of the doors. She pulled it over her gaunt shoulders as she rushed past K’yeran. Modesty did not come naturally to her but politics did: appearing on a veranda of the Cloud Palace of the Emperor unclothed would be to invite trouble. She barely managed to tie the robe closed before stepping onto the balcony.

Shebin caught her breath.

Her apartment was situated on the northwestern side of the Cloud Palace, affording her an extraordinary view of the Imperial City. The Vira Rhonas, curving slightly to the north from the Garden of Kuchen directly below her was clogged with elves and their slaves, the roar of their shouts and screams coming like the crashing of waves up to her.
The mob shifted and moved like wheat stalks or the surface of a pond in a wind, all desperately pressing toward the south. Through the avatria she caught glimpses of the Paz Vitratjen and Paz Rhambutai, both of their plazas choked with frantic people as well. God’s Bridge to the Isle of the Gods across the River Jolnar was crammed with desperate citizens as well.

The reason was obvious. Flashes of light broke against the city wall to the north of the Guild Quarter. The muffled pounding of their impact came to her a few seconds later. Several columns of smoke were rising from fires within the city this side of the Jolnar River.

“Drakis is at the gates,” K’yeran said.

Shebin drew back, any color in her face drained and she became deathly pale. She pulled her robe tighter around her. “No! It is impossible!”

“Nevertheless,” K’yeran said, “Drakis is at the gates.”

Shebin turned to face K’yeran. “He will come for me. He fights for
me
. I know it. He wants me. He’s coming for me.”

“He is coming to kill you, Shebin,” K’yeran said, taking a step back.

“Yes, but he
is
coming!” said the daughter of the Emperor, a strange, crooked smile breaking over her sharp teeth. “Don’t you see? They said he left me but he never did. I’ve brought him back to me, don’t you understand? He will love me. I’ve
made
him love me.”

“Then we must keep you safe from harm until he comes for you,” K’yeran said slowly, holding out her arms to the young elven woman. “Come with me, Shebin, and I’ll take you somewhere no one can threaten you again.”

Ethis slid down the scales on the side of Wanrah’s neck, pleased to have his feet on the ground once more, and looked around in amazement.

The Army of Drakis had grown considerably over the last few days with the addition of the considerable forces offered by the Chaenandrian Prides. Each were once again organized into their Legions according to the ancient gods of Drakosia and prepared before the mages opened these last folds to the fields outside of Rhonas Chas. The Legion commanders were especially drilled in their duties by Belag, who
impressed on them how they would each follow the battle plan as given to them or he would hunt them down afterward with the emphasis on the word hunt. The orders given them were not to the liking of the younger Chaenandrian manticore warriors who were anxious to earn their honor on the field of battle in a glorious charge but Belag had managed to convince them that they must wait until the proper time for their charge against the city—and that he alone would tell them when that would be.