Blood of the Emperor (45 page)

“Braun didn’t trust you,” Drakis said.

“No, but Braun trusted something more than any of us or even the Aether or Aer magic,” Soen said. “There were, it seems, a few things which he kept from me in our time together but he also knew that there was one thing he could teach me and ask me to keep safe for him—for all of us. And that is how I came to learn this great truth: that the Devotions were not used only to control the slaves but to control all the citizens of Rhonas as well…”

“That was no secret!” Urulani shook her head. “Tsojai Acheran could have told you that…”

“But the Devotions were not just to control our thoughts within,” Soen said, “It was to keep other thoughts out—other influences that were, shall we say, against the Imperial Will.”

“Yes,” Urulani breathed in sudden awe. “I see!”

“See what?” Drakis demanded.

“The gods,” Urulani replied. “They kept out the gods!”

“How do you banish gods?” Drakis scoffed.

“The Devotions made it so we could not remember the truth,” Soen replied. “The gods were not banished but the Aether magic made us deaf to them. The inner light of conscience was extinguished, that spark of the divine kept at bay. All our Aether, all our power, all our government and our resources were channeled into the self, aggrandizing the self and maintaining the self. Who were we elves before we did this to ourselves? What could we have accomplished
without Devotions that served the will of the few through the suffering of the many? We were once a beautiful race creating beautiful things. What could we become again if our hearts and our souls were restored to us?”

“But why not just destroy all the Wells?” Drakis asked. “If you restore the influence of the gods…”

“Guilt,” Urulani sighed. “It isn’t just about what has been done to them—it is what they realized, in a devastating moment, that they had done to others. They could not face who they truly were.”

“But now that we understand that truth,” Soen urged. “We can bring them to that knowledge gently and the Empire—pardon me, the Republic can heal.”

Drakis stepped around Soen, staring down at the lifeless Emperor. “I actually tried to save him.”

“Then save his people instead,” Soen urged.

Drakis turned around. He stared at his sword for a moment and then slid it back into its scabbard.

“Withering curse, you say?”

Soen’s lips split into a wide, sharp-toothed smile. “Well, people will believe anything if you tell them it was magic. So, where do you think you’ll go?”

“Go?” Drakis asked.

“Drakis is dead,” Ethis observed, struggling to his feet. “You are free to go wherever you like.”

Drakis drew in a breath. Here, in the heart of Imperial Rhonas, where the lifeblood of the oppressive Empire’s Aether had kept the gods at bay, he realized that he was not only free of the Empire, but of Drakis, the Man of Prophecy as well.

“North,” Drakis said with watery eyes. “Back to Drakosia. Somewhere I can build a quiet life of my own.”

“And I’ll take him there.”

Drakis looked at Urulani in surprise.

“That is,” the raider woman said, “if he doesn’t mind.”

Pyres

T
HE STREETS OF RHONAS CHAS were deserted of its citizens. The warriors of the Imperial Garrison, with trepidation at first and grim duty afterward, had cleared the avenues and alleys of the Imperial City, urging its citizens—largely with patience and occasionally with force—to return to their homes and to remain there until the army heralds summed them from their homes the following morning. It had taken the better part of the day to restore order in the city but by early evening Ch’drei received word from Soen that she should come to the Cloud Palace.

Ch’drei walked across the God’s Bridge over the south branch of the River Jolnar. She left instructions with the members of her Order to remain within the Keep until she returned. Only one Inquisitor accompanied her: K’yeran Tsi-M’harul who had come to summon her.

“It is so quiet,” Ch’drei said as they walked down the Vira Rhonas past the marketplace. “I have wondered sometimes if Rhonas Chas were spoiled by so many citizens but now I find this silence discomfiting. It feels like the city is waiting to die.”

“Or perhaps it is holding its breath,” K’yeran observed. “Waiting to be born.”

“What an odd thought!” Ch’drei glanced at K’yeran. “You always could find a different way of looking at things, K’yeran!”

“I prefer to see new opportunities, Keeper,” K’yeran offered. “It is better for a tree to bend than to break, is it not?”

Ch’drei nodded but remained silent. They passed the Vira Coleseum with the Great House of the Myrdin-dai on the corner.
How strange,
Ch’drei thought,
that they should have been so powerful for so long and been brought low by this Drakis. Change was the one constant in the Empire,
she thought,
and perhaps that was good after all.

They came at last to the Garden of Kuchen. Ch’drei naturally moved to the Tower of the Third Estate. A pair of Cloud Guardians stood watch at its entrance but the access to the Cloud Palace was otherwise completely deserted.

“Soen is taking no chances, I see,” Ch’drei observed.

If K’yeran heard the Keeper, she offered no reply.

They both drifted upward in a column of light until they reached the platform surrounding the base of the avatria of the palace itself. K’yeran walked before Ch’drei, bringing her across the polished granite to the twenty-foot-tall, delicately inlayed doors that led into the grand reception hall. K’yeran opened the door slightly, the light within spilling out across the platform. Ch’drei nodded in acknowledgment and stepped inside.

The Keeper took two more steps into the hall before coming to a halt.

The enormous room was familiar to her. Its sweeping pillars reached high into the dome overhead. There, at its apex, the Aether-driven faux-sun still shone down and illuminated all below in its radiant light. The Emperor’s platform still floated above the floor although now barely a few feet above the level of the polished floor.

What was different was that the hall was largely deserted except for a number of key figures of the Imperium. All of the Modalis was represented. Sjei-Shurian, the Ghenetar Omris of the Vash and Sinechai of the Modalis, stood at their head, looking thoroughly miserable. Kyori-Xiuchi of the Occuran stood behind him but would not look at the Keeper at all. Minister of Thought Liau Nyenjei, Minister of Law Ch’dak Vaijan and the Minister of Occupation Arikasi Tjen-soi stood with their heads bowed down.

Ch’drei frowned. There was another member of the Modalis, she
thought, but she could not remember the name right now nor even picture a face.

But it was not just the Modalis that was present. Ghenetar Omris Qi’sei Nu’uran of the Nekara and Ghenetar Omris K’don Usk’dasei of the Krish were both present as well. That constituted the command of all the elven Legions. Pak Getsok and Pak Temenosh of the Paktan and Daramoneti Guilds represented the workers of the Fourth Estate and a number of other major and minor functionaries.

Soen had gathered in the reins of the entire Empire.

Yet this was not what stopped the Keeper of the Iblisi in fear.

It was the manticore seated on the Throne of the Emperor. On the lion-man’s right, he was flanked by Soen as well as another elf unknown to Ch’drei and an unkempt mud gnome. To the manticore’s left was a chimerian—Ethis, she thought—and a female goblin who could not seem to keep herself still for her delight.

K’yeran closed the door, her voice echoing through the immensity of the hall. “Council of the Drakis Republic; allow me to present Ch’drei Tsi-Auruun, Keeper of the Order of the Iblisi.”

Ch’drei spun around to the Inquisitor holding the doors closed behind her. “What is the meaning of this, K’yeran?”

“It means the Prophecy has been fulfilled,” K’yeran said with a thin, satisfied smile crossing her features. “It means that the Empire has fallen—long live the Republic.”

“But…”

“The wind is blowing, Keeper Ch’drei,” K’yeran whispered. “Will you bend or will you break against it?”

Ch’drei straighted up and turned. Slowly, she walked the length of the audience hall to stand before the Council of the Prophet but she faced Soen.

“So I am the last one brought to grovel at your feet?” Ch’drei asked.

“You were the last called here,” Soen acknowledged, “but your surrender will not be to me.”

“But you
were
Emperor, weren’t you?” she said.

“All I ever wanted was to be an Inquisitor in the service of the truth,” Soen answered. “And I still am. You are being given a great gift, Ch’drei. Not only will your Order remain intact, it is going to play an
essential part in what is to come. The Order has been hunting down the truth and burying it from its inception. Now we’re going to put it to some living use.”

“And where is Drakis?”

“Dead, Keeper,” Soen answered. “I bequeathed the Empire to Drakis…and Drakis gave the Empire to the people represented in this council.”

Ch’drei considered this for a moment, sighed, and then turned to face Belag.

“How do I address you?” she asked.

“I am the Grahn Aur,” Belag replied.

Ch’drei painfully knelt down on one knee. She felt her age as she did, wondering if she had lived too long after all. “Grahn Aur, in the name of the Order of the Iblisi, I offer our allegiance.”

“To the Rhonas Republic,” Belag prompted.

“Not to Drakis?” Ch’drei asked.

“No,” Belag said. “He wanted it this way.”

Early the next morning, the Army of the Prophet charged the walls of Rhonas. They met with no opposition but were allowed to break down the Benis and Patrician’s Gates as well as the Meducean Gate that led directly onto the Vira Rhonas. It was largely for the Chaenandrian manticores who desired honor in their conquest. The fact that the city and the Empire as a whole had fallen the day before would be forgotten in the stories they would tell upon returning to the Chaenandrian Steppes.

Later that morning, the Army of Drakis organized itself in a triumphant march into the city. The citizens of Rhonas Chas watched in some confusion at their conquest but were comforted in some part by the quick assurances of the Council of the Republic that the occupying army was not bent on revenge or looting.

It was later that same afternoon that word came to the warriors in the city that Drakis had died on behalf of their cause. The victory of the morning was tempered by the knowledge that the symbol of their freedom had given everything for them. The story of his final moments
spread like lightning from post to post and camp to camp. That evening, at sunset, all of Rhonas looked up in wonder. Urulani was on the back of Drakis’ dragon, Marush. They were told that she was flying northward with the remaining dragons; Pyrash of the dwarven hero Jugar, and Wanrah, freed by Ethis in memory of Drakis’ sacrifice. Many tears were shed on behalf of Drakis as the dragons flew northward and some watching claimed that they saw a second figure seated behind Urulani as the dragons flew higher into the northern sky.

“Perhaps,” some said, “it was Drakis’ soul rising up to meet the gods.”