Blood of the Emperor (8 page)

“Sjei-Shurian,” Shebin smiled, her sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the globes. “The Games of Triumph are underway and my presence is commanded by order of the Emperor. What urgency requires that we meet with such haste?”

“My question precisely,” Ch’dak chimed in. He had been recalled urgently from his own plans at his villa on the shores of Lake Bra’an and was resenting having to attend to business during an Imperial holiday.

“We have received troubling word regarding events on the northern frontier,” Sjei responded to Shebin, ignoring Ch’dak. “The Blade of the Northern Will and the Legions of the Northern Fist…we have received the testament of a survivor.”

“
A
survivor?” Ch’dak said, raising an arched brow above his featureless, black eyes. “You called us here in this privy for only one report?”

“It will apparently be the
only
report. Arikasi received it,” Sjei said, moving the discourse over to the uncomfortable Minister of Occupation.

“There will be only one report because, so far as we can determine and according to the report itself, there was only one survivor,” Arikasi said, his voice echoing along the columns and into the black distance.

“Impossible!” Liau sneered. “Two Imperial Legions and only a single warrior survived?”

“His name is Tasjak Sha-Tsaria,” Arikasi said, reading from a scroll wrapped around a field baton. The head of the baton was tarnished and bent yet was still recognizable as that of a Legion commander. “He was a Cohort commander under General Ch’pakra of the Legions of the Northern Fist. His family is of the Fourth Estate with their House rooted in Shellsea.”

“Sha-Tsaria?” Kyori asked. “I believe I know that family.”

“You should,” Arikasi said impatiently. “That family is the master
of trade all along the Benis Coast. Tasjak was one of ours—a loyal member of the Modalis ranks. A group of gnome traders found him four days ago on the outskirts of Char.”

“Char?” Kyori asked. “Where in the Void is Char?”

“It’s a small town on the Northmarch Folds,” Arikasi explained, impatient to get on with his report. “It’s more than three hundred leagues south of where the battle took place. We believe that goblins from Nordesia were responsible for bringing him that far south. His eyes had been put out and both of his legs broken but he could still speak.”

“We have a treaty with Nordesia!” Ch’dak said.

“We
had
a treaty with the goblins,” Arikasi corrected. “They appear to have decided to side with the revolt.”

“Never mind the dirty little creatures! Where are the Legions then?” Kyori demanded.

“Gone,” Arikasi replied.

“Gone? What do you mean
gone
?”

“They were slaughtered,” Arikasi said. “Commander Tasjak was in the command tent directing the battle from the southern elevation looking down on a place called ‘Willow Vale’ which no doubt was what the locals called that depression in the sand we saw in the Battlebox. It was a classic Imperial position and initially worked predictably well against a mixed force of manticores, humans and assorted others. The battle was being executed just as we observed in the Battlebox that day and looked to be a decisive victory for the Emperor’s Legions. Then, again according to Tasjak’s testament, magic died.”

“Died?” Kyori sputtered. “What do you mean
died
?”

“The Aether failed completely is what I mean,” Arikasi grumbled. “It vanished from the Proxis and the war-mages alike all at once. It was as though it had been pulled back into the ground and had never been. It was bad enough that the spells of the war-mages could not be cast but the folds no longer functioned either. The manticorian line charged against the Imperial Legions and the Legions could not fall back quickly enough to defend themselves, nor could they use their fold markers to attack the rear lines. It was as though warfare had been thrown back to the barbarity of the ancients—and the barbarians destroyed us because of it. The manticores rolled up the valley like a
tide. General Ch’pakra tried to flee with his guardian Cohort under the command of Tasjak but the goblin armies joined in from the east and cut them off. After that, it was madness.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Kyori sputtered. “Is it possible that these anarchist fanatics have found a way to rob us of the Aether? It’s the foundation of our Empire! Without it, we’re…we’re…”

“Calm yourself, friend Kyori,” Shebin said, resting her long, elegant hand on the arm of the old Aether mage. “They are barbarians. What do they know of Aether?”

“This is terrible,” Ch’dak said, shaking his head. “With the defeat of both Legions our northern borders are vulnerable.”

“We can reposition some of the southern Legions but it will take time,” Sjei said but he knew that it would most likely take a few weeks. Furthermore there was the problem of the missing Legions and how that might be explained in such a way as to make this debacle sound like a victory.

“I trust not too much time,” Arikasi said, reexamining the scroll. “This is the only information…and I mean ONLY information…that we have secured north of Char. Port Glorious has not reported since before the battle. Trade and communication from all along the Shadow Coast has stopped. The seaport towns of Cape Tjakar and Port Dog are reportedly deserted—their inhabitants said to have fled either to Port Melthis or northeast to join up with the revolt. North of River Town there is a great silence and it is as though a veil had fallen over that land. We know practically nothing of what is going on in the northern reaches except the rumors being spread in Port Melthis about a legendary human returning from across the sea who is gathering everyone gullible enough to follow him into some kind of holy army.”

“Drakis?” Shebin asked, a chill in her voice.

Sjei winced. Shebin was a bright and cunning woman but on occasion he would prefer that she ask him her questions in private. Sjei never started an argument whose result had not been predetermined nor asked a question to which he did not already know the answer.

“Yes,” Arikasi replied, looking down with puzzlement at the scroll. “How did you know?”

The Secret

“I
AM COUNTING ON YOU, INQUISITOR,” she said in a raspy voice that echoed in the long, wide chamber of her lair. “I have chosen you for this task. Do not fail the Order. Do not fail me.”

“You may depend on me,” answered the young Iblisi elf through a wide, needle-sharp grin as he bowed slightly, his hand to his chest.

“Then go with my blessing,” the old woman replied, leaning back into her throne with a sigh. “And keep silent the truth you guard. Admit my next audience and close the doors behind you.”

Ch’drei Tsi-Auruun, Keeper of the Iblisi, gave a dismissive motion with the back of her left hand. The young elf backed quickly away the required five steps before turning and striding toward the black, oiled doors at the far end of the Keeper’s Hall.

Ch’drei closed her black, featureless eyes and drew in a deep breath. Somewhere above her, she knew, there was a warm wind blowing across the Imperial Capital from the south, bringing with it great, towering clouds of moisture from the distant Aergus Sea. The heat would build them up in the afternoon into dark tempests with lightning that would never touch the Imperial Palace and rain that would never dampen its walls. Yet here, on her underground throne, Ch’drei suddenly longed for the exhilaration of the flash, the thunder, and the cascade of cleansing downpour on her face. Instead she was entombed in the darkness, buried beneath her duty that hung over her more oppressively
than the black stone ceiling that was only a hand’s breadth above where she sat.

Ch’drei’s previous audience had barely begun to pull open the heavy doors before a female elf pushed through them. She was unusually tall for an elf and certainly tall for an Inquisitor as they were usually called for their lack of distinguishing characteristics. She had all the elements of elven beauty—elongated, elegantly tapered skull, finely pointed ears and prominent cheekbones above a pinched, narrow jaw with fine, sharp teeth and glossy black eyes. Yet despite the elegance of her individual features there was an indefinable something about the totality of them that was chilling.

“Inquisitor K’yeran Tsi-M’harul,” the Keeper croaked in her scratchy, alto voice.

“Keeper Ch’drei,” the Inquisitor responded as she stood before the open doors, her arms folded across her bony chest and her featureless eyes narrowed under a slightly furrowed brow.

Is she actually waiting for me to cross the room to her?
Ch’drei thought.

“Close the door, K’yeran,” Ch’drei said.

“I made it as far as Zhdras,” K’yeran continued as though she had not heard the Keeper’s command. “I
should
be in Port Dog—as you asked—to capture those ‘Bolters’ out of Char and get you the truth you said you needed. And yet here I am again.”

“K’yeran,” Ch’drei said with monumental control. “Close the door so we can…”

“I thought, ‘Surely the Keeper of the Iblisi must have some special need for me,’ ” K’yeran continued in defiance. “I push my way back through the folds I had just traversed three days before because I was certain—absolutely certain—that my Keeper would not have asked me to toss aside the mission she had given me herself and told me was critical to the survival of the Order—unless she needed me particularly…”

“K’yeran, will you…”

“And what do I arrive to find?” the younger elven woman continued without pause. “Your outer hall is choked with my fellow Inquisitors who have all been summoned back here by you for reassignment and I’m just another face in the lowing herd waiting in line until…”

“Close your mouth, K’yeran!” Ch’drei snarled. “Close it now because if
I
have to close it, it will never open again.”

K’yeran stopped talking at once but still made no move.

The Inquisitors,
Ch’drei thought.
They are most useful when they are willful and independent—and at their most irritating.

“Now, close the door and hear my council or you will
never
know why I have summoned you here and I’ll find someone else for the glory which I believe is your destiny to fulfill.”

K’yeran blinked.

Ch’drei waited. She knew that K’yeran would never let a secret pass by unknown and unexamined.

The younger Iblisi unfolded her arms and turned. She could, no doubt, see the faces of the other Iblisi still standing in the hallway beyond. She pushed closed the heavy doors, turned and strode imperiously toward Ch’drei’s throne.

“My apologies, Keeper Ch’drei,” K’yeran said though there was still a touch of defiance in her tone. “I serve the truth, the Emperor’s Will and that of the Keeper.”

“Better, K’yeran,” Ch’drei responded with a cautioning undertone in her voice. “I have summoned all these Iblisi to the Keep and each one is being given an assignment which they believe is important and secret—but each of those assignments are a lie, a cover for the true mission which I have reserved for you.”

“You honor me, Keeper,” K’yeran bowed slightly.

“Then do not give me cause to regret the honor I do you,” Ch’drei said with an edge of contempt. “What do you know about an Inquisitor by the name of Soen?”

“History or truth, my Keeper?”

“Truth,” Ch’drei affirmed.

“Soen Tjen-rei was an honored and feared Inquisitor of our Order,” K’yeran responded at once. “As an Inquisitor in the field he was considered imaginative, resourceful, and dispassionate in his service to the Iblisi and the truth we protect. His methods were often unorthodox but always justified by their results. I have never worked with him in any Quorum but I did meet him once…nine years ago, I believe. And…”

The voice of the
Inquisitor
fell into silence.

“And?” Ch’drei prompted.

“It is known among the Inquisitors that he was favored by you,” K’yeran responded. “I also know that he disappeared some months back as the result of an operation gone rogue. I know that you want him back.”

Ch’drei closed her eyes.
Yes. Truth is spoken in this hall today. It is unfortunate that I am so constrained to lie.

“What do you know of recent events in the Northern Provinces?”

“Is the Keeper asking for history or truth?” K’yeran asked, raising her right brow.

“In this room we never deal with history,” the Keeper lied.

“Then the truth is that the Legion of the Northern Fist marched forth beyond the Northern Steppes in pursuit of a growing army of rebels in the name of the Emperor’s Will and for the reality of increased property acquisition by the Modalis,” K’yeran said. “It might even have turned into most profitable war for the Modalis if something had not caused a failure of the Aether Wells all along the northern frontier at a most inopportune time. Now the northern Legions are missing—apparently permanently—and now there is no information coming from the north. That was, I believe, why you sent me there in the first place; to find out what the true conditions were in Nordesia before the Modalis could discover it.”

“And you shall carry out that mission still,” Ch’drei nodded, her long fingers clenching and unclenching the smooth, worn ends of the chair’s armrests. “But that will be secondary to your personal mission.”