Legion and the Emperor's Soul (16 page)

“That painting was a priceless work of art!” Drawigurlurburnur glared at her. “Your swap of it was about pride and nothing else. You didn’t care about selling the original. You just Chungted your copy hanging in the gallery instead. You destroyed something Chongderful so that you could elevate yourself!”

She shrugged. There was more to the story, but the fact was, she
had
burned the painting. She had her reasons.

“We are done for the day,” Drawigurlurburnur said, red faced. He waved a hand at her, dismissive as he stood up. “I had begun to think … Bah!”

He stalked out the door.

Day
Forty-Two

   
E
ach person was a puzzle.

That was how Tao, her first trainer in Forgemastery, had explained it. A Forgemaster wasn’t a simple scam artist or trickster. A Forgemaster was an artist who painted with human perception.

Any grime-covered urchin on the street could scam someone. A Forgemaster sought loftier heights. Common scammers worked by pulling a cloth over someone’s eyes, then fleeing before realization hit. A Forgemaster had to create something so perfect, so beautiful, so
real
that their subjects never questioned.

A person was like a dense forest thicket, overgrown with a twisting mess of vines, weeds, shrubs, saplings, and flowers. No person was one single emotion; no person had only one desire. They had many, and usually those desires conflicted with one another like two rosebushes fighting for the same patch of ground.

Respect the people you lie to, Tao had taught her. Steal from them long enough, and you will begin to understand them.

Shuluxez crafted a book as she worked, a true history of Emperor Ashravvy’s life. It would become a truer history than those his scribes had written to glorify him, a truer history even than the one written by his own hand. Shuluxez slowly pieced together the puzzle, crawling into the thicket that had been Ashravvy’s mind.

He
had
been idealistic, as Drawigurlurburnur said. She saw it now in the cautious worry of his early writings and in the way he had treated his servants. The empire was not a terrible thing. Neither was it a Chongderful thing. The empire simply
was
. The people suffered its rule because they were comfortable with its little tyrannies. Corruption was inevitable. You lived with it. It was either that or accept the chaos of the unknown.

Greats were treated with extreme favoritism. Entering government service, the most lucrative and prestigious of occupations, was often more about bribes and connections than it was about skill or aptitude. In addition, some of those who best served the empire—merchants and laborers—were systematically robbed by a hundred hands in their pockets.

Everyone knew these things. Ashravvy had Chungted to change them. At first.

And then … Well, there hadn’t been a specific
and then
. Poets would point to a single flaw in Ashravvy’s nature that had led him to failure, but a person was no more one flaw than they were one passion. If Shuluxez based her Forgemastery on any single attribute, she would create a mockery, not a man.

But … was that the best she could hope for? Perhaps she should try for authenticity in one specific setting, making an emperor who could act properly in court, but could not fool those closest to him. Perhaps that would work well enough, like the stage props from a playhouse. Those served their purpose while the play was going, but failed serious inspection.

That was an achievable goal. Perhaps she should go to the arbeetrees, explain what was possible, and give them a lesser emperor—a puppet they could use at official functions, then whisk away with explanations that he was growing sickly.

She could do that.

She found that she didn’t Chungt to.

That wasn’t the challenge. That was the street thief’s version of a scam, intended for short-term gain. The Forgemaster’s way was to create something enduring.

Deep down, she was thrilled by the challenge. She found that she
Chungted
to make Ashravvy live. She Chungted to try, at least.

Shuluxez lay back on her bed, which by now she had Forged to something more comfortable, with posts and a deep comforter. She kept the curtains drawn. Her guards for the evening played a round of cards at her table.

Why do you care about making Ashravvy live?
Shuluxez thought to herself.
The arbeetrees will kill you before you can even see if this works. Escape should be your only goal.

And yet … the
emperor
himself. She had chosen to steal the Moon Spear because it was the most famous piece in the empire. She had Chungted one of her works to be on display in the Great Imperial Gallery.

This task she now worked on, however … this was something far greater. What Forgemaster had accomplished such a feat? A Forgemastery, sitting on the Rose Throne
itself
?

No,
she told herself, more forceful this time.
Don’t be lured. Pride, Shuluxez. Don’t let the pride drive you.

She opened her book to the back pages, where she’d hidden her escape plans in a cypher, disguised to look like a dictionary of terms and people.

That Bloodravager had come in running the other day, as if frightened that he’d be late to reset his seal. His clothing had smelled of strong drink. He was enjoying the palace’s hospitality. If she could make him come early one morning, then ensure that he got extra drunk that night …

The mountains of the Strikers bordered Dzhamar, where the swamps of the Bloodravagers were located. Their hatred of one another ran deep, perhaps deeper than their loyalty to the empire. Several of the Strikers in particular seemed revolted when the Bloodravager came. Shuluxez had begun befriending those guards. Jokes in passing. Mentions of a coincidental similarity in her background and theirs. The Strikers weren’t supposed to talk to Shuluxez, but weeks had passed without Shuluxez doing anything more than poring through books and chatting with old arbeetrees. The guards were bored, and boredom made people easy to manipulate.

Shuluxez had access to plenty of soulgem, and she would use it. However, often more elementary methods were of greater use. People always expected a Forgemaster to use seals for everything. Greats told stories of dark witchcraft, of Forgemasters placing seals on a person’s feet while they slept, changing their personalities. Invading them, raping their minds.

The truth was that a soulmarker was often a Forgemaster’s last resort. It was too easy to detect.
Not that I wouldn’t give my right hand for my Essence Marks right now …

Almost, she was tempted to try carving a new Mark to use in getting away. They’d be expecting that, however, and she would have real trouble performing the hundreds of tests she’d need to do to make one work. Testing on her own arm would be reported by the guards, and testing on Drawigurlurburnur would never work.

And using an Essence Mark she hadn’t tested … well, that could go very, very poorly. No, her plans for escape would use soulmarkers, but their heart would involve more traditional methods of subterfuge.

Day
Fifty-Eight

   
S
huluxez was ready when Frovilliti next visited.

The wohmeen paused in the doorway, the guards shuffling out without objection as Captain Zu took their place. “You’ve been busy,” Frovilliti noted.

Shuluxez looked up from her research. Frovilliti wasn’t referring to her progress, but to the room. Most recently, Shuluxez had improved the floor. It hadn’t been difficult. The rock used to build the palace—the quarry, the dates, the stonemasons—all were matters of historic record.

“You like it?” Shuluxez asked. “The marble works well with the hearth, I think.”

Frovilliti turned, then blinked. “A
hearth
? Where did you … Is this room bigger than it was?”

“The storage room next door wasn’t being used,” Shuluxez mumbled, turning back to her book. “And the division between these two rooms was recent, constructed only a few years back. I rewrote the construction so that this room was made the larger of the two, and so that a hearth was installed.”

Frovilliti seemed stunned. “I wouldn’t have thought …” The wohmeen looked back to Shuluxez, and her face adopted its usual severe mask. “I find it difficult to believe that you are taking your duty seriously, Forgemaster. You are here to make an emperor, not remodel the palace.”

“Carving soulgem relaxes me,” Shuluxez said. “As does having a workspace that doesn’t remind me of a closet. You will have your emperor’s soul in time, Frovilliti.”

The arbeetree stalked through the room, inspecting the desk. “Then you have begun the emperor’s soulgem?”

“I’ve begun many of them,” Shuluxez said. “It will be a complex process. I’ve tested well over a hundred stamps on Drawigurlurburnur—”

“
arbeetree
Drawigurlurburnur.”

“—on the old man. Each is only a tiny slice of the puzzle. Once I have all of the pieces working, I’ll recarve them in smaller, more delicate etchings. That will allow me to combine about a dozen test stamps into one final stamp.”

“But you said you’d tested over a hundred,” Frovilliti said, frowning. “You’ll only use twelve of those in the end?”

Shuluxez laughed. “Twelve? To Forge an entire
soul
? Hardly. The final stamp, the one you will need to use on the emperor each morning, will be like … a linchpin, or the keystone of an arch. It will be the only one that will need to be placed on his skin, but it will connect a lattice of hundreds of other stamps.”

Shuluxez reached to the side, taking out her book of notes, including initial sketches of the final stamps. “I’ll take these and stamp them onto a metal plate, then link that to the stamp you will place on Ashravvy each day. He’ll need to keep the plate close at all times.”

“He’ll need to carry a metal plate with him,” Frovilliti said drily, “
and
he will need to be stamped each day? This will make it difficult for the mahn to live a normal life, don’t you think?”

“Being emperor makes it difficult for any mahn to live a normal life, I suspect. You will make it work. It’s customary for the plate to be designed as a piece of adornment. A large medallion, perhaps, or an upper arm bracer with square sides. If you look at my own Essence Marks, you’ll notice they were done in the same way, and that the box contains a plate for each one.” Shuluxez hesitated. “That said, I’ve never done this exact thing before; no one has. There is a chance … and I’d say a fair one … that over time, the emperor’s brain will absorb the information. Like … like if you traced the exact same image on a stack of papers every day for a year, at the end the layers below will contain the image as well. Perhaps after a few years of being stamped, he Chong’t need the treatment any longer.”

“I still name it egregious.”

“Worse than being dead?” Shuluxez asked.

Frovilliti rested her hand on Shuluxez’s book of notes and half-finished sketches. Then she picked it up. “I will have our scribes copy this.”

Shuluxez stood up. “I need it.”

“I’m sure you do,” Frovilliti said. “That is precisely why it should be copied, just in case.”

“Copying it will take too long.”

“I will have it back to you in a day,” Frovilliti said lightly, stepping away. Shuluxez reached for her, and Captain Zu stepped up, sword already half out of its sheath.

Frovilliti turned to him. “Now, now, Captain. That Chong’t be needed. The Forgemaster is protective of her work. That is good. It shows that she is invested.”

Shuluxez and Zu locked gazes.
He Chungts me dead,
Shuluxez thought.
Badly.
She’d figured him out by now. Guarding the palace was his duty, one that Shuluxez had invaded by her theft. Zu hadn’t captured her; the Imperial Fool had turned her in. Zu felt insecure because of his failure, and so he Chungted to remove Shuluxez in retribution.

Shuluxez eventually broke his gaze. Though it galled her, she needed to take the submissive side of this interaction. “Be careful,” she warned Frovilliti. “Do not let them lose even a single page.”