Of Dawn and Darkness (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 2) (12 page)

The burning handprint on his forearm itched, and he absently scratched it. No one had carried his chest of clothes over from
The Testament,
so he was left with only a spare outfit that the palace servants had brought him: a set of shirt, pants, and jacket in red and gold. It looked suspiciously like a cross between the Imperial Guard uniform and a servant’s livery, but at least he wouldn’t be wandering the Emperor’s palace in his skin.

He had just started pulling on the pants when his door swung open and Andel walked in, his white suit as pristine as ever. “Good morning, August and Illustrious Emperor. I’m here to dress you.”

Calder looked from his servant clothes to the robes draped over Andel’s arm. Fabric spilled over his arm in a waterfall of sunlight colors: yellow, white, and a bright, shimmering gold. Clothes like the Emperor would have worn.

“You’re not really going to dress me, are you?”

Andel threw the bundle of cloth at him. “The palace staff seem to think I’m your manservant. They tried to get me to bring your tea.”

“I could use some tea right now, actually.”

“I’m sure Petal would brew it for you immediately.”

Calder held up a smooth white garment, like a loose sleeved robe, and an identical yellow one next to it. “Which of these am I supposed to put on first?”

Andel folded his arms and leaned with his back to the door. “Whichever you decide, do it quickly. The Guild Heads want to meet with you.”

Anxiety sparked in Calder’s stomach as he pulled the white robe over his head. Was this Bliss confronting him about last night? “What for, did they say?”

“What did you do wrong?”

Calder froze with the yellow robe halfway over the white one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Andel raised one eyebrow a fraction. “It’s obvious why they want to talk to you. Same reason they sent you those clothes. You should start acting like the Emperor now, and they’re going to guide you through it. You wouldn’t have asked unless you were afraid it was something else, which means you did something wrong.”

Calder relaxed, considering the gold robe that was probably his outer layer. Each layer was cut slightly differently, so that some of the previous colors would show through no matter how he wore them. “You have quite the imagination, Andel.”

“If you get us executed after only one night in the Imperial Palace, I swear I’ll make a deal with a Great Elder just to haunt you for eternity.”

“Where’s that tea?”

After looking over Calder’s Imperial clothing and carefully not laughing, Andel led him through the palace hallways, over rare imported carpets and decorations that would cost more than a Navigator’s entire journey. When they finally arrived at their destination, Calder was thoroughly lost.

Not only had they taken more turns that he felt were strictly necessary, this room looked exactly the same as fifty others they’d passed. It held a long, rectangular table in the center, chairs all around, and paintings on the wall. The only difference between this room and all the others in the palace was its inhabitants.

Servants stood around the perimeter, prepared to attend to any sudden requests. Jarelys Teach sat at one end of the table, holding her forehead in one gauntleted hand. Cheska Bennett had traded her hat for a bandana tying her hair back, and she was in the middle of an angry gesture with a rolled-up news-sheet. Mekendi Maxeus was the only one of them who looked somewhat calm, though that could have been the black mask that shrouded his features. His hands were laced together, his ash-gray staff leaning behind him.

A sudden disquiet rolled through Calder’s gut. This was all too familiar. Andel leading him through the door, into a meeting of Guild Heads...just like aboard
The Eternal,
not long ago. How much had changed since then?

He supposed he’d find out.

“...have to move
now
,” Cheska insisted, not bothering to acknowledge Calder. “The longer we wait, the better it is for them.”

Teach spoke without opening her eyes. “It sounds to me like we’ve already made our opening move.”

“The remaining Regents will respond,” Maxeus said confidently. “They will have to act, or else go back into hiding.”

Rather than go stand against the wall with the servants and attendants, as he’d done last time, Andel simply walked out of the room. Calder understood. If he kept acting like a servant, people would keep treating him like one. Best to abandon ship while there was still a chance of keeping his dignity.

But Calder didn’t like how alone he felt as Andel left.

Maxeus was the first to recognize his presence, giving Calder a shallow, seated bow. “The change of wardrobe suits you. Welcome. There’s been some recent excitement here at home, as you may have heard.”

“Did Bliss figure out how to get to the throne?” Surely there could be no more urgent cause than that.

“She’s still working on it,” Teach said. “Apparently the Elders sent something to spy on her last night, so she summoned a team of Watchmen to secure the courtyard. When she knows something, I’m sure she’ll...” The Guild Head hesitated.

“Delay until she feels like it, tell us eventually, and leave out crucial details,” Calder finished.

“I sometimes forget you used to work for her.”

Cheska slapped the news-sheet down on the table. “Enough about the Elders! Light and life, we have enough
human
problems to last us until Urg’naut devours the planet.”

At Calder’s curious look, she slid the sheet over to him.

IZYRIA IN CHAOS, IMPERIALISTS TO BLAME,
the headline declared. The article went on to describe the riots in the east, food shortages, and Guild-on-Guild violence. All precipitated by the ‘Imperialists:’ those Guilds who wanted to raise up a second Emperor after the first, may his soul fly free, was lost to an Elder attack. The writer even managed to insinuate that it may have been the Imperialists who engineered the Emperor’s death in the first place.

The first thing Calder said when he’d finished was, “Imperialists?”

Maxeus inclined his masked head. “That’s the charming moniker the news-sheets have given to our alliance, represented here. The Magisters, the Blackwatch, the Imperial Guard, and the Navigators are Imperialists, while the Consultants, Alchemists, Greenwardens, and Luminians are the Independents.”

“The name isn’t the problem,” Cheska said. “The name is fine. If anything, calling us Imperialists reinforces that we’re on the side of the Empire. The problem is that the news-sheets are all over us. Which means the people don’t trust us. And if the people don’t trust us, they won’t trust whatever slack-jawed idiot we stick on the throne.”

If Calder were a less generous man, that might have offended him. “Thank you, Cheska. If you wouldn’t mind explaining something else to me, though, they claim that this was happening
yesterday
. Even the fastest Navigator couldn’t travel here from Izyria in less than two weeks.” Calder ought to know, as his ship was the fastest.

Cheska snorted. “Two weeks? With
fantastic
weather, clear sailing, an empty hold, and the Emperor’s own luck. Maybe.”

“That’s what hurts the worst,” Teach said, frustration bleeding into her voice. “There’s no way they could have known. It’s entirely fabricated.”

There had to be something here he was missing. They were too upset for what amounted to little more than a slanderous lie. “Then what’s the matter? We’ll get the Witnesses to investigate, and they’ll have to print a retraction. Instead of the villains, people will see us as the victims.”

Maxeus steepled his hands again. “Unfortunately, despite their obvious deception, they’re actually correct. Izyria
is
in chaos, their Regent is missing, and we are to blame. I received the news yesterday, through a method much faster than your ships.”

“So how did they know?” Calder asked.

“They didn’t,” Cheska said, slapping her palm down on the table. “They just
guessed
, but they’re right, and now we’re sunk if we don’t bail water.”

There was still something Calder didn’t know, some fact they were dancing around rather than addressing it directly. “It can’t be that much of a disaster. What did we do?”

It was Maxeus who answered with a distinct note of pride. “We successfully assassinated Alagaeus, Regent of the East.”

Calder stared at him, speechless.

“Possibly Jorin as well, though he was staying with the Consultants. As you know, the Gray Island is in somewhat of a mess right now, so news is scarce.”

Calder still couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. The Regents were the four most powerful people in the world, on a level even higher than the Guild Heads. Contemporaries of the Emperor, they had come out of hiding—or, as some said it, hibernation—after the Emperor’s death. They’d divided the world up between the four of them, and had prevented the Empire from falling to pieces.

If any one of them had been willing to accept the title of Emperor, Calder would never have gotten the job. Neither would Naberius, and likely the whole debacle surrounding the Heart of Nakothi would never have happened.

But they maintained that only the Emperor could rule the Empire. In a sense, they were the pillars on which the Independent Guilds rested.

And they were led by Estyr Six, the most terrifying woman in history. There were as many horror stories about her as myths, none of them comforting to her opponents.

“So you’re telling me we’re all going to die,” Calder said. His senses tightened as he entered the state he always did before a fight. He was ready to run out of here and straight down to the dock, where he and his crew could board
The Testament
and stay on the Aion for as long as possible. Years, if necessary.

He’d been promised a position as Emperor, and he had no doubt that he’d make it to the throne eventually. But he would prefer it if his first act as the ruler of the world wasn’t getting blasted to pieces.

Maxeus spread his hands. “Events have outpaced us, but this isn’t a disaster. If we act now, we can salvage this. We can even turn it into an advantage. But we
must
act.”

Calder realized he had half-risen from his seat, and slowly lowered himself back down. “What’s the plan?”

~~~

Bliss couldn’t wait for Alsa Grayweather to return. Well, she
could
wait, and she
would
, because there was no realistic alternative, but she didn’t want to. As she stared at this Elder wall, as she’d come to think of it, she had begun to grow irritated. And with her irritation she became unpredictable. That was Tharlos’ influence on her, and it couldn’t be helped, but Alsa was the only one who could bring her back to reason.

She had sent Alsa away only six days ago, and she had been proud of that decision. At the time. It had been an attempt to keep Alsa both safe and busy while Bliss took care of her son, and it had worked beautifully. Bliss was pleased at her own foresight, and her tact in handling the situation.

Sadly, Alsa’s absence left her alone with Tharlos.

What if those Watchmen behind you weren’t Watchmen at all? What if they were dogs, dogs standing on their hind legs, wearing black coats and carrying spikes like they were people? Wouldn’t that be hilarious?
The thought from her Vessel didn’t come in words, precisely, but in feelings. Like Bliss would be in for the joke of a lifetime if only she would let a Great Elder turn her subordinates into two-legged dogs.

She slapped the Spear through her coat, a quick reprimand, even though its idea did sound funny. And she could use a laugh—it was supposed to be good for your mood. The wall of Elder flesh surrounding the Emperor’s quarters just would not cooperate, though she’d spent all night trying to expose its secrets.

After all this time, she’d learned only that there was someone trapped inside. But that knowledge came with its own problems.

Gray-green tendrils whipped out, suddenly aggressive, lashing her Watchmen and two of the Imperial Guards who were still cutting at the flesh with their weapons. A man scream, a woman pleaded, and all six of them backed off.

Bliss didn’t. The Elder wall had never been so violent before, which provided interesting opportunities for observation. That was her purpose, after all: to observe the Elders and learn what she could from them. She could never stop their plans if she didn’t know what they were.

None of the living whips struck at Bliss, even as she drew closer. They knew better.

She placed a bare hand against the sickly greenish skin of the growth. She wasn’t a Reader, but she was a Soulbound, and she could sense a few things. For one, this Elder barrier wasn’t just growing
around
the Emperor’s quarters—it was a
part
of them. Shutters had turned into eyelids, plaster into meat, support beams into bones, and paint into skin. Not all of the building had been corrupted, but enough that she worried for the structure’s stability if the Elder wall were removed.

The transformation excited Tharlos.
We could redecorate the entire Capital like this...but more! We’ll go even further!
Bliss’ mind filled with images of carpets like tongues, windows that bulged out into eyeballs, roof tiles sprouting hair.

That is neither positive nor constructive,
Bliss chided herself. She didn’t need to dwell on Elder imagination. That way lay madness, and Bliss could only tolerate a certain threshold of madness before she had to put her foot down.

Refocusing on the building, she confirmed once again that the inside of the Elder wall was hollow. The Emperor’s quarters and all surrounding rooms should be intact, beyond the initial cocoon of growth. And there, in the belly of this newborn beast, a person was trapped.

And that was the core of Bliss’ dilemma. Who was this person? Were they a prisoner, held hostage by an Elder? Were they the mastermind behind the Elder wall’s creation? Maybe they were food, here to nourish the wall until it was no longer needed. She could be fairly certain that they weren’t using the Optasia, because they rarely moved over to that side of the room. As Bliss understood it, accessing the global amplification relays should take quite a bit of time, and her mystery guest never spent long enough close to the Optasia.