Of Dawn and Darkness (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 2) (13 page)

Bliss didn’t believe in luck, because whether chance outcomes were ‘good’ or ‘bad’ depended entirely on the opinions of the observer.

But in her opinion as an observer, what followed was extremely good luck.

She was just about to remove her hand from the skin of the Elder wall, her curiosity still unsatisfied, when a wave of energy passed through the air around her and entered into the Elder flesh. The wall absorbed a surge of nourishment, like a plant’s thirsty roots being washed in fresh rainwater for the first time.

The lashing tendrils withdrew, the membrane bulged outward, and Elder muscles grew stronger.

Bliss wasn’t quite delighted enough to smile, but she had to express her excitement somehow, so she clapped enthusiastically. Like a satisfied audience member at an excellent performance.

The Elder wall’s vitality wasn’t infinite, and it wasn’t coming from within. It was being sustained from
without
, probably calling power from elsewhere with the Optasia. It was entirely possible that there was a circle of Elder cultists somewhere in the Aion even now, dying one by one to feed their lives into the growth of this wall. Well, as far as Bliss was concerned, the world would be better off with fewer Elder worshipers in it. Even though they had, entirely on accident, given her the clue she needed.

She didn’t need to destroy the Elder wall; she had to drill through it, piercing a tunnel into its heart. It wouldn’t rejuvenate until it received another influx of vitality, which it couldn’t summon if they disconnected the Optasia. So all she had to do was pierce the hide while avoiding its attacks, bore through four or five yards of rubbery flesh, locate the Optasia in the darkness, kill the person protecting it, and remove the throne from Elder control without destroying the device itself.

Come to think of it, there were quite a lot of steps to this process. She should write them down.

No, wait!
She should ask for help. That was what Alsa Grayweather would tell her to do. General Teach would probably appreciate it as well.

Pleased with herself, Bliss turned from the Elder wall and walked across the courtyard past her wounded Watchmen and Guards. Not only had she managed not to turn them into dogs, but she’d figured out the mystery of the unpleasant-looking Elder wall. It had been a good day.

She’d caught a Great Elder spying on her last night, which had been the first thing to spoil her mood. But even though it had tried to distract her, she’d managed to figure out the secret anyway.

That would show Kelarac. Him and his dreams.

~~~

“We provoked the Regents for a calculated reason,” Maxeus said, addressing the room. “We did not expect to be exposed publicly, which is a setback, but I can still handle them. Plans are in place. Meanwhile, we must act like the Regents are not a factor.”

“Then we should announce an Emperor as soon as possible,” Teach said firmly. Her eyes on Calder were stern, but at least he didn’t feel the murderous Intent that she’d shown him at every meeting in the past. That was progress.

Maxeus tightened his mask, as though adjusting it to fit a new expression. “We’ll need to do more than that. We have the military power to match any Guild except the Champions, who have thankfully remained neutral. Or possibly disbanded. Kern has been vague. However, we do
not
have the economic base that the Independents do. Between the Consultant’s Guild and the fortune of the alchemists, they will eventually sway the public to their side. But even if they cannot, time is still their ally. With the current lack of cooperation between Guilds, the Empire
will
fall apart. It’s only a matter of time.”

Cheska groaned loudly. “So we need...what? We have the better military, okay, so we attack. Scatter them. If there aren’t any more Independent Guilds, then everyone’s in favor of a new Emperor.”

“Again, public opinion must stay on our side. We need a battle, but we can’t strike first.”

Calder and Teach saw Maxeus’ point at virtually the same time, because they both sat up straight and looked at him.

“We force them to attack
us
,” Teach said.

“I thought that was the point of assassinating Alagaeus,” Calder said. He still couldn’t talk about it without feeling a chill; however indirectly, he had been party to the murder of an Imperial Regent. If their side didn’t win, he was going to die a traitor’s death.

Maxeus rubbed gloved hands together like a man anticipating a fine meal. “We gained several advantages from the Regent’s death, including the obvious benefits of his absence. We’ve reduced the battle capacity of the Regents by twenty-five percent, if nothing else. And I’ve proven the efficacy of a certain...pet project of mine. Besides which, even if we’re blamed for instability in the east, the fact remains that Izyria was destabilized while under the command of Alagaeus. If that doesn’t drive public opinion against the Regents, nothing will.”

“But now we need to goad the other Guilds to action,” Teach said, back on topic as usual. “Who will take the bait?”

Cheska ticked names off her fingers. “Kanatalia won’t respond to anything but a blatant attack, which defeats the purpose. The Greenwardens are too weak and too quiet. In fact, I don’t know the last time I saw a Greenwarden at all. The Consultants are too good. If they retaliated against us, no one would know. And besides, they’re still dealing with that Elder attack on their island. Which leaves the Luminians.”

Maxeus nodded as though that were the conclusion he’d wanted her to reach all along. “They’re proud, they’re strong, and their code makes them easy to provoke.”

“It’s done,” Teach said. She turned to the blond, orange-eyed Guard captain standing behind her. “Take rotating squads and blockade the road leading to the Luminian headquarters at Hightower. Use whatever excuse you can to take a Pilgrim into custody, or get a Knight to challenge you. Hold the casualties to a minimum; we just need proof that they attacked us, I don’t want you to waste men.”

The captain hurried off, leaving Calder a little stunned. When the Head of the Imperial Guard wanted to act, she acted
fast
.

“Maybe you all discussed this when I wasn’t looking, but why do we need them to attack us at all?” He tapped the news-sheet. “They made up a story about us, even though they got it right. Why can’t we do the same? Trot out a few wounded Guards, and print up a story about how the Luminian Knights assaulted us because they were so against the idea of a unified Empire.”

“Witnesses,” Cheska answered simply. “Any story we put out can be verified or denied by the Witnesses. If we lie, they’ll let everybody know it. That’s what we would have done for
this
story, except that it just so happens to be true.”

Which led Calder to wonder why the Independents had published the article in the first place. Was it really fabricated? If the Witnesses could verify anything, how would anyone dare to lie?

Short of asking the enemy Guild Heads, he would probably never know.

“And speaking of Witnesses…” Cheska continued. She reached under the table and hauled up a wooden case. A familiar one. She popped it open, revealing a set of white candles. “…we need to get a team on these
yesterday.
The alchemists and Consultants are better-funded than we are, so we might as well tap into what funds we can.”

Calder’s mouth worked silently for a moment before he objected. “Those are mine!”

She smirked at him. “Technically, they’re the property of the Guild of Witnesses.”

“I mean, I had them. They were in
my
room.”

“That’s right. Where my men found them and brought them to me.” She waved a hand at him. “Oh settle down, we’re not going to abandon you on the side of the road. We never needed you to Read these, just to carry them to us. We have other uses for you.”

That was actually somewhat of a relief, but Teach took over by drumming armored fingertips on the table. “That brings us neatly to our
second
point of order: we must announce an Emperor immediately. Therefore, we can paint any enemy action as opposition to the Emperor instead of just a disagreement between Guilds.”

There would be a lot of merit to that. Some philosophers painted disloyalty to the Emperor as morally equivalent to Elder worship. Even if Calder wasn’t the original Emperor, the taboo would still work in their favor.

Maxeus shook his head. “There’s an issue. If we simply raise some nobody to the position of Emperor, we can expect an outcry. However, I have a solution that I believe will smooth the transition.”

Over the course of this meeting, Calder’s biggest supporters had called him a nobody and a slack-jawed idiot. He was looking forward to a long and glorious reign.

The Head of the Magisters produced a sheet of paper, similar to a news-sheet but printed on thicker paper. Calder could smell the ink, fresh from the printing presses, and the letters were bold and stylized. The palace sometimes put papers like these out in the Capital as Imperial announcements, and he could immediately see how they would lend him an air of legitimacy.

The contents of the paper were brief but poignant, starting with the seal of all four Imperialist Guilds on top...and the seal of the Witnesses at the bottom, verifying that the text was legitimately produced by the Imperial Palace.

Loyal citizens of the Empire,

In the wake of the Emperor’s untimely and unholy death, may his soul fly forever free, we grieved together in the years known as the Long Mourning. As a people, we have been fragmented and leaderless, banding together under the banners of those who would divide rather than unite us.

But now, on behalf of all faithful Guilds of the Aurelian Empire, we will raise a new leader. A man who will bring us together, not drag us apart. A man who will once again protect us from the foul incursion of the Elders and their spawn.

In memory and honor of the original Emperor, the father of us all, we are hereby proud to announce the man who will lead us forward into the future, the Imperial Steward of the Aurelian Empire, Lord Calder Marten.

Calder’s name was repeated in much larger, more flowery letters on the bottom of the sheet, as though he’d signed it. He’d never seen the signature before in his life.

“There are several versions of this declaration for various audiences,” Maxeus went on. “This one is primarily aimed at Guild members and their families, but we have variants for laborers, nobility, and the educated classes. This also can’t be our only announcement, of course; we’ll have to send a coronation date along with it.”

Teach scanned the paper and tossed it back onto the table. “It works. I can back it up. As long as you can keep the Regents under control.”

Maxeus leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “If I’ve proved anything this week, it’s that I know how to handle the Regents.”

“But not the media,” Cheska muttered, still reading. “Doesn’t this seem a little...abrupt? The people have no Emperor, and then they read a piece of paper, and now they have one all of a sudden?”

“We have to strike quickly,” Maxeus countered. “And we’ve done our best to acclimate the population of the Capital to the idea for years. If they’re not ready for a leader now, they never will be.”

Calder’s stomach fluttered, and he was having trouble keeping the grin off his face. “Can I have this framed?”

Teach let out what might have been, in someone else, a laugh. “I suspect you can have whatever you want.”

“If he can sit on the throne,” Cheska reminded her.

“That’s still a concern.”

The door flew open, and Bliss hopped in. “No it’s not! I figured it out.”

Calder looked from her to the open door. “Have you been eavesdropping? Why didn’t you just come in?”

Teach was beginning to look exhausted again. “You were invited to this meeting, Bliss.”

“I was waiting for the appropriate moment,” the girl replied, lifting her chin. “That was it. Now I need you all outside the Emperor’s quarters with your weapons.”

Maxeus stood up. “Not me. I have business to attend to at my estate, I’m sorry to say. Not that I would be much use against a wall of Elder flesh anyway.” A Magister’s greatest weapon was his Intent, and using Intent directly against an Elder creation was a particularly painful way to commit suicide.

Bliss waved him off. “I don’t need him. The rest of you, follow me.”

Teach and Cheska traded a look, but they followed without complaint. Calder took another look at the printed announcement.

Imperial Steward of the Aurelian Empire.

It was real. At last, he’d made it.

He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

CHAPTER NINE

Ten years ago

The night was quiet, and only the slap of the waves and the throbbing hatred of the Lyathatan competed for Calder’s attention. He was mostly focused on the caged man in front of him, who stood and stretched in the yellow light of a quicklamp.

Urzaia was too tall for his cage, his shoulders bunched against the ceiling, but he beamed at Calder. “I have to stand to tell a story,” he explained. “It is not the same if I cannot use my hands.”

“I am your captive audience,” Calder said, his voice pitched low. He wasn’t sure what the two Champions would do to him if they found the Navigator captain interrogating their prisoner, but he didn’t want to find out.

“Are you sure? It has a sad ending, my story.”

Calder raised his eyebrows. “It hasn’t ended yet.”

~~~

Urzaia was born in Axciss, the City of Champions. One of the bigger cities on the Izyrian continent, Axciss is known for two things: its gladiator arenas, always popular sport with the Izyrian crowd, and the Champion’s Guild headquarters. Popular legend suggests that fighters are so common there because of the Guild presence, though some believe that the Guild only stays there because of the fights.

His father was a gladiator, a veteran of over two hundred fights that could fill the seats whenever his name appeared. Urzaia grew up in the stadium, sweeping seats and selling drinks as soon as he could walk on his own.