The Queen of Lies (46 page)

“His name is Heath Gisasos, no connection to the Bamoran house. He’s their best assassin,” Cameron whispered to Sireen.

“Thanks.” Heath smiled. “I voted for you in the last election. About a hundred and fifty times.”

“Fair elections indeed. Utter nonsense,” Dame Woodhouse scoffed.

“What do you want?” Sireen bubbled. “I’ve promised to restore the nobility to power for Dame Woodhouse, and she gladly accepted. To the Lyceum I’ve offered a new charter that will restore necromantic education and provide revenue through imperial scholarships. To the Invocari I’ve offered aid in reassembling the Dark Star and increasing their recruitment pipelines. And to Warmaster Jasyn, I’ve agreed to a wage increase for the troops and a tripling of new contracts over the next six months.”

“What of the Assembly?” Jessa asked. “They represent the people. What do you offer them?”

“Darling,” Dame Woodhouse cooed, “I speak for my assemblyman husband when I say the Assembly is two-thirds born of noble rank. We’ll govern this city as fairly and ably as we always have.”

Cameron glowered but said nothing.

“If you wish to return to the old ways, you’ll address me as ‘Your Majesty.’” Jessa quipped. “You’ll be vassals to the Coral Throne, and you’ll never rise above your meager stations. There are much bigger fish than sharks that swim the waters of the Sunken Palace. It’s something to which you should give great consideration.”

“Sorry, Your Majesty.” Dame Woodhouse nearly choked on her words. Her face was bright red.

Sireen cleared her throat. “Let’s not quibble. These are hard times, and all of us are unable to alter the events that have been set in motion. Still, transitions represent opportunity. The Dominance needs visionaries and new ideas. I’m very interested to hear how the Orthodoxy sees itself in this new age.”

“Quick interjection,” Sword said. “I have my own college of magic, recently acquired. It’s more of an unstructured curriculum catering to magically gifted students with special needs. I’d like your blood oath that the derelict DiVarian estate will be the site of the new college and a statue of me will be erected in the center.”

“Something needs to be done with the place. It’s an eyesore,” Dame Woodhouse said under her breath. Jessa was really starting to hate her.

“Why not?” Sireen said. “It sounds wonderful.”

“You? A dean?” Turnbull looked appalled.

“I learned the Grand Design from Achelon himself, and I’m probably the most powerful mage in all Creation.” Sword winked. “But I do respect your accomplishments. Was there any hint of deception when Sireen agreed to my request?”

Turnbull regarded him warily. “I haven’t heard
anything
that has rung untrue…even when it should.”

“Good enough,” Sword chirped. “Is there any more of this bubbly stuff? It’s really good.”

Heath grabbed Jessa and took her aside, pressing his lips against her ear. “I need to know how you want to play this.”

“I thought you had a plan,” Jessa whispered back.

“I thought the Thunderstone was here. Can you defeat your mother with Sireen’s help?”

“Satryn will always be stronger than anyone beneath her.”

“If your mother dies, do you become empress?”

“I…don’t know. Nasara should be Tempest, but Satryn is pureblood, which disturbs the rules of primogeniture. It will be one of us.”

“You need to figure that out. Every move she makes hinges on that. All of this is just a distraction.”

Jessa nodded. She had been raised in the shadow of the Coral Throne. Her mother constantly threatened that she may one day sit atop it. And now those empty-sounding words were coming to fruition.

She turned to Sireen. “Will the Orthodoxy have a place here, or will Rivern bow to Kultea?”

Sireen sighed, as if the question offended her. “The law can’t dictate the heart. People can worship whichever god they like. You know that I allow heretic cults of Kondole to more or less practice openly in Mazitar. That faith is as much a part of our history as Kultea is.”

No one from the Protectorate blinked, but it was a bold statement that could have meant death if uttered in the wrong company.

Jessa peered at her skeptically. “Kultea’s tendrils lash this city. Are you certain you wish to utter the name of the Father Whale?”

“There’s so much for you to learn. Come with me to Mazitar,” Sireen pleaded. “Let your son be born amid beauty, where it is always summer. You can be far from the intrigues of court, protected from your mother until the time is right to deal with her.”

“And what happens then?” Jessa asked. “Who sits on the Coral Throne after her, after you’ve had months to seduce me with your flowery words and promises of religious enlightenment?”

“I’m not your enemy, Jessa,” Sireen insisted. “Cameron and I are your family. We want you to be happy and protected. I can teach you how to navigate the intrigues of court without losing your compassion. And, if and when the time comes, make you a great empress.”

Sword sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find more bubbly myself. Call for me if anything interesting happens.”

“There should be some in the pantry,” Dame Woodhouse whispered. “Fetch some for me as well.”

“Ten million ducats,” Heath stated. All eyes except Sword’s fixed on him.

Sireen placed her hand against her chest. “That’s quite a request, Abbot. I’d need time to consider granting such a large endowment.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Heath stated. “I was naming my price to Jessa. Ten million ducats, and we kill your mother tonight.”

“It’s too soon,” Sireen cautioned as she stood.

“You have no authority over my decisions,” Jessa said. “My mother’s concentrated blood makes us of the same generation, and her status as Tempest makes me tied in the line of succession with Nasara. Either way you and your supporters draw breath at my mercy.”

“Jessa…” Cameron said. “I swore my life to you.”

“Fuck you,” Jessa spat. “How many sides of this intrigue are you playing? Does Nasara also consider you a confidant? Tell me once and honestly if you ever loved me.”

Turnbull giggled. “Now it’s getting good.”

“She’s got you by the balls,” Sword called from the kitchen. The sound of a popped cork shortly followed.

Cameron glanced furtively back and forth. “I enjoyed our time together…”

“You enjoyed fucking me!” Jessa shouted. The room rattled with the vibration of thunder.

He stiffened and met her gaze. “I care for you and our son, but I never loved you as anything more than a friend, Jessa. I did my duty as a faithful servant of the Coral Throne. I’ll do anything you ask of me, but my heart belongs to another.”

“Who?” Turnbull asked.

Jessa sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m satisfied, and we have more pressing business. Heath, I accept your proposal. Kill my mother, and ten million ducats will be yours, along with the title of Imperial Viceroy over lands and nations to be determined.”

Sword came out of the kitchen, bottle in hand. “I’m going to be doing most of the work here…”

“Ten million apiece,” Jessa said. “The same offer stands for any who would join me.” She turned and addressed Turnbull and Loran. “You’re both released from these negotiations. You’ll be given everything that has been promised should events favor us, in addition to any restitutions for damages incurred by the Thrycean Dominance. You’re under no obligation to accept what Sireen has offered.”

Loran nodded. “I wouldn’t accept her terms in any instance, but I’ll remember this.”

Sireen grinned. “I misjudged you, Jessa, and I rarely do that. Your mother misjudges you more. Use that. I’ll see the members of this council to safety and await you at the Red Army encampment.”

“See that they are safe,” Jessa said. “But I’m warning you: I’m not some porcelain doll for you to put on the throne and use to further your own agenda. Although Satryn failed me in so many ways, she schooled me well in intrigue—better than she suspects. Don’t make me use those skills, and we’ll know only love between us.”

Sireen placed her hand on her heart. “You’re free to deny my guidance, but I expect great things from you, niece.”

Dame Woodhouse interjected, “The aristocracy would feel much more comfortable with Her Majesty than Satryn. Princess Jessa has made an earnest effort to understand our city and represents a softer image of the Dominance.” She turned to Sword. “Could you pour me some wine, Viceroy?”

Sword waved his hand, and a tendril of bubbly snaked out of the bottle and congealed into a floating sphere. It formed a somewhat small avian shape, and its wings began to flutter like a hummingbird while the body remained still, with effervescent bubbles floating through it. It dive-bombed into Dame Woodhouse’s glass, filling it perfectly to the bell.

“Amazing! How in the hells did you accomplish that?” Turnbull exclaimed.

“It’s easy when your second brain can do persistent calculations of fluid dynamics,” Sword explained. “I’m just that fucking amazing.”

Turnbull shook his head. “Who
are
you?”

“I’m still working on that,” Sword said, then paused. Finally he said, “Turnbull, as much as it pains me to put these words together in a sentence, we could use your help.”

“Given your skill, I would be a liability,” he admitted, then turned to the princess. “Jessa, I wish you every success. Torin would have been lucky to marry you. May I ask whether your child is his?”

“I wish he had been,” Jessa said, ignoring Cameron’s tortured gaze. “I knew very little of Torin, but he was kind and honest. It’s a legacy that deserves to be remembered.”

“That means more to me than you know.”

“Okay, sore subject,” Sword grunted. “Can we go now? I’m bored.”

“You need a plan,” Loran said gruffly. The Grand Invocus was beaten and powerless, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Sword chugged some bubbly and slammed the bottle down. “Yeah, I got a plan."

I
F THERE IS
a god looking down on us, he might see the world as we see the stars in the sky. Unchanging lights flickering in a tranquil void. What we see as global chaos is just a twinkle from the heavens.

—
THE STARGAZER, TRAVELER PROVERBS

S
ATRYN HAD SPENT
so many months in captivity that it made her giddy to be beneath the open sky. The cold rain pounding her naked skin felt like a reunion with nature. Night had fallen, but the darkening clouds blotted out the stars. The presence of her goddess flowed through her as she stood in the center of Oiler’s Park. All around her lightning fell, hammering her foes as they struggled to launch assaults from behind crudely assembled barricades.

Kultea’s tentacles swam through the water and brought the fury of elemental might to buildings and houses. She was in ten places at once, her body one with the water that was once Rivern’s lifeblood. Now it was hers to command, and she was aware of the entire city. As troops scrambled, she shattered causeways. As the mages left the Lyceum, she swatted them into paste with tendrils of water.

She lashed and destroyed gleefully. For a city so proud of its engineers, how easily their silly contraptions shattered. Without the Invocari to freeze the water, Rivern was revealed for what it was—a glorified collection of mud hovels for Genatrovan peasants thinking themselves the equals of the gods.

The power intoxicated her. Satryn’s own mother, who hadn’t left the Sunken Palace in decades, never really saw what her Heritage was capable of. Had a Tempest been willing to leave the safety of Thelassus, he or she would be unbeatable. Satryn wasn’t just empress; she was a warrior.

Rivern had defied the Dominance for half a millennium because the Thrycean tyrants were weak and paranoid. Had any of them possessed the stones to truly wield their power, the empire would cover Genatrova. Rivern would be an example to all.

Satryn smiled as she felt a familiar presence approach from one of the canals. With a mere thought, she lessened the torrential downpour around her to a pounding rain. She gazed across the flooded park to see Jessa marching toward her with the priest and Maddox in tow.

She awaited them eagerly. The priest was no threat and Maddox was harmless. Her daughter, however, was inches from the Coral Trone. There was a Stormord proverb that every step toward power is ten steps from trust.

“Mother,” Jessa said, “had I known your plans, I could have prevented this vulgar display of power. I had everything well in hand.”

Satryn laughed. “You had nothing in hand, darling. You were flotsam in the shifting tide of the Assembly’s whims.”

“Yet I managed to get them out of the city.” Jessa raised her voice over the rain. There was a hardness to her gaze. “Oh, come on, Mother. Who do you think framed you for the murder of Torin Silverbrook? You were supposed to remain in prison, but as usual you’ve disrupted my plans.”

Satryn sneered, “You’re pretending, Jessa.”