31: TRYING TO RULE AN EMPIRE
(Therin’s story)
When Therin and Doc reached the Capital Gatestone, a large sign across the front said, “Closed to the Public.” Evidence of angry crowds, fighting, and riots lingered in scattered litter and debris. Chains barred the entry. No obvious guards stood watch, but it seemed unlikely that there weren’t people watching from rooftops lest anyone return intent on causing more trouble.
Therin gestured. “That’s a problem.”
“Oh, you think so? Any other obvious facts you’d like to share?”
Therin ignored his friend’s sarcasm. “The Gatestone system must have been so overwhelmed, they’ve shut down everything but essential traffic. And we don’t qualify unless I reveal who I am or”—Therin shrugged—“go to Qoran, which is as good as revealing who I am.”
Doc snapped his fingers. “The emperor can help.”
Therin raised an eyebrow. He’d heard stories about the new emperor while in the bathhouse—people wouldn’t shut up about it. He’d even heard the emperor was a woman, someone named Tya-something? He didn’t remember.
“Why would the emperor let us within a thousand yards of her?” Therin asked.
“Because I’m an old friend.” Doc grinned. “And so are you.”
Therin paused. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I thought you liked surprises.”
“Since when have I ever liked surprises?”
“Oh, good point.” Doc shrugged.
The bastard still didn’t tell him how Therin knew the emperor.
Therin had only rarely visited the Soaring Halls. The imperial palace was nothing more than a marble mausoleum housing a collection of paintings and statuary, echoing with the ghosts of dead wizards. Emperors rarely lived there; Sandus never had. The last Therin had checked, the High Council imperial liaison, Fayrin Jhelora, had turned the palace into his personal bordello.
At least, that had been the case previously.
The doors stood open when they arrived. Despite the late hour, people bustled about in a steady stream. One would have thought this was the High Council chamber, which Therin wouldn’t have expected to be this busy. National emergencies, after all. Military personal, witchhunters, priests, and all manner of people walked with purpose in their stride.
Therin stopped and blinked at the sight. This new emperor wasn’t expecting to rule Quur, was she?
“Don’t gawk.” Doc grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.
The soldiers there saluted.
Therin narrowed his eyes at Doc. “Tell me you’re not impersonating Qoran.”
“Okay, I’m not impersonating Qoran. Any other lies you’d like to hear? I’ve got plenty. Here’s a fun one: our sons are absolutely, definitely not in love with each other.”
“It’s a capital offense to impersonate—I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
Doc laughed as he strode inside the palace like its owner. His impersonation of High General Milligreest was fantastic even without the illusion.
The Soaring Halls were as beautiful as Therin remembered, the product of a thousand years of craftsmanship, spellwork, and Quuros ego-stroking. Even he found the palace excessive. Someone had hauled an ornate marquetry and gilt-covered table over to the main entrance and set a chair behind it. Fayrin Jhelora had ignored the chair, instead sitting cross-legged directly on the table. He was staring off into space, head resting on one hand, chatoyant opal eyes focused on nothing in particular.1 He seemed to be contemplating the entertainment possibilities of chewing off his own fingers.
“Where’s the emperor?” Doc barked out.
The scandalously young council member raised his head and blinked. “Oh my. Hello there.”
Doc cocked his head. “The emperor,” he repeated.
“Right,” Fayrin said. “Of course. Won’t you follow me, General? She’s having dinner.” He glanced at Therin, then returned his attention to Doc.
“Fine,” Doc said.
The man hopped off the desk and shouted out, “Take my place, Glaris. I’ll be right back.” He sighed. “I simply can’t believe I’m covering the front door like a damn doorman. I swear, you host one orgy in the imperial bedroom and you’re never forgiven…”
Therin chuckled. Besides his reputation for obscenity, Fayrin was famously open to the highest bidder on council votes, which Therin himself had exploited. The man didn’t have an ethical bone in his entire body. Therin wouldn’t have trusted him to empty chamber pots, let alone screen palace visitors.
Presumably, the new emperor would learn, one way or another.
They walked through the palace, past soldiers, bureaucrats, wizards, and to Therin’s extreme surprise, a shocking number of witchhunters. Then Fayrin reached a set of double doors, already open. Two soldiers stood at attention.
“Your Majesty, you have a visitor!” Fayrin Jhelora shouted out.
A woman Therin recognized turned around. She stood before a large map of the empire, painted along a wall. Small lights on the map flared into brightness before fading again. Some lights stayed on, while others shifted their location. She held a piece of sag bread wrapped around spiced meat in one hand and gestured with the Scepter of Quur using the other. People filled the room, bunched up over tables, poring over records, writing out letters, and then handing them to heralds, who promptly sprinted from the room.
Another person, standing next to her, also turned.
Qoran Milligreest.
“Oh, now this is a touch awkward,” Fayrin said. “The high general is here to see the high general. Only which one’s the real high general, I wonder.”
Therin’s stomach twisted. Qoran was a friend, but there were limits …
But everyone else just looked confused. A similar expression crossed Tyentso’s face, quickly suppressed. She waved a hand. “You’re thinking too much, Fayrin. Thank you for showing them in.”
High General Qoran Milligreest raised an eyebrow. Unlike the High Council member turned doorman, Qoran took notice of Therin. And recognized him too.
Fayrin didn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t want them executed? I’ll happily call for the guards—”
“Out, Jhelora.” Tyentso pointed toward the door. “Everyone, I need the room. Thirty minutes, then come back.”
“Oh, fine. Never let me have any fun.” The liaison sighed dramatically.
Everyone else dropped whatever they’d been doing and shuffled out past Therin along with the liaison, who shut the door behind him.
Qoran immediately stalked across the room. “Therin? You’re alive, what happened—” He paused and stared at Doc. “Who are you?”
“Oh, no one important.”
“Raverí?” Therin said. “You’re the new emperor?”
Tyentso looked like she hadn’t slept well in weeks, and neither had her tailors. The embroidery on her agolé must have weighed as much as a small child. “You don’t have to sound so damn shocked. And call me Tyentso. Everyone here’s adorably oblivious to who I used to be. Let’s keep it that way.”
Therin scratched his head. He hadn’t seen Raverí—Tyentso—since …
Well, since she’d helped free him and his family from Gadrith’s animated dead. He never expected see her again. Something to do with being a magic-using woman is a country where that was a death sentence.
“What happened?” Qoran repeated.
Therin waved a hand. “What you probably heard. Miya’s gaesh broke, and she … reacted as I suppose one might expect. I escaped from her this morning and made my way back to the Capital.”
Qoran looked him over carefully. “Why are you dressed as a priest?”
Therin smiled and spread his arms. “Someone’s idea of humor. Look, I’m happy to see you, Qoran, but I’m here to see the emperor.” He pointed to Tyentso. “We need to use a Gatestone, but since they’re closed down, we need a writ.”
“Why?” Qoran asked. “You’re a high lord. It’s your right.”
Therin exhaled. He didn’t want to have this conversation.
The new emperor caught on more quickly, but then she knew more about running away. “You’re not coming back?”
“No.”
Qoran’s expression mimicked someone who’d just stepped in something foul and sticky. “What? Don’t you understand what your house is going through? They need you back. The empire needs you back.”
“The empire’s done just fine without him so far,” Doc said.
General Milligreest scowled at the vané. “Who are you again? Use proper names this time, before I have you arrested.”
Doc pressed his lips into a thin line. “Oh, come now, Qoran. Surely, your mother told you what I really look like. You’ve always known I wasn’t Quuros.”
Qoran looked at Doc as if seeing him for the first time. “Nikali?”
“As it happens. But you know that isn’t my real name either.”
Qoran closed his eyes for a moment. “So you’re … you’re going back home?”
“It’s been a few years since your mother asked me to watch over you,” Doc said gently. “The family doesn’t need me anymore.”
Qoran seemed to search for the words before finally saying, “Have you told Taunna?”
“I told Taunna four years ago, old man.”
Qoran snorted. “‘Old man’? You’re one to talk.”
Therin bit his lip as he watched the exchange. He’d never figured out just how much Qoran knew about Doc. Quite a lot, as it happened.
Qoran focused his attention on Therin then. “He has a homeland. And so do you. This one, here. Reclaim your position as high lord.”
“Don’t feel like it,” Therin said. “Besides, I have things I need to do.”
The high general stared at him. “What sort of things?”
“Prophecy things,” Doc said. “You know, the end of the world? That stuff.”
An ugly look came over the high general’s face. “Hmm.”
“You remember the Devoran Prophecies, don’t you?” Doc continued. “Lucky us, turns out we get to do what Gadrith and Pedron couldn’t. Or rather, our kids do.”
Qoran gave Tyentso a dirty look. “Don’t.”
Tyentso put a hand to her chest. “What? Me rub in the fact I’ve already told you all this? And I like your daughter, Qoran. I like her a lot.”
“She’s revolting against the empire,” Qoran growled. “She’s … she’s started a rebellion.”
“Has she, though? Because no one’s explained to me how anything happening in Jorat is illegal.” Tyentso added, “Anyway, the empire could use a good rebellion.”
“Must I remind you that you are emperor?”
“Must I remind you that you’re the only person on the fucking High Council who seems to believe that?”
Therin cleared his throat. “Fayrin Jhelora seems to be fine with it.”
Both Tyentso and Qoran said simultaneously, “He doesn’t count.”
Doc walked over toward a table loaded with food and helped himself to a plate. “So we need a writ to get past the guards at the City Gatestone. Or use a military Gatestone. Either way works. We just need to go to the Academy.”
Tyentso squinted at them, shutting one eye. “Do I want to know why?”
“Nope.” Doc started eating.
Therin was tempted to do the same. He’d eaten when he’d forced Doc to do likewise, but that had been hours before.
Instead, he leaned against the table, eyed the map of the empire, and started thumbing through the open book next to Tyentso. “There’s stuff involving the vané happening right now. And while it affects everyone else in the world, I’m reasonably sure the vané won’t want the emperor of Quur involved—” He faltered as he picked out names in the text. His son Kihrin’s name. Other equally familiar names. “What is this?”
“A book. Seriously, you made it all the way to high lord?”
Therin ignored the quip as he turned the book back and looked at its cover, but there wasn’t anything like a title or embossed stamp. “No, really, what is this?”
Tyentso waved a hand. “Thurvishar D’Lorus threw it together. It’s, uh…” She made a face. “It’s a chronicle.” She waved her hands vaguely. “Not important right now.”
“It’s a load of absolute garbage,” Qoran Milligreest snarled.2
“How would you know? You haven’t read it,” Tyentso reminded him.
“Who’s had time?” he groused.
“How’d he have time to write it?” Therin asked. “This is…” He flipped through the pages again. It wasn’t small. It had to haven taken months.3
“Funny you should mention time,” Tyentso said. “But that’s another story. Please tell me you’re not trying to interfere with what the kids are doing. Let them do their job.”
Doc and Therin blinked and looked at one another, then back at the emperor. “What the kids are doing?” Therin asked.
“Well, the Eight showed up at Atrine and sort of … took them,” Qoran Milligreest said. He pointed to Therin. “Your son, a young woman—”
“Oh, just say daughter. She’s your daughter,” Tyentso said. “How can you be this embarrassed by adultery?”
“It’s not—” Qoran cleared his throat. “I would remember if I’d slept with the Goddess of Magic!”
Therin had been through so much, he found Qoran’s proclamation only faintly startling. “You slept with Tya?”
“Not that I remember!”
Tyentso looked over at Doc and grinned. “Isn’t he adorable?”
“Quite. Was my son there?” Doc asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Thurvishar too.”
“So the whole group, then.” Doc sighed. “How much do you want to bet the gods sent them down to the Manol to make sure Kelanis performs the Ritual of Night?”
Qoran Milligreest scowled. “The Ritual of what?”
“Oh, the state of education in Quur today,” Doc murmured. “I’m afraid our kids have just stepped into giant piles of shit. But we can help; just take us to the Academy.”
“I don’t know if anyone has pointed this out, but I’m a little fucking busy at the moment,” Tyentso said. “I’m certainly not going to act like your personal carriage driver.”
“No one’s asking you to,” Therin said. “A writ to use a Gatestone is more than sufficient.”
Tyentso picked up a fresh sheet of paper from a secretary’s desk.
“What is that, anyway?” Therin pointed to the wall. “I mean, obviously a map, but what are the lights?”
“Demons,” Tyentso answered as she began to write.
Therin felt a chill. That was a lot of lights. “I thought the gods were fixing that.”
“They’re doing their part,” Qoran said, “but they can’t be everywhere at once. And something else is killing demons too. I’m not yet quite sure what, but any demon who stays in one place for too long tends to”—he pulled his hands apart—“disintegrate. We’re not sure why.”4
“It’s nothing I’m doing,” Tyentso agreed. She blew on the paper to dry it and then handed it to Therin along with an additional envelope. “That should get you access to the Gatestone.”
“What’s the envelope?”
“The price for my help. While you’re there, please hand that over to Dean Filoran.” She smiled with a snake’s charm. “It’s an invitation to a party.”
Therin raised an eyebrow. “You’re throwing a … party?” That hardly seemed like a thing she’d do with the empire falling apart around them.
“Oh yeah, all the high lords will be there.” Tyentso laughed wickedly. “It should be memorable.”
Therin paused. Ah. He understood. This wasn’t a party. This was an object lesson. Tyentso was absolutely going to try to rule the empire—she just had to teach the high lords to know their place first. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad I’m not resuming my old duties as high lord.”
She stopped laughing. “Oh, Therin. You wouldn’t have been invited.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“My pleasure,” Tyentso said. “Now, would you mind getting the fuck out of here? Some of us are trying to work.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” He bowed to her, ignoring her surprised snort. “Word of advice, if I may?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“Recruit Lady D’Talus to your cause. She’s been the real power behind that family for years.”
Tyentso seemed to relax a little. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Try not to be idiots, either of you,” Qoran said. “I’ve lost enough family.”
Doc laughed. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to us. We’re too pretty to die.”