Jilana stood at the high point of the palace and looked down on Hastinaga.
The city was rioting.
Even at this height, over a hundred yards above the city, she could see the madness in action. Every instant, soldiers brought new reports of more fighting, more horrific reports. Parents assaulting children. Children killing their own parents. Women assaulting other women for no fault at all. Men and women randomly attacking others on the street, in their homes, in places of worship . . . There was no rhyme or reason to the attacks, no pattern, no sense. It was simply ordinary citizens attacking other ordinary citizens.
Another report said that all the street dogs and alley cats in the city had banded together and were attacking humans. Elephants in the stockades had begun going insane, acting as if they were in heat, attacking one another, smashing out their own brains. Horses were impaling themselves on fences, kicking at each other, biting at their riders. Everywhere it was the same story: random acts of madness and mayhem.
From what she could tell, about one in three people had been affected by this insanity. Even some of the palace guards had started attacking one another, cutting down their own comrades, even their own siblings or parents, or children who were also in the service. Cooks, maids, sentries . . . no one was spared. She had heard the madness was afoot in the richer sections of the city as well, yet there were no reports of looting, theft, burglary—it was only murder and violence. Senseless attacks aimed at destroying the sanity of Krushan society.
A sound made her turn at once. Since the attack in her own bedchamber, she was wary of every shadow or whisper. A soldier stood before her, his sweating face revealing his nervousness and exertion. “Dowager Empress Jilana.”
She frowned. “I was expecting Captain Manasvati. I told him to report directly to me.”
The soldier’s throat worked. “The captain was . . . killed, Your Majesty. Eaten alive by a pack of wild alley cats. Several other soldiers died trying to save him.” He held up an arm, displaying an ugly wound, a long deep scratch that bled darkly. “We fear lockjaw may be the cause.”
Jilana shook her head. “Lockjaw did not cause the entire citizenry to attack each other. No, soldier. This is being caused by supernatural forces.”
The soldier gulped. “Supernatural forces?”
She didn’t try to explain. “You should get that looked at. The feral creature that did that might well have lockjaw after all.”
The soldier nodded slowly. He knew as well as she did that there was no cure for lockjaw. If he had it, he was as good as dead anyway.
She tried to harden herself to overlook such things. We have to work with what we have, to make the best of whatever we’re given; not all of us have the powers of a Vessa, a Vrath . . . or a Jarsun. “I sent Captain Manasvati to locate and bring back Princess Karni safely. Did he succeed before he was killed?”
“Nay, my queen. The streets are filled with thousands of rioters. Even some of our own number are afflicted with the madness. We are still fighting to keep the crowds from the palace doors. It is taking all the soldiers and resources at our disposal. The squads we have sent out to bring back Princess Karni . . . none of them have yet returned. The reports are that they have all been killed before succeeding in their task.”
Jilana’s hand covered her mouth. “Holy Jeel. You mean to say the princess is still out there. In that?” Her hand flew out, indicating the city sprawled below her, crawling with antlike figures bent on mayhem and destruction.
“Aye, my queen. She went to the temple of Goddess Jeel, on the far side of the royal reserve. We have been unable to secure that part of the city as yet. We are doing our best, Your Majesty.”
“Do better!” she cried, unable to help herself. “That is my daughter-in-law out there! We must bring her home safely.”
He looked down, silent. She immediately regretted her outburst. It was not this poor man’s fault. He was indeed doing his best: quite likely, even if he survived this night, he would be dead in the next day or two, frothing from the mouth and shuddering in a fatal fit.
In a gentler tone, she resumed. “And Prince Shvate and Princess Mayla?”
“They are in in the kingswood just outside of Hastinaga, hunting. At least, that is the last we heard of them. We have attempted to send word to the outer city reserves to inform them of the events in the city, but also that they are not to return until further word from you, as you ordered.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, that is good. Well done. And Captain Manasvati had said in his last report that Prince Adri had been located in the palace and he would report back on his condition. Is he well?”
“Aye, my queen. As is Princess Geldry. There was some confusion, because neither were in their bedchamber and . . .” He trailed off, avoiding her eyes.
She frowned. “And what?”
“The circumstances in which they were found were somewhat . . . embarrassing.”
She shrugged. “They are husband and wife. Nothing they do should be embarrassing to anyone.” Or even if they’re not husband and wife, she wanted to add, after all, they’re consenting adults. Why was the soldier even mentioning such irrelevant things?
“My queen, forgive me if I spoke amiss. I simply meant that they were found in . . . different rooms.”
“Wait. Did you say different rooms? What does that mean? Were they both not together?”
“Nay, my queen. When the guards first searched the bedchamber, neither was anywhere to be seen. Later, Prince Adri was finally discovered in the southeastern quarters.”
“The maids’ quarters?”
“Aye, my queen. In the room of the maid Sauvali. They were both in a state of undress and . . . um . . . extreme passion.”
“Oh,” she said, aware that her mouth had fallen open. This she had not expected, especially tonight of all nights. Adri and a maid? How long had this been going on? Was Geldry aware? She had a dozen questions, none of which she could ask this unfortunate soldier.
“And while the guards were still searching the palace for Princess Geldry, the maids came running to report that they had found her.”
“Where?” Jilana asked warily, afraid of what she might hear next.
“In the verandah of her own bedchamber . . . um . . . undressed and also in a state of extreme passion.”
“Alone?” Jilana asked.
The soldier inclined his head, still not meeting her eyes. “It appeared that someone else had been . . . with her. Judging by her state and her condition.” He cleared his throat. “There was also a considerable amount of sand on the verandah.”
“Sand,” she repeated, wondering if she were going insane too now. Adri in a maid’s room, in a state of “extreme passion.” Geldry found at the other end of the palace, also in a similar state, but with no man around. Just sand. Strange, yet no more bizarre or illogical than the other events of the night.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, hoping he would say there was not. She didn’t think she could stand to hear any more such reports. Suddenly, she wished Vrath was here, instead of away on imperial matters. He would have been able to go out into the city and fetch Karni back safely at least. Goddess alone knew what the poor girl was going through right now. To think of her out in this madness and mayhem was horrible. But then to hear of Adri’s and Geldry’s antics, it churned her stomach. Had her entire family gone crazy this night? And why not? It seemed the whole city was.
“Nothing more to report, my queen. We have secured the outer gates of the city in order to try to contain the rioting. As a last resort, if you order, we can take extreme measures.”
She frowned. “Remind me. It has been so long since we experienced such a state of unrest in Hastinaga. What is the last resort in such a circumstance?”
He swallowed again. “Burning.”
She nodded as if she had been expecting exactly that answer. “Thank you for your service. Dismissed.”
She turned again to the city as he left, staring out at the metropolis she had watched grow, rise, expand, and develop into one of the greatest cities in the known world in her own lifetime. Burning. If they could not contain the madness, the last resort was to burn it all down. So even if Jarsun failed in his mission to destroy Hastinaga, he would still succeed. The city would still be destroyed, but by their own hands. But what else could they do?
She looked up at the night sky, praying for morning to come quickly, and to bring with it a new, sane sunrise.
And Karni. Keep my beloved daughter-in-law safe and sound. Bring her home to me. And Shvate and Mayla and . . .
It was a long and fervent prayer.