80. THE SIEGE OF ATRINE

Tyentso’s story

The imperial army camp outside Atrine

After the Battle of the Blight

Tyentso returned with her people (she decided not to examine exactly when a Black Brotherhood assassin and an actual demon had become “her people,” but at least Fayrin legitimately took orders from her) while everyone back at the Manol made their plans.

Tyentso knew damn well that Relos Var wouldn’t have cut a deal with Nemesan or Havar or Murad or whatever the hell he was going to call himself without it serving a purpose. Maybe it was as simple as denying his enemies that large a military force.

She suspected it was more than that. Tyentso had never known a time when Relos Var didn’t work on multiple levels, usually all at once.

She didn’t have to wait long.

When Havar’s troops attacked, they did so in classic House D’Aramarin style: by opening gates into the middle of the camp and killing anyone who moved. The imperial army was well trained, but with Warmonger removed?

The soldiers were more of a detriment to their side than anything else. The Marakori troops might have overrun the camp in a matter of moments if they’d only been dealing with the imperials. But thank every star in the heavens they weren’t.

They were also dealing with the Joratese.

There was no front line.

“I thought you said they were waiting for us to lay siege!” Tyentso shouted at Ninavis as she found the woman. She ignored the fact that Ninavis was in the middle of a fight. She seemed to be doing fine.

“Whoops?” the woman said. “What the fuck is wrong with your people, by the way? Did you forget to let them sleep? And where’s Dorna?”

“Long story, they won’t be much help. Dorna’s busy. I have more reinforcements on the way.” Tyentso fired a long beam of tightly vibrating sound waves that punched a neat whole through a Quuros war scorpion. Not one of hers. That fucker had brought his own and was trying to set them up so he could turn them on the local civilian population.

“Oh yeah, speaking of reinforcements, don’t attack the shadow demon. He’s with us.”

Ninavis stared at her blankly. “What.”

Tyentso rolled up her sleeves and prepared to start defending her empire in a slightly more personal manner than she’d been doing of late.

A few minutes later, however, everything fell quiet again. Tyentso searched around her only to realize the fighting had stopped.

“What the fuck? Where’d everyone go?” Ninavis searched around her, confused.

Tyentso blinked. Not everyone had vanished. The people they’d been immediately fighting had died like normal. They weren’t replaced, however. No new enemy soldiers were showing up to reinforce the push.

“Oh,” she said. “This was a feint. They were just testing our defenses.”

“Stupid of them to let us know they can do that,” Ninavis muttered.

“Stupid of you not to assume I could,” Havar D’Aramarin said.

A whole lot of people started aiming spells and arrows and—

“Don’t bother,” Tyentso ordered. “He’s not really here.”

“No,” Havar agreed. “I’m not.”

Truthfully, Tyentso was assuming he was Havar because his voice sounded familiar. He didn’t look like Havar D’Aramarin anymore. Presumably, he’d decided that there was no longer any need to pretend to be a normal human when he instead could be an incredibly handsome god-king with forge-red voras eyes. He still didn’t look like the statues of Murad. He’d cast off that disguise too: this was Nemesan.

“What is it you want to say, traitor?” Tyentso asked him.

“Traitor?” Havar smiled. “That would imply that I ever owed Quur any allegiance at all. And I don’t. I have always been at war with Quur. You simply didn’t realize it. But there’s no point in pretending anymore.” He held up a silver-gray chunk of hematite, worn smooth and shiny. “Not when I have this.”

Warmonger. Tyentso took a step forward before she could stop herself. “Really? You showed up here to gloat?”

“I showed up here to offer you one last chance,” Nemesan said. “I’m a forgiving man. Surrender and have your people lay down their arms, and no one else has to die. Time is on my side, not yours. In a few hours, your people will be too sick to move, while mine will only become stronger. All your soldiers will die, and I won’t be gentle to the civilian population. At which point, this offer will still be open—but only to your soldiers. Not to you.”

Cute. Oh, that was cute. Pirate ships made the same offers while closing in on merchant prey. Turn against the captain and live or fight against foolish odds and go down with the ship.

“Damn, you’re a cocky motherfucker,” Tyentso said. “As if I didn’t kick your ass out of the Capital, destroy your house, and send you whimpering back to Marakor. You aren’t as invulnerable as you think you are.”

“If you’re trying to make me believe you still have Urthaenriel in your possession,” Nemesan sneered, “I know better. You don’t have Godslayer, while now I do have Warmonger. And I know what this Cornerstone can do. I’m not some pathetic high lord balancing accounts and selling spells for profit. I am the god-king Nemesan! It took a century for Quur to defeat me the last time I had this stone in my possession. You can’t overwhelm me in a few hours.”

Tyentso had spent a lifetime controlling her expressions, not letting her real feelings show in front of Gadrith or slavers or any number of enemies. She was confident her expression didn’t change—or changed almost imperceptibly—when he first made his admission. Nemesan was making the big reveal, trying to impress her with the declaration of his real identity.

She snorted.

“Am I supposed to be shocked?” Tyentso told him. “I already know who you are. So we’ll just see who can play this game of Zaibur better, won’t we? In case it’s not clear enough for you, my answer is no.”

He smiled. “Good. I’d have been so disappointed if you’d said yes.”

Nemesan vanished.

The duchess turned to Tyentso and slapped her arm. “What was that? A dick-measuring contest?”

“I fucking wish,” Tyentso told her. “But heh, battles are won in the mind first, right? If he can convince us that it’s impossible to win against him, then he’s halfway there, isn’t he? Anyway, he’s nothing but a distraction, although it was awfully nice of him to confirm that he really is Relos Var’s lackey.” Nemesan shouldn’t have known about Urthaenriel. Most people would have assumed that she’d never had the sword to begin with. No emperor had run around waving the damn thing in five hundred years. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Have everyone work on setting up defenses, demon-march protocols. Even if they say they aren’t feeling well. I want everyone on their feet until they can’t be anymore.”

“And then what?” Ninavis was scowling. “We just wait for them to attack us again?”

“No,” Tyentso said. “We’re waiting for more information.”

Fortunately, she knew just how to get it. Tyentso tilted her head toward Kalindra. “You and your wonderful husband can get that for me, can’t you?”

Kalindra smiled. “It would be our pleasure.”