Four days passed before Desh Krohan came out of his chambers. No one, not even the new Empress, was quite foolish enough to knock on the doors to find him. Nachia Krous did indeed visit his chambers – twice, actually – but she did not find him. Instead she saw only the sealed door to a room within his personal area, and left without a sound. She knew that the door there lead to an area where he locked himself away to do whatever it was that sorcerers did when they dared not be disturbed.
There were stories aplenty of what sorcerers did, of course, but Nachia had never much cared about that. She was a very bright student when she was growing up, and she had always been inquisitive enough, but when it came to magic and the casting of spells, she had no interest.
It was not a lack of imagination so much as a simple understanding. She would never be allowed to practice any sort of sorcery, and so she did not waste her time with it. In this she was completely different from Pathra Krous. He had always desperately wanted to know more of everything that was forbidden him. She had never decided if that was a strength or a weakness in her cousin. Either way she missed him.
When Desh came out of his locked room he staggered to his personal chambers and immediately poured cold water from a pitcher into a goblet and a ceramic bowl. He drained the goblet, filled it two more times and finished it thrice. Then he washed his entire body, carefully splashing away the worst of the blood. There was a great deal of blood, more than he had expected.
When he was mostly presentable he draped his great robe over his body and moved into the main work area, lamenting, again, the lack of the Sisters to aid him.
Nachia was not in the room when he got there, but in less than twenty minutes she made her presence known. By then he had called for a servant to fill his bath properly and was busily eating pabba fruit, cheese and bread with desperate appetite. Four days without food or water had left him feeling wasted away, though he looked much as he always did.
“Where have you been?” Nachia’s voice was just a little demanding.
Desh didn’t even bother looking up from his food. He chewed, swallowed and washed the latest bite down with a splash of wine and answered, “Dealing with the Sooth. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve saved me the trouble of coming to you.”
Nachia was surprised not to hear his usual admonitions about privacy and the possibility of rumors but brushed that aside. “What’s wrong?”
Desh finally looked up and took another sip of his wine. “A great deal, actually. But the thing we should focus on for now is the need to move everyone out of this city immediately.”
“What?” Her voice cracked like a whip, and Desh imagined he could hear the echo from the other side of the palace’s courtyard walls.
“A little quieter, Majesty. We would rather not share state secrets with the enemies of the Empire.”
“Desh, what are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”
The man’s skin was still pale and his eyes a touch feverish in appearance. He had cleaned himself fairly well but had not yet bathed, and as a result there were spots around his hairline where dried, crusted blood could still be seen.
“Possibly,” he said. “But I don’t think so.”
“We cannot move everyone out of the city, Desh. It’s impossible.”
“It’s hardly impossible, Nachia. Difficult, to be sure, but well within the realm of possibilities I imagine.”
“Where would we take them?” Nachia stared at him and shook her head. Her brow knitted into a tight “V” above her eyes, a sure sign that she was vexed. He rather enjoyed that aspect of the conversation, as she was normally the one putting him into that state of mind.
“There is a very large Empire beyond the walls of Tyrne, Majesty. You know this. You’ve lived beyond them for most of your life.”
“Desh Krohan, you are my First Advisor and I have always respected your opinions, but I need more than that to convince me to move an entire city’s worth of people.”
Desh sighed and stood up. His great robe fluttered and moved and shimmered and looked as impressive as ever, but with the cowl down the effect was lost. He was simply not as terrifying when he had a face.
“We need to move the people from the city, Nachia, because the Sooth have warned me that it has to be done.”
“What are these Sooth, anyway? And why do you listen to them?”
Desh frowned. Describing the Sooth was rather like trying to explain the distance between the Great Star and the sun. There was no proper measurement that he knew of.
“They are spirits. They don’t exist in the same way that we do, and they can often see events that haven’t happened yet.”
“How?”
“I have no idea. All I can tell you is that they can often tell what will happen and it strikes their fancy they can share that information.” The “V” between her eyebrows grew more pronounced. “Honestly, Nachia, you look like you’re about to have a fit.”
“I’m not going to do anything of the sort.” A wave of her hand, brushing away a pest. “Explain why these spirits say we should abandon one of the largest cities in the Empire.”
“Because they say the city will be destroyed.”
Nachia’s eyes sought something and when she spotted a chair she nodded and moved over to it.
“How? How will the city be destroyed?”
Desh felt his face grow a bit hot. “Yes, well, that would seem to be the problem I’ve encountered.”
“Excuse me?”
“They can’t tell me how, only that it will happen and soon.”
“How soon?”
“Well, that would be the other problem I’ve run into. The Sooth don’t understand time as we do, you see and so they can’t exactly point to a precise moment.”
Nachia’s mouth dropped open in surprise and then slowly pulled into a tight line of disapproval. Desh found himself puzzling over how mobile her features were.
“Desh. I need more than that before I can do anything.”
“Why?”
The Empress shook her head. “Because I can’t very well demand that every person in the entire city abandon their homes over what amounts to the faintest possibility of a problem.”
Desh shook his head in counterargument. “Of course you can. You’re the Empress. You can tell them whatever you want and they have to listen.”
“Are you mad?” Nachia’s voice broke for the second time.
“We’ve already discussed the possibility, I believe. Listen, Nachia, I would love to argue this out with you, I would, but I rather got the impression that time is of the essence and we have a lot to accomplish if we’re going to evacuate an entire city the size of this one.” He scratched at the dried blood along his scalp line and looked at the chamber where even now a very large tub of refreshingly warm and clean water was waiting for him.
With the usual disregard for his needs, Nachia crossed her arms and shook her head. “This can’t happen, Desh!”
“It has to happen, Nachia. I mean that. I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s absolutely necessary.”
Nachia stared hard at him, a child, really, the difference between them amplified by decades, by centuries, not merely by years. “Then I fear we may all die here, Desh Krohan. I need more than the thought that the city might someday come to an end to move us.”
“Nachia! You have to listen to me.” He strode toward her, and stopped himself from grabbing her shoulders. “We have to leave here. Go back to old Canhoon. Go to the proper palace and easily half the population will follow you soon enough.”
“Give me a proper reason, Desh. Find out what is going to happen here and explain it to me. Give me more than the spirits giving vague warnings.” Her voice was steady and so was her gaze. Desh cursed himself a bit for picking as well as he had who would rule when Pathra died.
“Then how’s this for a reason? The Sa’ba Taalor have only been in one city. This one. They know where it is and they will surely strike here when they attack.”
“If they attack.”
“Ask Merros Dulver if he thinks they’ll forgive the slight against their king.” Desh kept his voice calm. Anger would only fall on deaf ears and she would not listen to anything else from him at the moment. She was as stubborn as ever, just smarter about listening.
Nachia nodded. “I will. And while I’m doing that, you find some proof of these troubles. Anything I can use to justify moving tens of thousands from their homes.”
Desh nodded his head.
Nachia waved a hand in his direction as she headed for her secret passage. His secret passage, which she had gleefully usurped. “And clean yourself, wizard.” Her voice took on the faintest note of teasing. “You still smell like a slaughterhouse.”
For once Desh had no additional words. He moved toward his bath and disrobed, desperate to be clean.
Every morning Merros Dulver rode past the red brick wall surrounding the palatial home of Wollis March and stared at the closed gates in front of it. It had become a part of his routine, a path he rode to let himself think in relative privacy.
This time, for the first time since he’d started his ritual, the gate was open. The sight was enough to stop him in his tracks. He did not stare with his mouth hanging open. He had more control than that, but he was decidedly surprised.
And when the woman stepped past the threshold of the gate and looked at him he still kept his calm, but inside he felt a river of frost spilling into his insides.
He had seen Dretta March only once before. She looked much the same, but the angles of her face seemed harder. Her eyes, dark as her husband’s had been, assessed him for a long moment and she nodded her head.
“You are Merros Dulver.”
Merros nodded his head and slipped carefully from his saddle. His knees wanted to shake but he did not allow them that luxury. Instead he walked stiffly toward the woman and laid one hand on the hilt of his sword. He had no intention of striking her, and certainly no desire to attack, but old comforts are often the ones we seek when confronted with uncomfortable situations. The pommel was familiar in his grip and he needed that, if only for the moment.
Merros Dulver dropped to one knee before the woman who looked back with mild surprise. His eyes wanted to look down, but just as he could not let a soldier flee in fear without penalty he did not allow that. He stared into her eyes and forced his voice to remain calm.
“I can never take back Wollis’s death. I would if I could. He was the finest man I know and he was my friend. I miss him.”
Dretta March looked at him for a long moment and then shook her head. “Stand up, you damned fool and come in here with your oversized horse.” She turned away from him and called over one shoulder, “We have much to discuss.”
Merros listened, though the ice in his guts tried to fill his very soul at the notion.
Despite the intimidating wall, the house beyond it was not overly large. The land was cleared and the grass in desperate need of a proper grooming, but that was to be expected. No one had been there to care for the place since Wollis’s death.
Merros made a note to send a few soldiers to handle the matter. There were plenty on his list who needed a reminder that he was still watching them and expected improvements.
Dretta led him and his horse to the front of the villa, where a table had been set with chairs and freshly baked bread and meats. Two servants looked at the General and nearly quaked to see him. Still, they recovered quickly enough and began pouring wine and water into goblets.
Dretta gestured to the closest seat. “Sit and eat with me. Tell me how my husband died.”
Merros sat and stared at the freshly prepared food. He should have been ravenous, but looking at the widow before him he found his appetite faded completely.
She brushed away the hands of the closest servant, a man trying to cut into the roast, still steaming in the early morning air.
Merros had no idea what to say and simply stared as she carved into the meat, skillfully slicing thick pieces away.
“You’ve come past my home every day since I got here,” she said. “Likely since before then. In all that time you’ve found nothing you wanted to say to me?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“I’ve already told you. Tell me how Wollis died.”
He nodded and swallowed. “He died, bravely, trying to stop the woman who murdered two generals and very possibly the Emperor.”
She merely nodded and stared, and then she waited as he slowly told the tale of how Wollis had saved his life when one of the Sa’ba Taalor had a knife aimed at him.
“So, you see, he saved me,” Merros finished.
“Well, then, that would be a fine end to my husband’s life.” Dretta’s voice was low and soft and looked at her expecting hatred or contempt but found none of that.
“How do you mean?” His own voice was soft and broken with grief.
“Wollis considered you a good man and a good friend. He died saving you.” She eyed him carefully. “What can be more noble than saving the life of a good person? He died a good death.”
“I would rather he still be alive, myself.” Merros looked at her and felt his insides finally begin to thaw.
“Oh, and I’d prefer the same, Merros Dulver.” Her eyes looked at his calmly enough, but he could sense what Wollis had spoken of so many times when it came to his wife: a deep and abiding strength. “I’d very much prefer my husband alive, even if it meant your death. He was away from me for too many years and several of those were spent with you. That is not something I have forgotten. But if he had to die, there are worse deaths he could have suffered.”
“I am so very sorry, Dretta.” The man who commanded the largest army in the world heard his voice break and tremble and could not stop it. His vision shattered into hot tears. “I could not save him.”
There was silence from Wollis’s widow as he cried. A distant part of him burned with shame. Soldiers do not cry and men do not cry before women, but still it happened ,and he could not stop it. He lowered his head and made fists of his useless hands and let out great, braying gasps of grief.
And when he was done with the worst of his unexpected grief, he looked up to see Dretta March looking at him with a calm face. Of the servants there was no sign.
“You could not save him.” Dretta nodded. “But he saved you. And you, Merros Dulver, you are supposed to save us from these Sa’ba Taalor when they attack. That’s what I keep hearing. That you are a hero and will keep us safe from the people that killed my husband.” Her voice was calm as she looked away from him to layer slices of roast meat and bread on his plate.
When she looked up at him again her eyes were dry. “Keep us safe. Keep me safe. And while you are doing that, I want you to find the bitch that murdered my man and I want you to carve her head from her body.” Her voice was still calm; as if she were discussing the crops she might plant on the last lands of her villa. “Bring me her head and prove to me that my husband made the right choice in dying for you.”
The northerners were known for being a harsh people. That was true in the past and, if her words were an indication, it was true now.
Merros did not respond, save to pick up his knife and to cut into the food his hostess had set before him.
He was hungry. He had not felt hungry in quite a while.
The next morning when he headed for his offices, Dretta March was waiting outside the gate and they had breakfast again. It was not long before he realized a new ritual had become a part of his routine.
Goriah tended to her duties as she always had, with a meticulous attention to detail. That was necessary at the present time, as she was handling the work of three. Pathra Krous was buried in his ancestral tomb, placed next to the remains of his father and his father’s father. When he had been settled and sealed in his location, she carefully set the wards that would keep the bodies of the Krous bloodline safe from prying eyes and greedy hands.
And then she got to the business that had brought her to the City of Wonders.
Old Canhoon spread out before her, a sweeping series of structures that seemed to have grown from the very ground. The appearance was deceiving, of course. The city had been built, but over such a vast span of time that many of the buildings had acquired a layer of dust the same color as the ground they were built on.
Of course, in some places the appearance was exactly what it seemed.
The palace looked nearly identical to the Summer Palace, but seemed larger still and was surrounded by concentric rings of walls, ancient barriers designed to keep out invaders that never showed themselves. Unlike in Tyrne, however, the walls were well kept and still guarded. The military forces in Canhoon made sure of it, as the city was where the largest number of soldiers were trained and lived. As she set the wards, several hundred soldiers stood at formation around the tomb, silent and somber and armed and waiting.
As the vault was sealed again, the orders were given, and in slow procession the battalions of armored men passed before the great doors to the tomb and saluted before returning to their duties.
And while the military leaders in the area said their goodbyes, Goriah looked to the dignitaries waiting with her. They were leaders of the vast city, the Commander of the City Guard, the men in charge of the vast universities and colleges that gathered within the oldest city in the Empire, and the men who were charged with making sure that the Gem of Fellein remained well polished in the absence of the Empress.
In the absence of an Empress to impress they were doing their very best to catch the attention of one of her personal advisors.
In the absence of the First Advisor, they were perfectly glad to suck up to Goriah, who was one of his personal assistants, and to the illusions she’d created of her sisters. Tataya and Pella seemed distant, but that was rather common, really. None of the Sisters had a reputation for being easy to know.
Goriah remained suitably unimpressed, but listened to the dignitaries just the same.
There were endless questions, of course. Who were the Sa’ba Taalor and what had started the conflict? What was being done about the murder of the Emperor? Why had the Imperial Highway not been better tended north of the Lishter Gap? Would the Empress be approving a request for more soldiers along the Imperial Highway? Was there news of what had really happened in Roathes? The list went on for nearly as long as the funeral march that brought the Emperor’s corpse to the city.
Goriah did her best to answer a few questions and promised to bring many more questions to the attention of Desh Krohan and thus to the attention of the Empress.
Three faces she had hoped to see where woefully absent from the final farewell. She would have been surprised if any of the wizards had shown themselves, but still she had hoped.
As soon as she could, she sent her illusory Sisters on their way. Pella bid farewell first, offering her formal smile and courteous bows to the men who were doing their best to get to know her better. Not long after Tataya left as well, and when they were both gone and Goriah could finally allow herself to relax a little, she took stock of her situation and decided it was time for her to leave for real.
When she had made the proper goodbyes and promises to convey messages, Goriah slipped away from the large crowd of dignitaries, leaving more than a few wondering exactly how she had vanished so easily.
Desh Krohan had taught the Sisters the secrets of sorcery. She never quite understood why so many people forgot that fact.
The universities and colleges around Canhoon were vast things, more often than not: old and well respected and in some cases among the largest structures within the city.
The sorcerers did not advertise their school. There were no signs pointing the way and if one asked around the requests for directions were likely to be met with blank stares and puzzled expressions.
Goriah did not need directions. She found her way back with ease and entered through the front doors without bothering to knock. The structure was built of stone and better kept than many places. Despite the warmer weather outside, the interior would have been chill if not for the fires burning in several hearths.
No alarms were raised by her presence and no one came to see if she needed assistance. She walked the long corridors and drank in the atmosphere of a place that would always be home in many ways. She found the offices of the headmaster, well hidden though they were.
The chambers where Jeron studied were as large as the throne room at the palace but nowhere near as neat. The walls of the room were paneled in dark wood and decorated with shelves that held more books and scrolls than most people would ever see in their lives. A total of ten sets of heavy doors were placed along those walls, none of them seeming to fit where they were, rather as if they’d just wandered into the room and then decided to skulk along the walls in the hopes that no one would notice them. In the center of the room was a table of immense scale. That table was covered with more books and more scrolls, often stacked in precarious heaps and occasionally set alone into cleared areas as if that space were destined to hold that one volume and nothing more.
Roughly at the center of the chaos was a large and very comfortable chair. The arms and seat were covered in soft leather and stuffed well. The man who sat in that chair leaned heavily to his left and studied a manuscript written before the Fellein Empire had been even a distant thought in the first Emperor’s mind.
Jeron looked up from his studies as soon as she entered the room. He was a solid man with arms nearly as thick as her thighs, and though when last she had seen him he’d been sporting a beard and a mane of hair, he was currently bald and clean-shaven. His jaw looked better with a beard, but she said nothing of that. Instead Goriah smiled and gave an informal bow.
“You look well, Jeron.”
“You always look well, Goriah.” He rose from his desk and pushed past the vast stacks of papers that covered it. Jeron was always happiest when he was reading. Desh had once said that he felt Jeron would be perfectly content to spend the rest of his days studying words that had been written in the past and Goriah had no reason to doubt that comment’s validity. Neither did Jeron, who merely chuckled and nodded when Desh had made the comment.
He ambled over and hugged her to him. He was easily a head and a half taller than she was, and he hugged like a bear, with great strength, barely restrained. Still, nothing was broken by the contact, and she sighed contentedly. He had always given wonderful hugs, even when they had been children.
“How are you, little sister?”
“I am tired, and I feel like a hundred years have passed since I had a proper bath. I miss my bed and I suspect it will be a long while before I am properly comfortable again.” She smiled as she spoke and Jeron chuckled.
“Do you ever not complain?”
“Do you ever tire of asking me foolish questions to which you already know the answer?”
One thick thumb from the paw of his right hand stroked the side of her face and she smiled. “I never tired of hearing you speak. How could I then grow weary of asking questions that will make you answer me?”
“Are the others here, Jeron?”
“Of course.” His broad face moved into an easy smile. “Where else would they be?”
“Out and handling the affairs of the school? Perhaps seeking knowledge and wisdom?”
“Well, yes, that could possibly be a good goal for them, but there are many dire warnings of a war coming our way and so I sent for the rest.” He put a familiar arm around her waist and led her gently toward the doors. He was not urging her to leave, but rather guiding her toward the very goal she sought.
“You were expecting me then?”
“I was expecting you or one of the others. Desh does not change.”
“Desh sent me, of course. He wants to know what might be known of the Sa’ba Taalor and what you have learned from the old writings.”
“He could have just asked,” Jeron’s voice was only half in jest. “Or he could come to visit.”
“That’s why he has us, you know. So that he doesn’t have to travel as far.”
When they reached the massive doors he’d been leading her towards they opened of their own accord. Neither of them was the least surprised by that miraculous event. They crossed the threshold without hesitation and continued along their way.
A careful observer would have noticed that the corridor down which they walked was far too long for the house that Goriah had entered. That observer might also have noticed that the air was substantially warmer than in Jeron’s offices or in the main entrance. Both of them noticed, of course, but were unimpressed by the change.
They walked only a dozen paces before entering the next room. There, sitting around a comfortable table and picking at the foods laid out for them, a gathering of several very powerful sorcerers looked up and smiled warmly when they saw who Jeron had brought to visit them.
Goriah smiled back and one by one she hugged and was hugged by some of the only people in the world who knew her before she wore the face she had chosen to call her own.
There were smiles aplenty in that room, but that couldn’t hide the fact that the people she was facing were scared and had a very good reason to be afraid. Whenever the Sisters came to visit it was because Desh Krohan had sent them. And when Desh took note of the sorcerers he had trained, it was because he had need of them.
It could be said, and fairly, that few people wanted to be noticed by the wizard and less of them wanted to be needed by him. That sort of attention inevitably led to changes of an extreme nature. One needed look no further than the transformations in the life of Merros Dulver to understand that.
When the greetings were done and they had all settled themselves down to eat and drink and Goriah herself had made them mugs of sweet hot tea, she looked at the people gathered with her and spoke not with her voice but with the voice of Desh Krohan.
“These are dangerous times, my friends. And they are about to get much darker.”
Desh Krohan and Merros Dulver stood together and looked toward the south, where the dark plume over what had been the Guntha Islands remained like a distant storm cloud.
“What news from your Sisters?”
Desh leaned along the parapet and let the wind play with his hair. He’d scrubbed himself several times in scalding hot waters before he’d felt properly clean again and now that he was, he wanted to savor the sensation.
“Pella travels to the east. She’s gathering knowledge and will contact me soon, I hope. Tataya is far to the south. She’s been speaking on our behalf to the Brellar.”
“The Brellar?” Merros frowned at him.
“Well, we need to have a proper navy, don’t we?”
“We have a navy.” Merros frowned. “At least I think we have a navy.” His frown became a proper scowl. “Why don’t we have a navy?”
“We did. Actually we had a fleet of ships and boats, many of which were supplied by Roathes and the descending kingdoms to the south.” Desh gestured toward the distant cloud of darkness. “The Guntha blew up. And then Roathes was taken by black ships. And now we don’t have a navy so much as we have plenty of promises that when the time comes, if it comes, a few ships will be spared for the use of the Empire.”
“Would you care to explain how that works, please? Are there ships or no?”
Desh looked at the General and raised an eyebrow. “Mostly there are ships. They are held by the different kingdoms and assigned to the Empire, should there be a war. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
“So why are you now looking to hire a naval fleet?”
“You misunderstand, Merros. I’m preparing for the events that could happen.”
“No. You’re deliberately not telling me something. You have placed me in charge of defending the Empire and now you’re hiding things. Tell me what you’re hiding or find someone else to run this affair.”
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“I did not come out of retirement to be lied to. I came out of retirement because you promised me a preposterous amount of money and told me I would be in charge of the military forces.” Actually that was a lie. He’d been told that he would be a general and in charge of defending against the possible threat of the Sa’ba Taalor. The murder of the Emperor and most of his military staff had facilitated the rise to general and head of the army. “I can’t run anything if you hide secrets that can impact my ability to command our forces.”
Desh sighed and shook his head. “You know I really do prefer a certain level of blind obedience.”
“Which is fine when I’m not running an entire Empire’s military forces. Besides which, as we’ve already discussed, you’re paying me far too well for me to give less than my all.” He looked sideways at Desh. “Really, it’s embarrassing how much you’re paying me.”
“I could always arrange a cut in your salary.”
“Don’t be hasty. I’m perfectly willing to be embarrassed from time to time. I just don’t want to be left ignorant of important facts.”
“The facts are simple enough. There’s been no need of an Imperial Navy for a long time. We have access to ships and we’ve made the most of it. But there might not be enough ships ready and waiting any longer and the best method of handling the situation is to bolster what we have with support from outside of the Empire.”
Merros shook his head and chewed at one edge of his mustache.
“No. We need to build more ships.”
“We’re currently under attack.”
“All the more reason to build more ships.”
“We can’t possibly justify building more ships if we don’t have the support of the Empress, and Nachia’s not likely to want to bother if you can’t prove your worth.”
“What do you mean by that?” Merros’svoice took on an edge.
Desh smiled. He liked knowing the man was paying attention. “What have you done about Roathes?”
“I’ve sent scouts.” His voice took on a defensive edge.
“And what have the scouts come back with?”
“Remarkably little.”
“Why is that?”
“You know why, Desh. They haven’t gone far before they returned.”
“Because?”
“Because there’s nothing there. The land is a ruin. It’s burned and blackened and the people are gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Mostly up this way, it seems.”
“How many?” Desh looked at Merros carefully as he asked the question.
Merros sighed. “Not enough.”
“Then you need to find out where the rest of them are, Merros Dulver. You need to find out where they are and you need to gather them together. The Roathians know how to build ships and boats and you want to build a navy’s worth of both. So find them and have them get to work.”
“And how do you propose I manage that?”
“What were you telling me only minutes ago? You’ve been put in charge of the greatest army on the planet. Find a way.” Desh waved a hand and stared out at the distant plume.
“Damn it.”
The wizard smiled. “Indeed.”
“You knew it would come to this.” Merros jabbed a finger at the wizard and stopped himself just before it would have touched the man. He was brave and he was angry, but he was not foolish. It was one thing to speak his mind with the sorcerer and another to touch without permission.
“Lanaie is now the queen of her people. Find her and ask her assistance.”
It was Merros who looked out at the horizon then, staring at the dark smudge that pointed toward the ruins of the Guntha.
Far to the south of the Fellein Empire, Captain Callan steered his ship, carefully following the orders that the Brellar had given. Next to him Tataya stood firm and swayed with the movement of the waves. Next to her was a complete stranger who was possibly the most important person in the world just then. Because he was the reason none of them were dead.
He hardly seemed especially significant. He was average height and a little on the slim side, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a long, thin mustache that was well suited to his long, thin face. He also sported a sword on his hip and no less than three daggers, but that was hardly unusual with the Brellar. As a rule, they remained heavily armed. Like all the Brellar he had scarred most of his arms and parts of his face with symbols that meant nothing to Callan. He knew only that the markings told stories or noted achievements. The scars were small, but numerous. He supposed that was to make room for more claims of greatness.
Ahead of them were four ships. Behind them were three more.
The man the Brellar had sent along to keep them company walked closer and took the wheel from Callan. He was not demanding, but he did not have to be. As the man currently in charge of their fates, he chose to be gracious. Callan was grateful.
The redheaded beauty that’d hired him watched the newcomer as he steered the vessel into the docks where the Brellar were waiting. They had caught a good wind and rode it all the way to the land where they came to a rest. Captain Callan had never been this far south and east. He did not know if they were at an island or if they were touching a larger land mass.
They had left the areas he knew seventeen days earlier. Now he was doing his best not to get killed. He had doubts about his success rate.
Still, they were all still alive when the men on the docks started securing the ship.
Callan felt a bit intimidated, really. He called his boat a ship, but, in comparison to the Brellar vessels on all sides, it was rather like calling a stunted pony a warhorse. The Brellar’s vessels were monstrous in comparison, and all of them were in fine shape.
Their Brellar escort gestured quickly and headed for the gangplank, chattering away in the common tongue about the beautiful weather and promising a meal for everyone.
Callan did not know that he trusted the cheerful mood, but he went along with it.
The redhead, Tataya, walked with calm assurance and glided her way down the to the docks. Several of the men gladly followed behind her. He doubted that their luck would be any better than his, and he’d been trying to woo her without the first hint of success since the day they’d met. The wind shifted and he caught a hint of his own scent. Perhaps if he’d bathed a bit more regularly.
Up ahead, a large group of large men with large swords was standing at the foot of a long staircase and looking toward the redhead with an odd expression on their faces.
No one was more surprised than Callan when the gathered strangers dropped to their knees in supplication before her.
Except, just possibly, Tataya herself.
Nachia Krous paced the throne room in long strides, her hair flapping in her wake. She seemed incapable of sitting still, and Merros was obliged to at least follow her with his eyes. He’d actually given up trying to walk next to her when she was in a mood like this very early on, even before she was properly crowned.
‘There’s no one left? No one at all?” Nachia asked the question for the third time and for the third time he answered.
“No one. My scouts didn’t even find very many corpses, Majesty.”
“Well, what did they do with them?” She looked toward him with wide eyes and a slightly dangerous expression.
“I have no notion. I’ve spoken with Desh about it and he said he’ll try to investigate. Didn’t look at all pleased by the idea, actually.”
“Gods!” She pointed at one of the guards in the room, a man picked by Merros himself for his loyalty. “You!”
The man flinched.
“Darfel. His name is Darfel, Majesty.”
“Darfel! Go immediately to Desh Krohan’s chambers and tell him I demand his presence!”
Darfel responded with a sharp salute and immediately left at a brisk walk. Merros suspected the man thought he was being sent to his own death, but he listened.
“You know he’s likely ready to wet himself at the notion of bothering Desh, don’t you?”
Nachia looked at him for a moment with a puzzled expression and then managed to relax a bit and chuckled. She shook her hair back into something resembling a proper position. “I guess if one doesn’t really know him, the old man is rather intimidating.”
“Actually he’s just basically rather intimidating all the time.”
“Are you intimidated by him, General Dulver?”
“Majesty, I deal with people who can order me executed on a whim. Why should one who can turn me into a spider and squash me under his foot be any more intimidating?”
“Do you really think he could turn you into a spider?”
“According to the rumors I’ve heard over the years, he could just as easily turn me into a butterfly or kill me with a glance. After a certain point you just accept that the man can kill you any number of ways.”
He kept his tone light, because the Empress needed a bit more levity in her life, near as he could tell.
“Well, you may rest assured I’ll only have you executed with good reason and if I do I’ll allow you a fair chance to argue your case.”
“You know, I really don’t know you well enough to get if you’re joking when you say that sort of thing, Majesty.”
“Of course I’m joking.” She shook her head. “I’m just getting used to you. I would rather not go through finding a replacement.”
“Still not sure if you’re joking.”
“Good. I rather like keeping my staff guessing as to my motives.”
“You have been around that damned wizard far too much.”
“I should rather not be described as ‘that damned wizard’, thank you.” Desh’s voice had an edge of annoyance. He hadn’t been there a moment before, but he stepped out of the shadows and looked at Merros with a scowl.
Nachia shook her head. “You’re not to consult your damned spirits about the Roathians.”
Desh looked at her for a long second with narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good. That’s good. I’d prefer you not disappear for several days again.”
“Pity that. I was planning on going to Roathes myself to see what happened there.”
“What?” It took Merros a moment to realize that he and the Empress had spoken simultaneously.
“I’m going to Roathes. I need to find out what happened there and I have no one else here I can trust with the examinations.”
“Send more soldiers.” Nachia was shaking her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Soldiers won’t answer the questions. I need to go myself.”
“Send one of the Sisters.” Nachia’s expression brooked no argument.
“Can’t. They aren’t here. They’re otherwise engaged.” Desh crossed his arms and shook his head.
“I know you can talk to them over long distances. I’ve seen you do it.”
“I can be there and back before any of the Sisters could manage and I need to see this myself, Nachia. It has to happen.”
“What if I need your counsel?”
“I am the First Advisor, not the only advisor.”
“Fine. Take soldiers with you.”
“They’ll only slow me down.”
“Desh…”
“Nachia. I’ll be back within five days.” He shook his head. “Ten if you make me drag along soldiers.”
Merros watched the two of them as if they were engaged in a proper duel, with throwing knives.
“What do you need from the area to know what happened, Desh?” He asked the question with a sigh.
“I need to see what I need to see. I need to touch the sand and examine different homes. I need to investigate for evidence of what transpired. It’s not as simple as merely asking an inquisitor to get answers from witnesses, Merros. There are no witnesses. There’s no one there at all from what you’ve said.”
“Couldn’t you get the answers from the soldiers who made the trip?”
“No. I need more than they can offer.”
Nachia cleared her throat and both men looked at her. Merros felt a quick flash of guilt. For just one moment he’d forgotten he was in the presence of the Empress.
“Five days?” She looked so damned young staring uncertainly at her advisor.
“No more than that. Possibly less.”
“Then do it if you have to, but be back soon.”
Without pausing for so much as a breath, she turned to Merros. “You need to send men to watch him.”
“But, milady, he said–”
“I don’t care. Send soldiers. They’ll follow behind him and stay out of his way.”
“Yes, Milady.” There were logistics to consider. That, and Desh Krohan was looking at him as if he might be more useful as a spider. He apologized to the mage with his eyes, but ultimately they both served the Empress.
“Does this mean we’re at war, General Dulver?”
“Well, I suppose it must, Majesty.”
“Then I do not wish for this to be a case of waiting and wondering, General. I wish the armies mobilized. Look at your maps and find the best way to invade the Taalor Valley.”
Merros bit his tongue. The very idea of trying to move an army through the Blasted Lands was one of the problems that had kept him up and sleepless more nights than he’d managed to rest.
“I’ve been preparing, Majesty. It’s been a matter of waiting for everything to be readied.”
“Waiting for what, exactly?” She wasn’t being terse. He knew that, but it certainly felt like she was. His chest felt constricted his uniform. He hated the formal attire, but had to wear it in the palace, even when the Empress was running around in her riding clothes, which was most of the time.
“Majesty, you’ve seen the Sa’ba Taalor. We have them in numbers, but our army is spread across the entire Empire and theirs is in a single valley. It has taken me time to prepare our soldiers, to make sure they are properly armed and trained.”
“Well, you are in your position because you have the trust of your Empire. But now it’s time to move forward, General. Prepare for war. By the time Desh Krohan gets back here, I want our troops ready to strike into the Blasted Lands and attack the animals that murdered my cousin.”
“Aye, your Majesty. As you command.” He bowed formally. They had a fairly casual relationship and he was grateful for that, but when the Empress gave an order he would obey, even if he feared the consequences.
Desh stared at Nachia Krous for a long moment in silence and then looked toward Merros. The General could not read any expression at all from the sorcerer. He may as well have been looking at a statue of the man.
When Desh spoke it was with a soft sigh. “I suppose I should ready myself. We’re all going to be very busy when I get back.”