Emperor of Shadows

by Mike Truk

  “Iris is gone?” Tamara hadn’t touched her food since I’d begun speaking, and nor, I realized, had I. “That can’t be.”

  “I don’t believe it myself. I thought I saw her a few days ago, during the fight in the Noose. She was right there, perfectly formed, herself, smiling in that wild, wicked way of hers, but…”

  “But?”

  “She disappeared. Or had never been there. I searched the corpses. The prisoners. Asked everyone. Nobody could recall seeing her.”

  Tamara sat, frozen, knuckles white where she clenched her knife and fork. “No. That can’t be. We need her. Need to ask her about Aurora. To deal with Aurora. Kellik. How can Iris be dead?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Tamara’s tone grew grim. “What were her last words, exactly?”

  I recalled the scene. The Star Chamber, Baleric to one side, Iris gazing at my father.

  “She said, ‘So beautiful. It’s all so beautiful. Don’t fret, my love. I’ll see you again someday soon. Look for me.’”

  And goosebumps broke out across my forearms all over again.

  “Hmm,” said Tamara. “What happened then?”

  “She screamed and directed her power at my father. A second later Baleric cut off her head.”

  “She knew she was going to die. She might have been mad, but she wasn’t naive.”

  “No, she wasn’t,” I agreed.

  “And if she could…‘imprint’ her matrix on your father’s… then…” Tamara frowned, then shrugged. “I don’t know. This is far beyond me. I suppose we’ll just have to remain open to possibilities. What happened next?”

  I continued my tale. How I took control of Aurelius’ household, then took the medusa to the base where I found Yashara…

  “…partially demolished.” The words were brutal, stark, and felt ugly to say out loud. “The medusa said she couldn’t be healed. Her head had been… chiseled off her…”

  I pursed my lips and stared down at my hands.

  “Oh, Kellik,” said Tamara, reaching out to take my hand. “Yashara…?”

  All I could do was nod grimly and stare through my plate.

  Tamara took a hitching breath, and we sat there in silence, both wrestling with our emotions.

  “Havatier was completely destroyed. Do you know…?” I faltered, wanting to ask her, dreading the answer. “Have you heard of a way to…?”

  She shook her head with great reluctance. “Nothing that I know of. Even as a Sworn. Her matrix will be inanimate, and thus resistant to the healing light of the White Sun. But if a medusa to transform her to flesh, she would immediately die. And besides, there is nothing that can heal a decapitation.”

  It was as if a leaden cloak were draped suddenly over my shoulders. I sank beneath its weight, my last hope dying away. “I see.”

  “Their remains?”

  “Here, at Thorne Manor. I had every fragment collected. Every speck of stone.”

  “Stone endures, Kellik. If there is a way, if there is a miracle out there that can bring them back to us, they’ll be there when we find it. Ready. Waiting.”

  “Yes.” I considered her words, then gave a curt nod. “She’ll be ready when we find a cure.”

  “Yes.” Tamara squeezed my hand tightly. “It’s a very large and endlessly mysterious world, Kellik. The cure might be out there.”

  I sniffed harshly, sat up straight once more. “Yes. Moving on.” And I told her of the audience with the councilors, how I took over the guards, and my plans to crush the Family.

  “We’ve made excellent progress.” I spoke without pride, but bleakly, simply stating the facts. “The Noose is cleansed. I’m to meet with the council later today to review the operation, and will suggest what happens to that part of town moving forward.”

  Tamara digested this news, releasing my hand to take up her crystal flute of juice. “The White Sun would be willing to take this project on. To oversee the resettlement of the Noose. It could be done humanely.”

  “A captain of mine suggested razing the whole six blocks to the ground and creating a park. One without walls, open to the people of Port Gloom. A mirror to the Garden here on the wealthier side of the Snake Head.”

  “A worthy suggestion. What do you think? What would happen to the people without homes?”

  “Well, we secured almost a hundred thousand gold from the Family. I could command the council to use those funds to build affordable housing for the poor. There are entire swathes of abandoned warehouses along the north side of the river which could be cleared and rebuilt.”

  “The wealthy would object,” said Tamara wryly.

  “Let them.” I sat back, tapped the edge of the table with my fork. “I’m past caring.”

  The silence stretched out as she considered me. “You’ve changed.”

  I glanced up at her.

  “Not in the obvious ways. Grief, loss, exhaustion. There’s something…more… to you now.”

  I didn’t hear judgment in her voice. Just consideration.

  “My powers have finally come into their own,” I admitted. “I can heal even mortal wounds with ease. Haven’t slept in days. Can command anyone without difficulty. It’s as if my father’s death unlocked my full abilities.”

  Tamara nodded, pensive. “And now you stand to take his place.”

  I frowned. “Not necessarily. The more I learn about what he was up to, the more I think he was just… holding on to power for its own sake. Not seeking change. Growth. Pursuing plans. Just… maintaining the status quo.”

  “And you don’t want that.”

  I laughed. “You know I don’t. You’re the one who changed me. Healed me and improved my spirit, remember? Bettered me. Made me care about justice and equality and all those fancy notions that never bothered me before.”

  Tamara winced. “I try not to think about that.”

  “I’m glad you did. Because the old Kellik, if he was here now, he’d probably just step right into Aurelius’s old shoes and take control of the whole Family. But me? I’ve come too far, seen too much, to not use this power for good.”

  “And what is good, Kellik?”

  “Destroying Imogen’s Web, as they call it. We found one of the seers in Kavark’s stronghold. They’d broken her mind, and…” I shook my head. “I’m going to find each seer and break them free of this slavery.”

  “All right. We take down Imogen’s Web. Then what?”

  “Then…” I struggled to find the words. “We improve Port Gloom. Use the confiscated wealth from the Family to fund… I don’t know. Better housing, for example. We continue our reforms in the Star Chamber. Mellonis beat me before by proposing ridiculous laws that I couldn’t oppose but which they had no intention of fulfilling. Now we make them see the reforms through. It’ll be a process. But we can work toward helping the common man. To redistribute the wealth. See to it that the masses of the poor don’t need to turn to a Family-like organization to escape their misery. Find out how other cities work, what other opportunities should be afforded to the people.”

  Tamara considered my words. “I agree with you completely. But none of this will matter if we can’t deal with Aurora.”

  I sat back, glum. “Maybe now we can figure her out. Ask around. Find specialists. Blightwort is a necromancer. He might be able to help.”

  “Because Olandipolis is only a week’s ride from us. I fear what may happen if it falls to her army. Where she may direct her attention next.”

  “Olandipolis is huge,” I protested. “Two sets of walls, never been conquered, and so on.”

  “Olandipolis is filled to the brim with the followers of the White Sun. If her heresy spreads inside…”

  I mulled over this idea. “I guess in that regard Port Gloom is a little safer. Not many righteous people here.”

  “Yes,” said Tamara with a smile. “But that’s just one of my concerns. The other is for you.”

  “For me? What part of ‘immune to mortal wounds’ did
n’t you understand?”

  “Not that.” She considered me, brown eyes alive with warmth and compassion. “You’re taking on an unnatural role. Complete power.”

  “You doubt my intentions?”

  “No. But I fear what you may have to do to accomplish your dream. What sacrifices you’ll have to make, what you will force others to sacrifice. What that will do to you.”

  “I don’t plan to rule forever,” I said, unable to keep my voice from growing stiff. “Just change some fundamental things, ensure the system I leave in place is fair.”

  “And you think that will be easy?” Tamara rested her chin in her palm. “I left the Sworn, remember? Just before we met?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember why?”

  I frowned. “You knew how your healing changed people. Improved their souls. And you decided you didn’t want to do that anymore. Didn’t want to let the White Sun continue to manipulate people’s souls.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Do you remember your reaction when you discovered what my powers had done to you? How I’d saved your life, but in doing so changed you for the ‘better’? How Netherys preferred to die of a slit throat than allow me to touch her?”

  I scowled, sat back. “It’s not the same. I’m not trying to change people’s souls. I’m trying to change the city. To undo the damage done by my father. By the Family.”

  “This isn’t easy for you to hear. I know that. It wasn’t easy for me to accept, years ago. But the White Sun had its own justifications for what they did. The Sworn were righteous. Self-righteous. Everything they did they did to improve people. I was cast out when I doubted our right to do so.”

  “So what are you saying?” I tried not to feel angry, and failed. “That I shouldn’t destroy the Family? Should leave my father’s systems in place? Not undo centuries of abuse and oppression?”

  Tamara frowned down at her plate, clearly upset. “No. Those are obviously good goals. And… there’s a line, isn’t there, between manipulating people’s souls and changing the world to help them in general. I’m just…”

  “Just what?”

  She fixed me with a piercing stare. “I’m just warning you that it’s a slippery slope. Being powerful doesn’t make you wiser than everyone else. I saw that amongst the Sworn. Simply because they could change others didn’t make them superior. Yet they thought they were. Their abilities were their own justifications. Just because they could change people’s souls they felt like they had to.”

  “So what are you saying, exactly?”

  “This is me, ringing a warning bell, as you set out to change the city. I’m not trying to stop you. I’m just highlighting the danger that will beset you on this road. Kellik.” She paused briefly. “I love you. I’d die for you. I want to be with you. I’ve wanted you to succeed since you first woke up in my herbalist’s shed and charmed me with your half-truths and that smile of yours. I’m on your side. I’m just using my own experiences to warn you. To point out the dangers that come with this kind of power.”

  And like that my anger guttered and died, and I sank back in my chair, truly exhausted for the first time in days. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I gave a weary nod. “Thank you, Tamara. I know you care for me. I know you want what’s best for me, and for… everyone.”

  I dropped my hand into my lap. She was watching me with grave concern. “It’s just that… I’ve worked so hard to achieve this. To remove my father from power, to weaken the Family to the point they can be destroyed, to pass laws that will help the oppressed, that… to hear anybody - even you - warn me about continuing down this road… especially after Yashara and Iris have given their lives to make this possible - it’s hard to hear.”

  Tamara leaned forward, took my hand in hers. “I know. But what kind of friend and lover would I be if I couldn’t tell you the hard truths? Would you rather I not speak my mind?”

  “Never,” I said.

  “Good. You’d not be the man I thought you were otherwise. Now, you look like you’re about to fall apart. And your spirit…” She narrowed her eyes, stared through me. “It’s burning bright but fraying at the edges. That’s… huh.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. When people grow tired, injured, or depressed, the vibrancy of their matrix diminishes. And I can see how yours is doing just that. Fraying even. But there’s a source of light that keeps pulsing into it. And where it goes, your matrix renews itself. But…”

  I waited, feeling uncomfortable as she examined my soul.

  “But it’s not healthy. Not right. You could probably go on like this forever, but you’d grow ever more worn out. Like someone who’s subsisting on coffee to stay up, night after night. You need to sleep, Kellik. You need true rest.”

  “Not had much time for that,” I said reluctantly. “The Noose has been a full-time job, and I’ve the council to address in a few hours, along with a Royal Provost to suborn, hundreds of thousands of gold coins to spend, this hereshen to prepare for, and -”

  “Enough.” Tamara’s expression melted into simple kindness, amusement, and firm resolve. “All of that can wait a few hours. Come.”

  “Come?” I allowed her to pull me to my feet and followed after. “Where to?”

  “Bed,” said Tamara. “I can tell you’ll come up with an excuse if I don’t force you to lie down. You’ll sleep for a few hours, and then rise to tackle the council.”

  “I need to prepare, learn what resolutions they’ve passed, so I don’t walk in there clueless as to -”

  But Tamara wasn’t listening. She led me out into the grand entrance hall, then turned to climb the stairs.

  Bemused, I followed, watching her, admiring her from behind. Where had that hesitant, nervous young healer I’d met gone? Somewhere along the line, she’d been replaced by this calm, confident, assertive woman.

  It was too easy to recall how Tamara had been, oh so long ago. Dressing in voluminous, shapeless clothing to hide her figure, working in a tiny shack beside a pigpen, depending on a job in an inn’s kitchen to supplement her income.

  Torn and twisted by her healing powers, unsure of herself, desiring me but unable to believe she could ever be desired in turn. I thought of her across the past few years. Facing enemies by my side, near dying in the king troll mausoleum under Port Lusander, coming into her own as an Exemplar of the White Sun.

  She was always struggling for moral clarity. To do the right thing. To balance her love for me with her own imperatives.

  What a woman.

  She led me down the hallway and opened a door at random. A guest suite; the large bed neatly made with a clean, pillowy comforter stretched across its frame, a subdued rug of pale jade stretched out across the honeyed planks of the floor.

  “Here,” she said, giving me a gentle push toward the bed and closing the door behind her. “Strip and get in.”

  I laughed. “You’re not shy about your demands.”

  She crossed her arms over her ample chest and leaned back against the wall, chin lowered, eyebrow raised. “I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

  “We are indeed.” So I did as I was bid, and shucked my suit of clothing. Tamara never looked away, and when I was finally nude she pointed to the bed itself. I sat back, worked my way to the headboard, and there watched as she moved forward to stand before me.

  And strip in turn.

  She moved without haste, eyes never leaving my own. Peeling away the white robes of her office, the mark of an Exemplar of her faith. Removing her cloak and elbow-length white gloves, taking off the white cap to reveal her dark, braided hair.

  She reached behind her to undo clasps, and her form-hugging white gown fell forward. A shrug, a tug, and it settled about her ankles.

  “I like your vestments,” I said, and by the Hanged God’s ever-questing cock I was speaking the truth. For under her severe outfit she wore a sheer, white lace teddy that
hugged her body, cupped her breasts, and dove down in a sharp “V” between her broad hips to cling to her pussy.

  She placed her hands on her hips, completely unabashed, and raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, is that what all the faithful are expected to wear?” I fought to keep my voice curious and polite. “The bishops, the prelates…?”

  “I took advantage of freshening up earlier. Been meaning to model this for you.” Tamara gazed down at herself, slid a finger under the hem where it curved over her ample ass, and pulled it free with a flick. “But if you’d rather discuss church doctrine?”

  “I, ah, no complaints here. Just… unexpected.”

  “Unexpected?” Her eyebrow rose higher. “That’s the best you can say?”

  “Delicious, delirious, delightful.” I sat up a little straighter. Blind Fortuna wept, she was glorious, completely composed, at home in her skin like I’d never seen, voluptuous and mature. That confidence made her beauty all the more alluring. “You’re beautiful, Tamara. I’ve always known it. A beauty made uncommon since it simply reflects the beauty of your soul -”

  “All right,” she laughed, and prowled onto the bed, “I’m satisfied, no more.”

  “A soul whose curves and bosom are spiritual, ah, manifestations of a most romantic kind, and which -”

  “Enough!” She crawled right up to me, hands and knees on either sides of my legs, and in her brown eyes, I saw affection, love, amusement, desire. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

  I complied. Leaned forward, taking her face in my hands, I lost myself to the sensation, her soft lips, her need, my own hunger. Slowly I scooted down, moving under her as she turned to lie by my side, our legs intertwining, holding each other tight as we kissed.

  It felt so good. So right. So perfect.

  But our desire grew too hot to be content with such subtle intimacy. Her hand slid down to curl about the base of my cock, and I felt her wet heat against my thigh as she began to slowly rub herself against my leg.

  Still kissing, we twisted, adjusted, turned in small movements so that when she pushed her lace underclothing aside I was able to thrust myself up and inside her, guided with surety by her fingers.