The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Chapter Ten

   

  It was said that the Darenthi Royal Court had all the politicking and scheming of the Septurian Empire but none of its majesty. Prince Kastrius probably should have been insulted by that, but instead it always made him smile in bitter amusement. The senators who controlled the Republic were ostensibly bound by their oaths to Venar to uphold justice and order throughout the nation. In practice, oaths to a silent god were little more than empty promises, and most of them cared only about themselves and their own provinces.

  And so this mockery of government endured as an embarrassment to its founders and the ideals of the original empire. The court nobles were petty, bickering children fighting for scraps at the Empress’s table. The senators, however, were even worse. As a child, he distinctively remembered stumbling over the writings of Empress Myral, leader of the First Republic a hundred fifty years ago. He had begged his tutors to explain to him why it was considered a great step forward towards a “modern and just” society. The entire premise of a Republic was absurd; to think that a popularity contest could produce anything other than simpering demagogues had to be the height of idiocy.

  Of course, it wasn’t as if he respected the throne right now, either. But he would give his mother some credit—the Empress’s official power was quite limited these days, and yet she often managed to seem completely in control. Her Edehan followers had very successfully appealed to their war-torn nation’s desire for peace, particularly in the rural and agrarian settlements that had been destroyed and rebuilt many times in the past century.

  The problem was that it was all a lie. There could be no true peace with the Ebarans so long as the godless plutocrats controlled their government. Their ravenous expansionism would never be sated. A peace treaty would only allow them time to further rebuild their forces and prepare for another war.

  Kastrius didn’t plan on giving them the chance. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the entire world was conspiring against him.

  He sighed as the pair of royal guards continued to escort him through the palace towards the throne room. Only days ago, his victory had been all but assured. His agents had found the Kirshal, and they were going to deliver her right to his doorstep. Even when Marek had betrayed him, he had been certain Bremen would be able to recover her.

  Now she was lost once more, possibly forever. Even eight hours after he had first heard the news, he could scarcely believe it. He had been this close—this close—to finally escaping from beneath his mother’s heel, and each time victory seemed assured it was pulled out from under him. He had trusted Bremen to get the job done, and why shouldn’t he have? Abalor’s eye, the man had fought back the Arteris Blitz! He had nearly won the last war single-handedly, and now, somehow, a gang of pitiful little merchants had bested him?

  Kastrius had to repress the urge to swear again. He had done plenty of that this morning, and all it had gotten him was a sore throat. His complete and utter impotence was infuriating. His mother had him sequestered away so he couldn’t interfere in any of her plans, and he had to rely entirely on others. And now, worst of all, he would be forced to listen to her berate him.

  He shook his head as the two men pushed upon the door to the throne room and escorted him inside. The Empress wasn’t here, of course, as she spent virtually all of her time in Haven these days. But in lieu of her physical presence, she had commissioned a giant sending stone that could project a full-body image of her directly upon the throne. For several hours a day her ghostly visage would sit here and deal with dignitaries and court nobles, and that’s exactly what she was doing now.

  He stood and watched as she spoke in sharp tones with a few of the nobles before dismissing them and beckoning him forward. His guards backed off to the side to allow him a measure of privacy in their conversation. It was an additional advantage of speaking through a projection—personal security wasn’t a consideration.

   “Good afternoon, my son,” she said. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

  Spoken from another mouth, the words might have been sincere. From hers, however, they were laced with a not-so-subtle veil of sarcasm.

  “Of course not, Empress. What do you require of me?”

  She didn’t bother to hide the contempt in her eyes, but the rest of her body language stayed cool. Even through a projection, she was savvy enough to understand that people were always watching her, and perception of family loyalty was important.

  “It seems you have been busy.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve been informed you sent General Bremen to Haven,” she explained. “And last night his troops conducted a raid upon a house in the docks. I wonder what it was they were looking for?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re ta—”

  “Do not lie to me!” she snapped, though her body barely moved. “The local garrison found an entire underground fortress beneath that house, but by the time they arrived it had been almost completely cleaned out.”

  Kastrius pressed his lips together. He could throw a tantrum, he knew. He could make such a scene that every senator in the Republic would hear about it. It would embarrass her here in the royal court, and it would probably even make its way to the Assembly of the Six Gods in Haven. But in the end, that’s all it would do, and that simply wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

  And for his efforts, he might find himself completely confined to his tower. Or, even worse, his Siphon might mysteriously die one day and take him to the Fane along with it. As glorious as it would be to see her try to deal with the mess he could create, the risk simply wasn’t worth it—at least not until Veltar’s people helped free him from her tether.

  “My men have been exploring rumors,” he explained. “An artifact smuggler had gone to ground in the city, and they were trying to find him.”

  “An artifact smuggler?” she asked derisively. “The way the garrison commander described the base, no mere smuggler could afford such a base.”

  “I can’t really explain that,” Kastrius said. “My people assured me it would be a simple task. Apparently they were wrong and died for their mistake.”

  She grunted. “Such care for your subordinates. It’s no wonder you inspire such loyalty in your personal guard. I’m told there have been even more requests for transfers from the soldiers in your tower. It seems no one wants to defend you, my son.”

  “That’s not really their choice, is it?” he asked, putting just enough wounded pride in his voice to make it sound authentic. He had gone through his share of guards in his day, but this time it had nothing to do with his so-called “abuse.” The transfers were intentional and just the first stage in his plan to release himself from the Siphon…

  “No,” the Empress said flatly. “It’s mine. The same way it is my responsibility to police Haven, not yours.”

  Kastrius just stood stiffly and endured her measuring gaze. She didn’t really know much—she was fishing, and he wasn’t going to take the bait. She could be as suspicious as she wanted, but without real proof she wouldn’t actually do anything. 

  “I ordered the garrison commander to find General Bremen. I assume he didn’t die in the assault?”

  “I haven’t heard from him,” the prince replied. “I hope not.”

  “Touching,” she murmured. “So tell me, what was it these smugglers found? What was it you wanted so badly?”

  “You know of my fondness for antiquities. They found an old set of ruins just up the coast and had excavated a few sculptures.”

  She cocked her head. “Sculptures.”

  “Septurian. Post-Sundering, I believe.”

  “And you felt they were important enough to risk your soldier’s lives in recovering them?”

  He shrugged. “I paid for them. Venar demanded justice.”

  Her eyes thinned fractionally, and he forced himself to repress a smile. She was trying to decide if he really was that cold—if he cared so little fo
r his people that he would risk them for a few minor baubles—or if he had a different agenda. In an odd twist of fortune, the slanderous rumors about his depravity would actually work to his advantage here. His mother had long believed him “misguided.” He just wasn’t sure if she believed him insane or sadistic.

  “My men have standing orders to bring General Bremen and any of his staff in for questioning,” she told him after a moment. “Depending on what they say, you and I may have another conversation.”

  “I hope you find him,” Kastrius lied. “But since I haven’t been able to contact him, I assume he is dead. I would think that would make you happy.”

  “Don’t presume. The Republic owes much to such a patriot.”

  That must be why you exiled him after Turesk, he thought darkly. Not that it was an unexpected response from her. Slandering well-liked military leaders openly wasn’t good politics. Subtly coercing them out of the public spotlight, however, was a great way to save face. 

  “Is there anything else, mother?” he asked.

  “You’re not to leave your tower,” she told him. “Not until I find Bremen or evidence of his demise. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly, Empress.”

  She glared at him for a moment longer before beckoning to her guards. The two men strode forward and escorted the prince back to his tower. It wasn’t until he was all the way back and the door shut behind him that he finally swore loudly enough to stir the pigeons roosting outside his window.

  He let the rage cool in his veins before opening his eyes and glancing to his own sending stone. Senator Veltar had insisted his men would be ready to take Kastrius to the prison and break his bond with the Siphon within the next day or two, but the prince was suddenly feeling impatient. If his mother did actually track down Bremen or his adjutant, he might find himself in a great deal of trouble.

  Kastrius walked to the stone, but just as he drew within arm’s reach it began to hum and projected a faint rune in the air—exactly the same one he had been about to call. Frowning, he leaned forward and tapped it.

  “Good afternoon, my prince,” Veltar said smoothly as his head appeared in the air.

  “Senator,” Kastrius replied with a nod. “I was about to contact you.”

  “I assumed you would eventually. Bremen has already informed me of your failed excursion.”

  The prince unwittingly grimaced. “A temporary setback.”

  “That’s not how the general put it,” Veltar murmured, “but I’m not here to berate you about wasting resources. I realize I’m not going to convince the two of you to give up this kreel’s chase, so instead I’ll try to help you finish it as quickly as possible.”

  Kastrius grunted. “How generous.”

  “It is, actually. One of my agents in the city informed me that an old rival has been particularly active of late. I believe it relates to this Kirshal you think you’ve found.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He never wanted to risk looking too interested in anything his allies had to say, lest they might think they had an advantage over him.

  “Indeed. Perhaps you have heard of the organization called the Kirshane.”

  Kastrius nodded. “Of course. They’re an ancient sect of Edehan warrior-priests who consider themselves the rightful protectors of the Kirshal.” He frowned. “I was under the impression they had completely disintegrated by now.”

  “Almost,” Veltar said. “A handful of them remain, led by a man named Jonas Bale.”

  The prince mulled over the name but didn’t recognize it. “And you know this man?”

  “I did, once. In any event, the important detail for you to know is that he has an apprentice within the city, and this man has made contact with your thief.”

  “I see,” Kastrius replied. It was convenient timing, to be sure, but he couldn’t see what the senator had to gain by feeding him false information—at least not yet. For now they were all working towards the same goal, and he didn’t expect that to change until after Unity Day. Still, he knew full well Veltar had his own agenda and couldn’t be completely trusted.

  “The Kirshane will attempt to bring your Messiah back to their base of operations, you see,” Veltar went on. “They will want to test her and perform all manner of rituals to wake her from her slumber and prepare her for ascension.”

  “And I assume you just so happen to know where this base is?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” the older man admitted. “It’s somewhere south of the Ebaran border within the Highland Forest.”

  “Not exactly a small radius,” the prince murmured, glancing behind the stone to the massive map stretched across the eastern wall of his room. The forest stretched for hundreds of miles south, all the way along the Vakari border.

  “But it does point you in the right direction. Do with it what you will.”

  Kastrius leaned back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but it was more than they had before. Unfortunately, the Highland Forest was almost impassable, and finding anything inside it without more specific directions would essentially be impossible.

  “Well, I suppose I should thank you.”

  Veltar snorted. “You can thank me by capturing her so we can move past this nonsense and focus on the matter at hand. Though if you happen to kill Bale along the way, I wouldn’t complain. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “The Empress’s patience with me grows thin,” he said. “How soon will your men be ready?”

  “Two days, three at the most,” Veltar told him. “I suggest you keep a low profile until then.”

  “Very well. I suppose that will have to do.”

  “If there is nothing else, I bid you good day, my prince.”

  “Stay in touch,” the prince said, closing the projection. His eyes once again locked upon the wall-size map of Esharia, and he felt a faint smile pull at his lips. All in all, last night’s debacle really was just a minor setback. However this Rook had managed to escape the first time, he couldn’t possibly get so lucky again. It might take a few days, but Bremen would find him eventually, and then the Kirshal would be theirs.

  In the meantime, his mother’s leash would be cut from his neck. Then he could even leave this damned tower and perhaps even go to Haven itself. He could actually start to personally direct the steps that would lead to his inevitable rule—and slowly begin the process of separating himself from his “allies.”

  He would keep Bremen around, probably, since the man’s ambitions were limited to military command. But the senator…no, Veltar was far too clever to leave alive, and it wasn’t as if his new empire was going to have a use for senators, anyway. 

  The Darenthi people would have him to look out for them, after all. What else could they possibly need?