Nayimathun puffed more cloud. “Neporo,” she echoed. “Yes . . . that was her name. She wielded this jewel the first time.”
“But, Nayimathun, I cannot be descended from a queen,” Tané said. “My family were very poor.”
“You have her jewel, Tané. It may be the only explanation,” Nayimathun said. “The Grand Empress Dowager was a temperate ruler, but her grandson is young and impulsive. It would be best for us to keep the true nature of the jewel between us, lest it be taken from you.” Her gaze flicked to Loth. “This one knows where it is, but he is afraid of me. Perhaps he will confide in another human.”
Tané followed her line of sight. When he saw them both watching him, Loth stopped talking to Thim.
“You must support his appeal tomorrow. He means to propose an alliance between the Unceasing Emperor and Queen Sabran of Inys,” Nayimathun said.
“The honored Unceasing Emperor will never agree.” Tané was stunned. “It would be madness even to propose it to him.”
“He may be tempted. Now the Nameless One is coming, it is of paramount importance that we stand together.”
“He is coming, then?”
“We have felt it. The diminishing of our power, and the rise of his. His fire burns ever hotter.” Nayimathun nudged her. “Go, now. Ask her envoy about the waning jewel. We must have it.”
Tané put the rising jewel away. Whatever Loth knew about the twin, it was unlikely that he would agree to yield it to dragonkind, or to her, without a fight.
She walked across the bridge and joined the two men in the pavilion.
“Tell me where the waning jewel is,” she said to the Westerner. “It must be returned to dragonkind.”
Loth blinked before his face set. “That is quite out of the question,” he said. “My dear friend in Inys is the possessor of the jewel.”
“Which friend is this?”
“Her name is Eadaz uq-Nāra. Lady Nurtha. She is a mage.”
Tané had never heard the word. “I think he means sorceress,” Thim said to Tané in Seiikinese.
“The jewel does not belong to this Lady Nurtha,” Tané said, irked. “It belongs to dragonkind.”
“They choose their own wielders. And only death can sever the link between Ead and the waning jewel.”
“Is she able to come here?”
“She is gravely ill.”
“Will she recover?”
Something flickered in his eyes. He rested his arms on the balustrade and gazed out at the pine trees.
“There may be one way to heal her,” he murmured. “In the South there is an orange tree, guarded by wyrm-slayers. Its fruit can offset the effects of poison.”
“Wyrm-slayers.” Tané misliked this revelation. “And is this Eadaz uq-Nāra a wyrm-slayer, too?”
“Yes.”
Tané tensed. “I am aware,” she said, “that over the Abyss, you consider our dragons to be evil. That you consider them as cruel and frightening as the Nameless One.”
“It is true that there have been . . . misunderstandings, but I am quite sure Ead has never harmed one of your Eastern dragons.” He turned to look at her. “I need your help, Lady Tané. To carry out my task.”
“And what is that?”
“Several weeks ago, Ead found a letter from an Eastern woman named Neporo, who once wielded your jewel.”
Neporo again. Her name was all over the world, haunting Tané like a faceless ghost.
“Do you know that name?” Loth said, studying her.
“Yes. What did the letter say?”
“That the Nameless One would return a thousand years after he was bound in the Abyss with the two jewels. He was bound on the third day of spring, in the twentieth year of the reign of Empress Mokwo of Seiiki.”
Tané calculated. “This spring.” Beside her, Thim cursed under his breath.
“Queen Sabran wishes us to meet him when he rises. We cannot destroy him, not without the sword Ascalon—but we can bind him anew with the jewels.” Loth paused. “We do not have much time. I know I have little evidence of what I claim, and that you may not believe me. But will you trust me?”
His gaze was open and sincere.
Making the decision was easy, in the end. She had no choice but to reunite the jewels.
“The great Nayimathun says we should not tell anyone else about the jewels, for fear others might seek to take them,” she said. “When we meet His Imperial Majesty tomorrow, you will put your queen’s proposal to him. If he agrees to the alliance . . . I will ask if I can fly to Inys with Nayimathun to inform your queen of his decision. On our way there, we will go South. I will find the healing fruit, and we will take it to Eadaz uq-Nāra.”
Loth smiled then, and his breath came out in a fur of white. “Thank you, Tané.”
“I do not like keeping this from His Imperial Majesty,” Thim muttered. “He is the chosen representative of the Imperial Dragon. Does the great Nayimathun not trust him?”
“It is not for us to question gods.”
His mouth became a thin line, but he nodded.
“Be sure to make a persuasive case to the honored Unceasing Emperor, Lord Arteloth Beck,” Tané said to Loth. “Leave the rest to me.”
First light spilled like oil over the palace. Loth considered his reflection. Instead of his breeches and a doublet, he now wore a blue tunic and flat boots in the style of the Lacustrine court. He had already been examined by a physician, who had found no evidence of the plague.
The plan Tané had proposed might just work. If she had mage blood, like Ead, then she might be able to retrieve an orange. The thought nerved him for the meeting ahead.
The dragon, Nayimathun, was nothing like Fýredel, except in her great size. Terrifying as she appeared, with her mountain-tops of teeth and firework eyes, she seemed almost gentle. She had cradled Tané with her tail like a mother. She had saved Thim. Seeing that the creature was capable of compassion toward a human made Loth doubt his religion all over again. This year was either a test from the Saint, or he was on the verge of apostasy.
A servant soon came to take him to the Hall of the Fallen Star, where the Unceasing Emperor would receive his unexpected visitors. The others were already outside. Thim was dressed almost the same as Loth, while Tané had been given another fur-lined surcoat that struck Loth as a mark of status. Dragonriders must be held in very high regard.
“Remember,” she said to him, “say nothing of the jewel.”
She touched the case at her side. Loth looked up at the hall and took a deep breath.
Armed guards led them through a set of studded blue doors, which were flanked by statues of dragons. More guards stood on either side of the track of dark wood, polished to a high shine, that would lead them to the middle of the hall. Loth gazed up at pillars of midnight stone.
A latticed ceiling soared above, the panels arranged around a carving of a dragon. Each panel showed a phase of the moon. Lanterns hung one under the other, so they looked like ever-falling stars.
Dranghien Lakseng, the Unceasing Emperor of the Twelve Lakes, sat on a raised throne of what looked like moulded silver. He cut an arresting figure. Black hair, bound in a knot at the crown of his head, ornamented with pearls and silver-leaf flowers. Eyes like shards of onyx. Thick brows. Lips as sharply cut as his cheekbones, set in an arch smile. His robe was black, embroidered all over with stars, so it seemed as if he wore the night. He was no more than thirty.
Tané and Thim both knelt. Loth did the same.
“Rise,” said a clear, smooth voice.
They rose.
“I hardly know which of you to address first,” the Unceasing Emperor remarked, after several moments had passed in silence. “A woman of Seiiki, a man of the West, and one of my own subjects. A fascinating combination. I suppose we must make do with Inysh, since I am told, Lord Arteloth, that you do not speak anything else. Fortunately, I challenged myself, as a boy, to learn a language from each of the four parts of the world.”
&
nbsp; Loth cleared his throat.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said. “You speak the Inysh language very well.”
“There really is no need for flattery. I receive more than enough of that from my Grand Secretariat.” The Unceasing Emperor gave them an arch smile. “You are the first Inysh man to set foot in the Empire of the Twelve Lakes in centuries. My officials tell me that you come with a message from Queen Sabran of Inys, yet you arrived on dragonback, looking rather more disheveled than official ambassadors generally do.”
“Ah, yes. I apologize for—”
“If this one who stands beneath your throne may speak, Your Majesty,” Thim chimed in. The Unceasing Emperor inclined his head. “I am a privateer in the employ of Queen Sabran.”
“A Lacustrine seafarer in the employ of the Inysh queen. This is indeed a day of surprises.”
Thim swallowed.
“We were stranded by a storm on Feather Island, where my captain and crewmates are still marooned,” he continued. “Our ship was captured by the noble rider of Seiiki, who chased the Pursuit eastward. We freed Nayimathun, the exalted dragon, and she carried us to you.”
“Ah,” the Unceasing Emperor murmured. “Tell me, Lady Tané, did you find the so-called Golden Empress?”
“Yes, Majesty,” Tané said, “but I left her alive. My purpose was to free my esteemed friend, the shining Nayimathun of the Deep Snows.”
“Majesty.” Thim went to his knees again. “This humble one pleads with you to send the Lacustrine navy to assist Captain Harlowe, and to retrieve his warship, the Rose—”
“We will speak of your crew later,” the Unceasing Emperor said, with a wave of one hand. A broad ring encircled his thumb. “For now, I will hear the message from Queen Sabran.”
Skin prickling, Loth drew in a deep breath through his nose. His words would dictate what happened next.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he began, “the Nameless One, our mutual enemy, will soon return.”
No reply.
“Queen Sabran has evidence of it. A letter from one Neporo of Komoridu. He was bound with the celestial jewels, which I believe are known to the dragons of the East. The binding will end a thousand years after it was made, on the third day of the coming spring.”
“Neporo of Komoridu is a figure of myth,” the Unceasing Emperor stated. “Do you mean to mock me?”
“No.” Loth dipped his head. “It is the truth, Majesty.”
“Do you have this letter?”
“No.”
“So I am to trust your word that it exists.” The corner of his mouth gave a humorless twitch. “Very well. If the Nameless One is coming, what do you want from me?”
“Queen Sabran wishes us to face the beast on the Abyss on the day he rises,” Loth said, trying not to rush his words. “If we are to do this, we will need help, and to set aside centuries of fear and suspicion. If Your Imperial Majesty will consent to intercede with the dragons of the Empire of the Twelve Lakes on her behalf, Queen Sabran offers a formal alliance between Virtudom and the East. She begs you to look to what is best for the world, for the Nameless One seeks to destroy us all.”
The Unceasing Emperor was silent for a very long time. Loth tried to keep his expression clear, but there was sweat under his collar.
“This is . . . not what I expected,” the Unceasing Emperor finally said. His gaze was piercing. “Does Queen Sabran have a plan?”
“Her Majesty has proposed an attack on two fronts. First,” Loth said, “the rulers of the West, North, and South would join their armies to take back the Draconic stronghold of Cárscaro.”
Even as Loth said it, the face of the Donmata Marosa rose unbidden from his memory.
Would she survive if the city was stormed?
“It will draw the eye of Fýredel, right wing of the beast,” he continued. “We hope that he will send at least some of the Draconic Army, to defend it, leaving the Nameless One more vulnerable.”
“I presume she also has a plan to drive back the beast itself.”
“Yes.”
“Queen Sabran is indeed ambitious,” the Unceasing Emperor remarked, one eyebrow rising, “but what is it she offers my country in return for the labor of its gods?”
As their gazes met, Loth suddenly remembered the glassblower in Rauca. Bargaining had never been his strong point. Now he would have to barter for the fate of the world.
“First, the chance to make history,” he began. “With this act, you would be the emperor who bridged the Abyss. Imagine a world where we can trade freely again; where we can benefit from our shared knowledge, from—”
“—my dragons,” the Unceasing Emperor cut in. “And those of my brother-in-arms in Seiiki, I presume. The world you paint is beautiful, but the red sickness is still as much a threat to our shores as ever.”
“If we defeat our common enemy, and stamp out Draconic support, then the red sickness will ebb away.”
“We can only hope. What else?”
Loth made the offers the Virtues Council had permitted him to make. A new trading partnership between Virtudom and the East. Guarantees that the Inysh would support the Lacustrine, both financially and militarily, in the event of conflict or disaster for as long as the alliance endured. A tribute in jewels and gold for the Eastern dragons.
“This all sounds very reasonable,” the Unceasing Emperor remarked, “but I note that you have not mentioned marriage, Lord Arteloth. Her Majesty does offer her hand?”
Loth wet his lips.
“My queen would be honored to strengthen this historic alliance through matrimony,” he began, smiling. Even Margret had admitted that his smile could soften any heart. “However, she is latterly widowed. She would prefer that this be a military alliance only. Of course,” he added, “she understands if Lacustrine tradition forbids this without marriage.”
“I am saddened for Her Majesty, and pray she finds strength in her grief.” The Unceasing Emperor paused. “Admirable of her, to think we can overcome those differences without marriage, and the heir that would follow. Indeed, all this is a step toward modernity.”
He drummed his fingers on the arms of his throne again, studying Loth with mild interest.
“I can tell that you are no diplomat, Lord Arteloth, but your attempts to flatter me are good-natured, if clumsy. And these are desperate times,” the Unceasing Emperor concluded. “In the name of a modern alliance . . . I will not make marriage a prerequisite of the arrangement.”
“Really?” Loth blurted. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he added, hot in the face.
“You are surprised by my swift agreement.”
“I did expect more difficulty,” Loth admitted.
“I like to imagine that I am a forward-looking ruler. And it happens that I am in no mood to marry.” His face tightened for a moment. “I should clarify, Lord Arteloth, that I am only agreeing to the stand against the Nameless One. Other matters, such as trade, will take far more time to resolve. Given the continued threat of the red sickness.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Of course, my personal consent to a battle on the sea, while valuable to you, is not a guarantee that this will proceed. I must consult with my Grand Secretariat first, for my people will expect an alliance to come with an empress, and I imagine that the more old-fashioned of them will argue for it. Either way, it must be framed wisely.”
Loth was too overwhelmed with relief to worry. “Of course.”
“I must also consult with the Imperial Dragon, who is my guiding star. The dragons of this country are her subjects, not mine, and will only be persuaded if she finds this alliance to her liking.”
“I understand.” Loth bowed low. “Thank you, Majesty.” He straightened and cleared his throat. “There is great risk for us all, I know. But what ruler made history by avoiding it?”
At this, the Unceasing Emperor permitted himself the ghost of a smile.
“Until we come to an agreement, Lord Arteloth, you will remai
n here as my honored guest,” he said. “And unless my ministers raise any concerns that require further discussion, you will have an answer by dawn.”
“Thank you.” Loth hesitated. “Your Majesty, might— might Lady Tané go on dragonback to take this news to Queen Sabran?”
Tané looked at him. “Lady Tané is not my subject, Lord Arteloth,” the Unceasing Emperor said. “You will have to discuss the matter with her yourself. But first,” he said, “I should like Lady Tané to join me for breakfast.”
When he rose, the guards flinched to attention. He spoke to Tané in another language and, with a nod, she left with him.
Loth walked with Thim back to the Twilight Gardens. Thim skimmed a stone across the pond.
“It doesn’t matter what the ministers say.”
Loth frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The only counsel His Imperial Majesty heeds, apart from that of the shining Imperial Dragon, is that of his grandmother, the Grand Empress Dowager.” Thim watched the ripples spread. “He respects her above all others. She will already know every word that passed between us in that throne room.”
Loth glanced over his shoulder.
“If she advises him against the alliance—”
“On the contrary,” Thim said, “I think she will encourage it. So that he might live up to his reign-name. How can a mortal be unceasing, after all, except through memorable and historic actions?”
“Then there may be hope.” Loth loosed a breath. “You will have to excuse me, Thim. If this is to work, I must do my part and pray for it.”
When she was a child, Tané had imagined many possible futures for herself. In her dreams, she had thrown down the fire-breathing demons on the back of her dragon. She had become the greatest rider in Seiiki, greater even than Princess Dumai, and children had prayed that they would be like her one day. Her image had been painted on the walls of great houses, and her name had been enshrined in history.
In all that time, she had never dreamed that she would one day walk with the Unceasing Emperor of the Twelve Lakes in the City of the Thousand Flowers.
The Priory of the Orange Tree Page 69