Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  21

  WHEN Priestlord Klovus requested a meeting with the empra to discuss the future of Ishara itself, Iluris realized that he was expecting a public meeting in the palace’s throne room, for show. For his own prominence, he wanted to be surrounded by nobles and courtiers, permanent members of the priesthood, and hundreds of spectators. He thrived on the attention that such situations brought him. Iluris didn’t intend to give him the spectacle.

  Instead, she responded to the eager priest courier with a benevolent smile. “I will speak with him at once. Tell Klovus to meet me in the courtyard gardens where I’ll be enjoying the flowers. The cacti are beginning to bloom. We can talk uninterrupted, just the two of us.”

  As key priestlord, Klovus was the most powerful man in the thirteen districts, and she had to treat him carefully. His control of the temple godlings made him someone to be reckoned with, a useful ally … but only if he chose to be an ally. His two predecessors had known their place and accepted her as the political ruler of Ishara, and Klovus also needed to understand the proper hierarchy. He couldn’t be allowed to think the empra was at his beck and call, and she certainly would not let him drag Ishara into war just because he wanted to show off his godlings.

  The courier fiddled with the rank amulet that hung on a chain around his neck. “Now, Excellency? Perhaps a more formal appointment might be appropriate?”

  Ignoring the courier’s discomfort, Iluris rose from her throne. She adjusted her light headdress. “Why be cooped up in a shadowy chamber when it’s such a lovely day in the gardens? Send him here quickly. My schedule is quite busy.”

  As the courier hurried out of the throne room, she made her way outside to the enclosed palace gardens, which were so well tended they looked natural. With a rustle of leather and steel, Captani Vos and two other hawk guards followed her, their red capes flowing behind them. Her adopted sons were a constant, comforting presence, always close, but the guards also understood that sometimes Iluris preferred her space, her time to concentrate.

  Throughout the gardens, pedestals held carvings that ranged from terrifying to heartwarming—artists’ interpretations of the main godlings from the thirteen districts. She breathed in the tart scent of yellow hibiscus blossoms so bright they were like shouts. Islands of lilies dotted small pools that rippled as goldfish swam in endless circles.

  Following the crushed gravel paths, Iluris reached her garden of spiny succulents from the arid areas far to the east, particularly the high deserts of Rassah District. Honeybees explored cactus flowers as large as her cupped hands.

  An incongruous water clock rose tall above the sand and rocks, twenty feet high. The device had been built three generations ago and still functioned with precision. Water from a reservoir at the top trickled in a steady flow that filled graduated cylinders, lifting floater disks that dumped the cups to fill lower basins, minute by minute, hour by hour. At precisely midnight, all the basins were emptied, then plugged again so the water clock could measure out another day. She listened to the soothing sound of the trickling water, the reassuring flow of never-changing time.

  One of the hawk guards cleared his throat politely, calling her attention to an approaching visitor. Puffing, Klovus rushed along the path in his dark blue caftan. He held out his pudgy hands, showing his rings, as if they would impress her. “Empra! I came immediately at your summons.” His smile did not reach his eyes.

  “I didn’t summon you.”

  He faltered. “Ah, but I was told to come meet you in the gardens.”

  She didn’t want to argue. “Your courier said you wanted to speak to me about the future of Ishara. That is a serious request, but not very specific.”

  His slight bow should have made him look humble. “I am thinking of the future, Excellency, as should all Isharans. As I pray in the temple to our powerful godling and monitor the sacrifices that maintain its strength, the future weighs heavily on me.”

  “No more than it weighs on me,” Iluris said.

  Klovus looked embarrassed. “You understand what I meant, Excellency.”

  “I usually do, Priestlord.” One of the minute cylinders of the water clock filled, tipped, and spilled into the hour cylinder with a loud splash.

  “You have reigned for three decades, and you have led us to prosperity. I congratulate you for that. Our land has been at peace since the end of the war with the godless Commonwealth. In every temple throughout the district, our godlings are content with the faith of the people.” His voice lowered. “Although with the Magnifica temple unfinished—”

  She cut him off. “If you mean to open that discussion again, you may leave. I haven’t changed my mind, nor am I likely to. The godling is already powerful and benevolent in these contented times, but with the completion of the Magnifica, it might become so strong that even you couldn’t control it.”

  “My connection to the godlings has always been great, Excellency. I understand them, and I only want them to achieve their own greatness, because they help us so much.…” Klovus fidgeted, cleared his throat. “But temple construction is not what I intend to discuss today. Rather, I want to ask about how we can plan beyond your reign. That is a vital consideration for Ishara.”

  A female servant arrived, carrying a tray with an ornate silver pot and two glasses stuffed with bright green mint leaves, along with a plate of date biscuits. Iluris sat on the stone bench, adjusting her layered skirts. Klovus sat on the other end of the bench, though there was little room for him. The servant placed the tray between them and poured hot sugar water into each glass.

  “Thank you, Excellency,” Klovus said without looking at the servant, then remembered to glance up. “And bless you, too, my child. The godling knows your service to us all.” After the girl blushed and hurried away, he picked up one of the date biscuits. “Let me be blunt.”

  “That never seems to be a problem for you.”

  “You have no heir. Under normal conditions, if you happened to die, your husband would take your place as ruler, but your husbands are all dead, and you are … childless.”

  “No need to be embarrassed. I’m fully aware that I have no children. None of my three husbands ever managed to get me pregnant. They were often so drunk they couldn’t perform even the most basic biological functions.” She took one of the biscuits herself.

  All of her husbands had fathered children from lovers in the city, however, so she couldn’t blame their weak seed. Also, since she had never conceived a child during the four years when her father had regularly raped her, Iluris had long since concluded she was probably barren. A fourth husband wouldn’t fix the problem, especially now that she was in her late forties and for the most part past childbearing age.

  Klovus bowed. “That is why we have to consider other answers. You and I haven’t always agreed, but you know my greatest loyalty has always been to Ishara. I want to be your partner. What could be more beneficial than a strong alliance between the empra and the key priestlord? What could be more natural?”

  She didn’t know what he was getting at. “Aren’t we already allies? For Ishara?”

  “I meant a more, ah, formal arrangement. I’ve considered this long and hard, and I believe the best solution for the good of the land would be a marriage, you and I, uniting the power in Ishara.” As Iluris blinked in disbelief, he continued in a rush. “That way the leadership would remain stable no matter what happens, and the two of us are certainly aligned in our love of Ishara.”

  Iluris controlled her expression so as not to ridicule him. “You are ten years my junior, Klovus. Some might accuse me of marrying a mere child.” He laughed, but she continued in a barbed voice as she ran her eyes up and down his portly form. “It may be that I’ll outlive you, though. You sample from the sacrificial platters too often, and the offerings weigh heavily on your bones.”

  Despite his scandalized look, he didn’t deny it. “I suggest myself as your husband only out of the greatest duty and sacrifice. If I am not to your l
iking, then choose a successor from among the other priestlords.” He forced the words out of his mouth with as much effort as a man struggling to push a feral cat into a small box.

  “There are indeed many attractive priestlords,” she mused, and a flush came to his cheeks. The flow continued to trickle in the water clock. One of the full cylinders slowly tipped over to spill its contents into the next larger basin down the line. She decided not to torment him further. “It may surprise you, Klovus, but I don’t see you as an enemy. My life is devoted to a strong Ishara, a peaceful and prosperous future, for the good of the people. We can aspire to so much. Therefore, I agree with you in principle.”

  He held a date biscuit halfway to his mouth. “You do?”

  “It is well past time for me to choose my successor. All Ishara should know who will be the next empra or emprir after I am gone. We should always be prepared for death. When my dear father fell from the high tower window, it was quite unexpected.”

  When Klovus grinned, she saw for the first time what a truly sincere smile looked like on his face. “I would be most honored, Excellency, if you chose me to rule at your side.”

  “Let’s not go that far, Klovus.” She knew she had to tamp down his ambition. “I have no compunctions about marrying for political purposes, obviously, but I’d rather choose the proper replacement based on who would be the best leader for Ishara. It must be someone with the range of knowledge, temperament, and flexibility—not to mention personality—to lead our continent, whether in times of prosperity or crisis. We have had decades of peace, but that may not always hold. Actively selecting my successor from among the best, well-considered candidates seems a far better method than merely accepting whichever dollop of slime happened to get in the right place up between my legs.”

  Klovus was horrified by her coarse words, but she continued, “Such a choice should be drawn from the widest possible pool of candidates. I’ll have Chamberlain Nerev write up descriptions of the qualities we need in a leader and distribute the list across the land.” She looked at him across the top of the tea glass. “Then we’ll see who we find. Your priestlords are welcome to submit themselves for consideration. I want to be fair to everyone.”

  Klovus slid off the bench and stood facing her, his face red. “What can you possibly mean? That anyone can suggest themselves for such an honor?”

  “Why shouldn’t all Isharans have a chance? The candidates can be male or female as long as they can convince me that they deserve to be the next leader, and that they reflect my goals for the future of Ishara. I have no sons or daughters of my own, but I can adopt whomever I choose. That person will be my legitimate heir.”

  She smiled as possibilities flashed in front of her. “We’ll have great tournaments so candidates can demonstrate their prowess in speed and strength, and scholarly pursuits. We may find great orators, or successful city leaders. Some priestlords may be eminently qualified as well, as I said. I won’t prejudge them.” Klovus was pale now, but she continued, having made up her mind. “The selection process will unify and engage all of Ishara. I’m excited to discover the best our people have to offer.”

  She finished her date biscuit and gave him a sweet smile. “You see? We can agree. You won’t be stuck with me forever.”

  22

  ADAN was up in his writing room, where he liked to work without interruptions, although his squire often troubled him to ask if he needed anything. The king had already met with three councilors, the leader of a merchant company, and military advisors, but he wanted an hour alone to think. When Penda and Hale came to see him, though, he found time for them.

  He looked up at his wife and father-in-law. “You two have joined forces against me? I can see it in your expressions.”

  Penda’s smile faltered, despite his light tone. “Not against you, my Starfall. It’s very important.” He felt a chill as he saw her reaction.

  Hale Orr stepped forward. He was dressed in a traditional nomadic outfit of crimson and black silks, as if ready to ride out on a caravan. “The return of the sandwreths changes things. My daughter insists that you go with us to the camps in the hills for our large gathering.”

  “I have something to show you,” Penda said in a solemn voice. “It is the secret heart of the Utauks.”

  Troubled, Adan looked down at the documents, the mundane but necessary business of the kingdom. “Just ride out into the hills? For how many days? I can’t leave my duties here.” After his people had suffered for so many years under a bad ruler and corrupt regents, Adan had promised never to brush them aside.

  “You are also king of the Utauk tribes in Suderra,” Hale pointed out. “What we offer you has never been shared with an outsider before.”

  He knew neither of them would make such a request lightly. He rose from his desk with a nod. “We’ll pack up and leave as soon as possible. I can delegate most of my work for the next several days.” He looked deeply into Penda’s dark eyes, searching for a hint. “Is this some kind of celebration, like our wedding festival? I enjoyed those times among your people.”

  She stroked the side of his cheek. “No, this is much more important, but in a different way.”

  Two years ago, the formal preparations for their wedding festival had been overwhelming. The konag had ridden to Bannriya with a large entourage and his uncle Kollanan the Hammer came down from Norterra. While the whole city was bedecked with colors for the formal Commonwealth ceremony, Penda had sneaked Adan away in the thick of the long festivities to where the Utauk tribes had held their own celebration in the hills beyond the city walls.

  Caravans from across Suderra had converged in the foothills at an enormous and colorful encampment. Thousands of people. The number stunned Adan. “I didn’t think there were so many Utauks in the entire world.”

  Hale Orr, his future father-in-law, had cocked his eyebrows. “Cra, what did you expect? I’m a very important person in the tribes, and so is my daughter.” He drew a circle around his heart.

  Seeing the huge camp, Adan had been worried that such a great influx of people, along with all the guests from across the Commonwealth, would place a strain on Bannriya’s resources, but the tribes took care of themselves and remained outside the walled city.

  In the center of the celebration camp, a bright yellow pavilion had been set up, which Hale proudly designated as their wedding tent. Even though the official Commonwealth wedding ceremony would not occur for four more days, the Utauk tribes insisted that Penda Orr be married there first.

  After the two were wed under the stars to cheers and drums and whistling music, the Utauk representative drew a circle on each of their foreheads. “The beginning is the end is the beginning.” Adan had felt happier than ever before in his life.

  When they sneaked back to rejoin the official celebration, Konag Conndur married them formally in a much more sedate ceremony before vassal lords from all fifteen Suderran counties. Neither Adan nor Penda explained their secret smiles.…

  Now, as he took in the serious expressions on Penda’s and Hale’s faces, Adan knew the Utauks were not planning a celebration.

  * * *

  The three of them rode out from the castle stables, pointedly without an escort, much to the consternation of the Banner guards. Penda brought her ska, which balanced on her shoulder, enjoying the trip. Occasionally, Xar would take flight, circle high to look at the landscape, then come back. The diamond in his collar, called a mothertear, acted as a lens to record anything the ska saw in his flight.

  They rode in among the tall pines which sighed in the gentle breezes and filled the air with a resinous scent. In the distant hills, patches of birch, maple, and oak had begun to change color with autumn. The three riders left the main road and followed narrow game paths, but Adan noticed that even these faint trails were well traveled. Splashes of powder-blue poppies growing in the underbrush seemed to mark the route.

  As the horses moved along, Hale used his good hand to open a pouch at his waist,
from which he plucked a few black seeds and scattered them on the ground. “This is one of the small details we wanted you to know, Adan Starfall. We leave many secret messages in the world. If you see blue poppies growing, then you know that Utauks have come this way.”

  Penda added, “To anyone else, they just seem like wildflowers.”

  Adan spotted more poppies highlighting a faint and wandering trail. “I never noticed before.”

  “Few do,” Hale said.

  They camped in a pleasant clearing under towering oaks, then rode hard again all the next day, winding deeper into the hills to places Adan had not bothered to note on his sketchy maps of Suderra. So much of his kingdom was wild, sparsely settled, even unexplored.

  On the third day, after following the sporadic blue poppies, Hale led them to an isolated valley. Adan heard the sounds even before he saw the thousands of tents, haphazardly arranged wagons, paddocks for livestock. There were ten times as many people as had come to celebrate his wedding to Penda Orr.

  Hale shifted in his saddle. “This is a gathering of our core tribes. It is only called in a time of crisis.”

  Penda reached across to take his hand. “The world has secrets, Starfall, and it’s time for you to know of them. Utauks collect secrets.”

  Adan drank in what he saw, but it was like trying to swallow an entire river. For all the apparent chaos, he recognized that the camp was in fact well organized. The livestock was kept far from the stream that threaded the valley, so as not to foul the water. Families set up clusters of tents showing distinct clan colors. Cookfires filled the air with a haze of smoke.

  Children flew kites made of colored paper on birch-twig frames. As the boys and girls ran among the tents, tugging on the strings, skas flew around, seeing the kites as prey as well as playthings. Several Utauks had reptile birds as companions; some of the creatures rode on shoulders, others perched on crossbars outside tents. Xar spread his green plumage and hissed and clicked in greeting to the other skas.