Ezekiel sinned because of lust as well. He knew that it displeased God, but perhaps he was confused to the degree that God was displeased. After all, the only story he knew of in the scriptures about faggotry was the story of the angels in Sodom and Gomorrah.
Lot had welcomed angels disguised as men into his home, but the people of the city hadn’t respected Lot’s hospitality. They’d begged to be given the disguised angels so that they could forcibly have sex with them.
God had destroyed all of Sodom and Gomorrah as a result.
But Ezekiel was sure that there was a vast difference between rape and consensual lust. He had often been told that all sins were equally horrible in the sight of God, but he didn’t think that God’s actions in the scriptures warranted that. God seemed to vary his punishments in regards to the crime.
Well, except in the case of Job, that is. But God wasn’t punishing Job, he was testing him.
Of course, it was possible that this attraction to men that Ezekiel felt was a test as well. If so, Ezekiel was fairly sure he was failing it.
He knew that Gabriel didn’t even believe in God—the letter had made that clear. Gabriel seemed to think of God as someone who created the world and then disappeared. He was convinced God wasn’t interfering in the lives of humans.
But Ezekiel couldn’t believe anything like that. He could see how it would be easier to simply believe that pleasurable things weren’t evil, but that didn’t make sense to him. It wasn’t the way the world worked. Everything had its price. Everything. To get grain, one had to work the fields. Too much running in the sun led to exhaustion. Things had to balance. Gabriel could think what he wanted, but he lived in a dream world.
Ezekiel thought about Gabriel a lot. More than he should have. He’d left the capital city to get away from Gabriel, but it seemed that he was haunted by thoughts of the man. He contemplated Gabriel’s ideas. He closed his eyes and saw Gabriel’s nude back, the muscles in his shoulders rippling in candlelight…
What was wrong with him?
He was almost glad when his captors came to taunt or talk to him. They were rarely kind. Now that they knew he was a faggot, they called him names, jeered him, and sometimes poked at him with a stick. That was until the one called Zachariah made them stop hurting him. Zachariah seemed to be the leader. Even though their attentions were unpleasant, Ezekiel liked the distraction. He didn’t want to think of Gabriel.
Zachariah himself came to talk to Ezekiel one evening. He brought the other one, Nathaniel, along with him, but Nathaniel hung back and didn’t say much.
Zachariah had a jug of water, and he gave some to Ezekiel. “Do you know the news from the capital city?” asked Zachariah.
Ezekiel kept drinking. He’d heard that the city had been overrun with revenants, and that the emperor was dead. He would have been more worried if it hadn’t been made clear that Gabriel was the new emperor. Since Ezekiel knew Gabriel was all right, he hadn’t concerned himself with it.
Zachariah took the water away.
Ezekiel groaned a little. He was still thirsty.
“They have a necromancer,” said Zachariah. “Did you know that?”
Ezekiel hadn’t. He furrowed his brow. There hadn’t been a necromancer in over fifty years.
“That’s the only way your lover survived,” said Zachariah. “He’s protected.”
They kept using that word. “He’s not my lover,” Ezekiel croaked.
Zachariah laughed. “We read the letter. Don’t try to deny it.”
Fine. Let them think what they want. Ezekiel sighed. But he didn’t want it called that. What had been between Gabriel and himself had been nothing like love. It had been lust and need and aggression. There had been nothing tender about it.
Zachariah surveyed him. “Listen, Nathaniel here thought you might be worried about what we’re going to do with you. He thinks that you might be concerned for your life.”
Ezekiel felt his stomach drop. They were going to kill him. He was terrified of that. Ironically, he may have had a death wish when he arrived, but he’d do anything to stay alive now.
“Don’t be concerned,” said Zachariah. “It turns out we need you alive. See, you’re important to the new emperor. We don’t think he’d want anything to happen to you. And it turns out that we could really use a necromancer. So, we’ve sent off a messenger to the capital, offering the emperor a deal. He trades the necromancer for you.”
Ezekiel’s eyes widened. “What? That’s ridiculous. Gabriel would never do it.”
“You’re his lover.”
“I told you, I’m not. It isn’t like that. We didn’t… care about each other. It was only about lust.”
Zachariah chuckled. “Don’t bother trying to talk us out of it. It’s done. The messenger’s on his way.”
“Well, the messenger’s wasting his time,” said Ezekiel. “Gabriel will never agree to any kind of trade for me. I’m not that important to him.” But then he thought of Gabriel riding after him in the night, riding his horse ragged until he overtook Ezekiel’s carriage. All so that he could give Ezekiel a letter?
Ezekiel tried not to let his concern show on his face. He didn’t know who these men were, not really. But he didn’t think it would be a good idea for them to have a necromancer at their beck and call.
* * *
Michal stood at the edge of the banquet hall, a glass of wine in her hand. Darius was beside her, and he seemed to like to stick to the shadows and corners. The longer she was with him, the longer she began to enjoy the shadows as well. She had even adopted a similar attire to Darius, who was always in his traditional necromancer’s robe. (Well, always except when they were alone together, when he was gloriously uncovered.) She wore a robe as well. Hers wasn’t black, but deep scarlet. It was reminiscent of the robe she’d worn to meet him on their wedding night, but not bright red. No, this robe was so dark that it appeared nearly black. It was only when it caught the light that its red color was apparent.
The two of them floated at the outskirts of the banquet, hidden and watching.
Michal liked it. She’d spent her whole life feeling as if she didn’t fit in at this court. Now, she felt as if she was exactly where she belonged. She belonged with Darius. She’d never felt more at home.
The banquet underway was a celebration of Gabriel’s coronation as emperor. There had been a ceremony earlier in the day, and now there was feasting. She and Darius watched. She was hoping that he’d soon suggest that they slip out and retire to their room together. She couldn’t get enough of his cool, dark skin. He was like silk, the touch of him so soft. His skin against hers pulled the heat from her, sucked her down into a deep well of sweet water. And yet… when he was inside her, when he left his cold seed in her body, she always felt more alive than she ever had.
She bit down on her bottom lip, thinking about taking matters into her own hands and convincing him that they should go.
But he spoke. “I never thought I’d be in a place like this.”
“What?” She took his hand. “What kind of place?”
“Around so much… wealth and excess.”
He’d been raised a commoner. She forgot that. He seemed so exotic and powerful now, that it was hard to picture him as normal or regular.
She stroked his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He smiled at her. “As am I.”
“What was it like? Before this happened to you?”
He got a far away look on his face. “It was… different. It’s funny, because after it first happened, all I had was rage toward Simon for changing me into a monster. I wanted to be the man that I had been. But now… now that I have you, now that I’ve sent Simon to prison, I can’t for the life of me understand why I’d change it.”
“Things are better for me too, now that you’re here.”
He interlocked his fingers with her own. “I don’t really have happy memories of being a grown man, I suppose. I worked on the wall at Jeffsotow, twel
ve hours every day. Sometimes at night, sometimes during the day. We drove off the revenants, stabbing them with spears. They would change the shifts, so that no one always had to work at night. That was so that we wouldn’t be completely cut off from the rest of society, always working at night. But the transitions were difficult. And I was lonely, anyway. The people there were wary of my dark skin. They were all polite enough, I suppose. But they seemed to keep their distance. I didn’t have close friends. It’s odd, though. It wasn’t like that when I was young.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t remember if anyone cared. I know that my mother was lighter than me, but that didn’t seem to be a problem.”
“And your father? Was he dark-skinned like you?”
Darius shrugged. “He died before I was born. He volunteered to go out on one of those missions to clear the wilderness of revenants. He didn’t make it back.”
Noblemen—third or fourth sons mostly—often took groups of volunteers out to clear out land and expand the empire further. Many of them would have no land to inherit otherwise. If they were successful, they founded their own regencies.
“I have happy memories of her,” he said. “She was sweet and kind and good. I remember a soup she would make for me, songs that she would sing to help me go to sleep.” He smiled at the memory. And then his smile faded. “But she died too.”
Michal squeezed his hand. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
“I was fifteen,” he said. “She was ill. At first it seemed like a cold, something harmless. She told me that she’d be back on her feet in a day or two. But the days wore on, and she got worse and worse. And then, finally, she was gone.”
Michal’s eyes filled with tears. Her heart went out to poor Darius, too young to take care of himself, losing the only person he could count on. The difficulties she’d faced seemed to pale in comparison.
He cocked his head. “Why are you crying?”
“I just…” She wiped at her face. “It made me so sad to think of you that way. I wish I’d known you, then. I wish I could have saved you.”
“You wouldn’t have even noticed me then.” Darius gave her a wry smile.
“That isn’t true.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Michal, how many commoners have died in your lifetime? Do you have any idea?”
She looked away. “Well, I guess I just didn’t think about it before. But now—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. Of course you don’t know. I don’t know either. None of us do. One person can’t understand the suffering of so many. It’s simply not possible.” He touched her cheek. “Besides, I have no illusions about your position, sweet one. You may have always been the emperor’s daughter, given the best clothes and food. But when it came down to it, you didn’t have any power. You didn’t even have the ability to save your own life.”
“What do you mean?”
“You couldn’t get away from me. You couldn’t keep yourself from marrying me.”
“Well, but that turned out rather nicely.”
Gently, he pulled his hand away from hers. “I don’t think you understand how close I came to… How close I sometimes still come.”
She grabbed his hand again. “I wish you’d stop talking that way. You wouldn’t hurt me. I know that. Somehow, deep down, I’ve always known that.”
He sighed heavily. He stared out over the banquet hall at the other people enjoying the feast. “All I was trying to say was that you couldn’t have saved me. No one could have. I was powerless then.”
She squeezed his hand again. “I guess we both were.”
He turned to look at her. “But now… I influenced who the next emperor would be. Without my testimony to sway it, it could have gone either way.”
She smiled. “You did more than that, Darius. You saved the city from the revenants. You saved the empire. You’re not powerless anymore.”
“No,” he said. “I’m not.” There was something in his dark eyes, something triumphant.
She felt triumphant too. She leaned close, lowering her voice to whisper to him. “In some ways, Darius, you’re the most powerful man in the empire.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gabriel swung open the door to the council room. It was early morning, just after breakfast. He wasn’t used to rising this early, but he’d wanted to make sure that he made his first meeting as emperor. He had a giddy feeling, like waking on the day of a holiday, eager and excited.
There were many things that still had to be settled. Formal charges had been brought against Simon for endangering the city, and he was going to go to trial within the next few weeks. For now, he was imprisoned—not in the dungeon, as that didn’t befit the son of the emperor—but in a set of chambers in the mansion. He was denied visitors or lavish trappings.
Gabriel wasn’t sure that Simon would be punished as harshly as he deserved. Essentially, Simon had murdered hundreds of people, including his own father. He probably didn’t deserve to live. But as the emperor’s son, Simon wouldn’t get a sentence so harsh. Gabriel was expecting that they’d exile him to the north somewhere, maybe to one of the sparsely peopled regencies in Virgy. Whatever the case, it would be too good for him.
Still, it had all worked out, and now everything was better than Gabriel could have dreamed.
He was the emperor. Finally, he would have the chance to begin his work. He needed to change the empire for the better, and he wanted to get started right away. He’d come to the council with a stack of proposals for change. He knew that it couldn’t all happen at once, but he was hoping to get a few small things changed right away.
When he entered the room, all of the councilmen turned in surprise.
Most of them hadn’t seated themselves around the table. They were milling about with plates of pastries and cups of coffee and tea, talking amongst themselves.
When they saw Gabriel, they all got quiet.
Gabriel closed the door behind himself, and, in the silence, the noise of its latching was deafening.
The head of the council cleared his throat. “Your Eminence. Is there something we can do for you?”
“I’m here for the council meeting,” said Gabriel.
The council members all exchanged glances. A few of them coughed. None of them would meet his eye.
“This is the council meeting, isn’t it?” said Gabriel.
“Well, yes,” said the head. “It’s only that it’s, er, highly unusual for the emperor himself to attend.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Really? But Joshua IV records attending council meetings all the time in his journals.”
“Sir, that was thirty years ago,” said the head of the council. “These days, the empire has become much more complicated and demanding. The emperor is so busy that he does not have time to attend these meetings. The council is here to sift through the issues and advise Your Eminence on what best to do. You should spend your time on more important matters.”
“Matters more important than governing the people?” Gabriel laughed a little. “What would those be?”
The head cleared his throat again, clearly flustered. “I can’t be sure, Your Eminence. I didn’t think it my place to ask your father what he was doing with his time.”
Gabriel could hardly believe this. So, his father hadn’t even attended council meetings? What had his father done with his time? Gabriel knew the man spent a lot of time in his study. Sometimes he traveled. Sometimes he threw banquets and tournaments, inviting other regents. But certainly, he must have made some serious decisions, mustn’t he?
Gabriel shrugged. “Well, there’s no harm in my being here, is there?”
The head fidgeted. “Sir, the other members of the council might not feel as though they can speak freely in your presence.”
“Well, that’s ludicrous. They’re on the council because they’re meant to counsel me. I want to hear what they think, of course.” The coun
cil was comprised of the regents from around the empire—or sometimes their representatives, if the regents themselves had pressing needs at home. The regents gathered in the capital for three months, followed by a month-long recess until they returned for another three months, and so on. While the emperor’s word was law, most emperors relied heavily on the advice of their councils to know what was going on throughout the empire.
The head nodded. “Of course, Your Eminence. Well.” He clasped his hands together. “Won’t you sit down, then?”
Gabriel took a seat at the head of the table. The other members of the council shuffled over to their seats as well. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor was all that could be heard. Once everyone was seated, it was quiet.
Gabriel looked out expectantly at the council members, none of whom would meet his eye.
He waited.
Finally, he said, “Well, is there a procedure for how these things should be opened? Does anyone have anything they need to say? Issues that you have planned to discuss?”
All of the council members seemed quite interested in their pastries.
Gabriel shrugged. “Well, then, I did have some matters that I wanted to discuss. I have a lot of plans for the empire, and I want to make this a better place for all of us. I want us to progress. For too long, we have lived in the shadow of the revenants and the Scourge, afraid to move forward. But I think our time of penance has come to an end. I think we must create a better world for us and for our children.”
There was no answer to this. None of the council members were even looking at him, and he couldn’t judge the expressions on their faces. He knew what he was saying could be interpreted as heresy, but he hoped to give it a proper spin, so that it wouldn’t come to that.
Gabriel stroked his chin. “I think the first order of business is to repeal this ridiculous law that forbids ‘magic.’ It’s beneath us, gentlemen. I think we all know that there is no such thing as magic except in children’s stories. This law only serves to outlaw activities that could be helpful for us to grow.” This was the request he wanted to get started on immediately. If the ban were lifted, he could invite that gypsy Nathaniel back to court, and he could find out what it was that man knew about electricity.
Empire of Rust Page 19