Though shame colored his cheeks, he met my gaze. “Much of the relics’ history is lost,” he said. “None of the diviners can find a purpose for the pendant. One old tome calls the Emperor the ‘Heart of the Empire.’ The same name as the relic. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But without a heart, a body dies. I wear the pendant because I’d rather not find out what happens if I cast it aside.”
“And the bracer?” I asked.
Against the wall, Ilishian cleared his throat. The Emperor glanced at him. “He needs to know,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder to see Ilishian shrug. “As you say, your eminence.” The sarcasm in the final words made me wince, but a glance at Emperor Tovmeil showed no reaction.
“Put simply, this bracer gives me knowledge I never wished for. While I wear it, I see, in my mind, the many ways the Empire falls. Scene after scene of fire and flood and war and death. Scholars, historians in particular, often debate why the Atal Kingdom—now the Atal Empire—has lasted so long. They talk of astrological portents and geography, ruthlessness and resources.” The man shook his head. He raised his forearm between us. “The Empire stands because the Emperor sees its end every day and does what he must to prevent that fall.”
“If you asked most Provs, they’d say it would be a good thing if the Empire fell,” I said.
Behind, Ilishian gave a huff of disappointment. “I told you this would have no effect.”
Ignoring the mage, Emperor Tovmeil kept his eyes on me. “I’ve wished to end Atal rule more times than I could count. But it’s not so simple. In every case, when the Empire falls, the people die. I’ve watched my subjects burned alive, drowned when the sea swallows the lowlands, starved in a blight that lasts a century. Without the Empire binding Atal and the Provinces, we simply don’t survive.”
A somber silence flowed from the corners of the room. I wanted to argue the points—how could he know these visions were true?—but the absolute conviction on his face stilled my tongue.
“When I Ascended,” the Emperor said softly, “one of my first wishes was to stop blinding the Scions' servants. But the moment I called for a scribe to draft the order, knowledge of the consequences hit me like a rockslide. Is it better to take the eyes from a handful of girls or to take the lives from hundreds?”
The Emperor’s hands were once again laced together, and as he spoke his knuckles went white.
“Not every law comes from my lips,” he said. “In fact, though I am ashamed of this, I often leave the rules and their enforcement to my ministers and advisers. I’m weak in that way. When some poor Prov is dragged to the gallows and hung for the sin of wanting food for his children, my conscience allows me to blame my ministers for their ruthlessness. Maybe you will be stronger. Maybe you will find small mercies for your subjects. I hope so.”
“So the bracer told you I’ll be Emperor?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing so certain. But my sight tells me that if you aren’t declared Emperor, the Empire does not survive. If you don’t Ascend, Atal falls. What do you know of the Breaking?”
“The rifts, you mean?”
He nodded. “We do what we can to hide the situation from the Empire’s citizens, but the land is tearing apart already. New chasms open every day. Quakes rattle the Provinces. In my visions, the rifts get worse until the continent shatters, gorges splitting the Empire from end to end. Cosmal Province is swallowed by the Maelstrom.” He shook his head. “Only a strong heart at the Empire’s core can hold our land together. You.”
As his words sank in, I felt as if chains wrapped my chest, forcing the air from my lungs. My words were lost, drowned in the sea of my thoughts.
“Difficult times are coming,” the Emperor said.” I’ve spent days in this room looking for an answer, and I’ve come to believe there’s nothing I can do to prevent it. The Ascension itself is threatened. Enemies surround the throne. I cannot see them clearly, or I would identify the traitors and have them killed. I only know that Ilishian is loyal. You must trust him. But beware: some of your future enemies will begin as friends. If you fail, it will be due to betrayal. Most likely, by a young woman. Her hair. There’s something about it that stands out.”
My brow knit again. Friends? At best, I had a few acquaintances. And the only women I knew were Scions and instructors, plus the emotionless protectors guarding the walls. My gaze flicked to Ilishian who continued to stand, expressionless. “I—okay. I’ll be careful.”
The Emperor stood, extending a hand to help me from my chair.” I kept you longer than I intended. When you leave this chamber, wait in the hallway beyond until you’re sure there are no nearby footsteps. Ilishian will follow behind to make sure you’re not spotted. Return to your chambers and resume your daily schedule as if we’ve never spoken.”
I’d come into the room hating the Emperor and everything he stood for. Now I had no idea what to think. Had he been honest with me? I couldn’t conceive a reason for him to lie. Still, it was so much to take in. So hard to believe.
Clenching my jaw, I faced him and bowed.
“You must live, Scion Kostan,” he said. “You must Ascend and do what it takes to hold the Empire together. Without you, everything is lost. I’m sorry.” With that, the Emperor turned away from me. I stood frozen for a moment then stepped toward the door, my head whirling with doubts.
Chapter Five
Parveld
Somewhere on the vast Atalan Plateau
THOUGH THE FIRE crackled and snapped, a cheery glow in the high plateau’s darkness, its heat scarcely cut the chill. The man who called himself Parveld—a good, Atalan name—pulled the thick blanket tighter around his shoulders. Above the dancing flames, a sharp ridgeline sliced into the sky, jagged teeth sharp against the stars.
He sucked a strip of jerky, softening the meat before sawing at it with teeth worn by age. Parveld’s bite hadn’t fared nearly as well as the rest of him. An old mind and teeth trapped in the body of a young man. A strange prison, indeed.
He chuckled at the thought. What sort of person could find reasons to complain about eternal youth?
Then again, when people yearned for long lives, they rarely thought about the loneliness the years might bring. And they rarely considered the march of decades spent watching humans war and scheme, conquer and oppress.
Parveld jabbed a stick into the fire and stirred the coals, sending embers swirling toward the heavens. In his younger years, he might have let the stillness of the night and the darkness beyond the firelight set his nerves tingling. But now, despite the cold, the emptiness brought him peace. There were many dangers in this world and even greater threats in realms beyond, but if evil were to strike him tonight, he’d rather have spent his last hours relaxing than fearing the end.
Besides, he had work to do still—the visions had told him that much. His death would come, but not yet. For the last two centuries, he’d followed a trail that led here. Never had he envisioned stepping off that path before the final destination. Parveld had traveled far and wide, seen distant lands and people that were nothing but whispered rumors in these parts. He’d loved and lost and loved and lost again. But more than anything, he’d prepared for the coming events.
And now, as inexorably as the stars marched across the heavens, the time of reckoning approached.
The Emperor’s enemies closed in. Swords might already be at palace throats. Soon, the girl would be found if she hadn’t been discovered already. Parveld slipped his hand into his pocket and ran a finger over a bracelet, gold and silver strands twined around and around each other.
Soon, he whispered into the aether.
Emotions flowed from the piece of jewelry, warmth edged with both gratitude and readiness.
With a nod, Parveld withdrew his hand from the pocket and laced his fingers around his bent knee while he watched the sparks dance. He’d been camped on this high Atalan plateau for two weeks, sheltering in a canvas tent when the frosty nigh
ts grew intolerable, wandering the nearby ridges when the weather allowed.
But tomorrow, he’d break camp and set out for Jaliss.
Tomorrow, the final test of his life’s work would begin.
Chapter Six
Savra
On the road north from Numintown
MY HEAD WOBBLED on my neck as my horse trotted behind Havialo’s mount. We were traveling north along the peninsula’s coast, toward the distant border with the mainland. I didn’t know how long we’d been riding. A couple of hours? More? Already, the sun glared down as it sank through mid-afternoon. The constant drumming of hooves made my head ache. But even without the pain in my skull, my thoughts were muddy. Was I in shock? Everything had happened so fast. Why had I abandoned my family on just one man’s words?
Each time I blinked, the scene blurred. I struggled to focus, only gaining a sharp view of the road moments before I felt the need to blink again. In the back of my mind, I knew none of this was normal. The elixir? Had it done something to me?
The road bent to the right, and my horse faltered. I snatched the saddle’s polished metal pommel and groaned as the break in my mount’s gait sent me reeling.
Looking over his shoulder, Havialo pressed his lips together. He tugged on his reins and brought his horse to a walk. Blowing in relief, my mount slowed, head low as he plodded forward and drew even with the mage.
On either side of us, dense brush pressed close to the road. To the left, a gentle slope dropped to the churning waters of the Maelstrom. Opposite, the land climbed through rolling, brush-choked hills to the peninsula’s spine where a few rounded humps of granite pushed up through scraggly pine forest. The afternoon sunlight gave the air a golden tone.
“That concoction they force on you is nothing but hedge witchery,” Havialo said. “Someone high in the Registry organization believes it engenders honesty. In truth, it’s not so different than tossing back a mug of ale. You’ll feel better soon.”
Like a stone attached to my shoulders, my head rolled to look at him. “I need to go home.”
The geognost leaned back and rummaged through the saddlebags he’d hastily lashed over his mount’s hindquarters. Producing a water skin, he handed it over.
“Impossible. We can only hope my men succeeded in their tasks. Otherwise, we likely won’t make it off the peninsula.”
I took a swig of water and handed the container back. “What tasks? I still don’t understand what danger I’m in.”
“It’s complicated.”
I flopped forward over my horse’s neck and tried to reach the lead attaching the halter to the mage’s saddle. If I could just get my mount turned around, I might be able to outrun Havialo. I wasn’t a particularly good rider, but I was light and less likely to tire a horse.
Unfortunately, the motion caused my head to swim. I nearly toppled from the saddle.
“Listen, Savra,” Havialo said. “You are to be a scribe. It’s a good Function. You’ll be much more comfortable in Jaliss and the monastery than you were here.”
“But I don’t want to be a scribe. I want to be with my family.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s no longer possible. Forget Numintown. It’s for your own good.”
“What could be good about forgetting my home?”
His cheek twitched. “You are your father’s daughter, that’s for certain.”
I stiffened in shock at the mention of my father. The sudden shift in balance made my stomach churn, and bile rose in my throat.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whispered.
Havialo surprised me by yanking his mount to a stop and climbing down. He offered a hand. I hesitated, but then my stomach clenched again. Accepting the help, I climbed down and took a seat at the edge of the road, my head between my knees.
Havialo led both horses to the inland edge of the road and examined the brush. After a moment, he plunged into the tangle of foliage, tugging at our mounts to follow. I looked back toward Numintown. What were my chances of escape if I took one of the game trails too narrow for the horses to follow?
“You wouldn’t get far,” he called. “Ordinarily, you’d just feel tired, maybe a little dizzy, after drinking that awful Registry potion. Almost everyone blames the excitement or disappointment of finally receiving their Function. But our quick ride aggravated the concoction’s effects.”
Okay, maybe he was right about my escape chances. I pinched the bridge of my nose—even sitting I could scarcely keep my head up.
Havialo continued crashing through the scrub. “Aha,” he called over the tangle of branches, “This will do.”
Do for what? I wondered to myself.
The geognost returned to the road, having left the horses behind. Eyelids heavy, I accepted help to get upright then plodded behind him toward the gap in the brush. Before stepping into the thicket, Havialo glanced back to the south. His face fell in disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Even with my wits dulled by the elixir, my pulse suddenly roared in my ears. I staggered as I turned to follow his gaze.
A black plume of smoke towered over the landscape.
Numintown was burning.
Chapter Seven
Kostan
Steelhold grounds
THE EMPEROR’S WORDS swirled in my thoughts as I hurried away from his chambers. When I neared the palace’s conservatory, the click of Ilishian’s footsteps trailed off. I glanced back to verify that he no longer followed me. I was alone.
A few paces into the bright light of the glass-domed conservatory, I stopped and took a deep breath of the humid air. I needed time to think about the Emperor's words, but a glance at the sundial in the center of the room told me that wouldn’t be now. It was almost midday, and if I didn’t run, I’d be late for patrol.
I hurried past trees and potted plants, transplants from the coastal provinces, and shoved out the door onto Steelhold’s grounds. The glare of mountain sunlight sent daggers to the backs of my eyes. I squinted, blinked, and turned for the armory. Gravel crunched under my feet as I rounded the far corner of the palace, but I was relieved to see Donevin, one of my fellow Scions, disappearing through the armory’s front door.
A few paces before reaching the building, I slowed and focused on my breath. No Scion should arrive at a patrol panting.
Only a few high windows admitted light into the building. Even though Steelhold was considered impregnable, the Order of Protectors took no chances with their weapons' security. At night, the armory’s iron doors were shut and chained. By day, a detail of three protectors stood watch over the entrance. I greeted the guards with a somber nod then stepped forward to join my fellow Scions.
“Cutting it close,” Vaness muttered.
I shrugged. “I didn’t feel the need to hurry.”
She arched an eyebrow, the smirk on her face showing she didn’t quite believe me. I glanced at her sideways, hiding my smile. She might pretend to be the hardened candidate for Empress that our birth and customs demanded, but I’d seen her softer side. When we’d kissed, she’d been just as soft as I imagined any woman might be. Vulnerable, even. I remembered how her breath had quickened when I’d touched her coal-black hair. It hadn’t worked out; neither of us was so stupid as to think we could actually have a relationship with one another, but I still thought about her sometimes. If we’d been born on a different night, we wouldn’t have the throne looming over us. I wondered what that would be like.
In any case, she was the closest thing I had to a friend. I’d learned to avoid bonds early on—when our nursemaids were exiled to teach us this lesson, I’d cried for three nights. After that, the guardians had rapped my knuckles with a stick if I dared show that kind of weakness. As Emperor or a minister, I’d choose a wife-consort from among the elite-class Atalans. My consort and I might even find some sort of affection for one another. But I couldn’t expect more than that.
Someti
mes, I still ached for someone to care about. Maybe the other Scions felt the same. But we’d never admit such a glaring flaw to each other.
When a guardian entered the armory, we stood at rigid attention. The guardian paired us off without speaking, simply pointing then waving each designated couple out the door. After years of daily patrols, we needed no further instructions. Vaness and I were selected together, and we wordlessly grabbed scimitars from racks along the wall then headed toward the Chasm Gate to begin our patrol.
Hundreds of years ago, Steelhold had been carved from the sheared-off top of a hard granite peak, creating the fortress that now perched like a waiting raptor above the city below. It had been a massive undertaking by earth mages and slave labor. Centuries later, the bare stone floor of the Hold still showed the marks of the pickaxes, though polished by centuries of foot traffic. Most of the buildings had been shaped from the mountain at the same time the Hold was cut, their granite walls rising seamlessly from the stone floor. Others, like the palace with its massive conservatory, were built later, their walls a mix of stone blocks, mortar, hardwoods, and glass.
Vaness and I crossed the Hold's grounds at a comfortable pace, shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence. Above, a pair of ravens circled, their feathers shining when they banked and caught the sun. The day’s heat brought a prickle of sweat to my brow.
Just three gates broke the seamless defense walls surrounding Steelhold. The Sun Gate looked over Jaliss. It was the most traveled because its access path, painstakingly carved from the cliff itself, was wide enough to accommodate a steady-nerved mule. The Shadow Gate opened onto a much more treacherous descent which combined narrow paths with ladders of iron spikes jutting from the sheer stone.
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