Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  “Inside. No delays,” the protector said.

  As I passed the threshold, I felt eyes on me. A stare so malevolent it raised hairs on my neck. I glanced to the side and saw the man who’d inspected us, Minister Brevt. His gaze traveled my body. Everywhere it touched, my skin went cold.

  I couldn’t contain a shudder. This had happened before, but only once. A man had come through Numintown. He’d seemed affable enough, but I’d felt his black heart. We learned later that he’d been arrested for murder. Usually, I had to fall into my aura-sight to understand the color of people’s souls. But apparently, some evil was so powerful it pressed right through the world and into my mind.

  I felt that now from Minister Brevt. And he, apparently, saw something in me, too. His glare followed me until our procession moved out of sight.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Kostan

  A smithy turned safehouse turned prison

  AFTER MY DISAPPOINTMENT in finding Savra gone from the Graybranch Inn, I'd taken my time returning to the safehouse. The hinges on the smithy’s door squealed when I tugged it open. Inside, a pair of lanterns cast wavering light over the faces of my allies. Vaness squeaked in relief as she hurried toward me. Ilishian appeared torn between his new vow of fealty and anger that I’d risked myself by venturing into the city. Azar’s gaze flicked between her mentor and me as if she were trying to decide how to feel about my arrival.

  “Gone for hours with no word... I’ve given you my allegiance,” Ilishian said as my boots scuffed over the dirty floorboards. “But I hope you will not squander that gift by compromising your safety for a trifling matter of the heart. Especially when the object of your affection is a—” His lip curled. “—Prov.”

  I glared, in no mood for condescension. “Apparently you’ve forgotten how to speak to your Emperor.”

  Ilishian shook his head. “Tovmeil and I had many arguments in the years he sat upon the throne. But he was always willing to listen to my opinion.”

  “As am I. I’ll gladly accept your advice, but I won’t tolerate you casting insults at those who befriended me when I needed it. I will not stand for prejudice against Provincials in my inner circle. The notion of Atal superiority has been perpetuated for too long.”

  “The Atal are the foundation upon which the throne was built. Scorning your supporters will only weaken your cause.”

  I leaned against an anvil, arms crossed over my chest. “If the Atal can’t bear to see Provs given the same opportunities Atal families have enjoyed for centuries, I don’t want their support.”

  Ilishian sighed. “I remember the early weeks of Tovmeil’s reign. His ideas were just as naïve.”

  “But then the Bracer of Sight showed him the consequences of gentleness. Yes, I remember. Ultimately he failed to stick to his ideals. I will not succumb to such weakness.”

  Vaness laid a hand on my shoulder. “Did you get to thank the innkeeper and your friend?” The hurt in her voice was well-disguised.

  Relaxing my arms, I turned to her. “I found Fishel alone. Savra had already left.”

  A flush of shame followed the flicker of relief on her face. Her hope of being second-pickings after a Prov girl embarrassed her. But in truth, she didn’t even have that hope. My meeting with Savra had shown me how pale my relationship with Vaness had been. If Vaness’s feelings for me didn’t fade, I’d have to tell her the truth about our chances.

  “She’ll be safer out of Jaliss anyway,” Azar said, her voice tinged with a kindness I didn’t expect. Because she was apprenticed to Ilishian, I’d assumed she shared his calculating nature.

  “Maybe so, though Fishel thinks she’s still in the city. She came to receive her scribe’s writ.”

  Azar nodded politely. No one else seemed interested in Savra’s story. I clenched my jaw and looked away.

  High ceilings vaulted over the main room of the smithy. From the shadows that gathered in the rafters, bats squeaked as they left their roosts and squeezed out gaps along the roofline. It was late, nearly dark outside already.

  “So, where are we with our plan?” I said. “I don’t like the mood in the city. If possible, I want to move before the Splits and Lowtown erupt.”

  Ilishian was fiddling with one of his black iron trinkets, a pendant in the shape of a complicated knot. It hung from a steel chain, and he held it before his eyes as if concentrating. After a moment, he shook his head in disgust and tucked it into his pocket.

  “What does that piece do?” Vaness asked.

  Ilishian hesitated, a strange look on his face. “A better question would be, ‘What’s it supposed to do?’ It’s supposed to emit light to indicate the nearness of the person to whom it is bound. One of the less talented ferros brought it to me seeking answers on why it didn’t work.”

  “It’s bound to you?”

  Ilishian cast me a glare. “I tried to assign it to Kostan while he was sleeping. I suspected we might have reason to track him. Obviously, it didn’t work.”

  Something in Ilishian’s tone didn’t ring true, but I decided to leave it alone. “About the plan?”

  “Well, I sent word to the Aurum Trinity,” Ilishian said. “They’re overjoyed to know you’ve been located.”

  “So they’ll help me retake my throne?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, there’s a problem. They're in full support of the Ascension, but that’s just it. They support the Ascension as it was supposed to happen. In two years.”

  “Wait. So they plan to allow the Ministry to keep control? What about the problems in Jaliss? And the Breaking?”

  “As for the Breaking, only Tovmeil connected it to the Emperor’s place on the throne. Most people don’t see a pattern in the quakes and rifts. Even if I were to explain Tovmeil’s visions to the aurums, they are unlikely to defy custom. They do not support the Ministry’s actions, but they won’t act on their objections.”

  Two years. How could we possibly wait that long? There might not be an Empire in two years. “All right, so we can’t count on the aurums. What next? Can we get the ear of the Prime Protector?”

  Ilishian shrugged. “Honestly, Kostan—”

  “Emperor Kostan,” I said, cutting him off.

  He blinked in annoyance. “Honestly, Emperor Kostan, I don’t believe we have many options. I will continue to search for allies. Perhaps more opportunities will present themselves. But for now, I think we should consider leaving the city. It won’t be safe for much longer, no matter where we hide.”

  I glanced toward the wall where a gap between planks showed that full dark had fallen. “No,” I said. “I won’t desert my subjects. I want you and Azar out at dawn. Talk to people. Find where their sympathies lie. We will retake my throne.”

  ***

  For a few days, Vaness and I stayed inside the smithy. I grew accustomed to the scents of coal and iron, the play of shadows cast by anvils and water tubs and the massive furnace and chimney. Along the walls, shelves and hooks held work abandoned by the blacksmith when the rockfall in the chasm had taken his life. On the second day, Vaness had found a bag of dice and betting chits beneath a cot the smithy had kept in the corner of his shop. To settle our nerves, we rolled the dice and talked about our childhoods. Sometimes, I could even forget about the hunger and unrest outside the smithy walls.

  Over the first days, Vaness seemed to get over her jealousy about Savra. That or she’d gotten better at hiding her emotions.

  Still, I felt like a coward sheltering behind the walls. Logically, I understood that it was safer for Ilishian and Azar to move about the city. The Ministry thought Ilishian dead. Most likely, the ministers wouldn’t spare a thought for a low-ranked ferro like Azar. But Vaness or I could single-handedly destroy their plot to supplant the Emperor.

  That’s what was bothering me. If we were such a threat to the Ministry’s plot, why did I feel so helpless to expose them? As best we could figure, the Ministry planned to declare themselves rulers on
ly once Vaness and I were dead. Which meant they were terrified people would rally behind the remaining Scions and reject Ministry rule. But who would back Vaness and me? And why weren’t we searching for those people now?

  It was late evening on the fifth day when my frustration overflowed. Vaness was picking up the dice from our latest game when I jumped to my feet and snatched a notched short sword from a shelf. The rusted blade had been lying amongst dented helms and a stack of bent horseshoes.

  Stalking to one of the wooden posts supporting the roof, I twirled the sword’s hilt in my grip. The weight was off, poorly balanced for my style of striking. It didn’t matter; as I approached the post, I whirled and sank a backhand blow into the wood, sending chips flying. I yelled and struck again. Danced back and slashed high to low, roaring. Finally, I delivered a kick to the post that set it shivering.

  “Always an impressive sight,” Vaness said. She remained where I’d left her, sitting next to the crate we used as a dicing table and looking undisturbed by my outburst.

  I ran my hand through my hair. “Do you think the mages are even trying to find support? Or are they leaving the smithy for other reasons?”

  Vaness propped her heels on a sack and yawned. “Honestly? I don’t know. Ilishian is craftier than he lets on. He hides the truth. Like with that knot pendant. He was lying about it.”

  “I thought so, too,” I said, holding the short sword to the lantern light. Aside from the notches on the blade, it wasn’t in terrible shape. Glancing around the room, I laid eyes on a whetstone and a polishing rag.

  “Speaking of pendants...” Vaness said, gesturing toward my chest with her chin.

  I strode back to my seat with the supplies in hand. Setting the sword and whetstone on the dicing crate, I pulled the Heart of the Empire from beneath my shirt. “Emperor Tovmeil said this was attuned to him during his Ascension. But according to him, no one knows its purpose. I assume it’s a Maelstrom relic.”

  Vaness extended her hand. Somewhat reluctantly, I pulled the pendant’s chain over my head and handed it over. She cradled the stone in one hand and slid the chain through her other.

  “The chain... I thought it was silver, but the metal is too hard.” She worked a pair of links back and forth. “Over time, silver gets softened with use. Scratched.”

  “Maybe there’s black iron hidden inside. Enchanted to protect the silver.”

  Her mouth twisted in a doubtful expression. “Do you think Tovmeil was telling the truth when he claimed he didn’t know the pendant’s purpose?”

  I chewed my lip, surprised that I hadn’t wondered the same thing. “I don’t see why he would hide the truth.”

  “Me neither. But I can’t claim to know the Emperor’s heart.”

  I smirked. “Aren't I Emperor now? You've often claimed to know the shape of my heart,” I said, thinking of our conversation on the walls where she’d called me brutal.

  A look of sadness washed her face. “Of course I know yours, Kostan,” she said as she returned the pendant. “In more ways than you realize.”

  Feeling like an idiot for what I’d said, I slipped the chain over my head. The stone dropped onto my chest, cool against my skin. It felt... right. I’d been as much a fool to remove it as I had been to make that remark to Vaness.

  “Anyway,” Vaness said, “I spent some time studying the diviner’s art.”

  My eyebrows raised. “Oh? When did you have the free time?”

  She rolled her eyes. “While the rest of you lazed around, a tutor came to my room. Divining is a difficult pursuit because Maelstrom relics are so varied. There are few rules to follow when determining their purpose. But I learned one thing. There’s a certain... resonance to the relics. It’s easier to sense if you use argent magic.”

  Vaness held up her hand and wiggled her middle finger with the silver band. I felt a pang of guilt when I remembered how Falla had taken mine, suggesting I wanted nothing to do with such tainted magic anyway.

  “And?”

  “I can’t divine anything about the pendant’s purpose, given what I learned about Maelstrom relics.”

  I cocked my head, confused. Had she really expected to figure it out when the question had remained unsolved for centuries?

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “And the reason I can’t divine anything is that it’s not a Maelstrom relic.”

  I sat shocked for a moment, running through my memories of my conversation with Tovmeil. Had he claimed the pendant was a relic? Or had I simply assumed? If he’d lied, why? And more importantly, could I trust anything else he’d said?

  As the questions raced through my mind, the building shook, freeing clouds of dust from the rafters and sending tools tumbling from the shelves.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Savra

  Steelhold, approaching the staff dormitory

  AT THE END of another long day in Steelhold, I shuffled with Oralie toward the staff dorm. Ink blackened my fingers and—according to Oralie—streaked my face. I’d spent the day drafting messages to be carried into Jaliss on the legs of hawks. There’d been orders for the protectors to make more examples of Prov agitators. Vague responses to the city’s guilds about when the scrip payments would resume. Demands that the astrologers search the skies for auspicious signs about changes in the centuries-old custom of Ascension.

  Counter to my earlier worries, the clerks who requested my services didn’t really care that my handwriting was shaky or that I struggled to spell difficult words. My tendency to slip into a Provincial dialect, even in my writing, didn’t seem to bother anyone. A strange tension thrummed in Steelhold’s air. Occasionally, other staff members whispered about it. But no one wanted to leave through the Chasm Gate, so we largely kept quiet.

  I ate one small meal when I woke and another before bed. Oralie had told me the cooks were under orders to ration. Steelhold had stores to last for a prolonged siege provided the supplies were used wisely. Of course, the Hold wasn’t under attack. None of the staff knew why the gates remained locked. Anyway, I was grateful for the food I had. My stomach rumbled through the afternoon, but it was nothing compared to what people in Jaliss faced.

  Three nights ago, my second in the Hold, there’d been a commotion. From the wall, a guard had spotted a line of shadow stretching along a road leaving the city. I’d been dragged from bed to pen an order to the city’s protectors. Guards had been sent on horseback to stop the parade of refugees leaving the city under the cover of darkness.

  I hadn’t slept well that night. My hand had inked the letters that sent the Emperor’s vengeance on the suffering Provs. At least the letter hadn’t been explicit about punishments. I doubted I could have lived with myself if I’d written the order to execute the leaders.

  “Khons came by while I was washing sheets,” Oralie said. “He’d lucked into an extra helping of dried fruit. Befriended a servant in charge of the larder, it sounds like. I think he feels responsible for me after hearing what happened to my father.”

  I suspected she was right. Plus, surrounded by hard gray stone and harder faces, the mason probably enjoyed the company of a fellow Aniselan. As far as I knew, no one from Cosmal Province was working in Steelhold. For that matter, I doubted there were other Cosmali anywhere near Jaliss.

  Unless Sirez had been wrong about my father’s fate, of course. For the hundredth time since entering Steelhold, I wondered whether Stormshard knew what had happened to me. What had the Sharders thought when I missed our first meeting? Had my contact waited around for long? Had she left in disgust when I didn’t show?

  “What sort of fruit?” I asked, mouth watering at the thought.

  “Apricots. There were almond slivers, too.” Oralie grinned as she dug into her pocket. With a glance over her shoulder, she pushed a wrinkled apricot into my hand. “Taste for yourself.”

  I smiled. The girl’s generosity reminded me of Avill. I’d never liked apricots, but I popped it into my mouth an
yway.

  We turned into a narrow alley, footsteps echoing off the granite walls. I left the apricot on my tongue, allowing it to soften before attempting to chew. On impulse, I locked elbows with Oralie. It was nice to have a friend.

  She started humming as we approached the alley’s exit. From there, we headed for the arched doorway to the staff dorm, a dour building stained by smoke from kilns outside the nearby potters’ workshop.

  “You, scribe.” The man’s voice came from behind. “You’re needed in Ministry Hall.

  Weariness sank through my body as I turned, squeezing Oralie’s elbow before releasing it. Suppressing a grimace, I bit the apricot in half and swallowed the pieces whole.

  “Now, I assume?”

  The messenger, a slight man with watery eyes and thinning hair, pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “Minister Brevt requests an audience.”

  ***

  I hadn’t seen Minister Brevt since the night I’d entered the Hold. Like the Emperor, the ministers remained cloistered, confining themselves to their Hall and palace. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to encounter the man again.

  Unfortunately, as I followed the messenger through the wood-paneled hallway to Minister Brevt’s personal receiving chamber, I couldn’t figure out a way to avoid the meeting.

  The messenger tapped on the door and laid his ear against the wood. After a moment, he nodded and squeezed the latch then stepped aside for me to enter.

  Minister Brevt’s scrutiny pierced me the moment I stepped into his chamber. It was all I could do to keep breathing. My vision tunneled down, auras dancing behind my eyelids. I dug fingernails into my palms and focused on the details of his chamber, the velvet wall hangings, the deep wool carpet, the black iron candelabra on his desk. Everything but the man.

  Still, the world faded. My aura-sight grew stronger. Before me, Minister Brevt was an oily presence. A nest of slithering eels.