As I crossed the final paces before the gate, I scanned the walls of the Corridor. I hoped this wasn’t a mistake. I had to believe I was making the right decision. Because otherwise, my arrogant refusal to listen to Ilishian and the others might doom the Empire.
At the gate, the protectors narrowed their march to single file, six ahead of me and six behind. It had been over a year since I’d made the climb from Jaliss to the Hold during a guardian-chaperoned trip into the city. Last time, my thighs had been useless afterward. Today I need all my strength to compensate for my difficult journey through the mountains and the sparse meals afterward.
The ministers would use all their tricks against me. Argent mages would batter my mind. Ferros would do… whatever dark things they felt would be useful. But the Ministry wouldn’t kill me. They needed Vaness first. And because I’d told her to run, I wouldn’t be able to give her to them. The impasse would buy me time to arrange an audience with the Prime Protector. Once I convinced her, the rogue mages would fall in line rather than face the protectors. I might even retake the throne without violence.
Setting my foot on the first step, I began the climb to the Hold. To my left, the solid granite of the spire radiated the sun’s warmth as if in welcome. It was the flesh from which Steelhold was carved. My home. The seat of my throne.
As we climbed above the rooftops, I paused and looked out over the city. Despite the Ministry’s obstruction, some repairs had been happening. The Provs must have been working at night after their official Functions were satisfied. I surge of pride warmed my chest. Citizens of Jaliss were resilient. Certainly more resilient than the ministers who were so paralyzed by a failure in their plot that they’d needed to lock down the Hold.
I vowed to myself that I would be a ruler worthy of Jaliss and every other settlement on the continent. But first I had to win through the coming hours.
As I started moving again, a flicker of motion from the grounds of an elite mansion caught my attention. Many people moved about the Heights this time of day. I wouldn’t have noticed if the fall of coal-black hair had been less recognizable. When I shaded my eyes for a better look, the figure waved to someone out of sight. Two more people stepped from beneath a stone balcony and looked up.
My heart sank. Despite what I’d specifically asked her to do, Vaness had tracked me. She probably thought I’d been captured—on accident, that is—and hoped to rescue me with the mages’ help.
I shook my head, a hopeless gesture at this distance. I could only hope Vaness would reconsider. Run. But somehow, I doubted she’d abandon me so easily.
***
Minister Brevt waited at the Sun Gate. When his eyes met mine, I saw triumph in his gaze. I stared back, challenging him. If I could break his composure now, I could plant more doubt in my escorts’ minds. After all, why would a simple impostor merit a greeting by an actual minister? More, why would a minister allow a simple criminal to bait him?
Unfortunately, his imperious expression didn’t waver. With a nod, he gestured to someone inside the wall. After a moment, the inner gates rolled aside, parting just wide enough to accommodate my shoulders.
“Minister,” I said in greeting. “It’s been a few days since we saw one another. How do you fare?”
His cheek twitched, but he said nothing. As I stepped across the threshold and into my former home, men stepped in from either side and took hold of my upper arms. I made a point of meeting their eyes. The protectors who had escorted me up the spire didn’t know me, but the palace guards would. Years of training should force them to drop their gazes out of habit.
When neither seemed to notice my glance, faint worry stirred beneath my breastbone. The ministers and mages had made the choice to turn away from the Emperor and Scions. But the protectors were bound to us by vows and argent magic. Did the lack of deference mean the bond had been severed?
Behind me, the inner gates rolled into place with a squeal as the outer steel slabs clanged shut. Minister Brevt sneered.
“Are you surprised that the protectors don’t afford you the customary respect, Scion Kostan? Well, perhaps you should have considered your actions more carefully. You believed you’d eliminate competition for the throne by murdering your fellow Scions along with the Emperor. But all you’ve done is signed your execution writ. The Prime Protector is demanding the right to kill you herself.”
I held his stare. I’d known the Ministry wouldn’t let me walk straight to the throne room and take over. But his words sent a tremor of insecurity through me. Had I acted too rashly and thrown away my chance to win this?
With a nod, Minister Brevt instructed my guards to follow him. He turned for the center of the Hold, and the grips on my arms tightened as the men shoved me forward. I yearned for the short sword I’d abandoned in the alley. Not that I could fight my way out of a Hold full of elite fighters and mages. But I felt more confident with a blade near.
We marched up a corridor between the storehouses and the clerks’ hall. I kept my eyes alert for observers, anyone who I might make into an ally. But the only people moving about the grounds seemed to be servants. A couple curious glances passed over me, but the Provs quickly ducked their heads and moved on. Not a surprise; Steelhold’s staff was accustomed to swift punishment for unsuitable interest in the palace doings.
When we stepped out of the alley, the Hall of Mages came into view. Within, I had genuine support, even if the Aurum Trinity and their followers believed I must wait until my twenty-first birthday to Ascend. I stared up at the Aurum Tower, dark granite capped with a peaked roof plated in gold. From a high window, I glimpsed motion. The aurums knew I was here. That was something, at least.
In the central square, the sand fountain still hissed as grains of black iron spilled from the upper tiers. It was as if nothing had changed. But everything had.
Minister Brevt stalked to the palace entrance, my guards dragging me along behind. When we entered the foyer, the minister turned for the Scions’ wing. I calmed my face to hide my reaction. I’d expected to be tossed in the stocks or locked in a storeroom, not taken into my former rooms.
We threaded the hallways to my old chambers. Two stone-faced guardians stood outside the door. I didn’t recognize them—either they’d previously been assigned to another Scion, or they were newly trained. As passed into the room, I noticed the glint of silver and gold studs stuck through a guardian’s earlobe. Like the protectors with their silver wrist cuffs and we Scions with gold anklets, I doubted the guardians wore Maelstrom-metals by choice. Most likely, the jewelry meant their minds and bodies were being controlled by others. Mages and those to whom those mages owed their allegiance.
A girl clad in loose silks knelt inside my sitting chamber. A mask covered the upper half of her face, hiding the scars that had replaced her eyes. I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my molars might crack, but I forced a Scion’s emotionless expression onto my face.
“I’m sure you’ve missed having your brand cared for,” Minister Brevt said. “I’m surprised you and Vaness have survived without the cleansings, to be honest. Either you have allies in the Hold—I’m guessing the aurums—or you’ve done something to eliminate your need for fresh dressings.”
As he glanced at my feet, I kept my eyes straight ahead. “I do not need my dressing changed,” I said. “She may leave.”
“I think she’ll stay. As you recall, I grew up with Tovmeil. I remember his weakness for the servant girls—did you know he tried to help one escape and ended up getting her killed? There is much about you that reminds me of Tovmeil as a young man.”
“You see what you wish to see. Perhaps when I sit on the throne you’ll have the chance to test your observations. Will I be a gentle ruler? Allow you the choice of exile or execution that was your right before you murdered your Emperor? Or will I have your belly slashed open and your entrails tied to the Chasm Gate before you’re shoved over the cliff?”
The minister’s lower e
yelid twitched. “As soon as we pry Scion Vaness’s location from your mind, you will be hung by your wrists from the walls. The city will watch the crows eat you alive.”
“Your confidence is perplexing given your suggestion that I have allies inside Steelhold. You are not as powerful as you think. I am the rightful Emperor of Atal, and the sooner you recognize that, the more merciful your death will be.”
Minister Brevt sneered and shifted his gaze to the girl. “Why don’t you take some time to speak with Lyrille here. Most of the Hold’s staff members were recently dismissed. Perhaps by cooperating, you can spare her their fate.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Savra
Shadow Gate, Steelhold
SHADOW GATE’S STEEL slab must have weighed as much as my two-room house in Numintown. As I leaned against the stone-carved wall opposite, I stared and shook my head. Most of the time, the guards on the towers above the gate kept watch over the approach trail, but occasionally one turned to survey the Hold. It was getting easier and easier to deflect their attention, almost second-nature. Plus, Minister Brevt was distracted by the issue of the Scion impostor—after I’d finished scribing the message, the minister had snatched the paper from my hand and stormed out. Not long ago, I heard some carpenters mentioning that the man had been brought to the Hold. A lucky event for me if not the impersonator.
Unfortunately, I still had no idea how to open the gate. The guard who stood watch beside the lever never moved. She stared at a point about three paces in front of her feet, hand on the pommel of her sword. Before noon, a man had guarded the lever. He hadn’t budged during his shift either.
As for the lever itself—I assumed this was how the gate was opened—the chain links securing it were as thick as my thumb and closed with a heavy padlock.
A woman pushing a cart passed between me and the gate. When I noticed the pile of bedsheets in the cart, I looked expectantly toward her face, hoping it was Oralie. No luck. I didn’t recognize the woman, and her gaze slid over me. One of the watchtower guards turned when a wheel on the cart creaked. As he did, I noticed the glint of a silver cuff around his wrist.
Maelstrom-silver, no doubt, likely enchanted by an argent mage. What effect did it have on the man’s spirit? Focusing on my aura-sight, I recoiled at the vacant hole where the man’s life force ought to have shimmered. The emptiness had to be related to the cuff.
A footstep crunched behind me, and with hardly a thought, I shoved away the newcomer’s attention, directing it around and over me as easily as batting away a fly.
“You show a lot of interest in this gate. Thinking of escape?”
I stiffened at Minister Brevt’s voice. My deflection had failed—no point in ignoring him. I stood and turned to face the man, once again trying to raise my mental armor.
“If you were in my place, wouldn’t you?” I asked.
His lips twitched, almost a smile. “I’m elite-born Atal, and a minister besides. I’d never be in your place.”
“What do you want with me?” I said.
The minister leaned against the wall. “If the Emperor knew about your ability, he’d have you executed. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what ability you’re talking about.”
“Yet you dodged my rather powerful argent compulsion.” As he spoke, he pulled up a sleeve to reveal a bracer of solid Maelstrom-silver. “You wear no metals, but I sensed your power the moment you entered the Hold. I know what you are, Savra.”
“If you say so,” I said, shrugging.
“And I’ll keep your secret,” he continued. “Provided you agree to my terms. Otherwise, Tovmeil will hear of your talent.”
Should I play along? Act meek and hope he’d leave me alone long enough that I could figure out the Shadow Gate? No. Weakness would only embolden him. Minister Brevt had spent years being obeyed, and he thrived on it. Better to stand up to him and put him off balance.
“I heard Emperor Tovmeil is dead,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. The moment stretched before he spoke. Was he trying to come up with an explanation? “A rumor begun by Provs who will do anything to undermine the Emperor.” He shook his head. “If you speak such things again, I’ll kill you myself. Your spiritist abilities would be tremendously useful to the Empire, but treason cannot stand.”
“I’ve been here six days and haven’t caught a single glimpse of Emperor Tovmeil. If he’s concerned about rumors, why not show himself? Why not stand atop the wall and restore the Provs’ faith—maybe he could do something about the earthquake damage and lack of food, too.”
“The ruler of Atal need not coddle his subjects.”
“Then he shouldn’t be surprised when those subjects begin to doubt him.”
Purple splotches darkened the minister’s cheeks. “As I said, I won’t hesitate to execute you for treason. Or disobedience. You’re no good to me with this kind of attitude. And I likely won’t stop there. Your impudence suggests neglect on the part of your elders. No one taught you respect. I’ll have to look into the situation in Cosmal, see that a few examples are made.” As he spoke, he glanced over my shoulder at the Shadow Gate. “In the meantime, I quite dislike your interest in the gate. The guard will be doubled.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I won’t help you hurt Provs.”
His eyebrows raised in offense. “Do you think that’s what I want? How disappointing. No, I only wish to strengthen the Empire. The situation in the city never had to happen—all we need is better leadership. You could help me achieve that. Or you and those you love can die. I need your answer by sundown. Now, I have a traitor to deal with.”
***
How did Parveld cut me off from my aura-sight? I asked Lilik as I hustled along behind a messenger. After the talk with Minister Brevt, I decided I wouldn’t learn anything more by studying the Shadow Gate. Plus, the more interest I showed, the greater his suspicion would become. Just a few minutes after I’d returned to the staff dorm, a messenger had dragged me back out onto the grounds, heading for the Hall of Mages.
What do you mean?
When Havialo’s friends tried to kill me, I panicked and started to lose contact with my other senses. Parveld did something to shove me back into the physical world.
I’m not sure, Lilik said. Let me think about it.
The entrance to the Hall of Mages was an archway of carved onyx with small, black-iron faces set into niches. As we approached, hundreds of little iron eyes turned to look at me while lips pulled back from pointy black teeth. I shuddered.
When I passed beneath the arch, cool air raised goosebumps on my arms. The entrance hall was massive, tiled in black marble with thick green veins. Three large corridor mouths yawned, each rimmed with one of the Maelstrom-metals. Tucked off to the side, a fourth hallway seemed like an afterthought. Natural granite blocks lined the doorway. Recalling what Havialo said about the lack of respect given to the earth mages, I decided this last door must be the entrance to the geognosts’ portion of the Hall.
Feet whispering over the polished floor, the messenger led me through the gold-rimmed door and into the aurum mages’ wing. Along the corridor, light glinted off gold finishings and deep carpets absorbed all sounds. Archways opened into side chambers, some with training dummies and martial weapons and some that looked like healers’ chambers with pots of salves and unguents and a frightening array of surgical tools.
It made sense. Aurum magic was the magic of the body. Mages might specialize in unnatural speed or strength. Or in healing. Or in curses afflicting others’ bodies.
My belly tightened at thoughts of being unnaturally sickened. Thank the clear skies I was only here to scribe a message.
At the end of the corridor, the messenger stopped beside an open door. Through it, a spiral staircase climbed up and out of sight. “Ascend to the highest chamber in the tower,” he said. “The Trinity wishes a message sent. After you’ve written it, bri
ng it to me and I’ll see it delivered to the hawks.”
“Trinity?” I asked.
“The three leaders of the Order of Aurums.”
I glanced at the stairs. “I see.”
“Be respectful and quick,” the messenger said. “You’ll be fine.”
With a nod, I started climbing the stairs. The steps went on and on, around and around past closed doors and an occasional gold statue. When a window finally broke the tower’s wall, the height set my head spinning.
Finally, after what felt like a thousand stairs, I reached the last doorway. Swallowing, I tapped lightly on the warm brown wood. The door flew open, exposing a kind-faced woman. Behind her sat two others, a woman and a man dressed in matching robes that seemed cut for freedom of movement. Crow’s feet wrinkled the corners of the first woman’s eyes, a grim smile flashing she beckoned me in.
“I’ve come to scribe for you, madam,” I said quietly.
“No need for honorifics,” she responded. “Nor should you address us individually. If you wish, you may call us Trinity. Or nothing.”
“Yes… Trinity.”
She nodded then waved her hand toward a desk. An inkpot, quill, and a strip of parchment already rested upon it. I sat in the simple chair then picked up the quill, checked the point, and dipped it into the ink.
“Write this, please. ‘We can do nothing for him. The act was ill-considered. Keep the remaining girl safe at all costs.’”
I finished quickly. “That’s it?”
“Were you taught to question the messages?” she asked.
I bowed my head. “Sorry, Trinity.”
“It’s a common mistake. Now. Please see that it’s delivered quickly. The destination is the Astrologers Guild.”
“Yes, Trinity,” I said.
With the briefest nod, she opened the door and ushered me out.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1) Page 30