I recognized the piece. In our smithy turned safehouse, Ilishian had examined the black-iron pendant, strands of metal twisted in intricate knotwork. I had no doubt the necklace Emperor Tovmeil wore was the same. Did that mean... was the Emperor’s arrival an illusion? Did Ilishian wear Tovmeil’s likeness as a disguise?
As the Emperor wrapped his hand around the pendant, light shot from between his fingers. His eyes changed, ever so slightly. If I wasn't mistaken, Ilishian’s gray gaze peered from Tovmeil’s face.
The minister halted his advance, muscles locked in place. A breath later, I realized he wasn’t the only one frozen. The entire courtyard had stilled. Yet the Emperor—or rather, Ilishian—and I remained free to move.
“Kill him,” Ilishian said with Tovmeil’s voice. “Now.”
I didn’t hesitate. Despite the lines of pain on my back and my weakness from loss of blood, I sprang for the nearest protector and yanked her scimitar from her belt. The blade flashed as I advanced on Minister Brevt. An instant before I opened the minister’s throat with a broad slash, Ilishian released his spell. The minister gasped as his eyes met mine.
Blood sprayed and he fell at my feet.
“Anyone else?” I yelled. “Or will you now kneel before your Emperor.” As I spoke, I faced Ilishian and dropped to a knee. Behind me, clothing rustled as the ministers submitted.
Ilishian met my eyes before he faded from the Emperor’s face, once again replaced by Tovmeil’s implacable gaze.
“Proceed to your chambers, Scion Kostan. We will speak once your lashes have been healed.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Savra
Hiding near the Shadow Gate
THE FADING GLOW of day colored the crest of the Icethorns a deep rose. On the grounds of Steelhold, shadows pooled. It had been a couple hours since the Emperor’s return to the Hold, and the alleys buzzed with speculation and anger from the servants. Where had he been all this time? Why was he hiding away inside the palace while the city rioted? During the afternoon, a member of the cleaning staff had caught a glimpse over the walls from high in the Argent Tower of the Hall of Mages.
Lowtown was burning. Now, the plume of smoke was blood-red in the last kiss of the sun.
At the thought, anger surged in my chest. I stared at the Shadow Gate and glanced again at the sky. Soon, I’d have to put my plan into action. I’d just have to hope it would work.
About an hour ago, the extra guards on the gate had been recalled. The protector who’d delivered the summons had explained that Minister Brevt’s orders no longer stood. Only three guards remained.
I’d been practicing, lurking in the alley across from the gate while I focused on the guards’ silver bands. I knew I could sever the protectors’ spirits from the Maelstrom-silver at their wrists. I’d tested twice, surrounding the cuffs and watching the stunned reaction of the guards as their free will returned. In those precious breaths before I released my grasp, their auras regained life and color, confusing swirling in their spirits.
But that was only the first step toward getting the gate open. I had no idea whether the rest of my plan would work and no way to test it beforehand.
When the last alpenglow faded from the mountaintops, I stood. Cold evening air rushed over me, sinking through my trousers where my calves had been pressed against the backs of my thighs while crouched. A waft of smoke from the blazes in the city stung my nose.
This was it. I allowed the shield that repelled attention to dissipate and strode toward the guards.
“State your business,” the closest of the protectors said, dull eyes passing over me without interest.
“Apologies, Protector,” I said as I advanced—the closer I stood to the men, the easier it was to sever their bonds to the Maelstrom-silver. “I’m looking for the Sun Gate. An aide to the Emperor who has been posted there needs a scribe.”
The guard laid a hand on the hilt of a long dagger sheathed at his ribs. “Follow the wall to the left. Now move along. Servants are not permitted near the gate.”
I risked a single step closer. With a hiss, the guard drew his steel. I sucked in breath, my aura whipping forth and slapping a blanket of insulation over his Maelstrom-silver.
“Huh?” the guard said, shaking his head.
The men watching from the gate towers snapped their hands toward weapons, but not fast enough. Striking out with my spirit, I severed their links.
“Please listen to me,” I said. “I know you’re confused.”
“What’s going on?” the first guard asked. His voice sounded strangely young. Lost, as if he remembered nothing since the cuff had been clamped to his wrist. Good. I'd hoped as much.
“Enemies of Atal have had control of your mind. I’ve just freed you from their grasp. Do you remember anything of it?”
He shook his head, confusion roiling in his aura. As he peered at me, a thread of violet suspicion swirled into his spirit. “I took a vow to follow the Emperor’s orders. It is my duty. That is what I remember.”
“And you have, sire. You served admirably until the recent subterfuge.”
“What is the girl talking about?” the guard in the nearest watchtower called down.
“Do none of you recall the Emperor’s murder?” I asked, looking at them in turn.
A sword sang as it was pulled free from the sheath. I tensed, expecting one of the tower guards to rush down the ladder and attack. But no footsteps sounded. The protector in the watchtower stared at his sword, his perplexed expression reflected in his aura.
“How?” the first guard asked. “How has my liege fallen?”
“Treachery,” I said quietly. Now came the part I was dreading. I wasn’t good at lying, even to a protector. I wished I knew more about the Emperor’s disappearance and apparent return. It would have been easier than concocting a tale. “The geognosts worked with the Free Tribesmen to abduct and murder him.”
Boots clicked against the polished stone stairs as a tower guard began descending. The man’s face held a mix of shock and incredulity, the emotions reflected in his aura. I gritted my teeth. This part of the plan wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped.
“Why would the earth mages betray their ruler?” the guard nearest me asked. He rolled the hilt of his dagger in his palm.
“I’m just a messenger,” I said. “Sent by those loyal to the throne. I know little more than I’ve told you. The Empire can be saved if we root out the traitors and protect the Scions. We need to open the gate quietly to let in defenders of the throne.”
The guard blinked as his brows drew together. He glanced at the steel slab behind him. “I remember... my duty is to guard the gate. I was given my orders by the Prime, in the name of the Emperor.”
Like a slow summer dawn, hardness replaced the confused look on his face. “I was instructed to allow no one passage. Steelhold is threatened. None can be trusted.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
A hard stone filled my throat as I backstepped. The guard advanced to fill the space I’d put between us, hands up in a fighting stance. My memory flashed to the pain when the protector at Dukket Waystation had punched me in the jaw, and I winced.
The guard descending from his watch post stepped onto the granite street, blade raised. Atop the other tower, the remaining guard withdrew a bolt from his quiver. Confusion still dominated their auras, but the violet threads of suspicion were spreading from the first guard to his brethren. It mattered little. One protector’s dagger was more than enough to finish me.
Desperate, I clamped harder on the aura-holds I maintained over their cuffs in hopes their confusion would resurge. As I squeezed my aura over the Maelstrom-silver, I sensed a probing thread of magic infected with a greasy taint. The spell that bound the men pulsed against my grip, reaching for their spirits.
My only warning before the guard’s mail-armored fist struck my gut was a whoosh of moving air. My breath gusted from my body while agony jolted my belly. I stu
mbled and fell, coughing out the last of the air from my lungs. I couldn’t inhale. My throat produced a silent scream and the world faded to nothing but the red throbbing in my gut.
Distantly, I heard a grunt of approval and the creak of leather as the guard prepared another blow.
I grasped again for the feeling I’d encountered from the cuff. An argent mage had impressed their command into the silver, allowing the cuff to control the protector as long as it was worn. The command worked by dominating the guard’s aura. A prison of the mind. If I could just figure out how to mimic the effect…
I looked into the guard’s eyes, no longer vacant, but rather filled with hate. He’d been born Atal, and no matter how the throne had treated him, he would never have accepted my word without another Atal to vouch for it. It had been stupid of me to think I could manipulate him into opening the gate for me.
A prison of the mind. I needed to overpower his soul from within.
As the dagger rotated in the air above me, the guard toying with me while deciding the angle the blade would enter my body, I aimed a spear of my aura into his spirit. He gasped and the dagger fell from his hand, clattering beside my ear. I smelled the oiled metal of the blade and imagined it piercing my heart.
With a burst of power, I splayed my aura-lance wide and shattered the man’s willpower.
“Back. Away.”
The guard’s eyes widened in terror as he scuttled back. Behind him, the other men stared in disbelief. As I climbed to my feet, I sent bolts of aura into their spirits, exploding the missiles to grab hold of their souls. Their arms went limp, weapons dropping to the ground.
Breathing evenly to keep my concentration, I glanced at the Icethorns as I advanced toward the gate. The distant summits were ghostly against the purple sky. A smattering of stars twinkled in the dusklight.
It was time.
“Open the gate,” I said to the men.
As one, they moved to the lever. Panic threatened when I remembered the lock and chain. I hadn’t considered what I’d do if the protectors couldn’t unlock it. Relief swept through me when a guard pulled a key from a pouch on his belt.
“Open it far enough for a person to slip inside,” I said once the chain had been freed. “No farther.”
The guard pulled the lever, metal sliding with a squeal loud enough to raise the dead. Groaning on its hinges, the Shadow Gate swung aside.
Sirez greeted me with a nod as five Stormsharders slipped into Steelhold. “It’s time to end the Empire,” she said.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Kostan
Scion's bedchamber, recovering from lashes
“I HAVE LITTLE time,” Ilishian said as he stalked into my chamber wearing Tovmeil’s likeness.
“It’s an impressive illusion,” I said once the door was shut behind him. “Not to mention freezing everyone in the courtyard. All from your pendant?”
The man sighed. “You noticed Ilishian intruding for a moment, I guess.”
After the Aurum Trinity had finished healing my lashes, all without speaking a word, I’d moved from my bed to an upholstered chair. I looked up at the man, confused by his words.
“I’m not sure I understand you. You are Ilishian, right?”
He shrugged. “I’m no one, really. And as for Ilishian...”
The melancholy in the man’s voice struck me like notes pulled from a lamenter’s harp. I pushed off the arms of my chair and stood. “Please explain.”
“You noticed the pendant.” The man reached into the neck of his garment and produced the necklace. “I understand that Ilishian misled you about its purpose. He was struggling with the situation, I suppose.”
Earlier, the Trinity had removed my boots. As I stepped to the window, I noticed the softness of carpet against the sensitive skin where my brand had healed. In all the years I’d spent in this room, I’d never experienced the feeling on my branded foot.
“What situation?” I asked as I peered out the window at the courtyard. The whipping post had been removed, leaving the black-sand fountain alone in the square’s center. “And how should I address you?”
“I am Tovmeil,” he said, hands spread. “Or at least, I was. But please don’t go back to ‘your eminence.’ That time has passed. I died the night you escaped.”
The black iron in the pendant. From what I understood, the metal held strange powers over the spirits of the dead. I never imagined it could be so powerful as to return a man to life, however. “So Ilishian has—he’s summoned your ghost?”
“In the days after I spoke to you of my visions, the premonitions got worse. Ilishian came to me with an offer to bind my soul to the pendant. If the worst happened, the black iron would grant me a chance to appear again.”
“By taking Ilishian’s body?”
A cloud passed over the Emperor’s face. “That was what he offered me. I didn’t know that Ilishian had performed the same binding on himself. When he fell from the Chasm Span, we found ourselves tied to the pendant together. Both able to appear, but not at once. And... without a live body to give us structure.”
“Wait... Ilishian’s dead?” My thoughts reeled back to his appearance in the Graybranch Inn. I’d assumed some Maelstrom-relic had spared him during the fall. “He’s been a ghost this whole time?”
The Emperor smirked. “He was rather pleased with himself for the ruse.” As the man spoke, he advanced across the room. When he came to my empty chair, he paused, glanced at me, then walked through it. My mind recoiled at the sight.
“But he...” I tried to think of actions Ilishian had taken. Had he lit a lantern? Touched any of us? Azar had carried the coin purse. Over and over, she’d scurried ahead to spare the ferromaster the effort of opening a door or preparing a meal. I’d never seen the mage eat.
“Ilishian made a tremendous sacrifice for you and the Atal Empire today,” Tovmeil said. “Which is why I’m here speaking to you in his place. You asked whether the pendant froze the others in the courtyard, and the answer is ‘no.’ The pendant serves only to anchor a spirit to the world—it provided a conduit for Ilishian’s act, nothing more. The spell that stopped Minister Brevt from killing you and exposing me was born solely from the vitality of Ilishian’s soul.”
“So he... used his own spirit?”
The Emperor nodded. “And in doing so, erased his pattern from existence. When we die, our spirit lives on. It’s not so bad, really. But Ilishian… he no longer exists.”
“With no hope of return?”
“None.”
I swallowed, feeling sick. I’d never been fond of the mage, but sorrow over his loss flooded me, far more profound than my earlier regret for his fall into the chasm.
“I wish I could thank him,” I said.
“As do I. But that will never be. And as I said, there is little time. Ilishian’s ferro affinity allowed us to maintain our connection to the mortal realm, but now that he’s gone, I feel my hold slipping. We must see to your Ascension. Tonight.”
The seesawing emotions were finally too much for me. I heaved a sigh and shuffled to the chair. Pressing my fingers against my forehead, I shook my head. “I’m not the right man for this, your eminence.”
“Please. It’s Tovmeil. Or if you’d be so kind, Caddill. That’s the name my parents gave me before relinquishing me to the guardians.” As he spoke, I saw someone else inside the Emperor’s body. Before me stood a man who’d once had a mother. A father. Like me, he’d had no choice in the stars of his birth. But he’d had desires once. A childhood. A name not associated with the throne.
I nodded. “Caddill. It suits you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “When we were Scions together Brevt called me ‘cattle.’ It was quite a surprise to my fellow Scions when a lowly cow Ascended the throne.”
It was so hard to think of the ministers as Scions. As for Brevt, it was hard to think of him as anything but the monstrous man he’d been when he died. Bu
t enough of the small talk and memories. Far more serious matters gathered in the room like specters.
“I still don’t see myself on the throne,” I said. “Not after the way I fouled everything up.”
“I’ve spoken to the Prime Protector,” Tovmeil—Caddill said.
“And?”
“I explained my intent to abdicate and name you my heir. Her vows leave her no choice but to support your Ascension. You will do well, Kostan. I know you better than you might think. You were always meant to succeed me.”
“I’m not strong enough. I can’t make the sorts of decisions you did.”
“For the most part, the dead don’t concern themselves with the living. But with the proper motivation—and in my case, with the pendant as an aid—we can peer through the veil. I’ve witnessed you making difficult choices already. Mistakes, too, of course. But I have no doubt in your abilities.”
I scratched the back of my head, self-conscious at the idea that he’d seen my journey through the mountains. My choices in the city. Despite my errors, though, he still believed in me. That or I’d edged out Vaness. In any case, I thought back to the message sent from Jaliss earlier in the day. The Provs were rioting. The city remained in shambles. Someone had to take charge.
With a heavy sigh, I looked up at my former emperor. “All right, so the protectors will support me. What about the argents and ferros? They sided with the Ministry.”
Caddill cocked his head, considering. “They may be traitors, but they’re pragmatic. Once the protectors execute the ministers, the mages will fall in line. For a time, anyway. It will be up to you to keep them there.”
“Is execution the only answer?” No matter the treachery, I felt sick at the thought of killing powerless men and women.
“You’re the Emperor now,” Caddill said. “So I suppose it will be up to you. You know the stakes, and I won’t demand you follow anyone’s heart but your own.”
“Speaking of...” I pulled the Heart of the Empire from my shirt. “Why did Ilishian give me this if no one knows its purpose? Why not send me off with the Bracer of Sight if he only had time to choose one relic?”
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