All he knew was that the child who had been secreted away for his own protection, the infant his wife had carried in pain and love, had pled with him to have, was now so deep a part of his soul that he could not imagine the possibility of taking a single breath more if he were not able to reclaim him, to protect him and keep him safe from a world that threatened him.
It was too much to contemplate and still remain sane.
Ashe let the thoughts flow out of his amorphous mind, concentrating instead on one thing, and one thing only.
The White Ivory tower of the Sea Mages in Gaematria, the mystical island wrapped in fog and secrets, to which he was traveling.
The Isle of the Sea Mages was a place of scholarship and mystery, where many beings of elder races like the Ancient Seren, the Liringlas, the Gwenen, and the Gwadd had chosen to make their home when the Second Fleet of the Cymrian exodus had been sundered at the Prime Meridian by a great storm in their passage from the old world. Magic was studied as a science there, and his uncle, Edwyn Griffyth, served as High Sea Mage, lending his brilliance in the areas of engineering and smithery to the knowledge that was said to be hoarded as treasure there.
He had beheld the legendary tower on both of his previous trips to the Isle, and had been so clearly impressed by its power, its height, and the reverence with which it was spoken of by the Sea Mages and anyone who came to Gaematria. Ashe knew that if any instrumentality, any tool was capable of seeing beyond the nefariously deep magic that was obscuring an oceanwide blockade, a naval undertaking that had allowed the pretender to the throne of Sorbold to all but shut down sea trade around the world, it was the tower.
Ashe cleared his mind, fixing his vision on the image of it, and pressed on, formless in the waves of the ocean.
7
PALACE OF JIERNA TAL, JIERNA’SID, SORBOLD
Talquist Rev-Penthor, the recently crowned Emperor of the Sun in the desert realm of Sorbold, lingered on the top step and allowed himself one quick look from the inspiring heights of his beloved tower that faced southwest out of the palace of Jierna Tal before turning to address the entity that had arrived just moments before him.
Given that entity’s power and genesis, it was impossible not to be at least a little intimidated.
“Good morning, Faron.”
Talquist took a moment to catch his breath. The stairs to the tower room were steep, and the emperor was still recovering from the night before, which had been especially fine. As the borders of the empire continued to expand, the bedwenches supplied to him were growing in appeal, a fine variety of the most exceptional and beautiful captives from exotic places on the shipping routes and across the continent. Additionally, the captured liquid stock of the distilleries of Canderre and Argaut was even more plentiful, leading to more and more regular overindulgence of a different sort. And the successful fulfillment of his plans was giving him copious reason to celebrate.
Paying the price each following morning in the coin of headaches, mild nausea, and light sensitivity.
A minuscule price to pay, he thought as he stepped more fully into the room.
Good morning, Majesty. The shrill voice made Talquist’s head feel as if it were about to cave in. You smell of the horse that apparently shat on you as you slept beneath it.
Talquist suppressed a belch. “Interesting that a stone nose is capable of smelling horse shit,” he said as pleasantly as he could. “I believe this is a new development. I’m glad to see that you are evolving and becoming more and more—er—sophisticated each day.”
He walked over to the massive map of the Known World inlaid in countless types of wood and displayed on the wall next to the window, the shipping lanes detailed in extraordinary accuracy. The sting of the wind through the aperture was dry and sandy, the fragrance of this desert land. For just a moment Talquist missed the tang of the sea wind he had been dreaming about a few moments before. He examined the map.
Each port, harbor, and trade stream was meticulously annotated with customized pins indicating shipping assets, military vessels, and product bound for market in all corners of the Known World. Talquist nodded, satisfied. Then he turned to the enormous globe that stood beside the map, the three-dimensional representation of those places he had marked on the wall.
“What’s the good word this morning?” the emperor asked pleasantly.
He finally deigned to cast his sight to the other side of the window.
On that side of the round tower room stood an enormous statue, half again as tall as the tallest human man in his nation. Formed of Living Stone, once primitive and rough in its casting, the titan now resembled a natural-born soldier in all aspects but its massive size and the startling blue eyes that could occasionally be seen when it chose to display them.
Talquist was never certain, but it seemed to him that there was menace in those eyes that ran even deeper than the smirking tone the animated statue generally employed since recently finding its voice.
Hmmm. The good word. Any good word? This morning I think I’m liking “defenestration.” The smirk widened into an almost menacing grin.
Talquist, who knew the definition of that word, stepped away from the window and glared at the titan.
“I’m not sure why you delight so in taunting me,” he grumbled.
Maybe it is because I despise pretenders, said the titan lightly. Perhaps to Sorbold now, and to the Known World soon enough, you are a godlike figure, immense in power with a reach that spans the endless sea. But you and I both know that you are merely a common man in a king’s garments, limited in life span as you are in vision. You seek to eat the beating heart of the Child of Time for the purpose of making yourself immortal, while you ignore what is truly important in your own plans.
“Toss me out the window then,” said Talquist. “Hurl me from the parapet into the chasm below, if you are so intent on defenestration. See what becomes of you then, you arrogant pile of animated mud. You may be able to destroy any army that comes at you, but you will never be able to build an army to come with you to seek the Child of Earth that you crave to capture in the Bolglands. Do it. Defenestrate me. It will put an end to this headache and spare me from ever again having to listen to your voice, which makes the mating screams of alley cats sound like orchestral music by comparison.”
Now, now, don’t get peevish, said the stone statue. Its tone rang with amusement. I said maybe. It is also possible that I actually like pretenders. I certainly have been willing to work with one long enough now.
“Well, that is so very much more reassuring, thank you.”
The look of amusement in the statue’s blue eyes faded into something darker.
Do you wish me to continue to obscure your blockade or not?
Talquist sighed dispiritedly. “Yes, of course.”
Then step aside. The gigantic titan walked forward as the emperor moved quickly out of the way until it was standing in front of the globe. It opened its hand.
Between the index and middle fingers was an oval object, slightly convex and tattered around the edges. At first glance it resembled a large piece of carapace, gray in color, otherwise unremarkable. But as the sunlight shining through the aperture came to rest on its surface, the object began to gleam with a blue radiance that skittered across its scored face.
Faron turned the object over, so that the concave side was ascendant.
Inscribed on that side was the primitive image of an eye occluded by clouds. Had he been holding it with the other side up, Talquist knew, a similar picture of an eye clear of similar clouds would be seen. Talquist was not certain what magic allowed the scale to see through disguises and over great distances when the convex side was employed, but he was grateful for its concave side’s ability to obscure wide swaths of the world when passed over the map that had been made from ancient trees originating in the places detailed on it.
Knowing that it was a scale of an ancient dragon, he was hardly surprised at anything it could do.
; Just as the violet-colored one in his own possession had made it possible to take the throne of Sorbold.
He watched, fascinated as always, as the titan exposed the concave side to the sunlight, then carefully moved it over the route his multitude of pirate ships, merchant vessels, and warships was following across the Known World, crippling the Middle Continent and isolating it from contact with the rest of an unknowing world.
As Faron applied the scale, it seemed to Talquist that mist, thick and white, formed along the pathway the titan drew across the map. From experience he knew that this was merely a sign that the powers of the scale were at work; as far as he knew, no real mist was hanging at that moment in the sea, literally obscuring his ships and their wares.
But it might as well have been.
By all accounts across the Known World, the only faction that was aware of his plans for the coast of the Middle Continent, which his navy had already summarily destroyed in a glorious display of military superiority and the aerial attack of iacxsis, were the surviving inhabitants of the Middle Continent themselves.
And they were in no condition to send out word to anyone beyond their broken and smoldering harbors.
The titan turned back to the emperor. The unsettling blue eyes looked down at him thoughtfully.
There you are, the statue said pleasantly. One more day your plans are hidden from the sight of the world. Enjoy this day, Talquist. This is the last time I will undertake to use the blue scale in this manner.
“What are you talking about?” the emperor demanded. “It is far too soon for the western reaches of the Known World to become aware of the blockade of the continent. The Diviner’s armies of the north are not in place in the Middle Continent yet.”
That is unfortunate. The titan’s smile grew wider. But I have no doubt a manipulator of your skill will be able to cope with this small setback. It is long past time, Talquist. I tire of leading your armies in pointless exercises. Had I been able to participate in the hurling of the orphans and infants into the sea at Nikkid’sar, that might have provided some momentary entertainment. But, like you, I seek a very important child. Unlike you, the child I seek will serve to benefit many, rather than just myself.
“My immortality and yours are irretrievably tied together, Faron,” Talquist said disdainfully. “I hate to keep having to remind you that without me, you would still be nothing more than a freakish glob of gelatinous goo, with a mouth fused in the center and gaping lips on either side, boneless and without the ability to stand, let alone lead an army on the Bolglands. It was I that harvested this magnificent body of Living Stone for you, that rigged the Scales to bring you into life within it. I have taught you everything you know, and yet you continue to threaten our alliance.”
The towering statue looked down at him amusedly. That’s an interesting perspective on the world. Well, may it keep you warm at night. Goodbye, Talquist.
“What—what you mean?” The emperor’s swarthy face went suddenly pale.
It means that I am taking the fifth, eighth, and twelfth regiments, and marching on the Bolglands.
“No,” Talquist stammered. “No. It is too early, Faron. Be patient. All will come to fruition in the appropriate time.”
Well, you know what they say, said the titan. There’s no time like the Present. And that’s especially true ever since you hurled the Seer Rhonwyn to her death out that very window into the great chasm below the tower. No time like the Present at all anymore. A shame, really. Your impatience has cost us a rather important tool that could have been used to achieve our ends. But no matter. Best of luck with your pursuit of immortality and earthly reign. May that keep you warm at night as well.
“You—you can’t possibly leave to take the mountains yet,” Talquist whispered. “The scales must remain together—”
The statue smirked. We can do that, by all means. Give me yours.
The emperor drew back in horror.
I thought you’d see it my way.
“Faron,” Talquist whispered, “what are you doing? We have an almost-complete set of the scales, only missing two for a complete spectrum! I have the violet scale of the New Beginning. All we need is a yellow and indigo—”
We do have a yellow, do we not? The titan’s voice was wry and cracking with sarcasm. Oh, wait, no, that’s right—what you thought was a yellow dragon scale of ancient origin, a part of Sharra’s Deck spared from the sea when the Island sank, for which we diverted our resources and risked our ultimate goals, turned out to be a cookie, didn’t it? I do not have time for this, Talquist, for your pathetic plans, your endless quest for a longer life you do not deserve. I have the red, blue, orange, and green scales; they are more than sufficient to aid me in my quest. Which is going to begin right now.
“Please—”
But just to be sporting, I will tell you what, Talquist—I’ll give you one last reading through the blue scale.
The titan pulled out the scrying instrument again, which, like the others, had long ago been a scale in the hide of an ancient dragon, a gift given to save the Earth from just the sort of demonic beast that now resided within the statue of Living Stone. Faron held it up to his unnaturally blue eyes and stared at it, then moved it until it was in front of the Merchant Emperor.
Then he smiled broadly.
This is your lucky day, Talquist—there is a timely warning for you. The scale says that there are two assassins coming for you. Hmm. What is that expression again? Oh yes. Forewarned is forearmed. Very well, you’ve had your last reading ever from the scales in my deck. Best of luck with whomever is hunting you.
The titan turned to leave, blotting out the sun from the window as it did.
“Faron—”
With surprising alacrity for something of such great height and heft, the giant statue turned and glared down at the ruler of the Empire of the Sun with such surpassing hate in its searing blue eyes that Talquist had no choice but to leap away.
Be silent. The command was spoken in a voice shrill with menace, scratching against the emperor’s eardrums. Do not tempt me, Talquist. I have wanted to kill you from the moment I became aware of you. At best you are a colossal waste of time. At worst, you are in my way. And that is an utterly unacceptable place for you or anyone else to be. Now, for the last time, stand aside and I will see if I can restrain myself from pounding you through the granite floor of this tower. If you had any idea what a struggle that restraint is at this very moment, you would defenestrate yourself rather than risk being torn limb from limb alive.
The emperor stepped rapidly out of the way.
The anger in the titan’s eyes cooled somewhat, but the look of hate remained.
Wise choice. Goodbye.
A cruel shine glazed the look of hatred.
And, by the way, the name of the child you seek is Meridion. If only you had a blue scale in your possession to find him with, now that you know it. Oh well.
The giant stone statue turned its back on the emperor of Sorbold and hastily made its way with remarkable flexibility down the long staircase that led to the palace proper below.
As soon as its footsteps could no longer be heard echoing on the marble floors, Talquist’s knees collapsed beneath him and he crumpled to the ground. He remained there, supporting himself with his hands, then made his way on his knees to the open window overlooking the deep canyon below the tower.
He could see the statue exiting the palace on the other side of the tower. In a voice that Talquist could not hear but that scraped against his skin nonetheless, even as high up as he was, Faron called for his chariot, a four-wheeled heavy cart drawn by a team of eight horses, and it was brought around.
As the stone monstrosity stepped into the cart and took the reins in its giant hands, it looked aloft one last time at the tower window a thousand feet above. Talquist could not be certain, but he had more than an inkling that a smile was decorating its face.
Then it slapped the reins against the backs of the horses and r
olled out of sight.
8
Fhremus Alo’hari, supreme commander of the army of Sorbold, stepped off of the ascendant staircase and onto the polished floor of the second level of the palace of Jierna Tal.
As always, a sense of awe passed over him as he beheld the tens of thousands of candles in the giant chandeliers that lighted the towering ceilings of the hall, opening into beautiful rooms built of fine marble quarried from Sorbold’s immense mines, appointed in glorious linen draperies and silk carpets, also a major product of export from the land. It never had ceased to amaze him, even from childhood, how many riches the All-God had blessed his native land with.
The Creator, he corrected himself, eschewing the name for the deity that had been used throughout the realm since his birth, recently replaced by law with an older title from the animist times of history, before the Cymrian landing, when the indigenous peoples who were his ancestors were the rulers of the empire.
His forebears.
And Talquist’s.
“Fhremus! Oh, good, you’re here! Excellent.” The emperor’s voice thudded against his eardrums, sounding nervous.
“Is everything all right, m’lord?” he asked, noting that Talquist’s swarthy skin was flushed and sweating, his hair damp and his eyes gleaming in what appeared to be concern.
“No, Fhremus, no, everything is most certainly not all right,” Talquist stammered. “I have it on good authority that two assassins, most likely from the Raven’s Guild of Yarim or possibly from the Spider’s Clutch of Golgarn, are on their way here at this very moment, intent on killing me.”
Fhremus’s forehead furrowed.
“On whose good authority, m’lord?” he asked. “I have seen no such briefings, and I made a very careful review of all your security, as well as the field reports, just before I came.”
The Hollow Queen Page 4