by Matthew Ward
Torev grimaced, the epitome of a man who knows he has to deliver unfavourable news. "My informant told me the cultists kept a close watch on the movement of our armies. I didn't want to take the chance of them being warned off. So I asked the Ambassador to take action – though I confess I was as surprised as anyone when I learned he had decided to investigate that nest with only two companions."
"I see," Magorian said warily. He'd clearly not planned for this. "And the other matter?"
"Is more important, yes," Torev replied. "I knew of Salkard's fate."
Magorian frowned. "What?"
"The Ambassador told me of it after the battle at Tarvallion. He asked me to send a herald to this council." Torev's eyes settled briefly on me. "I disagreed. I thought it better this matter be broached away from full council, to avoid panic. I should have listened to him."
And with that, Torev had put his head on the block next to mine. It was a clever move, and one for which I was extremely grateful. It didn't take a genius to see Magorian's 'evidence' was circumstantial, and relied heavily on the councillors' innate distrust of a foreigner. Torev's assertions muddied the water just enough. At least I hoped so. If Magorian thought he had a sharp enough axe to take both our heads with a single swing, then things were about to get much worse.
"You swear to this as the truth, Commander?" Magorian asked.
"A Sartorov Paladin does not lie to spare the guilty from punishment," Torev still smiled, but the cheer in his tone faded just a little. Just enough.
I think Magorian would have pressed the matter further had Karov not chosen that moment to address the council. "Thank you for clarifying the matter, Commander. I believe you may stand down. You also, Ambassador, unless you have anything else to say?"
Torev and I retook our seats, as did Magorian, who clearly knew the sound of his leash being jerked.
Karov bowed his head, the picture of a statesman considering weighty matters. "My fellow councillors, momentous events are upon us, and the temptation to take action – any action – is overwhelming. It seems that this has led to a misunderstanding, and we will, of course, wait until our visitors have arrived before rushing to hasty judgement. Until that time, I am content that the ambassador should continue his duties. After all, friendship – especially friendship of the kind that exists between our great nations – requires we trust one another. In the meantime, I suggest that this meeting be adjourned?"
*******
Half an hour later, Arianwyn, Torev, Emmeline and I were sat in the embassy's dining room. Aldan had raised an eyebrow at having his domain invaded by so many Tressians at one go, and without any notice, but vanished without complaint to set the cooks about their work.
"I'm going to kill him," Arianwyn said at last. She'd hardly spoken on the journey back, but then none of us had.
"No you're not," I said. "I am."
"Scrawny thing like that?" asked Torev through a mouthful of bread and jakiri. "Not worth the effort." He held up a finger. "Wait. Which one are we talking about?"
"Karov," said Arianwyn and I in unison.
"Ah." Torev shrugged. "It doesn't matter, it's true of both. Karov was uncharacteristically quiet though, and he backed down easily enough."
"With respect, Master, that's because he got what he wanted," said Emmeline. "You forced him to drop immediate action against Edric..." She paused, maybe realising she'd forgotten to address me by my title in front of Torev, and then forged defiantly on. "...but Magorian's planted enough doubt in the councillors' minds that they'll be that much less likely to heed the ambassador in future."
"Are you saying that's all he wanted Magorian to do from the start?" Torev asked.
"Not in the least," said Arianwyn. "He wanted Edric gone, but when you ruined that for him – which was very nicely done, by the way – he was able to reaffirm his own noble and reasonable character. It'd be almost admirable if the man weren't so devious."
"And so Magorian loses face, but Karov rises still further," Torev mused. "I've changed my mind. They are worth the effort."
"You are joking, of course, Master?" Emmeline asked, the sidelong look in her eyes suggesting she believed him all too readily.
"Am I?" Torev asked airily. "Might save a few lives in the long run."
"He's joking," Arianwyn assured her. "If for no other reason than others like Karov and Magorian would quickly take their places. That's the joy of politics." She took a sip of wine. "Edric, I thought you'd tell the council about the Reckoning."
"I decided not to," I said, a trifle defensively. "That was hard enough without prophesying a catastrophe I know almost nothing about."
"That sounds delightfully ominous." Torev jabbed a fork at me. "This is another thing that you've chosen not to tell me about, isn't it?"
I glanced at Emmeline. Given how much Magorian and Karov had known about Salkard, it seemed less and less likely that she'd been how they'd learnt of the serathi in the first place. Even if she was their spy, the Reckoning would become common knowledge soon enough.
"Very well. I'll tell you what I know – or what I've been told, at least, and about Salkard as well, if you're in no hurry to leave."
"No hurry in the least," Torev ran a hand through his beard. "I have food, wine and, best of all, this is the last place that anyone will think to look for me tonight. Tell me all."
Five
Skyhaven arrived the next morning.
I stood at the window of my bedchamber, staring out across the city at a truly remarkable sight. Skyhaven hovered above the council palace like a star cast from the heavens, its bedrock and buildings blocking the sun's rays. So low had the serathi brought Skyhaven that the inverted stone spire of its base was scarcely feet above the apex of the palace's highest dome. Such was Skyhaven's size that most of that entire quarter now languished in unnatural darkness. Only the Cathedral of Sidara and a few nearby buildings had escaped the encroaching gloom. Was that an act of happenstance, or deliberate design? I couldn't tell.
In recent days, I'd speculated as to whether Azyra would establish relations with Tressia in secret, or harness the full pomp and splendour I knew the serathi to be capable of. I had my answer.
As a gesture of strength and majesty, it was a masterstroke. As a diplomatic effort, it lacked finesse, and could have been interpreted as a threat. I couldn't see the palace square, but was certain it would be crowded with citizens desperate to know what was going on. I hoped Nierev had been prepared for this occurrence. I wasn't worried for the serathi, but for the fate of any Tressians who chose to raise their hands against Skyhaven. Then I remembered I'd said nothing of the serathi to Nierev, and realised that, in all probability, neither had Lord Karov.
I had to get down there. Unlikely as it seemed, the diplomatic skills of Edric Saran were required. What a terrible way for anyone to start the day.
There was a sharp rap on the door. "Edric?" called Emmeline. "I'm sorry to wake you, but there's something you need to see."
"I've seen it," I shouted. "I'll meet you downstairs."
*******
Usually I hated travelling amongst the early morning market crowds. On this occasion, however, the going was easy, not because the streets were clear, but because most folk were gazing at Skyhaven in an awestruck fashion. As a result, Emmeline and I set a swift pace, even if it was one that quickly made me regret not having breakfasted.
I felt and looked dishevelled from my swift egress. I'd been awake for some hours, plagued again by nightmares, but I'd spent the time considering the events of the previous day, not preparing for this one. Emmeline, by contrast, might as well have spent the night standing upright and fully clothed – if her thoughts were in disarray from the morning's turn of events, nothing of that showed.
Several times, I wondered whether I should have sent a herald to Arianwyn. Each time, I discounted the idea. Arianwyn couldn't help but have seen Skyhaven by now. She had left the embassy in the early hours of the morning, gallantly escorted home
by Torev. The paladin had been in genial mood, but I suspected he'd rather hoped to encounter a footpad on whom to relieve his many annoyances.
In the end, it appeared we'd hurried to the palace for nothing. Skyhaven may have hovered ominously over the city, but there was, as yet, no sign of the serathi. That wasn't to say there wasn't anyone in the square. Indeed, it was fair crowded with people from all walks of life, all drawn to the palace by the instinct that if something were to happen, it would happen here.
So far, the centre of the square and a thin corridor of paving up to palace steps was kept clear by a double line of constables and praetorians – clearly Nierev had gotten some warning after all. Here and there I saw Sidarists, their white robes twitching in the breeze as they thumped out their dirge-like hymns, and I heard the occasional shout as a constable stopped the crowds spilling past the established bounds. For the most part, however, everyone was gathered in awed silence. Those who weren't praying or singing simply stared up at the floating island.
Emmeline led the way through the crowds, her paladin's tabard again working its magic. Whether salvation or persecution came in Skyhaven's wake, no Tressian wanted to offend a Sartorov Paladin.
"Edric?" called a voice from my left. "Why am I not surprised to see you in the middle of all this?"
The speaker was a blond-haired man with an extravagant moustache and goatee. His grey cloak stood out amongst the blues and blacks of the nearby Tressians, but his expression too set him apart. He wasn't as awestruck as the rest of the crowd. He was simply watchful.
"Morecet." I offered a wary smile. He and I had fought together in the past, but I'd come to the conclusion that he was something of a rogue; probably unreliable, and certainly untrustworthy, if likeable enough in his way. "May I introduce Emmeline Orova, of the Sartorov Paladins?"
"Charmed, I'm sure. I assumed she wasn't simply for decoration, though she succeeds well enough at that."
Emmeline gave him a decidedly unfavourable look, but stayed silent.
"She'll also take violent offence if you try to skim something from my pockets," I said. "We wouldn't want you claiming to be my representative on the strength of some purloined seal, now would we?"
Morecet laughed. "I can't believe you're angry about that! What does it matter to you if I abused Lord Solomon's name? I can't have done anything that wouldn't be eclipsed by the things he did with it himself."
I grinned. There was a cheer about the man that couldn't be denied, but I doubted he'd turned out in the square simply to take a closer look at the wonders of Skyhaven. "I think you'll find the serathi won't take kindly to your particular brand of opportunism. They're quite direct about matters of justice."
He raised an eyebrow. "Been talking to them, have we? You do lead an interesting life. Makes me all the more glad I count you as a friend."
"So we're friends now, are we?"
"Well, comrades then. Men with a similar outlook on the world."
"And that would be?"
"That it should be a better place." For a heartbeat, he looked utterly serious, but then the smile returned, and the moment passed.
"Edric...?" Emmeline prompted, doubtless curious why I wasted time with such an obvious scoundrel.
"I have to go," I told Morecet. "Stay away from Skyhaven."
"I shall do nothing reckless," he called after my retreating back.
I didn't believe him, but it was hardly my problem to solve.
Emmeline and I reached the edge of the constabulary cordon. A sergeant waved Emmeline and I past his subordinates – it seemed either Nierev or Karov had anticipated my presence, and had given the appropriate orders. Nierev, for a certainty. I couldn't imagine Karov doing anything to make my life easier.
The public gallery of the council chamber was still vacant, presumably for the same reason as before: no one wanted the citizenry to be alarmed. Of course, once the initial shock and awe of Skyhaven wore off, I daresay that 'alarm' would be the next emotion to bubble to the surface.
The councillors were in their accustomed seats. Karov and Magorian stood in the centre of the room, as did Arianwyn and a white-maned and bearded fellow I tentatively identified as Lord Orova, Emmeline's father. Captain Nierev stood nearby, as did Torev. The great and the good of Tressia all gathered in one place – assuming Magorian was conveniently overlooked. If the serathi were indeed possessed of evil intent, then they'd never have a better opportunity to bring the city to its knees. I shook my head. There was likely to be enough trouble in the days to come, without me inventing any in the privacy of my mind.
"I need more men on the streets," said Nierev. "It's not too bad now, but a lot of people are going to get crushed if panic breaks out."
"Commander Torev," said Arianwyn, carefully formal. "It would be a good idea if you were to place your troops at the captain's disposal – for a short time, at least."
"Gladly, lady," Torev replied, with the merest emphasis on the second word. "I set Captain Dasharov mustering them before coming here. He should be about done by now. I'll send a herald at once."
Karov shook his head. "Actually, commander, I'd feel better if you took charge. Dasharov is well enough in his own way, of course, but I fancy this situation might need a more experienced hand at the tiller."
If Torev was offended at being reduced to the status of a messenger boy, nothing of it showed in his manner. "Of course, Lord Karov." Torev offered a respectful bow and backed away but, when his face was towards me and hidden from everyone else, he rolled his eyes. "Ambassador."
"Commander." I returned the greeting to Torev's retreating back.
"Ah, Ambassador." Karov at last saw fit to acknowledge my presence. "I'm glad you were able to join us. I hoped perhaps you could shed some... well, some light on this situation." He sounded friendly, but I suspected it was more to cover his nerves than from any real regard.
"I'm afraid I can't," I said. "How long has Skyhaven been here?"
"Since about an hour before dawn, as far as I know."
"Then all I can suggest is that we wait. The serathi haven't come all this way just to loom over the city."
Karov didn't much like that, but I didn't see the point of speculating wildly just to soothe his fears. For the next few minutes, he made nervous small talk. Magorian didn't say anything – presumably his master hadn't yet given him any lines to say. Arianwyn joined the conversation from time to time, always with a small smile on her face, though I wasn't sure whether it was Karov's nervousness that occasioned the humour, or my attempts at polite conversation.
"Your pardon, councillors," a constable called from the doorway. He was out of breath, and teetering somewhere on the border between panic and excitement. Probably everyone in the square outside was in the same way. "There... well... there are angels outside. Captain Nierev's escorting them in now."
"Thank you, constable," Karov replied. "I trust you can restore yourself to a measure of decorum before they arrive?"
"What Lord Karov means to say," said Arianwyn her words infused with all the polite nobility that Karov's had lacked, "is that he's grateful for your efforts."
The constable bowed and retreated, closing the door. Karov glanced at Arianwyn, but said nothing.
By unspoken agreement, those of us in the centre of the chamber retook our seats. Silence gripped the room. Many councillors looked nervous, a few had their eyes closed in prayer. Even I felt the terrible anticipation that comes before great events, good or ill. Thus, I was glad as anyone when the doors to the chamber at last opened, and three serathi entered the room.
Azyra passed through the door first, two graces hard upon her heels. The serathiel was again garbed in a dress the colour of spilt blood, and had a circlet of gemstones in her hair. She was unarmed, a smiling vision of beauty fit to dazzle even the dullest heart. The graces were as intimidating as ever, their blank masks giving no guide to their thoughts. They carried long spears and, while there was nothing overtly dangerous in their manner, there
was a threat there nonetheless.
Awe swept the chamber, a sense of legends come to life. I heard the hushed murmurs of wonder; saw the expressions of amazement and fear. Karov watched wide-eyed as the serathiel advanced. Arianwyn gaped. Clearly I'd done a poor job of preparing them. Magorian, interestingly, was the most composed Tressian in that room, Emmeline excepted.
The serathiel halted in the centre of the chamber. "I am Azyra, serathiel of Skyhaven. In the Radiant's name, I present greetings. On behalf of the serathi, I offer aid. As myself, I bring friendship in difficult times."
Azyra spoke rich and warmly. She was the very epitome of a wise and just monarch speaking with equals from another land. No one could have doubted her kindness or her nobility, nor could they have resisted the heady anticipation of unfolding destiny. Were these not the angels of legend, come to help Tressia regain its greatness? In days to come, I would recall that moment, and wonder how I could have been so caught up in events that I no longer saw what should have been obvious to even the smallest child. As it was though, I noticed only one thing – Azyra had addressed the wrong councillor.
Lord Karov, as befitted his station, had taken his place at the centre of the front row. He alone had risen to greet the serathiel as she had entered, and had even bowed as Azyra approached. Yet the serathiel had strode past him, addressing a councillor some distance to his right who, after the briefest hesitation and a sidelong glance at Karov, replied.
"In the name of the Tressian Republic, and on behalf of this council, I welcome you to our city. My name is Arianwyn Trelan, and I'm sure Tressia will gladly offer its friendship in return."
Azyra's eyes flickered in recognition, the telltale so small I only saw it because I was looking. I was quite sure Arianwyn had missed it, so intent was she on improvising a greeting she'd never thought she'd have to give.
The serathiel held out her right hand. During my time in Skyhaven no serathi had sought to shake hands, and seeing one make such a gesture was exceedingly strange. Arianwyn, of course, saw nothing odd about it at all. Reaching forward, she took the serathiel's hand.