Plotting to end your reign and hang you for murder, she thought, but instead said, “Please, can we talk about something else?”
“Sure, that’s fine. How is your reign doing? Anything I can help with?”
Zana rolled her eyes, sipping again. “You want to talk about that? I don’t know Sig, maybe you should tell me how my reign is doing?”
He scrunched up his nose at her, mimicking her earlier. “I do it to protect you,” he said. “I don’t trust those priests, Za’nina. They’re doing something in their ‘sacred’ places they don’t want us to know about. They’ve even fought against me, remember?”
“You are dismantling the Almighty’s body,” she said casually. “You had to expect that.”
“Hmm…you seem to be in argumentative mood, Z. Is there something wrong?”
She nodded to the other tower.
“Oh, right. Surprises. But routines are boring. You need to live a little.”
“Routines are stable, Sig. Our people need them to thrive.”
“OK, Mother.”
She pouted. “Fine, how’s your…empire, doing?”
He looked up to the sky, crunching his eyebrows together. “Well, considering as my reign almost came to an end last week, I’d say pretty good.”
Zana creased her lips together. “I was being sincere.”
“So was I. There was a problem in the city. A big problem that might have destroyed everything I’ve built here.” His voice became steely, a sadness in his distant gaze. She recognized it. All downhill from here. He’d be talking conspiracies soon.
“But…,” she aided him to continue. The most she could do now was listen.
“But, a hero of the Isle appeared and saved the day.” His gaze refocused on his glass and he smiled. She almost startled; that was a change in him. She was sure he on his way to closing her and everyone around off from him. Shrugging, he added, “Maybe there is a god, but he’s not the Almighty.”
Hope? Was that a hint of optimism in Sig? It blindsided Zana so much, she didn’t know what to say, least of all how to encourage it, so she was actually glad that Cyne approached them.
“They’re ready, Your Majesty,” Cyne said with a curt bow.
Sig guzzled his drink before straightening in his chair. “Alright, pass out the goggles.” Cyne marched off while Sig stood, raising his arms up. “Everyone, please. May I have your attention.” The murmuring quieted until only the sound heard was the flapping of Sig’s banners whipping the air overhead. “First, I want to thank you all for coming. I am especially appreciative of the Grand King Wyen who came all the way from the liberated Sands. I know he’d rather be home watching the Steppe for that Prophetess’s Knights. But I assure you, after what you see here now, your lands —all your lands will be protected.” Zana turned, finding a short obese dark-skinned man in browns and golds with his arms crossed, nodding reservedly with a cool expression on him. Beside him was another dark skinned tall woman, standing oddly defensive with her arms relaxed by her sides. Zana recognized a refinement in her pose. Two heads of state, she guessed. “Now, my Master of Servants, the good gentleman, Cyne, will be passing out goggles to be placed over your eyes. Please do so as it is for your protection.”
Sig sat back down, a gleam in his eye. “You are going to love this.”
“Why are you showing me this,” Zana said, looking around at the expectant crowd. This was clearly some demonstration of some new weapon of Sig’s. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Sig lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t get it, did he? He really thinks Zana is on his side. That her Holy City was his. She’s not on his side; she’s on the family’s side, on their Mother’s side. “Don’t give me that face, Z. You’re my sister. What do I have to hide from you or my brothers? We’ll be one someday again. Just like you believe. Or we’ll all be taking trips to the Dark Well.”
Cyne came back and placed a parasol into the hole at the center of the table, opening it up to block the sun. Then he gave each of them goggles before moving on.
Wearing them, she said, “You’re being awfully careless, brother. I might end up telling Landrie.”
He turned to her with a chuckle edging his lips. “I know,” he said before calling out, “Cyne, are we ready?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, everyone has their protection.”
“Everyone,” Sig called out. “If you’d be so gracious as to turn your attention north, out into sea.” Everyone turned and walked over to the edge of the parapet with murmurs and excitement growing. Zana went to get up herself, but Sig grabbed her arm to stop her. “Out there,” he continued shouting, “You can see a boat—”
“It’s a freighter,” one said.
“Yes, a freighter,” Sig cut in. “It’s the largest ship in my navy. Unsinkable by Nature or Nature’s—” He glanced at Zana. “Well, just Nature is a good start, I suppose. Now, witness the might of man! Cyne, if you’d please signal Sera to begin.”
Cyne rose a flag and waved it thrice. Immediately, a loud groaning like metal on metal rang from Tower One. Everyone —including Zana— turned—
“Uh, Uh,” Sig warned. “Please, everyone, eyes on the freighter or you just might miss the show.”
With Sig’s hold on her arm, Zana had no choice but to recline into her seat, folding her arms. From her position, she had no view of anything, even the parasol hid what was happening on Tower One. “Can’t I see?”
“I thought you didn’t want to.”
“Well I—”
Suddenly, the hairs of Zana’s arms and neck electrified as a low hum vibrated the stone floor. The air seemed to saturate with static, tingling her skin, or maybe it was something Sig’s new device was doing? People chortled, talking in low whispers. Sig closed his eyes with his head titled down as though meditating. The hum turned into whining, louder and louder, uncomfortable pressure building in her ears. She wanted to get up, rip her arm from Sig’s hand and see what was going on—
The next thing Zana heard was a muffled thud, a bright light flinched her eyes shut, and a strong gust of wind wrapped around her. Then a deafening roar like that of a great beast deep within the world, shaking the Look Out to its foundation. Within the roar, she heard what sounded like a horrendous scream like that of lion yelping but deeper, crueler.
When the roar subsided, her skin down to her bones vibrated, even her teeth felt like that they were rattling in place until all grew still again. Silence. No sound, even from the banners overhead.
Opening her eyes, she saw that most of the dignitaries laid on the ground, phased, stumbling around but unhurt. Then the sky darkened with a sudden burst of rain, a torrent falling fast and hard on them before quickly streaming off the tower through the machicolations; the sunlight returned. Sig finally let go of her arm as a wide satisfied grin stretched across his face with the dignities muttering terrible and terrifying remarks at what they just seen. The freighter was gone. The ocean boiled.
Sig refilled his glass and rose from the table. “Honored Guests, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you a new defensive weapon to protect your states.” Each of the dignitaries, now drenched through with salt water, stared at her brother with blank faces. Even the Grand King from the Sands and his posed guest were visibly shaken. “It is my intention to install one —and only one— at a strategic location of my choosing with in your territories, only to be used at my discretion. Any comments, questions so far?” Nothing, but the blowing breeze. “I understand this is a lot to digest and I do apologize for the rain, but this demonstration could hardly have been done indoors.” He laughed, but again, everyone else remained stunned to silence. “Well, please follow the good gentlemen Cyne. He will take you back to your changing rooms and escort you in one hour to Tower One, where my Chief Engineer Sera Gallegos will give you a tour of the…uh, I haven’t even named it.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ll have to think of one. Again, thank you all.” Sig signaled to Cyne, who started gathering the speechless crowd and ushering t
hem down the tower. Sig, still smiling, sat, taking in a deep victorious drink. He turned to her. “You’re welcome,” he said.
But Zana didn’t know what to say. She was as speechless as the others. That…whatever that was, it was beyond anything she’d ever seen from him. It had to be...the power of the Sea Roar.”
“For your clothes,” he added, tugging at her sleeve. She jerked out her daze, realizing her clothes were dry. “I didn’t want you to wear something better only to get it ruined. But I suppose it worked out in the end.”
“What…what just happened,” she managed to utter.
He sighed in relief, sinking into his seat, tension in his face melting away. “You have no idea how worried I was about that. We all could have been—”
“What in Almighty’s name was that?”
“Survival, Z,” he said, raising back up with his glass in hand. He stood and walked toward the parapet in the direction of the freighter. He signaled with his head for her to join him and she did. There was no freighter; she expected that from the faces of those others, but she also saw a thick mist, a fog, in the distance and waves radiating from there. It reminded her of steam from a pot of boiling water.
“This isn’t survival,” Zana whispered. “This is…I don’t know what this is.”
“It’s a defensive weapon,” he said without a hint of apology.
“Defensive or not, how can you use divine power so crudely—”
“Divine power,” he scoffed. “I didn’t use that…Shard’s power to do this.”
“Then how—”
“What did I tell everyone? What did I tell you before? If we’re going to survive what’s coming, we need to depend on man,” he pointed to his temple. “Even if the Almighty existed, he’s dead, isn’t he? He’s not protecting our skies anymore, so we have to now. And his broken body…Golden Lady, the Sea Roar, the King-Maker. All the others. They are nothing but raw materials let to help us do just that. And we should learn to use them to fend for ourselves.” Sig’s eyes drew to slits as he stared out into the ocean, a tight frown hugged the corners of his lips. “I know you think I don’t believe in the Seven. I do, Z. But they aren’t gods. They are…as terrible as the One-King and twice as ruthless. I won’t let them cull us again.”
Still stunned, Zana decided to drop the matter. She still wanted to get as much information out of him as she could, but not now. She needed time to process all of this.
“I’d like to install one inside the Holy City,” he said. “I’m sure the religious wouldn’t mind. It’s not ‘sacred’ power I’m using.”
“No,” she said, reflexively.
He glanced at her longways as though he expected her to explain herself. “Not going to bite,” he said. “Just…’no’?”
“I’ve learned it doesn’t help,” she said. “You believe and do whatever you want to believe and do.” …Just like her other three brothers.
“That’s disappointing.” He finished his drink and Zana allowed the silence to come between them. A few seagulls flew low near the water, their muted calls echoing among the crashing waves. “I miss them,” Sig said softly. “Lan, Ad, and Mak. How much I miss them.”
“I know,” was the only thing she thought of saying.
He sighed, his expression softening.
She looked out too; the fog and mist in the distant had already dissipated. So much power, even if stationary, was more than she ever saw or even read about. There were, of course, powerful magic. Stories of the first Queen of Ladress, the Mage Queen, baffled credibility, but nothing this…destructive. And Sig at its control. She shuttered, holding onto herself.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you,” he asked.
“Cold,” she lied.
He rose an eyebrow.
“What could I be afraid of? A weapon that can boil an ocean?” But they both seem to know who she was more afraid about.
He closed his eyes against the sun. “It’ll work out, Z. It has to. Father—” He stopped himself, straightening his posture suddenly. He then shrugged, turned and hugged her. She stiffened, but then forced herself to relax. “I’m really happy you came,” he whispered. “My health is peaking; I can feel it. The next few days, we’re going to get a lot done!” His voice picked up in euthanasia. A lot done? A sinking feeling came over her; he really was serious about installing one of those monstrosities near her city.
He let go and she noticed his eyes had reddened. Sniffling, he said. “If anything big is going on with those three ‘idiots,’ you’d tell me, right? Mak, Ad, and Lan. Anything important.”
What? Zana focused her attention on her thoughts. No, he hadn’t been reading her. She wasn’t even thinking about Mak at all.
“Of course, I would,” she said, trying not to sound uncertain.
“Good,” he replied, smiling. Then waving his hand, he added, “Come on Z. We’ve got about an hour before we have breakfast with some of the world’s most powerful. Let’s go meet our hero of the island.”
We’ve got…? Our hero? Zana’s stomach wasn’t looking forward to breakfast anymore.
9
Celeste Casmarus: The Priest and the Investigator
“Why can’t we see His Imperial Majesty? We’ve traveled all the way from our Sands to meet him.”
“His Excellency is ill at the moment, but rest assured, he will see—“
“What Insolence! He threatens us, offers unity, then scoffs when we travel to…meet…him.”
“Hello, King Wyen. Yes, it’s as you’ve guessed. I’m Siga Ladress and I can see in your mind’s eye your worry over the Amerand child. Don’t. We’re are close to securing—”
“Please, you need rest, Your Excellency—”
“No, it’s alright, Cyne. I feel more myself. And you, Grand King? Would you join me for some refreshment. I can see how tired you are.”
“I…I apologize. We…uh, we can lodge in the city and return tomorrow when you’re well.”
“But I’m well now, Wyen. Come. Have a drink with me. Share your thoughts. You were so bold a few moments ago.”
-Conversation between Emperor Siga, Master of Servants Cyne, and Grand King Wyen from the Sands
“We’re almost there,” the coachman said with his gravelly voice. He sat outside on the box seat guiding the horses south along the Median Road. He didn’t tell Sil his name and when she asked, he laughed and told her she didn’t have enough money to know. Not very comforting, but he was hired by the Doyenne and the Synod so Sil would suffer him as her coachman. “Remember, once we cross the border, you’re not a priest,” Priest, the word ached in her chest. This man obviously didn’t know, but he knew enough to make her wonder how much they told him. Only what he needed to know, she consoled herself. “There’ll be a check point coming up. I’ll let you know.”
With little to do, Sil sat in the dark, perched on the edge of the springy couch, going over her supplies —again. The drawn concealing curtains tempted her to open them, but the coachman advised her that if she could cross the border unseen, all the better. Though he used a rather disrespectful tone and words in his argument; maybe she could find some other means of coming back.
Sil huffed, making due with what little light she had. The backpack Lyn gave her laid open beside her. Inside was a map of the tri-city area, villages and settlements and the borders between them: Zanf’r the Holy City, Sat’r Industrial Works in Landrie’s Princedom, and Sato’s Mines in the possession of the Apostate Emperor. Hopefully, her search wouldn’t take her much further than that.
Also given to her were a change of clothes and a few individually cloth-wrapped flat sweetbreads for the first leg of her journey. She decided to save those in case she needed to bribe someone for information, and was pleased with herself for being so prudent. She had already pocketed her currency vouchers which back in the Holy City would have fetched her a one-to-one exchange of fifty-five Zanyaes. Now headed to imperial lands, she doubted she’d get nearly as good an exchange for the loca
l currency. Sil didn’t even know what they called their money now, probably something obscene, prideful, and vile. She’d rather barter goods than touch their filth anyway.
She exhaled deeply, folded her arms and slid back into the cushioned seat. She began tapping her foot against the floor, as the uneventful ride trotted on its six-hour trek south to her old home. It had to have been six hours already, hadn’t it? She spent most of it meditating and praying to the Golden Lady, each time without a reply. Feeling frustrated, she reminded herself of her mission. She raised her chin and straightened her back. This is where it all began, she thought. The Sato Family Mines, our home. Surely, Gene came to visit her parent’s grave from time to time. Yes, she saw the wisdom of the Doyenne: Gene would have come here, and someone would remember seeing her. By grace, maybe someone would know where she goes afterwards.
The stagecoach suddenly slowed to a stop with the coachman shouting, “Allo, there.” An unintelligible reply muffled through the curtains. “One young woman. So, here’s for the toll.” Sil pressed her ear closer to the window, trying to decipher more of the conversation. “My business? I’m just paid to give someone a ride. That’s all. Her business is her own.” Her business is her own? Sil’s heart set off racing. What if I’m asked? What am I going to say? Her mind fluttered through excuses. Would she have to lie? But that was why he was hired, wasn’t it! To lie for her and get her across the border!
“Alright, I’ll ask her,” came the reply, now louder and closer, with footsteps approaching.
Why would that loaf say that? Is this because I told him I wouldn’t lie? Now he was forcing her to lie. He didn’t have scruples; he didn’t care about virtues or the Golden Lady; he didn’t have to remain clean for his goddess. Why couldn’t you just lie—
The curtain swished open, blinding her with outside light. “Who goes there and what is your business,” a tired monotonic voice said.
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