"I see. Yes, that would be a good idea. The priests may come looking for anyone connected to my father."
"They will not find me in Turz. I will become a different person."
"What was my father's mood when last you saw him?"
"He was most determined to succeed, ma'am. He was sad, goes without saying, but I could tell that he did not intend to allow his work to be suppressed forever. He will have copies of the plans. I have copies, too. There are many copies now. The priests will never find them all."
"Take good care of them. We do not know how long it will be before the great work can be resumed."
Bidding young Pers farewell, Simona took some mulled ale and thought about the message from her father.
He urged to go into hiding. She should use Hilltop as a first step, and she should have the lodge on Mount Beegamuus made ready. She should use only the most trustworthy of the servants. Shalee was good, but others could not be trusted with this.
And so once again her life had been shattered.
Shalee knocked at the door.
"Mistress Simona, I must report there is a stranger, perhaps a spy, that's been seen on the edges of the zob for the past two days. Jokk the grounds keeper has seen him, but he says the intruder is wary and knows how to hide."
"A spy?"
"It could be, I cannot say."
"Shalee, I will need to leave the zob. I must go to Hilltop."
Shalee scarcely blinked. He was already primed for the emergency.
"Yes, Mistress Simona, I will see to it."
"Lips must be kept sealed about this."
"Only the most trustworthy will know."
That night it snowed, a light coating of feathery flakes, enough to bury the leaves and drape the branches in glittering white. When she awoke the day was clear, and inspired by the view from her window, Simona decided to take a ride in the park. Her favorite mare, Silvery, was readied.
After breakfasting and speaking privately with Shalee, she went to the stables. From there she rode out into the park, wearing the heavy hooded cloak of purdah, but daring to ride on a man's saddle, with her legs around the horse. The air was crisp and cold on her cheeks. Silvery was happy to canter along the path along the lawn, with the woods just to her right. She exulted in the freedom she felt out of the house, under the blue sky. The snow muffled Silvery's hoof clops and allowed Simona to imagine that the world was completely silent and that time had stilled its furious rush.
She reached the end of the long lawn, where the sloping ground had been terraced for a cut flower garden for the house. The path lead across the lawn and then either back to the main house, or on through a trellis that gave onto the riding trail out toward the Lake of the Woods. She was tempted to ride down to the lake, but she needed to go back and pack for the move to Hilltop. She still hadn't decided which robes to take.
Suddenly a figure appeared out of the snow-covered brush ahead of her.
"Simona?" it said.
She jerked the reins and pulled Silvery away, spurring across the lawn's smooth coat of snow. A Red Top, hiding there, waiting for her! Terror had exploded in her heart.
The figure ran after her.
"Simona!" it called again, and there was something uncanny about the voice. She knew that voice. She slowed Silvery and looked back.
The figure stood with hands outstretched. She turned back, cantered closer. It was a man, no not a man, a slight figure, a face that she knew. With stunning force it hit her, it was Thru Gillo.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Nuza stood on the sterncastle of the frigate Duster. Away on her right, beneath a yellow crag, lay the city of Gzia Gi. The city of false hope for Aeswiren.
The land in view was harsh. All red and brown rock. Over the city hung a reek of smoke from the many chimneys. A chill wind from the east blew the smoke inland to pool beneath the crags.
Nuza remained astonished by the barren nature of Shasht. There was not a tree to be seen here. She thought back to the meetings at the Questioners that she had attended. Sometimes she had sided with those who had posed questions about the restrictions that kept the mots and brilbies from expanding their farms over more of the land. When so much of the land was left wild it meant that mots and mors had to restrict the size of their families. The whole culture of the Land was bent beneath such restrictions, or so it seemed to Nuza back then. Now she saw what could happen when a people bred beyond the limits of their land.
She turned back to the sea. In its profound vastness she sought comfort. Somewhere out there, far, far beyond the horizon, on the opposite side of the world lay the Land. Merely looking off into the distance like this brought up thoughts of her family, of Thru, of the troupe members, Toshak and old Hob, and indeed, her former life. Questions that could not be answered arose like serried tombstones. When she'd been captured, the war had reached Sulmo. Since then she had learned the war had gone badly for the men. Toshak had driven them out of Sulmo in complete defeat. How things went now, a year and a half later, was unknown, since no more ships had returned with news. She could only pray for victories for Toshak and his mots. Maybe the men had decided to leave the Land and either return to Shasht or to hunt for another place to colonize.
And then the sadness would well up again. For even if the Land survived, Thru Gillo did not. After the disaster at Farnem, Thru was listed among the missing. But his body was never found. Nuza had clung to the faint hope that he was still alive. Now, more than a year later, she had accepted that Thru was probably dead. That opened a void in her heart that she was sure would never be filled again.
Simona had described a little of what she had felt before her attempted suicide. Nuza looked at the waters below. Before, she hadn't really understood such a deep despair, but now she began to get an inkling of it. It seemed at times that her life had really ended on that terrible day at Bilauk. In the smoke of the charnel house of that village her future disintegrated. Everything that had happened since had been merely a step down toward the abyss that awaited her now.
Even her affection for the Emperor would be turned into a knife thrust into her heart, for as she stood there she knew that Aeswiren, her dear friend, was discovering the depths of betrayal from his supporters from the city.
Nuza had known from the first words of the city emissary, from the uneasy way he had spoken. Aeswiren's last bastion had been turned by the same treachery that had taken his throne.
Nuza had one last hope, but she was unsure if Aeswiren would be prepared to listen to her.
In the great room below, things went much as she had imagined. Aeswiren stood at one side of the rectangular table that filled the center of the cabin. On it was an unrolled map of Northern Shasht. Gzia Gi lay at one end of the map. Shasht itself in the center.
"No, my lord, the situation is more complicated than that." The speaker was the Baron Thruam, a close supporter of Aeswiren's. Thruam and three others stood on the far side of the table.
"You see, my lord, the priests began their preparations here years ago. They have built up a network. Several of the richest landlords have gone over to them this year."
Aeswiren wanted to groan at this news. Grimes had blocked this information from reaching him. Or had Hesh been corrupted, too? In the aftermath of that horrific struggle with the former First Finger, he had to wonder. Now, with everything in ruins, Aeswiren would never know how deeply his organization had been penetrated by the priests. He did know that his positions had been smashed, and easily, too.
Another noble joined in, the Duke of Palia. "More important even than that, though, is this army marching here from Shasht. Bishop Bodo at its head, too, which does not augur well. Bodo is notorious for taking almost anyone for the knife."
Palia was feeling very nervous. His family had held their lands for many generations. Bishop Bodo was a noted tyrant. Many would be taken for sacrifice to the Great God when Bodo assumed control. The duke did not wish to be among them or to see his family lose eve
rything.
Aeswiren looked around him, with eyes still filled with shock. To learn that so many had abandoned his cause so quickly had taken him by surprise. He had thought he might deserve a little support in return for what he had given the folk of Shasht for more than twenty years. But no, it was not to be. The bad news had followed him from Shasht. The Lords of Aeblan, Vemey, Darfola, and Gimms had all gone to pay fealty to the new Emperor, Aurook, who had taken the imperial name of Norgeeben II. He'd learned this before even reaching Gzia Gi, when a passing fishing boat had given them this news. Norgeeben II was now the advocate for the people with the Great God.
To take the name of Norgeeben? That was impious indeed. Norgeeben, the founder of the dynasty had been a sober, thoughtful man. It could not have been Aurook's idea. Aurook's thinking scarcely went beyond girls and gambling.
And what were Aeswiren's prospects? He was said to have died suddenly from pestilence, a curse sent directly from the Great God himself. After a few hiccups, the populace had taken it in stride. Aeswiren was popular, but in prosperous times the city was content to let his son step up. Aeswiren had ruled for a long time, and people had forgotten the chaos of Kisirim and Shmeg. Perhaps a change could be beneficial. Thus went the smug sort of thinking that ruled in the city's merchant class. Once things had settled down and enough hearts had been tossed into the maw of He Who Eats, then business would pick up again.
And now Aeswiren faced further betrayal in Gzia Gi. Lords Bizg and Faroon had withdrawn their support. The city merchants, seeing which way the wind was blowing, had quietly shut up their houses and gone inland. They would wait out the coming struggle and return only when Bodo had finished his work in the city.
Now he was confronted with these weaklings like the duke and the Count of Koluso. They were terrified. Though they were honor bound to heed his summons, they could not be trusted to muster their forces for him. Now came their whining apologies.
"There just isn't the time to make proper preparations," said the count, trying to keep the stammer out of his voice.
Koluso owed Aeswiren for his own rise to a title, but he saw that the Emperor's cause was failing quickly, right across the Empire. Koluso already feared the coming of the priests. They might have reasons for taking his heart anyway, since he was long associated with the Emperor. But they had no cause yet to confiscate his family's holdings. Yet if he took the wrong side then all would be lost and his sons and daughters would follow him onto the altar of the Great God.
"The priests were working on this long before we suspected anything..."
"My men are afraid of the Red Tops."
Aeswiren tried to rouse himself.
"Damn it, all I'm hearing from you is defeat. We can beat them. Give me twenty thousand men, and I'll take Shasht back in less than two years."
An uncomfortable silence ensued.
"Lord, I do not think we can scrape up twenty thousand men. Perhaps fifteen thousand."
"Not even that. I have but two thousand retainers now. At the most we could put nine thousand in the field," said the duke gloomily.
"My lord, face it, we cannot forge an army before the Red Tops get here with their priestly battalions." Koluso sounded almost frantic with fear.
" 'Tis said they have forty thousand on the march to Gzia Gi."
"They will burn the city, sell everyone into slavery."
"Not if we refuse to give them good cause," said the duke.
Everyone knew what that meant.
"Damned cowardice," said the baron. "What of our honor?"
"Baron, your title was a creation of Norgeeben no more than a century ago. My family has held Palia since the days of Kashank. We have learned a few things in that time, and one of them is that you don't survive by backing the wrong side against the priests."
"The priests! The fornicating, sodomistic priests! God, I hate them!" snarled the baron slamming his fist onto the table. "And all you want to do is kiss their goddamn arses!"
"We all hate them, Baron, but if our families are to survive and to keep their lands, we must bow to their will."
Aeswiren heard these words and knew that he was doomed. The noble families of Gzia Gi had been deeply penetrated by the spies and emissaries of the Old One. What Aeswiren had regarded as his bastion, from which to mount a counterattack, had been turned into contested territory. By the time he could bring all of Gzia Gi under his control and put together an army of sufficient size, he would be overwhelmed by the host that was marching from Shasht.
The meeting ended with no firm conclusions reached. Palia and Count Koluso could not contemplate raising their standards for the Emperor's cause. The baron had but a few hundred banner men with him, but he placed these at Aeswiren's disposal. Aeswiren could barely speak. He turned and headed for his private cabin.
Inside, gazing out the narrow port at the distant city, he allowed his bitter thoughts to flow. He had been outwitted, just like so many men before him in the exact same position. The Old One had penetrated the Hand, the Old One had probably known all his plans from the beginning. The Old One had even given him his chance to save himself. Just hand over the female captive, and all would have been forgiven. But that would have meant condemning Nuza to die on the altar. Aeswiren would not do that!
He was ruined, there was no question about that. Gzia Gi had been his hidden card, his secret weapon. Alas, it had been no secret to his enemy. There was nothing left but to contemplate the end.
Quickly he wrote out his final orders. Captain Moorsh was to take the Duster around the world to the Land and see Nuza safely to the shore. After that he was freed of any further obligation. The men who had followed their Emperor thus far were to disperse, to hide themselves and their families, or to sail on the Duster if they preferred. He dried the ink, folded the paper, and sealed it with his heavy signet ring.
There was no choice, and time was slipping away. He could die by the hand of the Old One, or he could die by his own hand and deny that old bloodsucker the satisfaction.
Aeswiren pulled the sword from his belt and held it up before his eyes. It caught the tawny light of the day. A good Gzia blade, forged twenty-five years before in the aftermath of his victory at Koonch. He had wielded it in battle only once, at Kaggenbank, but he recalled that it had felt good in his hand that day. It still bore the marks of the fight, the scratches and a slight notch halfway down. Aeswiren had preferred to leave those marks on the blade, to remind himself that it was not the purely ceremonial sword of some prince who'd inherited his throne.
He turned it deftly and placed the point against his chest.
Now, how was one supposed to do this? The trick was to keep the blade straight against your ribs while you fell and drove it all the way through. That way your own weight did the work, and it was over in a moment.
It was not the end he had hoped for. He had tried to be a good Emperor, and to some extent he had succeeded. Restoring order and peace, he had overseen a growing prosperity. But he had lacked in religious fervor. He had not been able to truckle to the Old One. And so he had fallen and was left only with this final act.
"No!" A figure flew across the room. "My lord!" Nuza clutched his wrist, tugging the sword point away from his chest.
For a long moment he stared at her with the sword in his hand. Because of her and her outlandish, inhuman beauty, he had lost his throne.
"Leave me!" he grated. "It is time to die."
"No, my lord, you may not!"
Through a slight mist of tears he saw her, and then his anger broke to the surface like lava erupting through the ground.
"Begone! This is the work of men." He spun her away with a hard shove and then turned the sword, took it in both hands, and set it to his belly.
Far from being discouraged, Nuza sprang at him, her arms wrapped around his waist. He was borne back against the table, lost his balance, and fell to the floor with an oath.
She was sitting across his waist, leaning into his face, absorbing hi
s fury.
"No, my lord, please, don't take your life."
"Who are you to forbid me! I am Aeswiren the Third."
"Exactly, and that is why you cannot waste your life."
"What?" He hurled her back. "By the purple ass of the Great God, get away from me. Don't you understand? I will not be taken to the altar alive. I will not look into the eyes of my enemy and see him gloat over my defeat. Do you hear me?"
He was roaring now, lost in miserable rage. He got back to his feet, seized her by the arm, and let the sword tip rest on her bosom.
She stared back into his eyes, unafraid.
"Sweet Aeswiren, Lord of Shasht, ruler of men, do not take your life. Kill me if you wish, but before you do listen to my words."
He hesitated for a moment and recalled the strange silence at the field of Kaggenbank after the battle was over. That moment had always haunted him. It was then that he had known for certain that he would be Emperor. He swallowed, then shrugged.
"Speak, then."
"You can still save many lives. In my land, where there is still war. You can stop that fighting. You can use the men there to rebuild your strength. Take this ship. Captain Moorsh is loyal, he and his crew love you. You can sail to the Land. Announce yourself to the men there. They will stop fighting if you so order it. Live there in peace with my people. Together we could defeat any further attack from Shasht."
He stared at her. It seemed like madness. Sail off to the far side of the world. Ally himself with her people. They weren't even human!
He laughed for a moment, saddened by his own unconscious prejudice. They weren't human, but they were intelligent, soulful by all accounts, worthy of the name "people." But that wasn't what his race were brought up to think.
"Stop the war, eh?"
"And forge an alliance with Toshak and the Kings. You must meet great Toshak; you and he would understand each other, I am sure. You share the same kinds of power."
She had spoken often of this one, this Toshak, their general.
"It won't be quite so simple, my dear," he said.
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