"You missed supper again!" she scolded. "Now, drink this, and I mean every single drop!"
Famished, Telriy smiled and complied. The broth had been made from dried beef and had more salt than her liking, but the hot liquid settled into her stomach and quieted a nascent nausea. "I'll get something to eat once we're docked. I promise."
"And some sleep too. You've hardly slept two hours a night for days."
"I will." Telriy drained the last swallow and handed the mug back. "Thank you, Yhejia." Impulsively, she shared a hug with the older woman.
"Well, I need to get back," Yhejia told her, smiling. "I've got to make sure the Auxiliaries get the galley cleaned and secured, then get all the children bedded down so that they'll be good and asleep when we dock. I expect Ulor will be coming aboard for the night and he tends to be quite affectionate when we've been apart."
Telriy grinned. "Oh."
Yhejia grinned back. "Yes!"
After she had gone, Quaestor Eishtren dispatched Fugleman Truhsg to make his rounds of the crew and see that the skyship was secured for the night. The legion officer had never displayed much propensity for idle chatter, a quality that Telriy had often appreciated, and he stood quietly nearby as she guided Number One across the river.
Number Three had moored above the Plaza of the Empire, and Telriy aimed for the vessel, planning to use the familiar landmark as a waypoint. After she swung Number One about and headed north, she passed broadside of the other skyship, a hundred fifty armlengths to the east. Four marine sentries were visible above decks, but none of her other crew, though some lights showed from her ports and windows. Telriy and the armsmen guarding the prisoners exchanged waves with the sentries and then she focused ahead, trying to make out the specified Avenue of Parades and her destination, the New Palace.
As they passed overhead, with some curiosity she examined the mass of the Viceroy's Library for evidence of the fire that she had ignited. That act, though unforeseen and spontaneous, had certainly enabled the fated progression of her odyssey. She felt some regret for the destruction of the books, some of them perhaps irreplaceable, but was still convinced that her gain was far worthy of the cost. From what she could tell in the lowering light, all exterior repairs had evidently been completed. Three of the domed and windowed chambers evidently had been untouched. Only the Chamber of History and Geography, the northwest, showed the lighter shades of fresh paint on window frames, newly set stone in its dome, and a scattering of bright, clear glass amongst duskier panes. With Khalar pacified, it should be possible for her to visit the Library, and she made a mental note to try to find the time to see the state of the interior. Of course, it went without saying that there was no especial need to make mention to the staff of her own roll in the calamity.
A broad and straight thoroughfare with spacious promenades began in a modest circular plaza just the other side of the Library. As the neck of land between the two branches of the river widened it sloped into a hilly upland and the avenue mirrored this, rising as it ran straight north through civic buildings and garden shrouded villas. The north end of the Old City was distinguished by the original imperial wall and, backed up against this limit, a tree bordered complex of single-storey, simply-styled white marble buildings. The centermost of these elegant constructions was not exceedingly large, though it extended into several wings, and did have, as described, four slender, ten-manheight towers topped with conical slate roofs.
"That must be it," she told the quaestor.
"Yes, my lady queen," Eishtren agreed. "It can be nothing else. Where do you intend to moor? One of the towers?"
"No, they don't look very substantial to me. We'll just set down at the front door. Seems as good a place as any."
As Number One settled to earth, a crowd, mostly marines bearing lanterns, collected in the wide, flowerbed incised esplanade adjoining the palace's main entrance. With no delay, Telriy lowered the skyship's keel until she felt it touch ground, then eased off a bit more to lodge it firmly in place. This also unavoidably crushed part of a trimmed hedge and buckled the pavement of a promenade, but that did not concern her.
"Quaestor, don't put out any lines," she told Eishtren. "I want to be able to launch immediately, if there's a need."
"Yes, my lady queen."
Vice-Captain Berhl and some of his marines came on board and Telriy left him and Eishtren in charge of the disposition of the Khalarii prisoners, then exited the skyship and walked briskly toward the palace. Her regular guards, Bear and Scahll, followed, and within a few paces were joined, without any overt direction, by a quad of marines.
The entrance to the Viceroy's New Palace was a set of massive white-painted doors more than two manheight tall, only one of which stood open. A quad of militia and one of marines were on duty and all eight came to attention as she approached. She had easily grown accustomed to her artificial and temporary status among these Mhajhkaeirii, but it did annoy her slightly and she would be happy when the time came when she did not have to put up with the foolishness any longer.
Notably, Aunt Whelsi was standing just inside the brightly lit entrance hall, clearly waiting for her.
"Good evening, my lady queen," the nurse offered when Telriy came near.
"Good evening, Aunt Whelsi." Suspecting bad news, Telriy wondered what the woman wanted.
"May I walk with you?"
"Certainly. In fact, if you don't mind, you can show me where Mar is."
"He's in this wing." Aunt Whelsi started down the entrance hall, passing by a series of larger than life portraits of former viceroys, most of them depicted in fanciful, supernatural, and occasionally ludicrous situations.
"It's not far. He's taken one of the concubines' rooms."
Bear, Scahll, and the other guards faded to a polite but not significant distance, giving their conversation an illusion of privacy.
Walking alongside the other woman, Telriy put on a face and raised an eyebrow. "Concubines?"
The nurse smiled wryly. "All the Khalarii were evacuated when the King moved in." Then she let her smile drop. "I thought it'd be best if I spoke to you before you saw him."
Telriy did not say anything for several steps. "The messages I received said that Mar had recovered."
"He has, for the most part. His magic has healed him far faster I thought possible. It's just..."
"Yes?"
The nurse's frown deepened. "I might as well say it flat out. He's lost both legs above the knee and his left hand."
Telriy betrayed no reaction. "Anything else?"
"No. There's a lot of scaring, though, and it's not pretty."
"Can he still sire children?"
Aunt Whelsi looked slightly taken aback, but not shocked. She was a plain spoken woman herself. "Physically, he's undamaged, but sometimes when a man's been cut down like he has, especially a young man, they get to feeling that they're less than a man. Occasionally, that translates into difficulty in fulfilling their husbandly duties."
Telriy slowly shook her head. "Mar isn't the sort to wallow in self-pity. He's harder than steel and always will be."
"I guess that you would know, but even the strongest steel can only bend so far before it breaks."
"He won't break." That was one thing that she was sure of. Mar would die before he broke. Gran's prophecies had been clear on that.
Aunt Whelsi stopped at a cross corridor marked by patterned azure floor tiles. "He's just down there at the room at the end. If you don't mind, I'm headed off to find my own bed."
Telriy thanked her and set off down the indicated passage.
Outside the door, there was a literal host. The near motionless bulk of Wilhm occupied a reinforced stool directly in front of the door, and, either side of him along the corridor walls, were Chaer, E'hve, Phehlahm, Nehl, all the rest of the Hangers-On, and an extra quad of legionnaires for good measure. There were even a couple of large fellows in the armor of Khalarii'n legionnaires.
All of the marines and legionna
ires came to attention and saluted. Wilhm just offered a twitch of his lips that might have been a smile and an almost childlike wave.
"Good evenin', my lady queen," Phehlahm greeted. "It's good to see you back." Without prompting, he stepped around Wilhm to open the door just wide enough to admit her and then, his expression carefully neutral, pulled it closed behind her.
Only one lamp was lit inside, and its wick had been crimped so that there was barely any flame. With no windows or other exits, the corners and sides of the large room were almost completely obscured in the dim light. The furnishings were sparse: a freestanding cupboard, a few padded chairs, a round serving table supporting the lamp, the wide bed occupied by Mar, and a wheeled serving cart alongside that.
He was lying back with his right arm draped over his eyes and unclothed except for a towel across his midsection. The still steaming wash pan, damp clothes, and water bucket on the cart indicated that he had not long bathed. She almost smiled at that.
She eyed him appraisingly. Despite her resolve, she felt some alarm at seeing his missing limbs and the still pink scars that had replaced them. He had some new scars on his face as well, but they seemed to be fading. When she had seen him for the very first time, he had almost seemed young, little more than a boy. Now he was very much a man.
She walked quietly across to the bed. "Mar? Are you asleep?"
He made an inarticulate disagreeable sound, dragged his arm from his eyes, and looked at her through half closed lids. "No, just resting. The brigandine binds after a while and wearing it makes me tired, especially since I can't take my weight off of it by standing occasionally."
It was obvious that he had known that it was she who had entered.
A yawn that she had been stifling for over an hour finally overtook her. "Sorry. I could use some rest myself."
"I had them set aside an apartment for you." He told her without expression, watching her face.
"Don't be ridiculous." She approached his bed, shed her clothes and boots without fanfare, and removed the clasps that held up her hair, shaking it loose and spreading it across her shoulders. Her hair -- and all the rest of her too -- needed a good wash, but that would have to wait.
"Move over. You don’t think that I would let you avoid your husbandly duties, do you? Aunt Whelsi has already told me that the pertinent bits still work and the rest is just technique.”
She slid close to him, gave him a gentle hug that he grudgingly returned, and rested her head on his shoulder so that she could nuzzle his neck. After a moment, she warned, "If you do manage to finally get yourself killed, though, don’t expect me to play the weeping widow.”
Sometime later, as she held his diminished, violated form wrapped up in her arms and legs, a little girl fantasy stole its way into her thoughts. She would ask him to go away with her and they would escape to some isolated and idyllic mountain valley. She would willingly abandon all of her plans and the single dominating goal that had consumed much of her life. Together, they would leave it all behind -- the Phaelle'n, the Mhajhkaeirii, the magic, the conspiracies, and the horror to come. They would raise their daughter in peace far from the cares of the world. They would be happy, as happy as she remembered that her mother and father had been so long ago.
But she knew that he would not -- could not -- leave. The magic of the Blood Oaths had changed him in ways that he could hardly suspect. But more than that, he had already chosen to take the kingdom that he had so often rejected; the decision was writ large in his every word and deed. She knew that he had it within him to be a great king, but also that his fate could only be that of all kings.
And she would not stay to see that.
Even if she abandoned her own objectives, she would not -- could not -- remain with him, for she would not do it again.
She would not stay to see the death of someone she loved.
TEN
Phehlahm held the scissors as if it were something that one normally found in the bottom of a horse stall. "Are you sure, my lord king? Seems a pity to ruin such a good pair o' trousers. Maybe I could just pin them up?"
Mar shook his head. "No, the trouser legs just flop uselessly when I move and tangle up when I sit. And they make my scars itch. Chop them off just below the stubs of my legs."
"Aye, my lord king."
Pricked by impatience, Mar nevertheless floated perfectly still while the marine cut through one leg and then the other. Then, as he had gotten the right longer than the left, Phehlahm had to make an adjustment, but somehow still did not manage to get both the same length.
Mar blew out a puff of air. "That's fine, Phehlahm. Any more alterations and I'll be standing here in my small clothes."
The legionnaire offered half of an apologetic grin. "Maybe we can find a tailor here in the city."
"I'm sure of it, but I'll probably just make do until we return to the Monolith."
"You've decided not to continue your search for the magic texts, my lord king?"
"No, I still intend to go after them, but I'm going to wait a few months, maybe as much as a year. We need to settle what's to be done with Khalar. And we need more skyships. And more spheres for Berhl's polybolos. And probably a thousand other things. Until I find the other texts, I'm going to try to research and expand the magic I already know. I've also been thinking that I might go south with Captain Mhiskva and his raiders, take back some of the provincial areas. Perhaps slip into the city again."
Telriy, sitting at the table spread with their breakfast, made an exasperated, half-warning noise.
"It's just a thought," he amended with a placating smile tossed in her direction.
She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and took another bite of toast smothered in jam. She had been ravenous this morning, eating more than double what he had and lingering at the table while Mar tried to get his trousers sorted to his liking.
Though the door to their room stood open (Mar disliked the fact that Phehlahm insisted that there was a certain protocol that must be followed when someone asked to be admitted into the royal bedchamber and had finally ordered the marine to just wedge the door open during the day) when Mhiskva, with Ulor and Berhl accompanying him, appeared at it, the captain stopped and knocked politely on the frame.
"The door's open, Mhiskva," Mar mentioned pointedly.
Twisting slightly sideways for clearance and swinging his head under the frame, the marine officer advanced into the room. Ulor and Berhl crossed the portal in his wake, though without the gymnastics required of their commander.
Mhiskva saluted. "Good morning, my lady queen, my lord king."
Mar floated over to meet the group. "Morning, Mhiskva, Ulor, Berhl. Phehlahm, make a note to hire Master Thyrael to enlarge that door." He was only being half facetious when he said the last.
Telriy, chewing a large mouthful of melon, just waved cheerfully.
"My lord king," Mhiskva began. "The Privy Council has requested an audience to discuss the coronation."
"Mine, I suppose? As emperor?"
Mhiskva merely nodded.
"I don't see how that's really necessary."
"In practical terms, the ceremony is simply a technicality," the large captain admitted. "We control the city completely and the Guard and Army have submitted to your command. However, there remains the fact that you are not legally emperor -- legally, that is, according to the Succession Law of the old Glorious Empire -- until you have been crowned. I am told it has to do with extinguishing rival claims. Furthermore, I believe that the spectacle of an Imperial coronation would work to our advantage by stoking the loyalty of the general Khalarii populace and providing authenticity to your imperial reign in foreign eyes."
"Mhiskva is right, Mar," Telriy declared after swallowing. "As he said, dropping a crown on your head is just symbolic insofar as your political and military power is concerned, but people live by symbols every day. Symbols allow them to delude themselves that the way things are is the way things are supposed to be."
>
"Khalar is rich, my lord king, and our war needs that wealth," Berhl contributed. "Not as rich as Mhajhkaei or any of other coastal cities, but still rich in its own right. It can provide gold, men, and the wherewithal to build skyships. They have drydocks on the river and it shouldn't take much to convert them to our needs. They have manufactories that can easily turn out parts for the polybolos and other weapons. They also have large stocks of seasoned wood, plus considerable reserves of iron, steel, and other metals, and the experienced workforce that we'll have to have to put those to use. If you don't mind me saying, my lord king, we need Khalar and, if not the whole hearted support of all its citizens, at least the acquiescence of the Imperials. A lot of the Army officers have embraced the idea of an emperor. They've gone for centuries without real leadership and if it's one thing an armsman respects, it's someone who can take charge and get things done. I think making it official would go a long way to swaying a lot of the upper ranks as well as the common armsmen."
Ulor opened his mouth to add his own argument, but Mar, with the suspicion that the three Mhajhkaeirii officers had conspired to arrange the performance in advance, cut him off.
"I didn't say I wouldn't do it. I said I didn't see how it would be necessary and I still don't. What Khalar has is ours by right of conquest and I have absolutely no problem in just taking everything we need. There's no doubt in my mind that they owe me more than they could ever possibly pay."
He held up his sole remaining hand to silence Mhiskva when the big man looked as if he were going to speak. "But I also don't see how a coronation could do any harm -- as long as we can get it done within the next day or two. I intend to return to the Monolith and get to work. Spheres for the polybolos have to be made. Other magicians have to be found and trained. Skyships have to be raised. These are things that must be done."
Key to Magic 04 Emperor Page 6