She looked at him unimpressed as she replied, “By the looks of it, I’m kind of glad I didn’t. You really do look like death warmed over.”
He spewed out a few choice words that would have been immoral even in impolite company, and Ciardis winced.
But it was Sebastian’s words that surprised her the most. “I feel like it too.”
Their gazes refocused immediately, Ciardis and Thanar looked down at the young man whose hands they still gripped fiercely. He gave them both a light squeeze.
“Good to see you both,” Sebastian croaked out from amidst the pillows.
At the same time Thanar snapped, “What just happened?”
Ciardis settled for enquiring, “Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better,” Sebastian said while rolling his eyes. “As for what happened…why don’t we ask our favorite mage?”
All three turned to the man who had led the ceremony in the first place. Apparently realizing that was his cue, the mage Ciardis would have charitably called a ‘pompous git’ before stumbled over and she actually had some feelings of pity for him. A few small feelings.
His leg had clearly bent the wrong way when he went down and had stayed at that angle. It looked painful but he didn’t complain as he hobbled back to the bed.
“Well,” said the mage while straightening his rumpled clothing from where he had fallen. “That was the start of the coronation transfer.”
“The start?” said more than a few outraged voices throughout the room.
One person whined within her hearing, “I nearly died! That lowered bedpost was this close to impaling me.”
Ciardis privately thought he had a point but when that whining began to get dangerously close to being disloyal, she felt she had to step in. Wondering how to approach him, however, cost her some time, as Thanar, who apparently had no compunctions about dealing with whiners, handled it first.
He quickly turned around with raised wings and snapped into the darkness, “Don’t stand so close then you fool!”
The offhand comments quickly vanished as more than few cowed ceremony members found they had other places to stand near very soon.
Before the ceremony could dive any further into an unnecessary scene, Ciardis hurriedly said, “What else could there be?”
The mage nodded. “That was the clearing. Now we’ll begin with the actual transfer.”
“Clearing?” asked Ciardis as she leaned over Sebastian protectively—almost sitting on the bed in the process.
“Yes,” the mage said as he slowly regained some of his hauteur—like a chicken puffing its feathers up to get dry. “We’ve cleared his sinuses for lack of a better word. Now we install the bond.”
Before Ciardis could object any more, Sebastian sat up and said, “Please then, Master Mage, let’s just get on with this. I believe we’ve all been through quite a lot in just a few minutes. And personally I’d like my torture to be swift and sweet, rather than drawn out, if you please.”
Ciardis frowned at Sebastian’s joking face.
He gave her a wink in reply.
Sighing unhappily she pulled back to stand on her own two feet and said, “Very well.”
Nervously the master mage nodded, cleared his throat and hustled to the headboard once more to raise his hand. His fingers began to glow with blue light. Ceremoniously a fellow mage, but she could already tell one who was uninitiated into the ranks of the court, laid his palm down atop the master of ceremony’s glowing fingers. In fact as she looked at him, if Ciardis had to guess she would have said he was a fresh emissary from the mage school which lay at the edge of the Ameles Forest clearing.
I hope he knows what he’s doing, she thought quietly.
But immediately after he placed his hand down another followed. This time a noble. And then finally a representative of the un-landed class. All with magical gifts, but all tied to different classes of society.
Ciardis approved of the arrangement of representatives.
It felt right to have peoples from all corners and walks of life here.
People who came to see their prince heir become emperor in name and deed. But also people who could be trusted amongst their own classes to spread the word of this new change in power. And, if the triumvirate was lucky, support them when they needed it most.
They began speaking at once. At first different refrains. Then the same until finally the light in their hands peaked.
As their voices grew louder, Sebastian began to rise off the bed. His body arced at the point of contact and Ciardis strained to keep the contact between their linked hands.
As her arms began to stretch and she winced in pain, the combined voices of the ceremony initiators merged until she couldn’t distinguish one from another.
They stepped back and Sebastian abruptly released her and the daemoni prince’s hands with a shout. Before she could object the flare of magic grew brighter until it outshone anything in the room and vanquished the darkness in the shadows. Her arm now shielding her eyes, Ciardis waited a second and prepared to turn to the master mage with a death blow in her hands. She didn’t know what he was doing, but Sebastian was in pain. She could feel an echo of his own sensory perceptions at the edge of her mind, whatever that light was was blocking her from feeling the rest. But an echo was enough to know she didn’t like what she felt.
As she slowly raised her hand and sparks formed in her palm, she hoped she was doing the right thing. But just as she had to make a decision that could do anything from killing Sebastian mid-transference or assassinating one of the highest mages in the land, the magic flowing from Sebastian’s heart to the orb above and back again in a feedback loop began to die down. As it dimmed, the pain in Sebastian’s echo eased and she felt her shoulders relax perceptibly without the weight of the mutual aching in her own mind. Soon Sebastian fluttered back to the top of the bed as lightly as a feather on air.
Around the room whispers began, but no one dared speak their question aloud.
Sebastian, however, had no such issue as he nervously blinked and asked, “Is it done?”
“Yes, my Emperor,” the master of ceremonies said. “The transference is complete.”
Sebastian sat up and anxiously felt his chest where the bright ball of light had conferred something to him. But there was not a mark on him.
Ciardis asked with a hint of awe, “Do you feel any different?”
Sebastian looked up and said, “It’s like the world has changed.”
Thanar looked at them with rising impatience as he asked, “What does that mean?”
It was a moment before Ciardis herself asked the very same thing.
The master mage, however, quickly interrupted.
“Yes, it would,” he said smoothly. “Now if we can just tie off the edges of your bond, we can get through this.”
“There’s more?” Thanar said with what looked like disgust.
“There’s more,” the man said in a superior tone that was likely to get him smacked…and not by her.
Ciardis searched the mage’s face, but he didn’t look like he was too nervous about the third and last part of the ceremony, so she figured that whatever it was that he wanted to do…was superficial at best. The important part was done. So as the master mage tied off whatever it was he was talking about, she surveyed the room with a searching look. It was still bright inside, like the sun had been trapped with them even when the orb had dissipated above Sebastian’s chest. Which was good as far as she was concerned. It gave her the ability to check faces and emotions to see who had a look of reverence in their eyes and who was scheming already for a way to gain an upper hand.
Deciding that now was as good a time as ever, she walked around the room and then stood at the head of the bed as she said, “It is over. It is done. He has risen. Long live Emperor Sebastian Athanos Algardis.”
There were stirs in the room. But no objections.
And then someone repeated her words, and others followed. A cha
nt rose throughout the room and Sebastian’s name was on every tongue. Smiling down beautifully, Ciardis looked at the new emperor still recuperating atop his bed and thought once more, It is done.
The relief she felt was palpable. But looking around the room she also thought, And it has only just begun.
Smiling in satisfaction, Ciardis held out her hand to Sebastian again, this time in an effort to assist him out of the bed.
The new emperor took her hand in a firm grip as he rose, worry lines etched in his brow but a quiet strength now residing in his eyes. That strength had always been there but she had wondered what it would take to ever unlock it without being in the middle of a crisis. Now she knew. It was the new sense of responsibility overtaking Sebastian. The responsibility to his people, to his empire.
Smiling in satisfaction because she wanted no less, Ciardis rolled back the crick in her shoulders as she said, “So who’s ready to revive a dead emperor?”
6
Hours later Ciardis was once more preparing to be the focus of a room.
“And they know it too,” she muttered to herself with a grimace as she watched courtiers in the hallway flock about and she passed them by.
As a group they turned to her, some faces filled with fear. Others respect.
“What?” Ciardis asked defensively, almost in a snarl.
“Nothing, Lady Companion, nothing at all,” said the master of ceremonies. If the tone of his voice slid more into the range of terrified than respectful, well, she chose to ignore that. Like many other things.
As Ciardis prepared to enter the room and her mother caught her arm, Lillian’s face was tight with emotion as she looked into Ciardis’s eyes.
“Mother, what —” Ciardis asked, bewildered.
Lillian shook her head quickly. “I just…you did well, my daughter.”
Stunned, Ciardis stared at her, almost taken aback.
But a quiet thank you was all she said.
“Still,” Lillian said while taking a deep breath, “there’s something I need to do. Away from here.”
“Okay, what?” Sebastian said over Ciardis’s shoulder. His face was hard and he didn’t seem to like Lillian’s actions, though he didn’t look ready to physically interfere. Not yet anyway.
Lillian gave him a passing glance, almost as he didn’t matter, which Ciardis thought was hilarious, as he was all Lillian had been fighting for on her daughter’s behalf.
Still her mother’s behavior was strange…even for her.
Softly, Ciardis leaned forward into a more welcoming position. “What is it that you need, Mother?”
Lillian’s gaze snapped back onto Ciardis’s instead of looking into the far-off space she’d been viewing until then.
“Nothing,” Lillian said with a hitch in her voice. “Just—”
“Just what?” It was Thanar who said it this time.
Lillian gave the collective triumvirate a proud smile, but it was Ciardis whom she focused on when she spoke.
“Wait for me,” Lillian said softly as she released her daughter and walked away.
Ciardis stared at her retreating back and thought of hurrying after her, but they had work to do.
“What do you think she’s after?” Thanar growled—clearly not trusting the older Weathervane one bit.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Ciardis Weathervane said, mystified.
“Well, we do have work to do,” Sebastian said gently while tugging on her elbow.
Snapping herself out of it, Ciardis continued walking back to the rooms the conclave meeting was being held in. When they entered they were immediately faced with a mixed cohort of kith, human mages, the scholar, and one very nervous-looking man with an overseer’s badge. And Lillian’s odd behavior was quickly forgotten. Overseer of what. Ciardis had no clue, but his presence in the room was quite clear as he moved to stand almost in the emperor’s shadow.
Ciardis’s eye twitched as it often did when she used Sebastian’s current title. It was still too new of a transition for her to get the association with Maradian and his awful ways out of her head. But luckily enough, her prior question had been rhetorical, and no one was following her facial expressions too closely.
As she studied them in turn, she noticed that no one looked happy about the situation with the dead emperor, but no one spoke up against their decision. Everyone knew it was necessary if they were going to have any chance of getting through the forthcoming battle alive.
Ciardis hadn’t forgotten the hailstorm of harpies and mythical creatures that the blutgott had sent through a portal just to test their resolve. With those types of beings at her beck and call, an army waiting at the gates, and the goddess’ own strength to contend with, they would need every hand up they could get.
Even a dead one.
So she sighed, straightened her slumped shoulders, and prepared to do her duty.
Sebastian apparently felt it was time he did the same. Waving a hand, he summoned the courtier forward. Instructing them meticulously, the new emperor asked how they intended to inform the empire of his ascension. The master of ceremonies immediately stepped forward with a smooth, “Not to worry, my liege. I already have sent for a legion of parchment and ink.”
He waved his hand behind him at a young woman who carried a small lap desk with her.
“With your approval, I will dictate the announcement to this one scribe,” the master of ceremonies said. “And then in another room we shall have this copied out among dozens of industrious scribes. Your missives will fly with the fastest messengers to be delivered throughout the land.”
Sebastian nodded. “Good, have it done.”
“Yes, my liege,” the master of ceremonies said smartly and immediately turned away with his scribe at his back.
As they walked off to a corner, Ciardis looked around with a raised eyebrow and asked, “So what now?”
This time it was the leader of the kith party who came forward.
He gave a short bow. Ciardis cocked her head, curious at his almost tremulous posture. It was far different from that of the stalwart and wise leader she’d met just days before.
“Is something the matter?” she asked curiously.
“No,” squeaked a voice from amidst the kith delegation.
Ciardis couldn’t quite catch who spoke up, but it didn’t matter as much, since the leader stood tall and said calmly, “The vibrations from the goddess’ realm are getting stronger. We feel them.”
Ciardis raised an eyebrow and said politely, “Will that be a problem?”
The kith leader returned her gaze stare for stare, almost growing stronger under her visual assessment by the second.
“No, merely uncomfortable,” he acknowledged.
She nodded. “Then shall we get started?”
As her words trailed off, her gaze flickered over the crowded room of conclave members. She was looking for the scholar who had started the conversation in the first place. The one who had alerted them to the ley lines and the potential use of their pent-up powers as an advance tactic against the offensive forces of the gods.
He was nowhere to be found.
Seconds later she heard a loud crash come from behind her. They all turned to see a man rushing into the room while stumbling over his own feet. He landed flat on his stomach with arms akimbo and a dozen manuscripts rolling every which way—including two that ended up at Ciardis Weathervane’s feet.
She reached down to pick up the errant scrolls without comment and looked up to see the scholar hastily scrambling around to get all of his papers with muttered thank yous to the people who deigned to help him pick the materials up.
Which wasn’t many.
In a room full of arrogant nobles and standoffish kith, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone willing to bend over and pick something up off the floor, whether because they felt they were too good to do so or because they simply didn’t want to expose themselves to an outside threat by angling into a vulnerable position
.
When he had finally managed to get everything situated on the room’s only table, the scholar turned around with a proud look on his face and a hint of a grin.
Chest puffed up, he said, “We’re ready, my lords and ladies.”
This time Sebastian stepped forward. “You know exactly what you’re doing, I take it?”
The scholar blanched at being addressed directly by the current emperor, but he was quick to answer, “Yes, Sire, I have the documents and the instructions are clear.”
The Emperor of Algardis walked around the room, his face not focusing on any one person but the gravitas of the moment clearly weighing on him.
“Sire?” one noble dared to ask. “Do we turn back now or do we go forth?”
Sebastian turned to the man with a warm smile on his face. “Cletus, I’ve known you since I was a child. When have you ever known me to give up?”
There was a familiarity between the two—one seemingly a powerful member of Sandrin society and the other a member of Algardis’s ruling family.
Ciardis watched as the man smiled back. “Never, although many a time I’ve advised you to keep your head down at court—lest your enemies find a way to chop it off.”
“And I’ve heeded your advice,” Sebastian admitted with a brief duck of his head. “But this is one time when I strongly believe that we need to stand firm in the face of the hordes. Not only face them but outsmart them.”
Cletus clucked his tongue. “May I say something, my liege?”
Sebastian blinked and waved a hand as he said, “By all means.”
“You were a smart young boy. You had to be to survive in a court where it seemed that not even your own father cared a lick about your survival beyond the obvious warnings,” Cletus said blatantly.
Sebastian didn’t comment.
Ciardis winced. It didn’t matter how much he had abhorred his uncle masquerading as his father when Sebastian was just a prince heir, it had to hurt to acknowledge even by omission that the man who had raised you, in a sense, cared not a lick about your well-being. But it wasn’t something Sebastian could discount just because he didn’t like the memories. It was true. They all knew it.
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