Blood and Tempest

by Jon Skovron

  “Because I know these people. They aren’t faceless symbols of power to me. They’re real people who are genuinely trying to do the best they can with a difficult situation that they inherited from someone else.”

  Hope turned to Brigga Lin. “You’ve been invited to this … coalition, too. What are your thoughts?”

  “You’ve more or less said what I was going to say,” Brigga Lin told her. “Except you were nicer about it.”

  “You’re both looking at this all wrong.” said Red, trying to keep his voice calm, but knowing there was an edge of desperation coming to it. It was like that pissing tavern all over again.

  “Oh, our feelings on the matter are wrong?” asked Brigga Lin, sounding almost amused. “How kind of you to tell us.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that …” Why was he messing this up so badly?

  Hope looked around the small room. Everyone was jammed in there so tight, there was no way any of them could avoid this conversation. “What about the rest of you?”

  “I don’t know, cousin.” Alash looked at Red apologetically. “Sending you of all people to parlay seems a little … manipulative on their part.”

  “I’ve been betrayed once by the empire,” Vaderton declared. “I’m not inclined to allow that to happen again.”

  Jilly looked guiltily at Red. “I mean, come on, Red. Joining with the imps? Don’t seem right, does it?”

  Red looked around the room. All of them? Everyone except the crazy white-haired boy, who probably had no idea what was even going on, was against this?

  “I can’t believe it,” he said quietly.

  Hope turned back to Red. Her eyes were sorrowful, but firm.

  “I’m sorry, Red. I’m glad the empire is finally taking a firm hand against the biomancers, but that doesn’t exonerate them from decades of gross misuse of power. We will see the end of the biomancers, but we will do it our way, not theirs.”

  17

  Lady Merivale Hempist loved listening to music. Well, perhaps listening wasn’t the right word. More precisely, she loved being in the room while music was being played.

  With Red gone, Prince Leston had poured a lot of his energy into forcing his fellow nobles to appreciate the fine arts as much as his friend did. He had been inspired to take this more active role in the artistic community by Ambassador Omnipora when she remarked on the lack of concerts being performed at the palace. Apparently, the Great Congress of Aukbontar not only invited musicians to play for them on a regular basis, but also funded a number of artists, performers, and musicians. Her Congress espoused the idea that culture was the true measure of a society. Naturally, Leston had picked up on Nea’s suggestion immediately. He had sponsored several art showings at various galleries in the city, including one with the rather lurid work Red had done in the few months before his departure. The prince also began to invite small orchestras to perform at the palace. Attendance by the nobility was not mandatory, but anyone who hoped to curry favor with the future ruler of the empire made a point of showing up, so they were generally well attended.

  Merivale was not particularly knowledgeable about music, nor had it ever held a great deal of interest for her. But she attended the first concert out of curiosity, as much to see who was trying to please the prince as anything else. Unexpectedly, she found she quite enjoyed herself. She wasn’t really aware of paying attention to the music, but each week, as she sat in the ballroom with twenty to thirty other lords and ladies and listened to the light, yet complicated weave of melodies coming from violins, violas, and cellos, she was able to allow her mind to wander in ways that were both unexpected and highly rewarding. For some reason, music allowed her to temporarily shake off her habitual pragmatism and consider more unconventional ideas.

  For example, that night, as the orchestra crescendoed with the last strains of their final piece for the evening, Merivale was pondering the true nature of governance and thinking she would like to have a long conversation with the ambassador on how, exactly, a representative democracy worked.

  As she slowly filed out of the ballroom with the other attendees, the prince walked up beside her. “Lady Hempist.” He offered her his arm.

  She slipped her arm through his and said, “Good evening, Your Highness. Another lovely concert.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve taken such an interest,” he said.

  “I delight in surprising people,” she said.

  “Any word from Rixidenteron?”

  “Not since you and I spoke.”

  “Do you think they’re searching for him? The uh …” He glanced around, trying to look unobtrusive and failing. Then he whispered, “The biomancers?”

  “I knew who you meant, Your Highness,” said Merivale. “And no, I don’t think they are actively searching for him.”

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Not if the reason is because they have something even worse planned,” she said, thinking of their new military command puppet, Archlord Tramasta.

  “What else could they be planning?”

  “I’ll let you know when I find out,” she told him.

  He looked surprised. “Will you?”

  “Tell you? Eventually.”

  His eyes went flat. “When I become emperor?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Will you at least keep me up to date on how Rixidenteron is doing?”

  “As much as I am permitted to do so,” said Merivale.

  “I suppose that’s the best I can ask for.”

  “It is from me,” she told him. “You could always ask your mother.”

  “I think she’d be even less inclined to tell me anything substantive.”

  “Probably,” Merivale agreed cheerfully. “I suppose you’ll have to rely on me, then, Your Highness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to attend to.” She curtsied deeply to him and turned to leave.

  “Lady Hempist.” He gave her an uncharacteristically grave look. “Do you ever wonder if by supposedly protecting me, you are putting the empire at even more risk?”

  Up until that moment, she had not. But when he asked that question, she decided she should consider it.

  When she returned to her apartments, she intended to go through the most recent reports from her spy network. There was a great deal of chatter across the empire regarding the return of the Vinchen. Word of Racklock’s decimation of the Shade District police force had spread, and many, particularly in the lower classes, were construing it as some sort of anti- imperial statement. That the Vinchen were even encouraging open rebellion against the emperor. Given what Merivale knew of Racklock and his current allegiance with the biomancers, this seemed highly unlikely. But even if it wasn’t an intentional rallying cry, it could still be an effective one. And the last thing the throne needed in this perilous time was riots in the streets. Unless …

  She opened the door to her apartments and found Hume standing just inside. It might not have been obvious to most people, but with the creased brow and firm set at the corners of his mouth, she could tell he was terribly agitated.

  “Good evening, Hume.” She handed him her shawl. “Is everything all right?”

  “A … guest is waiting for you in the parlor, my lady,” he told her. “I suggested he return later when you were present, as I did not know precisely when you would be home, but he insisted on remaining.”

  “My, my,” said Merivale. “And who is this guest?”

  “He introduced himself as Ammon Set, chief of the Council of Biomancery.”

  “I see,” said Merivale. “Naturally, you’ve already offered him a drink?”

  “He declined, my lady.”

  “Well, I would very much like a drink. Please fetch me a glass of wine while I see to our guest.”

  “Right away, my lady.”

  When Merivale entered her parlor, she found the presence of the biomancer almost laughably incongruous. While it was true she favored a minimal, almost austere decor,
the furniture and the few pieces she had on the walls were exquisite works of beauty. They clashed terribly with Ammon Set, who was neither exquisite nor beautiful.

  The chief of the Council of Biomancery sat in a high-backed chair made of fine Lesser Basheta wood with his dry, cracked hands on the lap of his dusty white robes. His hood was pushed back to reveal his rough-hewn, hairless head. The more powerful a biomancer became, the more their work altered their appearance. And as far as Merivale knew, Ammon Set was the most powerful biomancer in the world. When she’d first come to the palace during her teenage years, his skin had still looked somewhat like flesh. Now it looked like sandstone that had been chiseled into an approximation of a human being. His face looked like crude sculpture, his eyes like chunks of stained glass, his teeth like flecks of mica, his tongue a slab of quartz. She hadn’t seen him show a facial expression in years, and wasn’t sure he still could. His jaw moved up and down as if on a hinge. Merivale had always wondered if he’d had to split it at one point so that he could continue to talk. It seemed like the sort of thing he would do.

  In all the years she had observed the chief of the order of biomancery, she had learned that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to accomplish his goals. He was, she had to admit, a formidable adversary. Up until now she had enjoyed the luxury that he was unaware they were adversaries. Now, she suspected, that was no longer the case.

  “Lady Hempist,” he said in his dusty voice. He didn’t bother to rise from his chair.

  “Ammon Set.” She gave him a light curtsy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Pleasure? I doubt it,” he said. “Still, it appears that I and the Council of Biomancery have greatly underestimated you.”

  “Everyone does. I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it,” she told him as she accepted a glass of wine from Hume. “Thank you, Hume. That will be all.”

  Hume nodded and quickly left, though of course, just to the next room where he could still hear everything. One of the nice things about working with someone for such a long time was that Merivale and Hume really didn’t need to communicate a great deal to each other anymore. If Set was here to kill her, there probably wasn’t much either of them could do about it. However, Hume would immediately ride for Sunset Point to inform the empress so that she could plan accordingly.

  “I suppose that’s the point,” said Ammon Set. “Your ruse as a shallow, fashion-obsessed, marriage-hungry noble.”

  “The fashion-obsessed part is actually true,” said Merivale. “We must all have our weaknesses.”

  There was a quiet grinding sound, and Set’s rocky lips tilted slightly. Merivale wondered if that was his version of a smile.

  “I must say,” he said, “I am disappointed that neither I, nor anyone on the council, was informed of your important role in the government.”

  She gave him a full, dazzling smile. Tramasta had revealed her position to the biomancers, but perhaps they didn’t suspect her of having an agenda counter to their wishes yet. Maybe there was a way to wiggle out of this.

  “Progul Bon was quite aware of my activities,” she said.

  She didn’t actually know if Bon had known she was chief of espionage, but she was fairly certain that if he had known, he would have kept it to himself. Like her, Bon had been a schemer. And schemers never gave up any information freely, even to supposed allies. What’s more, she guessed Ammon Set was also aware Bon possessed those qualities.

  “I see,” he said, giving her all the confirmation she needed.

  “I always wondered if he kept the rest of the council in the loop,” she said. “But of course it was none of my business. I do try to keep clear of the affairs of your council as much as possible.”

  “Which may explain why we have never had the chance to work together,” said Ammon Set. “I confess I find it frustrating. The council could have made great use of an imperial spy network.”

  “I hadn’t realized I could be of use to you,” said Merivale. “In the future, simply put in a formal request to His Majesty, and I will be happy to consider it.”

  “Naturally, you are aware that the emperor is bedridden and unable to speak.”

  “Yes, I’d heard as much,” said Merivale. “But surely he’ll rally, as he always does.”

  “Perhaps not this time,” said Set.

  “Ah,” said Merivale. She wondered if this meant they were finally going to let the poor old man die. But if that was so, they must have another plan in place that would allow them to maintain power. Something to do with that “ultimate sacrifice” Chiffet Mek had spoken of.

  Ammon Set still hadn’t said anything that indicated he suspected her of working against him. Perhaps she could take that even further …

  She gave a resigned sigh and dropped down into the chair opposite Ammon Set. Then she gave him a knowing smile. “Well, it was good while it lasted, wasn’t it? I suppose I’d better get used to someone telling me what to do again.”

  He paused for a long moment, his stony face and glassy eyes unreadable. Did he buy her overture?

  Finally, he said, “It has been nice to have so much autonomy, hasn’t it?”

  “I’m so glad you agree! Why, I haven’t received a direct order from the emperor in years. And the empress … well, I’m sure you know, the jewel of the empire is a lovely, but exceedingly delicate creature.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “And to be perfectly honest, I feel I’ve accomplished far more for the empire without their meddling.”

  “It may be that we won’t have to give up all we’ve managed to accomplish, Lady Hempist,” said Ammon Set.

  “Oh?”

  “I have studied the history of mankind in great detail. And the one thing you can be certain of is that nothing lasts forever. Change is imminent.”

  “Are you speaking of Aukbontar’s recent diplomatic attempts?”

  “In a sense,” he said carefully.

  She leaned over and patted his rough, craggy hand. There was no warmth or humanity in it. “I don’t think you need to worry a great deal about that,” she assured him.

  “How so?”

  “Well, this sort of thing does fall into my jurisdiction, after all. I and several of my people have inserted ourselves into their confidences. Everything about them, from their true political and economic motives, to more … personal information, is known to me.”

  “Is that so?” Ammon Set’s head tilted to one side, which seemed to indicate increased interest.

  “They must be handled delicately, of course.” She smiled. “After all, we wouldn’t want to start an international incident, would we?”

  “Of course not,” he said.

  “Can you believe some imbecile tried to assassinate the ambassador? Twice?” She shook her head. “Really, if I ever find out which party is responsible for such a fiasco, I’ll have strong words with them, I can assure you. International relations cannot be handled with such brute-force tactics. They require finesse, artfulness, and a great deal of deception.”

  He paused again. “I had heard that you spend a great deal of time with the ambassador. I was concerned about that when I learned of your true role as chief of espionage because it appeared your sympathies might be in her favor.”

  “Naturally it seems that way,” said Merivale. “Because I am very good at my job.” The best kind of lies were ones that aligned very closely with the truth. The fact was, she actually did consider the ambassador another potential adversary, once she managed to settle the current domestic conflict. “One thing you can count on when dealing with spies: Nothing is ever what it seems.”

  “So I am starting to understand,” said Ammon Set. “Perhaps … you and I could work together toward a mutually beneficial future.”

  “I am fond of building alliances,” said Merivale. “But you will find when dealing with me that everything is an exchange. If the ambassador is a concern of yours, I can provide you with a wealth of information about her and her people. For example, her supposed motives,
as well as her true motives. But I will expect something in return of equal value.”

  “No wonder you and Progul Bon got along,” said Ammon Set. “Very well, what would you consider to be of equal value? Are you still troubled by that incident concerning the Vinchen on Vance Post, as Tramasta informed me?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Ultimately, that’s his jurisdiction. My interest was only in offering my services to him and initiating a positive professional relationship with the new chief of military.”

  “You truly are a political animal, aren’t you, Lady Hempist,” said Ammon Set.

  “It’s gratifying to be appreciated, Ammon Set.” She leaned in toward him and smiled. “Now, what I really want to know is how you plan to make certain we retain our autonomy in what I presume to be the forthcoming transition from Emperor Martarkis to his son, Leston.”

  Merivale listened to Ammon Set’s plan with her usual cool detachment. Once he left, she allowed herself to truly feel some measure of shock and dismay at the sheer scope and boldness of what he intended to do. But only for a few minutes. If the empire was to be saved, she would have to take countermeasures immediately. It began with writing a letter:

  To the Black Rose of Paradise Circle,

  Our mutual friend, Red, suggested I get in touch with you regarding a possible alliance. First let me express my heartfelt thanks regarding your contribution to the events on Dawn’s Light. Months later, I am still discovering new opportunities that would not have been possible without the death of Progul Bon, lead biomancer on that most odious project.

  I am also gratified to hear that a respected leader of the community such as yourself wishes to take an even more direct role in making our empire safe and secure against the tyranny of the biomancers. I understand that in return you ask for an audience with the empress. Based on some initial reports regarding your history and general practice, I have some idea what it is you plan to discuss with her. As luck would have it, my thoughts have been leaning in that direction myself. So be assured that I will support your cause in whatever way I can.