“Really?” Why hadn’t anyone spoken of this to me before?
“Sure,” she said, tossing the rock and catching it. “But Prov freedom doesn’t just mean we’re freed from the worst of the drudgery the Empire has forced on us. It means a return to the old ways. No more Empire. Each Province an independent nation—or a coalition of separate nations if that’s what the citizens desire.”
I kicked a small pebble from the trail as I considered her words. No doubt Kostan would do everything within his power to bring peace. But I worried that Stormshard might go too far in asking to dissolve the Empire entirely. What purpose would that serve if the Empire agreed to allow us to live freely? With the threat of the Breaking—or if not that, the tribes in the Wildsends and nomads roaming the Sandsea—why divide our strengths?
Still, my footsteps felt lighter than they had in some time. Once we drew within reach of Jaliss, we’d surely hear news of the good work Kostan had already done. Perhaps this war could be stopped before it even began.
Our course soon left the trail, cutting up the slope on the path marked by the scouts. Falla drew ahead of me, seemingly unaffected by the climb whereas the march up the hill quickly set my breath rasping and my thighs burning. But on the ridgeline ahead, a pair of ancient guardian stones marked the pass and the end of the climb. The end of the difficulties, perhaps.
***
“…didn’t expect it to be this bad.” One of the Shard leaders, a woman with hair in a neat plait, was standing atop the low pass, speaking with Sirez when I arrived, huffing, at the crest. I took a last, few staggering steps to a flat-topped boulder and sat, swigging lukewarm liquid from my water skin. At least most of the Sharders were similarly winded. The climb had been steeper and longer than it had looked.
While I caught my breath, I examined one of the standing stones. Like the boulders that dotted the vale below, ancient carvings on its surface had been mostly rubbed away by time. I couldn’t guess what the faint designs showed, but the way the two pillars faced each other made me think of them as a gate. Maybe they’d marked the limits of the vale and the territory guarded by the keep.
“We haven’t been feeling the shakes,” Sirez said. “It must be a trick of the land.”
The other leader nodded. “That slide area doesn’t look very stable to me,” she said, pointing downhill. From our high point, the slope fell away toward another valley. A raw scar crossed the mountainside, a trough of bare dirt where the landslide had torn the vegetation free.
“Agreed. We’ll stop at the first place we can find that’s suitable for staying the night and scout in the morning. I’d hate to backtrack.”
“We’ll do what we must I suppose,” the other woman said. “We’ve waited a century for this fight. Another day won’t matter.”
Sirez smirked as the pair separated. As I leaned back, laying palms on the flat boulder, I felt the ridges beneath my skin. I turned and moved into a crouch, running fingers over the stone. Enough soil and moss had collected in the crannies that I hadn’t noticed the patterns before I sat.
For some reason, the work of the ancient carver seemed an inappropriate place to rest my rear, so I pushed wearily up and slung my rucksack back over my shoulders. The Sharders were already forming into marching ranks anyway.
It was midafternoon by the time we reached a spot level enough to make camp. Earlier during the day’s march, we’d passed an old barrow, a burial hill piled with rubble. The gray granite stones had been unmarked by any of the carvings that had decorated the vale. Most likely whoever had been laid to rest there came from a people even older than the carvers. I’d shaken my head in disbelief. Cosmali were so young. According to our history, we’d only settled the peninsula in the last couple centuries. Before that, the Maelstrom had been the subject of dozens of superstitions, enough to chase away even the bravest adventurers.
Now, as I laid my rucksack on the short meadow grass, my thoughts returned to that history. To me, earthquakes had always been a part of life in the Empire. Just another event like a thunderstorm or evening breeze. But could it be that they hadn’t always shaken the land? Had the Cosmali settlers somehow provoked the Maelstrom?
I supposed it didn’t matter much now. Even if every man, woman, and child on the peninsula migrated north, I doubted it would change what had already been started. And besides, the metalogists would never give up their source of Maelstrom-metals.
As the Sharders arrived on the flat bench where Sirez had called a halt, they quickly set down packs and set to work pitching tents and lean-to shelters. Others grabbed water skins from a central pile and struck off downhill. Seeing this, I hurried over and left my skin with the others. At the far end of the bench, low brush spread over the mountain grasses. A woman was stomping through it, possibly looking for enough dried sticks to kindle a fire. It didn’t look to me like she’d have much luck.
I scanned the gathering until I spotted Falla, then hurried over.
“How can I help?” I asked.
She finished checking the straps on her pack and then flopped down beside it. I was surprised when she pillowed her head on her hands and closed her eyes. “When it’s your turn to make camp, a Shard leader will let you know ahead of time. For now, I suggest you enjoy the sunshine.”
The sun did feel good, a striking warmth in the high mountain air. I considered reclining beside the spiritist but shaded my eyes and looked uphill. Since I’d left Numintown with Havialo, I’d been a prisoner, then a frightened girl surrounded by a crumbling city, a palace scribe at the beck and call of anyone who needed my services and, again, a prisoner. I hadn’t enjoyed a moment of pleasant idleness in months.
“I’ll be back soon. Going to head up and get a look at the terrain ahead.”
Falla pulled off one of her gloves and laid it over her eyes. “Suit yourself.”
I could feel the crunch of the meadow grass through the leather soles of my shoes as I struck off up the hill. A few hundred paces above the camp, scattered rock outcroppings broke from the slope like teeth. A little furry creature stood atop one and whistled as I approached. Out of curiosity, I summoned my aura-sight. The animal’s spirit was a faint thing compared to the bright flare of a human. It was pure, though, and unbothered by the complexity that swirled in a human spirit.
When I drew too near, the little creature squeaked and ran. I dispelled my aura-sight.
“I’ll take your seat, if you don’t mind,” I said as I clambered onto the outcropping where it had perched.
I started to lower my weight to a seat atop the pedestal but froze when I glimpsed movement below. Perhaps a hundred paces down the slope, someone had just ducked behind another outcrop.
The motion had seemed furtive, but perhaps that was just my imagination. Maybe I’d simply spied another Sharder out for a walk. Holding my crouch, I stared at the broken stone pillar. When no one appeared, I slowly stood. Either I was being followed, or I’d been mistaken about what I saw. Planting my feet wide to keep my balance, I allowed my aura-sight to spring forward. My racing heart slowed. The only spirit nearby was the same little animal, now hiding beneath a jumble of lichen-clad stones. Its small aura was a contented yellow as it crept around in its little home.
In any case, it was probably time I returned to camp. Down the hill, the Sharders preparing the encampment were the size of insects. I couldn’t hear their shouts; I’d hate to miss the call for dinner. Yawning, I searched out footholds for my descent from the rock pile. My feet landed in the stubbly mountain grasses, and I set off down the slope.
As I passed the little animal’s hideout, I extended a thread of affection to the creature. It didn’t seem to notice.
Ahead, a pair of outcrops reminded me of the pillars that had guarded the pass. I wondered again about the ancient people who had set them upright and decorated them with carvings.
Beneath my foot, a stone rolled. I squeaked and windmilled my arms, barely catching myself before I pitc
hed forward. As I quick-stepped to regain balance, I saw movement again, unmistakable in the shadows below one of the outcrops.
I threw my aura-sight back into place but still saw nothing. A shiver ran from my hairline to my heels. Was it a phantom? With my gaze flitting between the terrain before my feet and the pillar, I hurried away across the slope.
“Where are you going so quickly, Savra?”
Joran’s voice stopped me cold as he stepped out from the shelter of the pillar. The man’s face was a mask of cold rage. His eyes lanced into mine as his lip curled back. Again I fell into my aura-sight, so far that the world dimmed. Again, I saw nothing but emptiness.
He stepped closer, wide shoulders blotting out a large swath of the landscape. I couldn’t help but notice his fists, leather-clad with brass nubs on the knuckles. He was real; I could smell his body, sweaty from the day’s trek. But he was utterly invisible to my sight.
“Falla is expecting me,” I said. “Training.”
The big man smirked. “Last I saw, Falla was asleep. Didn’t appear to be warming up for magic lessons.”
He took a step closer, boot smashing a clump of wildflowers. I glanced downhill, and my heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn’t see the camp from here. A cluster of boulders blocked the view.
I pressed fingernails into my palms. “What do you want, Joran?”
“Hmm. What do I want? Revenge, of course. But what else?” As he spoke, his fists opened and closed, the metal studs glinting in the sun. “How did it feel to take control of me, Savra? Did you enjoy it?”
“I hated it,” I said honestly. “It’s a terrible thing to do to someone.”
His eyes narrowed. “Yet you did it anyway.”
As he spoke, he continued to advance. I stepped back, heels catching on tufts of grass. I glanced downhill but still couldn’t see the other Sharders.
“Don’t worry,” Joran said with a grin full of malice. “I just want to talk. And maybe to make you understand how it feels to be powerless.”
“You wanted the conclave to vote for my execution. It left me no choice. I hope you won’t make me use my abilities on you again.” I held my chin high as I bluffed.
The big man snorted. “Nice try. But surely you’ve already realized you can’t affect me anymore. Not when I’m wearing this.” The man folded down the neck of his light leather armor, exposing the line between sunburned skin and his pasty flesh. Below the demarcation, the black-iron collar had been fastened around his neck.
I looked away. “Where did you get that?”
He shrugged. “You have your allies. I have mine. To be honest, I wasn’t sure it would work until I saw the expression on your face when I surprised you. But I figured if it could contain your abilities, it might shield me from them in the same way.”
I planted my downhill foot, preparing to run. From here, no one would hear my screams. My best hope was to flee.
When Joran took another step toward me, I whirled, spinning around my downhill leg to face away, and sprinted across the slope. Rocks clattered behind me as Joran sprang. I wasn’t fast enough. With a grunt, he plowed into me, knocking me flat. Rocks slammed my face as I fell, gouging my cheeks. Together, we rolled down the hill before slamming into one of the outcrops that had hidden our position from the camp. Rough granite scraped my shoulder before Joran’s fist sank into my gut.
The blow knocked the air from my lungs. Joran had landed atop me and now pushed up, knees digging into my thighs. He pinned my throat with a hand the size of a draft horse’s hoof. I saw sparks as I shoved at him.
“I won’t kill you now,” he said. “But only because there are too many reasons for the others to suspect me. I can’t have Stormshard turning against me while we’re out here in the wilderness.”
The world was fading around the edges, my pulse washing ineffectually against his weight on my neck. My lungs begged for air, searing with the need, but I couldn’t suck anything past. I grabbed his thick wrist, but I might as well have tried to pull a tree from the earth with my bare hands.
I sank further toward unconsciousness, my limbs growing fuzzy.
Joran laughed. “Pathetic,” he said. “Same as all women.”
With a last shove against my windpipe, he laid his free hand against the boulder and stood. Air wheezed as it entered my lungs. I coughed.
“It’s an awful feeling, isn’t it?” he said. “To know that another has absolute control over you. To realize that you are completely powerless.”
My first swallow was agony in my bruised windpipe. I didn’t think I could speak, so I nodded instead.
“I hope you’ll remember this in the coming days,” he said. “I hope you will live in dread of the next time I find you alone. You’ll consider telling your friend Falla about this. Of course you will. But you should realize what folly that would be. She’d make a move against me, probably an attack. She’d fail of course. And what then? The conclave would split. Her allies against mine. And how would she defend her actions? Certainly not by admitting that I attacked you because I was under your thrall when I voted to forgive your betrayal. The fact is, if she comes for me, it will look like revenge for your father.”
Awareness of my body was returning. Rough edges of stone pressed into my back and legs. My gut ached where he’d punched me. I wasn’t sure if I could sit up without fainting but clenched my stomach anyway. Gathering my legs beneath me, I laid a hand on the outcrop and stood. Joran still towered over me, but at least I wasn’t lying there like a bug ready to be squashed.
I met his eyes. “I don’t need anyone’s help to defend myself.”
He sneered as he stepped close, forcing me to stumble back. “No?” he said, raising a fist.
Joran laughed as my eyes fell away. Shoving me against the boulder, he stomped past and headed toward camp.
Chapter Seventeen
Kostan
Emperor's private audience chamber, Steelhold
THE MASTER OF Information, better known as the Snitchlord, entered my private audience chamber on a gust of arrogance and smelling of hallifas leaves, a popular stimulant. Tucked into his upper lip, the wad of chew caused his mustache to bulge unevenly. Despite that and the hooked nose presiding over it, I supposed most people would have considered the man handsome.
I’d chosen to stand for our audience. In fact, every time I did sit, it only made me feel as if I wasn’t trying hard enough. My Empire was held together by age-brittled strands of tradition and the lingering fear of protector wrath. Soon enough, the riots in Jaliss would spread across Old Atal and into the Provinces. Combined with the earthquakes opening chasms across the landscape and people starving in the ruins of their homes, the Empire would soon be a shattered husk.
Unless I did something.
“Your eminence,” the Snitchlord said, his voice hissing like a snake.
I dipped my chin in a nod of acknowledgment. “How do you prefer to be addressed?”
His smile seemed to slide over his face. “From most, I suggest Master Brevelak. However, with Emperor Tovmeil, I preferred the intimacy when he used my given name. Frawen, if you are so inclined.”
I wasn’t so inclined, but I’d already strained our relationship with my repeated refusals of his requests for an audience. “Very well, Frawen. Do you know why I requested this meeting?”
The man inspected a jewel-encrusted hand before scanning the room. He strolled to a chair that stood beside the single, small table opposite the door. The movement forced me to swivel to keep my eyes on him. A subtle manipulation, but effective. As the director of a network of Prov informants who tattled on their neighbors, it took little imagination to understand the Snitchlord’s character. He was a master in games of deceit and power. But I was still his liege.
“Please, take a seat,” I said as if oblivious to his machinations. Choosing the chair opposite him, I sat as well.
“The messenger claimed you seek information on Stormsha
rd,” he said, buffing his fingernails on his tailored jacket. “Interesting that your query would come now, as I’ve been requesting audiences since the day after your Ascension. Was your eminence not interested in the movements of your enemies until now? And if so, why not?”
“I have my reasons for declining the audiences,” I said. “However, I am interested now. I would appreciate it if you proceeded to enlighten me—unless, of course, you’re no longer interested in maintaining your position.”
His mustache almost hid the twitch of his upper lip, a suppressed snarl. “When you refused me for the third tenday straight, I must admit I began to pay less attention to my informants’ reports. Given the poor state of communications across your Empire, it’s a surprise that information reaches my ears in any case. Speaking of positions of authority, you really ought to restore order if you wish to remain in yours.”
As he spoke, his eyes gleamed with the feral intensity of a predator. After weeks of refusing him, he likely knew I had an urgent reason to change my mind. And given my sudden rise to the throne, he probably surmised that I had little idea how to gain access to his network of Prov spies without his help. Unfortunately, those assumptions would be correct.
“Since you seem intent on forcing the issue,” I said, “yes, I now require your services despite my earlier refusals. I had idealistic hopes for my new reign, and they included improving conditions for the Provs such that the practice of snitching was no longer necessary. However, I have since learned that I was naive. Perhaps I can achieve my goals in time, but for now, I must restore order. I believe you can help me achieve that. Are you willing to provide your expertise and knowledge, or must I seek others who will?”
Triumph sat lightly on his features as he pulled a small bronze jar from his pocket. Plucking the disgusting wad from his lip, he shoved it through the neck of the jar, plucked a cork from the same pocket, sealed the container and tucked it away.
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