Leaning closer, Shailiha took his hands into hers. “Please be careful,” she said quietly. “I know that you must do this thing. More than once you have gone away only to return. But tomorrow might be very different. No one knows where the Azure Sea will take you or what you might have to face to get there. And we have only recently seen the coded message left by the Ones that tells us you are doing the right thing. That spell was likely written aeons ago-Wigg said so himself. What if it is no longer true? What if thePon Q’tar is out there waiting for you instead? What if-”
Tristan gently placed his fingers against her lips. “There can be no more ‘what ifs,’” he said. “I’m going and that’s that. Of course I’ll do my best to return. But if I do not, you must be prepared to rule Eutracia. Value the advice of the remaining Conclave members, but make each decision your own. They’re not always right, you know.” Smiling again, he wiped away one of her tears.
“Besides,” he added, “as you said, they certainly like to bicker!”
“Yes,” Shailiha added, “especially Wigg and Faegan.”
Tristan reached out to take her medallion into his hand. “Don’t forget this,” he said reassuringly. “You can see me whenever you want. But remember-do not overuse the spell, and be sure that the medallion remains in your possession at all times. When Miriam charmed our medallions, she warned me of these things. Always keep them in mind.”
Tristan let the medallion fall back onto Shailiha’s chest. “Have the Viper Lord and his followers been sighted?” he asked.
Shailiha shook her head. “Even the Night Witch patrols cannot find them. It’s as if they dropped off the face of the earth. How can a force that large simply vanish?”
Tristan shook his head. “They might be using the craft to help them hide,” he offered. “But it would seem that even a wizard as powerful as the Viper Lord would eventually tire and reveal his position. I admit that it’s puzzling. When you find them, let Faegan help form your plan. But when it comes to the very real and dirty business of fighting, take your advice from Traax. You can rely on his judgment completely. In many ways I wish he was coming with me. But because only two phalanxes sail with my group, he will better serve us here.”
Deciding that the time had come to say goodbye, Tristan smiled at his sister as best he could. “If I don’t come back-”
“Don’t say that,” she insisted. “I just know that-”
Just then another knock came on the double doors. Wondering who it might be, Tristan rose from his chair.
“Enter,” he called out softly, trying not to wake Morganna.
The doors parted to reveal Aeolus standing there. Tristan beckoned him inside. After Aeolus paid his respects to the princess, Tristan bade him sit down. The mystic’s expression was serious.
“Forgive the intrusion, Jin’Sai, but I wanted to speak with you privately before you leave tomorrow,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” Tristan asked.
Aeolus gave Tristan a weary smile. “Do you mean aside from Eutracia being overrun by beings of the Vagaries and you and half the Conclave sailing off into the unknown tomorrow?” he asked. “Truth be told, before you leave I want to talk to you about your gift ofK’Shari. ”
Suddenly the wizard’s expression darkened a bit. “If this is a private moment, I will gladly return later,” he added quietly.
Tristan smiled. “Whatever you would say to me you can say in Shai’s presence as well,” he answered. “There are no secrets between us.”
“Good,” Aeolus answered. He poured a glass of wine and took a discerning sip, then looked into Tristan’s eyes.
“I wish we had been able to train together longer,” he said. “Even so, I have come to understand that you are the real master and I the student. Always remember that yourK’Shari will be stronger than mine because your blood is much more powerful. During your travels, should you need to call on your gift, you must be careful. Do not become overconfident, and take nothing for granted.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Before answering, Aeolus set his glass on the table. “The beings you might meet on the other side are presumably far more advanced than we-especially in the science of the craft,” he said. “Moreover, the forestallment formula that granted youK’Shari was found in one of the Scrolls. That means that they had the gift long before we did. If you must fight, always remember that your opponent might commandK’Shari too-and to a higher degree and with greater experience than you possess. Furthermore, your gift is called forth automatically, while mine is not, and only your sword glows with the color of the craft. Despite many hours of searching for an answer, Wigg, Jessamay, and I still cannot explain it. You must trust in your gift, for that is all you can do. Do not fight the feeling when it comes over you, and let your actions flow through your body naturally. Only then might you defeat an enemy on the other side with equal talents.”
Tristan appreciated Aeolus’ advice. During the battle to retake the Recluse, fighting techniques both armed and unarmed had come to him unexpectedly and effortlessly, allowing him to do wondrous things. And his sword had indeed glowed with the color of the craft.
Later in Crysenium he had fought and defeated Xanthus, his first opponent who also commanded the gift ofK’Shari. The battle had raged like some desperate war between two titans. Whenever Tristan’s dreggan or Xanthus’ axe missed its target and struck something else, they had utterly destroyed it. Tristan had never felt such power, and he had to admit that a part of him was eager to experience it again. But until now he had not considered the dangers that Aeolus was describing. Like Wigg and Faegan, sometimes Aeolus could make him feel very small.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I hadn’t looked at it that way. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Aeolus answered. “And now I will take my leave.”
As the mystic stood, Tristan stood with him. “Please watch over my sister while I’m away,” the prince said. “I’m relying on you two to destroy the Viper Lord and his servants.”
Aeolus gave Tristan reassuring wink. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he answered. After saying good night to Shailiha he let himself out, the doors closing quietly behind him.
Tristan continued to gaze at the closed doors for several moments, thinking.
“He’s a good man,” he finally said. “Despite what our mystics might say about the quality of your blood and mine, we’ll never fully appreciate everything they’ve gone through for the sake of the Vigors. Sometimes I have to force myself to remember that each of them is more than three centuries old.”
Shailiha looked back at Morganna to see that her daughter was still fast asleep. When she looked back at her brother, her expression was sad but resigned.
“It’s late and we should go,” she said. “Just promise me that you’ll return.”
Tristan stood, as did his sister. He gave her a short smile.
“Such a promise would be unfair,” he answered. “But I will do my best. In your absence make sure that Shawna looks after Morganna. You could never find a better nanny, despite how ornery she can be!”
Shailiha’s laugh sounded brittle and forced-as if she wanted to let go but couldn’t find it within her to do so. Grabbing the lapels of Tristan’s worn leather vest, she tugged on them and gave him a ferocious look.
“Just come back,” she ordered. “Don’t force me to come to Shashida and find you!”
The princess went to take Morganna into her arms, the child grumbling softly before settling back down into a deep sleep. On reaching the doors Shailiha gave her brother a final, lingering look, then she was gone. Sighing deeply, Tristan sat down again and sipped his wine.
Goodbye, my sister, he thought. May we each find what we’re searching for.
As it happened, he would not sleep that night, but sat on the balcony until dawn, lost in his thoughts.
Robert Newcomb
Rise of the Blood Royal
III
MAGIC ANDGOLD
CHAPTER XXIII
Given that theJin’Saicannot be easily killed, taking the life of the Jin’Saiouwill do equally well.
- GRACCHUS JUNIUS
“I HAVE BEEN BID FIVE HUNDRED SESTERCES FOR THIS prime example of Shashidan pulchritude!” the slave auctioneer shouted. “Who will give me six? Come now-just look at her! Won’t some fine krithian give me six?”
When no one in the crowd responded, the auctioneer put on his best look of astonishment. It was a well-practiced deception, and one that had served him well over the years. The slave’s current owner had told him that six hundred was the least he would accept. The price was relatively high but not unreasonable for such attractive, untouched goods.
Trying to entice new bidders, the vulgar auctioneer smelled approvingly of the naked woman’s long dark hair, then pointed lasciviously to her ample breasts. As expected, the crowd drew nearer. Like hundreds of other slaves waiting to mount the block, she wore an unmarked beeswax plaque around her neck.
“Only twenty years old and still a virgin!” the auctioneer shouted. “And she has been bathed in scented oils! That alone is worth one hundred sesterces! Just think of the many skeen children this one will bear! Why, she’ll easily pay for herself ten times over! Come, now-who will give me six?”
“Six, then, you robber!” a red-robed krithian man shouted from the back of the crowd. “But I’ll not give you one sesterce more! And she’d best be as fertile as you say!”
The auctioneer smiled broadly. He had finally reached the minimum bid, and he could soon move on to hawk his remaining merchandise. He gave the young woman another leering look.
“Fear not!” he shouted back. “In my vast experience, the worst Shashidan slave girl I ever had was wonderful!” This time the crowd roared with laughter.
As Julia Idaeus passed by she looked up at the humiliated young woman standing on the block, then stared across the great forum. The huge plaza was busier than usual, partly because it was auction day. But it was more than that, she realized.
The announcement of Vespasian’s impending campaign had restored the public’s confidence. With that had come a renewed loosening of their purse strings and a slight surge in tax revenue. It was not enough to greatly help the treasury, but it was sufficient to convince the Suffragat that the final day of games should serve as a special celebration of Vespasian’s impending departure, to build yet more public confidence in final victory. After some discussion, the emperor had given his blessing.
Seating in the coliseum would be free, first come, first served. For once, krithians and hematites would intermingle at the games gladly, with no rancor over who could afford the best view. Much free food and wine would be given away, and an unusually high number of slaves and animals were to be sacrificed. This would be the greatest single spectacle ever held in the coliseum, and the excitement was already at a fever pitch. The celebration would occur in two more days, and hundreds of people were already standing and sleeping in long lines outside the coliseum, hoping to be among the first to claim a good seat.
As Julia regarded the trembling slave girl, she was glad for the white veil covering her face, for it kept the mob from noticing her sadness. Deciding not to linger, she held her leather valise closer and continued on her way down the broad forum. As she passed through the crowd, many of those not intent on watching the auction bowed reverently to her.
Because of its massive size and great beauty, many Ellistiumites considered the forum to be their greatest achievement. At one end stood the Aedifficium, and far away at the opposite end could be found the emperor’s residence. The forum lay in the heart of the city, deep in the oblong valley created by the seven surrounding hills. Traveling across Ellistium was a long and complicated affair unless one traversed this bustling place and thereby added to the usual congestion.
Made of pure white marble, the massive rectangular plaza was surrounded by many public buildings, some of which towered several stories into the air. Among these were baths, a great library, and offices for such professionals as barristers, moneylenders, and land vendors. Other areas were devoted to cattle, vegetable, and fish markets. A gleaming colonnaded portico lay at the forum’s center, complete with covered walkways, eateries, and more shops of every description. From one end to the other, the forum measured more than half a league. Despite how often Julia ventured here, each time she revisited this place her sense of majesty was renewed. As she continued on toward her destination, today proved no exception.
Ellistiumites from all four classes bustled to and fro, giving her the impression that even the poorest of phrygians couldn’t wait to dispose of their hard-earned sesterces. As usual, everyone from highborn krithians traveling by personal litter to the lowest skeens being led to the auction block were present.
Some ladies carried parasols while they strolled about, and robed men eagerly gathered to discuss the events of the day. A marble tower stood at each corner of the forum, from which heralds shouted the latest news that few besides Julia knew to be heavily censored by the Suffragat. Food vendors cajoled with promises that his or her delicacies were the freshest and the cheapest. Proud horse traders displayed their animals before prospective buyers, magicians surprised and delighted the crowds, and ever-watchful centurions maintained order. The atmosphere was festive and carnival-like, and skeens were bought and sold here no differently than those same horses or the fine gold jewelry that adorned highborn krithian women.
Suddenly a breeze came up, threatening to lift Julia’s veil. Grasping it quickly, she clutched her leather valise tighter and hurried on. Soon she reached the famous landmark known as the Columns of the Emperors. It lay at the far end of the forum, just before the elegant entryway into the royal residence. The two opposing rows of giant columns were made of solid black onyx and rose to a height of one hundred feet. Each gleaming monolith was capped with a solid gold capital; atop each capital stood a marble likeness of a past emperor.
Walking among the massive columns always gave Julia a profound sense of history and sometimes made her feel insignificant, despite her important role as the reigning Femiculi. On reaching the final column she looked up to see Vespasian’s likeness shining in the midday sun. Purposely avoiding the guarded entryway to the palace, she turned right and walked on.
Soon she arrived at her destination. The Hall of Antiquity held a special place in the hearts of all true Rustannicans, from the most highborn krithian to the lowliest phrygian street beggar. Skeens were denied entry, even when accompanied by their owners. Pausing for a moment, Julia took in the impressive structure.
The building stood four stories high, each level boasting an ornate recessed archway every forty feet. Within each archway stood a marble likeness of an important figure from Rustannican history. People known for their contributions to the military, the arts, and the Vagaries were represented, along with members of previous royal families. More statues lined the flat rooftop.
One hundred stone steps led the visitor first to a broad landing, then up a narrower stairway to the huge columned entrance. Manicured cypress trees and thousands of colorful flowers adorned the grounds on either side. The battle frieze carved into the triangular pediment represented the famous Rustannican victory at Aegates, a onetime Shashidan city lying far to the south. Julia started the trek upward, eventually finding herself atop the last landing and among the massive fluted columns.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, she walked over to the huge sundial standing on the terrace. She was surprised to see how late it had become; she must not dally. As she smoothly turned to enter the building, armed centurions guarding the massive oak doors bowed to the Femiculi.
As she entered the great foyer, imposing works of art and artifacts of Rustannican history came into view. Despite their great number, they were only a smattering of what lay deeper within. Striding across the foyer, she stopped for a moment and looked around.
The Hall of An
tiquity was both an art museum and a monument dedicated to the glories of the empire’s war machine. Many of its hundreds of exhibition rooms were filled with Rustannican paintings, sculptures, and tapestries, some of them aeons old. Other rooms devoted to the history of the Rustannican military exhibited ancient battle charts, war machines and weapons, tributes to past leaders, uniforms, and spoils from Shashida. Coming here to learn about Rustannican culture and the empire’s war machine was a required part of every krithian, hematite, and phrygian schoolchild’s education. As the children were escorted through the place by their teachers, the war displays sowed the seeds of a military career-a sentiment that thePon Q’tar did nothing to discourage.
From the grand foyer ran seven hallways, each named for one of Ellistium’s seven hills and leading to a different series of exhibition rooms. Sheathed in gleaming white alabaster and blue marble, the foyer atrium reached all the way to the roof, where skylights let the afternoon sun stream in. In the event of rain, shutters could be pulled across the skylights to protect the priceless exhibits.
The hall was busy today with a high number of visitors and several gaggles of noisy schoolchildren being escorted by their ever-watchful teachers, their eager voices and quick footfalls echoing loudly against the marble floor and walls. Without exception, everyone who crossed Julia’s path stopped to bow and pay heartfelt respects. To keep from being further delayed, she politely circumvented another approaching group of visitors and made for one of the gleaming hallways, then quickly climbed another flight of stairs.
Reaching the second floor, she turned and walked up the first hallway on her right and into one of the many exhibition rooms. She took her usual seat on a marble bench across from a wall covered with paintings. There were few people about just now, and that suited her purpose. Opening her leather valise, she withdrew her sketchpad and her colored chalks, then placed the valise on the floor.
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