by William King
“Plague and genocide,” she said.
“What?” Tamara was too startled to show the proper forms of respect.
“Plague and genocide. It has already begun. His sorcerers are spreading a new disease, one that kills humans and brings them back as walking dead.”
“That is madness. I have seen these walking dead. They are monsters — a threat to everyone.”
“He has the means to control them. The magic will be invoked soon. The plague is merely the first phase of his plan.”
“How can they do this? Such sorcery was possible on the home world but not here. Or so I was always led to believe.”
“Things have changed. In the vaults beneath this Palace, Xephan has placed an artefact. The Black Mirror. It can be used to draw on the powers that swirl in the voids between worlds. I have seen something like it before.”
“What would that be, your Majesty?”
“It reminds me of the Angel’s gateways we used to walk between worlds. I suspect it is something similar to them.”
Tamara schooled her features to blandness. Was it possible that the Black Mirror was more than simply a way to communicate with Al’Terra? Was it really a gateway? Asea was supposed to have closed the way behind them- what if someone had found a way to re-open it? Her father had always claimed it was possible. There were other things to think about here as well. She considered what she had seen and heard on her journey. She thought of things her father had told her about the wars of Al’Terra.
“Plague is a two-edged weapon.”
“I said that already.”
“What if it strikes down the Terrarchs?”
“Xephan assures me it cannot. We are immune. It affects only humans.”
“What about our humans? What about our serfs?”
“He claims he has the means of protecting them.”
“What if he is wrong?”
“Yes, indeed, Tamara, what if he is wrong? What if the plague claims all our property?”
“You have put this to him,” Tamara asked then remembered to add, “Majesty.”
“I have.” The Empress seemed reluctant to speak on.
“And?”
“And he said, better that all the humans die than our culture be submerged.”
Tamara looked out of the windows at the ships floating on the sea. They seemed tiny and unreal at this distance, toy ships on a pond. The people on the docks were mere insects. She reminded herself that they were not. They were living creatures. “What?”
“He is right, you know. About that at least. The humans breed too fast. They outnumber us a hundred to one already. In a few centuries it will be a thousand to one. They will have the numbers and the guns to overthrow us if a leader should emerge. Remember Koth?”
“What Terrarch could forget?”
“Imagine a Koth with an army ten times the size of the one he had and modern flintlocks instead of the old matchlocks.”
“Was that idea put to you by Xephan?”
The Empress paused for a moment and considered. “Yes. It was.”
“I wonder why? Did he say how he is going to protect our humans?”
“He has the sorcery.”
“What if he does not?”
“You are surely not suggesting that he would lie about that?”
“Let us consider the fact that he might. Can you imagine what would happen if word got out to the First Families, that we deliberately destroyed their stock of humans?” Tamara thought it better to include herself in that we, although she was sure that Arachne would understand who would really be blamed.
“Why would he do that? Xephan has as much to lose as the rest of us.”
“With all due respect, Majesty, I do not think that is the case. His family is old but it is not rich. I think he has always held a secret resentment against the First Families and this might be a way to destroy their power.” Tamara was making this up to discredit Xephan but even as she said it she saw that there was something to it. “Also if he could control the armies of the dead, he would command the greatest legion in the history of this world.”
This point too was not lost on the Empress. If the humans enjoyed a huge numerical advantage then the dead enjoyed a similar one, and they were considerably less troublesome to lead. “You think he seeks the throne?”
“I do not know, Majesty. It sounds like madness. Who would want to rule an Empire of walking corpses?” She stressed her words, making sure Arachne understood her meaning. Even if Xephan did not supplant her, she might end up the monarch of exactly such an Empire.
“That would not be how it would be,” said Arachne. “We all know that no plague is one hundred per cent fatal. There would be human survivors, their numbers reduced to a manageable level. We could start a breeding program and soon there would be no shortage of servants and farmhands. It would be like culling deer.”
Tamara fought to keep her mouth closed. Was that the only objection the Empress could see here-that there might be a temporary shortage of servants?
“You really have discussed this possibility with Xephan then?”
Arachne’s fists clenched. She looked shame-faced and angry. “Yes.”
Tamara pictured a repeated cycle of human population growth and control, of pogrom and plague and massacre. There was a certain demented logic to it, if you accepted the underlying premise that the whole of Terrarch civilisation was threatened. She could not keep the words from her lips or the scorn from her voice. “Is this what Terrarch civilisation means? Would an Empire that would do such a thing be worth protecting?”
“Xephan said that the weak would say such things. That ruthless decisions were necessary to save our world.”
“And do you agree with him?”
The Empress stood tall for a moment, and Tamara wondered if she had gone too far. She doubted that Arachne was used to being addressed in quite this fashion. The Empress reached out a hand, her fingers curled in threatening claws, and Tamara feared that she was going to try and rip her face, but then the Empress’s hands fell to her side, limp and powerless. Her voice was very soft. “No. I do not agree with him.”
She stood waiting, like a prisoner condemned, and it came to Tamara that perhaps Arachne suspected her of being Xephan’s agent after all, and that she would report this conversation to the sorcerer.
“Then what do you intend to do about it?”
“What can I do?”
“You are the Empress. You could denounce him or sack him.”
“I could end up dead, like my mother.”
“Xephan did not kill your mother. He was not even born when that happened.”
“Someone did. I used to think it was Asea. Now I am not so sure.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“I don’t know. I am simply no longer certain it was her.”
“Why?”
“Let us say I am no longer as naive as I was back then. Now I ask who benefited from splitting the Empire and placing me on the throne. Once I thought it was natural justice that people would want me there.”
Did the Empress really expect her to believe that? From her expression she apparently did. Perhaps it had really been that way, or perhaps it was now simply more convenient for the Empress to believe it was the case. Perhaps it had become necessary for her to rewrite history and forget her old hatreds. There was a long silence and the two of them stared at each other.
“What do you want from me, Majesty?” Tamara said, eventually.
“I want your help against Xephan.”
“You intend to oppose him then?”
“If I can. You must still have some contact with your father’s followers. Some of them will be loyal to you. Some of them might be able to help us against them.”
Once again Tamara felt her scalp prickling and a warning to be careful whispering in her mind. She did not feel at all easy with the way things were developing here. It occurred to her that the Empress and Xephan might be in league, and trying
to use her to ferret out any remnants of those who would oppose their plans.
“I do not know who would follow me, Majesty,” said Tamara.
“Then we must seek allies elsewhere.”
“I do not follow you.”
“We must let Asea and my sister know what is happening. Xephan must be stopped.”
Tamara was truly shocked. Arachne appeared completely sincere and reconciled to what she was saying.
“Even if they help it might cost you the Empire, majesty.”
Arachne’s face was bleak. “I have already lost the Empire. The only question remains is whether I will be a figurehead in whose name dreadful evil is worked. Much to my surprise I find that I am not prepared to be.”
“Even if means your death?”
“If the Light wills.” There was silence in the room then the Empress smiled sadly. “Of course, I am hoping for a somewhat different outcome. Do you think it would be possible to have Xephan killed? Your father used to be able to arrange such things.”
“It might be. But Xephan is a powerful sorcerer, and is bound to be well protected.”
“If it could be done subtly, it might be the best solution to our problem. A new treaty could always be made with my sister.”
In her heart Tamara wondered if that was really the case. The Taloreans had armies in Kharadrea now and were unlikely to withdraw them if simply asked. They had made too big a commitment of men and money to simply walk away. “Such a thing might be construed as weakness, Majesty.”
Arachne looked as if she had swallowed something sour, but she said, “You are right. Perhaps it would be best to deal with one problem at a time. First Xephan then the West.”
“Your Majesty is wise.”
“Thank you Tamara, and be assured if you will not find me ungrateful for your aid in these matters.”
Just like my father and Lord Xephan, thought Tamara, but she said, “I live to serve your Majesty. I live to serve.”
“Succeed at this and anything you ask, within reason, will be granted if it’s within my power.”
Tamara liked the way the Empress said within reason. It made her sound as if she meant it.
Chapter Thirteen
Tamara slumped down in the chair in her father’s old study, and let the servants bring her herbal tea. She wondered about what Arachne had told her, and whether she had been wise to agree to aid the Empress against Xephan. For all she knew the two were in league and this was a test that Tamara had failed. Her instincts told her otherwise. She believed that, at least as far as ridding herself of the Prime Minister was concerned, Arachne was sincere.
Tamara picked up Xephan’s letter and opened it, more for something to do with her hands than because she wanted to read it. As she suspected it was a summons, telling her to report to the Prime Minister’s Office tonight. It appeared he was sincere about initiating her into the mysteries of the Black Mirror, and she suspected that this was not for her own good. She very much doubted that she would walk away unchanged from that experience. Just the thought of looking into the Black Mirror and of becoming like Xephan and Rik and her father filled her with dread.
She forced those thoughts aside. There were other things to consider. If Xephan was to be killed she would most likely have to do it herself. The sorcerer would be too well-guarded for any one lacking her special talents to have a chance. If she were desperate she could go to his office as she had today and use a concealed weapon, but that would be an obvious assassination, and the Empress could not shield her from the legal consequences of murdering the Prime Minister, even if she wanted to. Tamara might find herself a convenient scapegoat, and the Empress might rid herself of two troublesome subjects at the same time.
Such a direct assault was the option of last resort anyway. Perhaps she could find a tool who would do the deed, a lover who could be convinced the Prime Minister had grievously wronged her and would act to avenge her honour, or some youth who could be goaded to murder in return for the promise of her favours. She had done such things before, but they took time, and were always uncertain and she seriously doubted that any normal mortal would be able to kill Xephan.
No, she would most definitely have to do this herself, if she was to do it all, and it would have to be done out of the public eye. She could not help but feel that time was running out.
The obvious time would be during the ritual of the Black Mirror. Xephan was not about to advertise his presence at a coven meeting and could hardly take Imperial troops along to act as his bodyguard. The disadvantage of this would be that the coven would be there, and would have enacted their own precautions.
She considered killing them all. There were methods that would work- a bagful of the pollen of the Black Lotus tossed into the ritual chamber might do the job. Then again, there would be people present whose support she might need herself. Still it was something worth considering.
A maid brought in some more tea and placed it on the table in front of her. Tamara dismissed her and took a sip. Many of the coven were first rate mages and would carry talismans of protection against poison or know spells to neutralise it. Xephan himself almost certainly would. A deadly drug might slow them but it would not kill them. She needed something swift and certain, and sure to work even against strong protective magic. That meant either a dire blade or truesilver.
They would be suspicious of either. A dire blade would register on wards or divinatory enchantments, and if she was searched a truesilver blade was sure to excite suspicion. They were not the sort of things that you brought to a ritual. The eddy currents caused by the presence of truesilver could disrupt sorcery or cause spells to go awry. These were things that might have catastrophic consequences when powerful magic was involved. And she would not be able to shadow-walk bearing a true silver weapon which might be a fatal disadvantage.
Poison might be useless and truesilver or magic weapons would tip off her targets. They would be shielded against most forms of inimical sorcery. Indeed most of them were better at it than she was. That left main force. She could kill Xephan, with her bare hands if need be. The question was whether she could overcome the rest of the coven and any guards they might have present. She doubted that they would use a Nerghul or a demon but you never knew.
And the whole process raised other questions. Killing Xephan would have consequences. Xephan’s followers would not forgive her for it, if they discovered she had done it, and they were powerful enemies with a very long reach. And Xephan would simply be replaced by someone most likely just as bad, and the Empress would be removed or cowed as before.
In reality Arachne was asking her to destroy the organisation her father had spent so long creating. She did not have much choice in the matter if the Brotherhood were serious about this scheme of killing all the humans. It was the sort of thing her father would have considered in the final days of his madness, and if for no other reason than that, Tamara would oppose it. Perhaps this was one of her father’s schemes and Xephan was merely implementing it. Just thinking about it made her flesh crawl.
She was a killer, pure and simple, but she killed quickly and cleanly and for a reason. The notion of indiscriminate slaughter on so massive a scale not only sickened her, it offended her. It was unworthy of the sophisticated Terrarch intellect. There was no art to it. It was a brutal, brute force solution, the sort of thing that her father would have expected from humans, not his peers, at least back when he had still been sane. She thought of the humans she had known, of her servants, and her lovers, and tried to imagine them as the walking dead. Even if Xephan could protect them, others just like them would die.
And for what — to keep alive the Terrarch dream of dominating a world? The cost was too high. It would break her own people in the end, the knowledge of what they had done, or what had been done in their name. It was one thing to cow a population into submission. It was another to slaughter them in their entirety.
The plan did have merits. She was prepared to admit that.
No doubt the human survivors would gain a new respect for the potency of Terrarch sorcery, and another thousand years of Terrarch rule would be guaranteed. But so much could go wrong. Maybe Xephan could not control the walking dead. Maybe the plague would cause the collapse of both nations, and the entire Terrarchy. The whole economy was based on human labour. They tilled the fields. They made the beds, and the clothes and the weapons. It was madness to think that animated corpses could be used as a substitute for skilled labour. If the plague ran out of control, Xephan was unleashing an age of barbarism for the Terrarchs as well as the humans. Surely he could see that?
Maybe Xephan was completely aware of what he was doing. Perhaps it was all part of his plan. In an age of chaos, the whole structure of Terrarch society could be overturned. They would be back in the days of the Conquest when it was the Terrarchs against the world. Maybe that was what he wanted, a rebirth, a renewal of the old ways, an end to decadence. She knew enough of him and his faction to know that such a thing might be possible. They were that ruthless, and wanted to see a return to the ancient martial virtues of the Terrarchy.
There was the Black Mirror to consider — what if the Brotherhood had found a way to open the Gates to Al’Terra? It would not be long before the Princes of Shadow were among them once more. If they weren’t already. It was not a thought that bore considering. Perhaps all of this was merely to pave the way for the Enlightened Ones.
In any case, she had decided to oppose Xephan, as much because he was her rival, as because she considered his plan insane. If she wanted to take on her father’s mantle and stake out a place for herself in the hierarchy of the Empire, Xephan would need to be removed. The only question remained was how she was going to do it.
The best time to strike would be tonight. He had summoned her to his office. It was the place where he would feel most secure. There would be guards outside but she doubted that there would be anyone with him. He would want to discuss Brotherhood business with her in private — she was probably never going to get another chance like this. She did not want to look into the Black Mirror and if she refused, she would instantly come under suspicion.