“I am the Keeper of Truth!” Ch’drei Tsi-Auruun, Keeper of the Iblisi, stood uncomfortably bent over in the column of light cast down from the circle in the domed ceiling of the Modalis chamber in Majority House. “This council knows well my calling is defined by the Will of the Emperor and I answer to his authority alone. I have come here in my capacity as Keeper for the purpose of ascertaining that truth—certainly not to be lectured or questioned by a spear-carrier whose discipline rankings at the Vash Squires Academy were the worst of his class!”
Ch’dak Vaijan, Minister of Law stifled a laugh as Liau Nyenjei, the Minister of Thought, coughed nervously from his seat across the rotunda.
Sjei pushed himself back against the chair in frustration.
“Perhaps,” came the smooth, lilting voice to Sjei’s left, “the Keeper could enlighten us with that which she does not know.”
Sjei turned in the shadows bathing his throne to look at Shebin even as Ch’drei turned in the light to do likewise. Shebin had taken to her role on the Modalis council with relish and, Sjei had to admit, the young woman had a flair for intrigue. Her placement next to the Emperor was invaluable to the Modalis but Sjei could not lose the feeling that she was no longer under anyone’s control—perhaps even her own.
“Shebin, favored daughter of the Emperor,” Ch’drei bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment. “It is what we do not know that we fear the most—especially regarding the war being undertaken in your most illustrious name. We do not know what has become of the north. We have lost all contact with any of our Quorums operating in conjunction with your Army of Shebin’s Vengeance. Indeed, we have had no communication with any of our order in Tjarlas nor any point beyond, either in the Eastern Provinces or those to the north. Ghenetar Omris Shurian, have you had any word from Praetus Betjarian?”
“No,” Sjei grumbled.
“Nor from any of his command?” Ch’drei asked.
“We have had no word from anyone in Tjarlas,” Sjei acknowledged. “In truth, we were desiring your aid in contacting them.”
“Restoring contact is the province of the Occuran, I believe. Is that not right, Master Xiuchi?” Ch’drei said.
“We cannot reestablish the fold in Tjarlas,” Kyori-Xiuchi said, clearing his throat. “Our attempts to do so have met with repeated failure over the last three days. Worse, the flow of Aether from the Northern Provinces and the Aether farms in Ephindria as well as the Southern Steppes has stopped altogether. We are having to draw more Aether from the Western Provinces as well as the Southern Reaches. I feel sure this is just a temporary problem…”
“A temporary problem quite like the ‘temporary problem’ that obliterated our northern armies by these Drakis Rebels before,” Sjei said, his voice raised. The elven warrior was frustrated and angry. There was a strange feeling in Rhonas Chas, a perceptible tension that made the skin on the back of his pointed skull itch. “We lost a Legion then—are we about to lose an army now?”
“We need to send for the southern Legions at once!” said Arikasi Tjen-soi. Sjei could hear anxiousness in the Minister of Occupation’s quivering voice. “Bring them north into the capital as a precaution.”
“And leave our southern borders open to Lyrania?” Sjei scoffed. “Even if we did strip the southern defenses it would take them a week just to arrive. By then, whatever this problem is may well have been resolved and we will have left the defenses of the Empire in complete disarray!”
“The honored Ghenetar of the Vash knows well that there is but a single Legion garrison in Rhonas Chas—only one,” Arikasi responded with such vehemence that spittle flew from between his sharp teeth. “Everything else was committed to the north!”
“They are still there, I tell you!”
“Where? You don’t even know where they are…”
“There is no point in this endless speculation,” said Ch’dak Vaijan. The normally calm Minister of Law made his own frustration evident as his raised voice echoed through the round hall. “We need truth—not wild imaginings! I thought that was the purpose in speaking with the Keeper today. We cannot act on fantasies and pretend our decisions are wise. If the Keeper will indulge us a bit longer, we might secure her aid and that of her most capable Order in determining the truth which all of us so desperately…”
The large doors to the rotunda banged open, slamming against the walls so loudly that it startled everyone in the room.
“By Mnearis’ Cloak!” Sjei swore, leaping to his feet. “Who dares disturb the deliberations of this council?”
An Iblisi Indexia ran unceremoniously into the shadowy hall. She completely ignored Sjei’s demand as she rushed across the polished stone floor directly toward the amazed Keeper. The Indexia came to a stuttering halt and leaned over at once to speak into the Keeper’s ear.
Ch’drei suddenly straightened her back in surprise, staring with her flat, black eyes at the Indexia before her. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, Keeper,” the Indexia replied. “They await you now.”
Ch’drei turned to address the shadows that surrounded her in the hall. “Councillors of the Modalis—citizens of Rhonas all—I must beg your leave on a matter of—of some urgency.”
“Our deliberations have not been concluded, Keeper Ch’drei,” Sjei said, his black eyes narrowing.
“The council asked for truth from the north,” Ch’drei responded. “And when I return, I may have what you ask.”
Ch’drei Tsi-Auruun sat on her throne beneath the low ceiling of her audience hall, her long, bony fingers moving anxiously along the shaft of the Baton Seal of the Iblisi Keeper.
It started here, she thought. It seems like a lifetime since I sent him on this chase. Here we are safely beneath the ground, but we are not nearly so deep as he will soon be, nor so safely hidden from the world above along with all the other truths entombed here. How sad that it must end this way.
The double doors at the end of the low, onyx hall opened.
Ch’drei lifted her head.
K’yeran Tsi-M’harul strode into the hall. The Inquisitor confidently swung her Matei staff as she approached. Her robes were still covered in ash and soot and torn in several places but she held her head high.
Ch’drei barely noticed her.
It was the bent and shackled figure behind the confident elf woman that held the Keeper’s fixed gaze.
“Soen, my son,” Ch’drei sighed.
Soen shambled into the hall. He no longer had his Matei staff. His robes were faded and filthy, ragged in places. His gaze was fixed toward the floor as he approached.
K’yeran stopped before the throne of the Keeper, standing straight and proud. At last, Soen arrived beside the Inquisitor, still not having raised his eyes to face the Keeper.
The doors to the audience chamber closed at the back of the hall.
“You have done well, K’yeran,” Ch’drei said quietly, her eyes still fixed on Soen.
“No, Keeper, I have not. I have failed you entirely,” K’yeran answered. She turned to Soen. “Will you be all right?”
Soen rose up, a sly grin forming over his sharp teeth. “I believe I have never been better, K’yeran. Thank you.”
The shackles instantly vanished from Soen’s wrists and ankles.
Ch’drei stood in a rush with unexpected agility for an elf of advanced age. She raised the Baton at once, aiming it squarely at Soen’s chest.
Nothing happened.
The complete absence of the deadly Aether discharge was more shocking to the Keeper than if the bolt had found its mark. She staggered backward, falling onto her throne.
“K’yeran,” Soen said with offhanded confidence. “Would you mind leaving the Keeper and me alone now? We have so much to catch up on.”
“Of course, Soen,” K’yeran replied, casting a glance toward Ch’drei. “As it turns out, I have business to attend to. I’ll just leave you two alone.”
K’yeran turned and, with quick strides, moved back toward the entranc
e to the hall.
“Oh, K’yeran?” Soen called over his shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Please see to it that we are not disturbed,” Soen smiled, his eyes fixed on the astonished Keeper.
“By your will,” K’yeran replied, slipping between the doors and pulling them closed behind her.
Ch’drei blinked, her blank black eyes shining. The lips that curled back from her sharp teeth were quivering.
“I’m home,” Soen said in lusterless tones. “Miss me?”
“Soen,” Ch’drei began. “My son…I…”
“Getting in was, of course, the easy part,” Soen said, stepping over to the nearest of the wide pillars supporting the low, stone ceiling. He leaned back against it, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. “I mean, when all of the Iblisi Order has been tasked to bring you in, who would question when one of their own Inquisitors showed up with the very elf everyone wanted captured. No, the difficult part was in contriving the time to drain that charmingly powerful artifact in your hands of all its power before you decided to use it.”
“The shackles,” Ch’drei nodded as she turned the now useless Seal in her hands. “The slow, beaten walk to my throne.”
“I knew you would appreciate the performance.” Soen shrugged.
“I should have killed you the moment you entered the room,” Ch’drei said, shaking her long, pinched head.
“How sentimental of you not to,” Soen sighed.
“You have done it, my son,” Ch’drei said, looking up from her throne. There was relief in her aged features, as though a great burden had been lifted from her. “I had always hoped it would be you.”
“Indeed?”
“I sent the best after you,” Ch’drei said with genuine admiration. “And you survived every test, every hunter. You’ve proven yourself, my son. You are worthy of this chair.”
“Ah, my dear Ch’drei,” Soen smiled. “Why would I want to pull the chair out from beneath you?”
Ch’drei’s eyes narrowed. “You are surprising as always, Soen. What do you want?”
“What I have always wanted,” Soen replied. “What you said you wanted; not to save the Empire—which we both know is going to fall—but to determine that the fall happens in a way that will benefit us both.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Ch’drei asked quietly.
Soen cocked his head to one side. “By taking the Emperor’s place.”
“With just that much ease?” Ch’drei said, arching her thin brows.
“Well, I could use a little assistance in the matter,” Soen acknowledged. “In particular, your assistance.”
“Indeed?” Ch’drei turned the now powerless Seal over in her hands. “And what assistance would that be?”
“Why, nothing at all,” Soen said.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Soen continued, stepping away from the column and approaching Ch’drei on her throne. “In fact, I insist on you doing nothing. Recall every member of the Iblisi—every Assesia, every Indexia and especially every Inquisitor located in and around Rhonas Chas into the Keep before nightfall tonight. You will barricade the members of our Order in here, answer no summons no matter who issues it, and remain here—in the Keep doing nothing—until I send word for you to come to the Imperial Palace.”
“And just what will be happening while I do nothing?” Ch’drei asked.
“Rhonas Chas will be under siege by Drakis’ Army of Rebellion,” Soen replied in tones so matter-of-fact that Ch’drei thought for a moment she might have misunderstood him. “They will arrive before morning, through folds they will open on the outskirts of the city. Their Legions suffered in the fall of Tjarlas but their victory has brought the Chaenandrians into this rebellion on their side. They are a reinforced army of more than five Legions, with magic that nearly matches our own, and dragons.”
“Tjarlas fell?” Ch’drei gaped.
“It is a burning ruin,” Soen nodded. “The Aether from the Northreach and Southern Ephindria has been usurped by the rebellion for their own use. This Drakis Army slipped behind the northbound Legions and cut them off. Xhu’chan’s Army of Shebin’s Vengeance have no folds to transport them back to defend Rhonas Chas and no other armies can reach us before Drakis’ forces are at our gates.”
Ch’drei’s eyes widened. “How can you stop this?”
“I can’t. Nothing can stop them now,” Soen said, stepping up to the Keeper’s throne. “But I will arrange it so that I will take the Emperor’s place, make it appear to be a victory for the rebellion, and that I have taken the government in the name of Drakis.”
Ch’drei raised her bony chin. “Won’t this ‘Drakis’ have something to say about this?”
“Not much, I think,” Soen answered with a nod. “You see, he’ll be dead.”
“Ah,” Ch’drei sighed.
“Every great cause deserves a martyr,” Soen said. “Don’t you agree? Besides, Drakis is what holds this rabble together. Without him, who will they follow? Their rebellion will fall apart amid petty squabbles…”
“…And we will still be here,” Ch’drei finished.
“And we will still be here,” Soen agreed.
Ch’drei considered Soen’s plan in silence. It was dangerous but if it failed, she could already think of a number of ways her absence could be explained to the Imperial Court—especially if the city were under siege. Furthermore, if Soen’s plan failed and the rebellion succeeded in taking the capital city, she might be able to strike a bargain with the invaders based on her Order’s refusing to resist them during the battle.
But if Soen succeeded, her Order would take control of the Empire. She decided in that moment that if Soen were to succeed, she would have to do more than nothing.
“Soen,” Ch’drei said, rising from her throne. “Come with me, my son. If you are to be Emperor, there is one last truth that you will need to know.”
CHAPTER 34
So Far to Fall
“SHEBIN, AWAKE.”
“Go away,” murmured Shebin Sha-Rhonas, daughter of the Empire. She kept her eyes closed tightly in the hopes that the lovely dream she had been having would continue. “It is too early.”
“No, Shebin,” insisted the female voice. “It is too late.”
Shebin groaned, feeling the ire rise with her consciousness. Whoever was responsible—and for that matter any number who weren’t responsible—were going to suffer for their presumptuous inconvenience to her sleep. She pushed herself up from the warm comfort of her bed, turning to glare at the first chambermaid to come into sight. “I left no instructions to be disturbed! I am the Emperor’s chosen daughter and will not be treated in this insolent manner by…!”
She stopped her rant short, disappointed as she sat up in her bed. The elegant bedchamber with its arching panels of interlacing petals shaped from white coral that surrounded her was devoid of the usual bevy of servant girls that she demanded rush to her first call each morning. The pale, delicately carved doors on either side with their opal windows remained shut. The enormous bed, finished to a gleaming white, floated above the polished floor—an avatria in miniature—but no servants, anxious or otherwise, pressed against it.
The dark, hooded shape of a woman in a black robe stood in silhouette against the brilliant morning light streaming into the bedchamber from the sitting room beyond. The curtains to the balcony were open, allowing the dawn to intrude around the standing figure that held a Matei staff in her hand.
Shebin suddenly felt her head pounding. She had been somewhere the night before—she could not remember where or with whom just at the moment—but she knew of a certainty that she needed more sleep. The pounding was distracting. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“My name is K’yeran Tsi-M’harul,” the woman said, pushing back her hood. “I am an Inquisitor of the Iblisi.”
“I can see that by that dreary robe you’re wearing,” Shebin answered, rubbing her bony hand down her pi
nched face, hoping it would help the pounding go away. “What are you doing here? Who let you into my presence?”
“I let myself in,” K’yeran answered, “but that is not important. Why I have come is to save your life.”
“My life?” Shebin sneered in disbelief. “The Guardians of the Imperial Palace are tasked with my protection!”
“And yet I stand here in your bedchamber,” K’yeran observed. “You must dress quickly, Shebin, and come with me if you wish to live.”
Shebin realized that the pounding was not coming from within her head. It was coming from beyond the sitting room, beyond the balcony overlooking the Imperial City.
Shebin slid out of her bed, snatching a robe from where it lay draped over a chair next to one of the doors. She pulled it over her gaunt shoulders as she rushed past K’yeran. Modesty did not come naturally to her but politics did: appearing on a veranda of the Cloud Palace of the Emperor unclothed would be to invite trouble. She barely managed to tie the robe closed before stepping onto the balcony.
Shebin caught her breath.
Her apartment was situated on the northwestern side of the Cloud Palace, affording her an extraordinary view of the Imperial City. The Vira Rhonas, curving slightly to the north from the Garden of Kuchen directly below her was clogged with elves and their slaves, the roar of their shouts and screams coming like the crashing of waves up to her. The mob shifted and moved like wheat stalks or the surface of a pond in a wind, all desperately pressing toward the south. Through the avatria she caught glimpses of the Paz Vitratjen and Paz Rhambutai, both of their plazas choked with frantic people as well. God’s Bridge to the Isle of the Gods across the River Jolnar was crammed with desperate citizens as well.
The reason was obvious. Flashes of light broke against the city wall to the north of the Guild Quarter. The muffled pounding of their impact came to her a few seconds later. Several columns of smoke were rising from fires within the city this side of the Jolnar River.
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