The Strength to Serve (Echoes of Imara Book 3)

by Claire Frank

  Griff crossed his arms, his face serious. “Are you going to tell us what this artifact is?”

  She sighed. The fewer people that knew, the better, but she couldn’t ask for their help and keep them in the dark. “It was the piece of Arcstone that Nihil used in his experiments.”

  Serv’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as Griff sputtered and coughed. “The Arcstone that he used on Daro? Does Daro know about this?”

  “No, he’s in Thaya with Alastair, and I don’t expect him back for a few more weeks. Perhaps I should have told him, but it would only have worried him. He’s been doing so well, I didn’t want to burden him with this now.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to be around when you tell him,” Griff said. “The best thing to do is find the cursed thing before he gets back and make sure it’s in the hands of the Paragon, where it’s safe.”

  “I don’t know if I really trust the Paragon with this,” Cecily said. “I think he’s been trying to use it. Not the way Nihil did, but I don’t believe the Lyceum would have the stone and not try to figure out what else it can do.”

  “If you don’t trust the Paragon, what are you going to do with it if you find it?” Serv asked.

  “To be honest, I don’t know,” Cecily said. “Maybe the Paragon is right and it should be in the hands of the Lyceum.”

  “Well, we have to find it first,” Griff said, tucking his thumbs into his belt. “I suppose we assume you’re right and Velin had the stone, but put it somewhere called the forty-fifth. We need to figure out what that meant.”

  Cecily walked over to the table and pulled out a blank scrap of paper. She pulled an inkpot close, dipped a quill, and began to write.

  “What’s that all about?” Griff asked.

  “We can start searching the city,” she said as she wrote, “but I’m sending for Merrick. He needs to know about those Attalonians that attacked your caravan, anyway. And what’s the good of knowing the best tracker in the kingdom if you don’t ask for his help?”

  24. BANDS OF GOLD

  As she lounged against a thick pillow, Isley ran her fingers along the smooth gold bands that adorned her wrists. Horadrus had finally removed the black gauntlets from her forearms, but had replaced them with thinner circlets of gold, similar to what he wore. They bit into her skin the way the gauntlets had, and were painful for the first few days, but they were a vast improvement over the horrid black shackles.

  Her Wielding, however, was still suppressed, and she had an unnerving feeling that the bands gave the Emperor some degree of control over her. She’d felt it in his wintery garden when he’d touched her belly. It might have been fear that held her still, rendering her unable to pull away, but she suspected there was more. All too often she felt helpless in his presence, as if she would do anything he asked of her. It wasn’t a comfortable sensation.

  Brynn entered her chamber and handed her a goblet, the outside glistening with condensation. The woman nodded and stepped back a few paces, as Isley sipped the chilled wine, noting it was quite diluted with water.

  “Is there more you require?” Brynn asked.

  “No, that will be all,” Isley said.

  Brynn nodded, but hesitated near the half open door. Isley’s new chamber was far larger than her old cell, and filled with proper furniture. After her encounter with Horadrus in his wintery room, he’d moved her. No longer kept behind a locked door, she was able to roam more or less freely through the rooms of the palace. There were certain corridors that were barred to her, with guards posted who would not let her past, but she decided not to concern herself with them. When she chose to leave, she would find a way out.

  “What did the midwife say?” Brynn asked.

  Isley sighed and looked at her fingers. They were still swollen, and she positively cringed whenever she saw her own ankles. “Infernal woman. She said the baby has at least one more cycle of the moon before he will be ready.”

  Brynn stared at her with her mouth slightly open, as if she meant to speak.

  Isley took another sip of wine and looked at Brynn over the rim of her goblet. “Why do you stare?” she asked.

  The serving woman blinked and looked away. “It is just ... I think I see who you really are. I did not believe the others when they spoke, but now I see you and I think perhaps they are right.”

  What does she know? What can she see?

  “Quiet,” Isley said, then looked back to Brynn. “What sort of nonsense are you talking? Who is right?”

  Brynn took tentative steps into the room, her eyes wide. “The other servants. They see you with His Eminence and, at first, wondered why. You are shielded,” she said, pointing to Isley’s wrists, then holding up her own. Like all the servants, she had similar gold bands on her forearms. Isley had assumed they were a sign of her place of servitude in the Emperor’s household.

  “Wait,” Isley said and held up a hand. “You are a Wielder?”

  Brynn lowered her eyes. “To my family’s great shame.”

  “What sort of Wielder are you?” Isley asked.

  “We cannot speak of such things,” Brynn said, her voice a harsh whisper. “It is forbidden.”

  Isley stared at her. Everyone she saw in the palace, from the servants to the guards, all wore gold bands or black gauntlets. Were they all Wielders? Did the Emperor surround himself with them?

  “How did you come to be here, then?” Isley asked.

  Brynn swallowed and looked away, as if unsure. “When my parents realized what I was, they notified the proper authorities. I was taken and locked away for a time before I was tested. They had to be certain. Eventually, I was brought here and I have been here since. I don’t remember anything else. I was very young.”

  “Surely he doesn’t bring all the Wielders in Attalon here?” Isley said.

  “No, of course not. Most are subject to the Guild. They live and work under a Guild Leader, if their power can be controlled. If not….” Brynn trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

  Isley sat back against her cushions. It was a disconcerting thought, the way the Emperor treated Wielders, but she knew it wasn’t something she need concern herself with. He would care for her and her baby.

  The child will burn with power.

  “Are you a soothsayer now?” Isley asked.

  “Excuse me, I do not understand,” Brynn said.

  Isley waved a hand. “No, not you.”

  He has a secret.

  Rolling her eyes, Isley sighed. “You tell me that at least once a day. If you are going to interrupt my conversations, at least tell me something useful.” She saw Brynn’s eyes widen; Brynn opened her mouth as if to speak, but Isley cut her off. “What absurdity were you babbling about before?”

  “Who do you speak with?” Brynn asked.

  Isley paused. “That’s none of your concern.”

  “I’m sorry, I should not have said anything,” Brynn said. “There has been talk, that you are not what you appear. I told them they were wrong, but today they showed me why they say this, and now I wonder if it is true.”

  “You need to explain to me what you are talking about,” Isley said, not bothering to mask her exasperation.

  “I will show you,” Brynn said.

  Isley stood, feeling more awkward than ever, and followed Brynn from her chambers. They walked down the hallway, turning several times, leaving Isley to wonder how Brynn managed to navigate her way through the maze of doors and corridors. They went through an unguarded door and emerged outside on a wide rooftop balcony.

  “This is beautiful,” Isley said as she wandered out onto the path. Ceramic planters spilled fragrant pink blossoms, and a carefully trimmed hedge bordered the outer wall. A row of statues lined the middle, a set of eleven figures carved from marble. They were about half the size of a person, but crafted in lifelike detail. Isley almost expected one to turn and speak to her.

  “What are these?” Isley asked, gesturing to the statues.

  “The
Deities,” Brynn said.

  Something tickled Isley’s memory. Halthians revered twelve gods and goddesses. Isley herself had never been terribly religious and she didn’t suppose most Halthians took it very seriously, but perhaps these statues represented some of the same figures.

  “This is lovely, but I don’t understand what this has to do with me or what the other servants are saying about me,” Isley said.

  “Look,” Brynn said, and gestured her toward the statue at the end.

  It was facing out toward the edge of the balcony, so Isley walked around to look at it from the front. Its belly swelled as if it were with child, the rest of its body curvaceous. Long hair hung down its back and its face was turned up slightly, as if it lifted its chin in defiance. Like the rest of the statues, the features of its face were sculpted with exquisite detail, giving it an incredibly realistic appearance.

  “Do you see?” Brynn whispered.

  “What am I supposed to see?” Isley said, her voice sharp with annoyance. Was the woman making a jest, showing her this depiction of a heavily pregnant woman to mock her? But as Isley’s eyes traveled up to the figure’s face again, something dawned on her. Even without the rounded belly, the statue bore a striking likeness to herself.

  We can use this.

  “Of course we can,” Isley said as she tilted her head to regard the statue a moment longer. “How very interesting.”

  “His Eminence shows you great favor and speaks of the child as his own,” Brynn said, her words tumbling out with increasing quickness. “When you came here, I did not realize you bore the Emperor’s heir. I could not have known. I only did my duty as was asked of me, I swear it. I apologize if I have offended you, Your Grace. I did not know you were Aniya returned to us. I did not know you were the Reinara.”

  As Brynn sank to her knees and bowed, Isley curled her lips in a smile. The servants believed her a goddess? She certainly wouldn’t cure them of that delusion. The beginnings of a plan began to unfold in her mind and she realized she’d been missing this for weeks. The servants were treating her with an increasing degree of deference that she hadn’t been able to explain, except to assume it was due to the amount of time she spent with the Emperor. But this was far more interesting. She might not have access to her Wielding ability, but if they believed her divine, she’d hardly need it.

  “Rise,” she said to Brynn as she walked past her prone form. “I need to see His Eminence.”

  ***

  The Emperor’s voice rumbled through the circular chamber. Isley loved his voice, so deep and sonorous. Her body responded to his presence, making his lack of interest in her that much more frustrating. She let her eyes drift closed as she waited, imagining his large hands touching her, his breath hot against her neck.

  He doesn’t love you.

  Flicking her eyes open, she gasped as if waking from a dream. Her cheeks felt warm and she chided herself for letting her mind run away with such a fantasy. “He will,” she said under her breath.

  Brynn glanced at her, but quickly averted her eyes. Isley gazed at Brynn, whose shape was disguised by the formless beige dress she always wore. Isley had thought about finding a suitable guardsman to help satisfy her desires, but Brynn might do nicely as well. A woman might be more pleasing to Horadrus, less likely to arouse his jealousy. Of course, arousing jealousy was a very effective way to gain the attention of a man, but Horadrus was no ordinary man, not by any stretch of the imagination. Thus far he had proven to be impervious to her manipulations, and her frustration was only heightened by her body’s intense physical desires.

  The Emperor’s voice continued speaking, but Isley let the words drift past. He often spoke with his generals or councilors. It seemed to her that he did very little of the actual ruling of the Empire, leaving most of the day-to-day duties to others. He certainly never seemed to leave his palace. While she couldn’t be sure, she had the distinct impression that he had not left these walls in a very long time.

  If the servants believed her to be some sort of divine incarnation, it would certainly secure her perceived role as the Emperor’s consort. She needed to find a way for him to allow her into his bedchamber in view of the servants. Whether or not he took her into his bed was another matter. As wildly as she wished for that, the greater problem was positioning herself as a person of power, not simply another of his Wielders on display. Already he treated her differently, acquiescing to her requests and allowing her a freedom the others did not enjoy; he certainly did not use her as a servant. No wonder the others thought her something special. She was, naturally, even if their reasons for believing it so weren’t precisely accurate.

  Footsteps echoed off the tall ceiling, indicating the petitioner was leaving. Isley didn’t wait for Brynn to lead her into the room, forging in ahead as if she had every right to enter the Emperor’s presence at her whim. The baby kicked, and Isley ran her hand down her belly as she came before Horadrus, intending to call his attention to the baby that fascinated him so.

  General Gwinele stood beside his throne, as she often did, and glared openly at Isley.

  “What is this thing doing here?” Gwinele asked.

  Horadrus lifted his hand. “Isley bears my heir. It pleases me to see her.”

  Gwinele’s eyes widened and she lowered her voice as if to speak privately, although Isley could hear every word. “Your heir? Your Eminence, I don’t understand.”

  “This is not something you need worry over,” Horadrus said. “Our course remains the same. However, as much as it may seem otherwise, I will not live forever. Even now, my body grows weary. I can feel the long years stretched out behind me, the countless generations who have lived and died during my time in this world. For many years, I have considered this. The child is a remarkable being. He will grow under my tutelage and be taught the truth. He will continue the work I have painstakingly pursued, when someday I must depart.”

  Gwinele’s face was hard as she stared at Isley. “Please, Eminence, it is not my place to criticize, but will not the child be that which we seek to control? He will be the child of two Wielders of terrifying power. I’m afraid I must make my protest known. We never should have let this one live, nor her mate. To allow the child to live—I simply cannot abide such a thing. This baby will be a danger to us all. How can he possibly be your heir?”

  Isley’s anger flared and she stepped forward, her hands clenched. She would rip that woman’s throat out with her bare hands if she had to. No one would threaten her child.

  As if her body was suddenly only partially within her control, Isley stopped. Horadrus held out a hand, his palm facing her, his face expressionless. She knew she could move if she tried hard enough, but somehow trying didn’t seem quite so important. Glancing away, she stepped backward, wondering why she had felt the need to hurt Gwinele. She blinked and looked around the room.

  “You see, General, there is no need for concern,” Horadrus said as he leaned back in his seat.

  “Will you do the same for the child?” Gwinele asked.

  “He will learn to do this for himself, as I do,” Horadrus said. “You understand the weight of the burden I carry, General. I’m afraid the child will inherit this hardship, but I will ensure he is well-equipped to bear it.”

  He will take the child.

  “No,” Isley said, her voice only a whisper. “He won’t.”

  He will. You know this.

  “He will care for us,” she said. The certainty with which she believed this struck her as odd. Why hadn’t she questioned what Horadrus would do with her baby once he was born? She looked up at the Emperor, still consulting with Gwinele. The familiar sense of awe washed over her and she held up her hands, looking at the bands clamped to her wrists. They dug into her skin, but she hadn’t protested when he had fitted them onto her. She had sat, like an obedient child, without the slightest thought of doing otherwise.

  The baby moved, and the air around Isley’s palms shimmered. It lasted less than a s
econd, but Isley was certain she had seen it. Looking up at Horadrus and his underling, she narrowed her eyes. They thought they had her well in hand, so she would let them continue with that belief. Now that she recognized the coercion pulling at her thoughts, she could work against it. It was strong, as forceful as her most potent Projections had ever been, but if she could feel it she could fight it. Her Wielding energy was still just out of reach, but she was having glimmers, tiny moments when she could taste her power. He had underestimated her, but she wouldn’t let him know yet. She would get her power back, and then perhaps the Emperor himself would believe she was the goddess Aniya returned.

  25. THAYA

  The cold wind tore at Daro’s cloak as he and Alastair rode up the hill. A small contingent of Halthian soldiers rode ahead and behind. They had crossed the Thayan border two days prior and descended from the mountain pass into the foothills beyond. The terrain was rocky and inhospitable, but the roads were in good repair and they’d been making good time.

  Alastair pulled his horse up next to Daro. “How long has it been since you were in Thaya?”

  “Probably the last time I was here with you,” Daro said. He and Alastair had worked as merchant guards together in their youth.

  Alastair laughed. “That was a long time ago. We were young men, then.”

  “I don’t suppose much has changed,” Daro said.

  “Not really,” Alastair said. “The alliances shift and land changes hands, but they operate the same as they ever have.”

  “Which means I should keep my mouth shut unless I’m spoken to, and let you do the talking,” Daro said with a sidelong glance.

  “Something like that,” Alastair said. “Remember, they’re expecting a great warrior. They want to see the man who defeated two Heoru in one battle, but we can’t discount what else might be going on beneath the surface. Thayans don’t often say what they really mean, and their code of honor is difficult to understand.”

  “They’ll want to know how Katalis was defeated,” Daro said. “He was altered; they wouldn’t have seen anything like him before. For that warlord to be willing to send Katalis into Halthian territory, he must have believed he was unbeatable.”