“He’s calling for us,” D’Naa said, growing more nervous as the other women tensed around her. “What now?”
“The herald will announce you one by one,” Shaad informed. “Just walk past the platform, pause in front of the Heir, and curtsey. Stay there until the emperor tells you to continue on. After that you’ll be taken to a tent a moderate distance from the courtyard, so you won’t be distracted by the rest of the ceremonies. You’re supposed to meditate or pray until the Emperor makes his choice.”
D’Naa tried to hide her nervousness as Alean, the gorgeous blonde High Aedin everyone thought would be chosen as Hern’s bride, was told to step forward.
“Just walk out, keep your head high, and don’t worry,” Shaad said soothingly. “You shouldn’t have to wait too long in the contemplation tent. The High Senator will conduct Senate business while the Emperor ponders his choices. Once the High Senator is done, Vaetayn will call you all back to stand before him. He’ll choose, then it will all be over.”
D’Naa nodded curtly, angered at her nervousness. You’re being foolish, she told herself. You’ve rebuilt cites after Harrmen raids, you’ve Bonded an Aether, and you’ve lived through harsh winters in the highlands. You can face a few arrogant Aedin.
The thoughts reassured her, though her nervousness didn’t leave completely. What woman wouldn’t be self-conscious in her position? She was able to keep her emotions in check, however—at least, she was able to do so right up until the moment when the herald called her name.
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Raeth watched the women with only passing interest. He had already gotten a very good look at them, and he was too distracted by his father’s words to focus on anything else. Had Vaetayn meant what he said? Was he actually proud of Raeth? Raeth had spent his entire life assuming the opposite.
“That’s the one for you, Darro,” Hern hissed from up ahead, quietly enough that the crowd wouldn’t be able to hear. Standing at the side of the podium with his father, Raeth could barely make out the words.
Raeth frowned, studying the woman bowing before Hern. The herald had announced her as Tae, first daughter of Senator Arasisae, head of the Ferrous Line. Raeth remembered her from earlier—she still wore the stiff, emotionless face of her kind, and was dressed in an enveloping dress whose neckline came all the way up to her chin.
“Yes, she’d be perfect,” Hern’s whispering continued. “Most women of the Ferrous line disapprove of alcohol. With her in the home, there’d be no parties with friends. Just her, you, and a bunch of Corpates to keep you company.”
Darro growled a muffled reply, but Raeth could tell that Hern’s comment had bothered him. Aedin men were heads of their Line, but the women were the heads of the home. Darro’s worst fear was that he’d end up with a wife that would insist he abandon his low-born friends and ways.
The High Aedin woman rose and moved on as the herald prepared to present the next woman.
“D’Naa,” the herald announced, “cousin to King Ala’D of Kavir.”
Raeth looked up with interest as the small, dark-haired woman stepped from the bride tent. She looked nervous, but no more so than the others had been. Appearing before the Emperor was an imposing event, even when one was accustomed to royalty.
The girl bore herself well, stepping with a hasty but determined step. Raeth smiled slightly as he watched her. She didn’t flow like the others did, but she didn’t need to. There was a strength to her stride instead—not a hard, masculine strength, but a firmness, a determination. They were emotions High Aedin women wouldn’t dare show, for they were too politically inappropriate for potential brides.
D’Naa didn’t look down as she walked, but stared straight ahead until she spun and dropped into a curtsey. Hern snickered quietly—an emotion shared by a disappointing number of the crowd’s people.
“What’s this?” Hern asked in a quiet voice. “The Kavir must be confused. They sent me a servant boy instead of a bride.”
Down below, Raeth could see the girl flush red with embarrassment. She could hear him. Raeth groaned quietly—after five years of living in the Irae, he’d almost forgotten what an idiot his brother could be.
“What a drab thing, she is,” Hern continued. “Of course, I hear the men of the highlands prefer sheep to women. If this is the best the nation has to offer, it’s no wonder.”
Raeth opened his mouth to say something, but a voice cut him off. “Hern!” Vaetayn snapped just quietly enough so that only those near to him would hear. “The time for childishness is over. Today you wed. You will either learn to hold your tongue or I swear by the Ancestors I will see the Heirship stripped from you.”
Hern snapped upright, his body growing stiff. Raeth could barely contain a smile. It appeared that Darro wasn’t the only one whose life would experience a drastic change after this day. Hern fell silent until Vaetayn dismissed the Kavir girl.
The next two women—Kallana, the Shorriken offering, and Nahan, the tall Mahallen beauty—passed without another word from Hern. The heir refused to meet their father’s eyes as he and Darro turned to take their seats with the Senators. Raeth joined them as the High Senator—Lord Laene, head of the Verdant Line—stepped forward to conduct yearly Senate business. Once he had finished, Several Vo-Dari would chant a special Ynaa to the Unremembered Ancestors, and then Darro would finally find out who his bride was.
Laene stepped up to the front of the platform, accompanied by several Shorriken scribes. Laene could almost be mistaken for a Shorriken; his hair had fallen out years ago and his height was below Aedin normal—though he made up for it in girth. His bearing, however, was completely Aedin. He began to read the first proclamation in a loud voice, reciting several of the more important Senate decisions that had occurred during the last year.
The sun had begun to set, but the Corpate lights were bright enough to illuminate the platform. Several Corpate heat-columns burned quietly around the perimeter of the courtyard as well, but Raeth doubted they would provide much warmth in such an open space.
“So, what do you think?” Darro asked quietly.
“About what?” Raeth asked.
“The brides,” Darro repeated. “Twins, I’m nervous! I should have gotten way more drunk for this.”
Raeth rolled his eyes. “I thought we had this discussion already.”
“Not really,” Darro corrected. “We just looked. Come on, who do you think I’ll end up with?”
Raeth shrugged, shooting a look at their father, who sat in his oversized throne-like chair at the right edge of the platform. “I really have no idea. He’ll probably choose Alean to marry Hern. We could use a strong link to the Verdant Line—especially if Laene has been making trouble in the Senate again.”
Darro frowned slightly, nodding. “He has—he never liked father. Twins! You’re probably right about Alean. It figures that Hern would end up with the best one.”
Raeth snorted, shooting a look at Hern a short distance away. His twin sat stiffly, and refused to turn and look at them. Not speaking to us? Raeth thought with amusement. I wish father would embarrass him more often.
“How do you know she’s the best one?” Raeth challenged. “Because she has a large chest?”
“That’s a factor, yes,” Darro said with a shrug. “Why? Which one do you like?”
Raeth shrugged. “How should I know? I’ve never met any of them.”
Darro rolled his eyes.
“Darro, I’m a Dari,” Raeth defended. “I’m supposed to ignore women.”
“You’re also a man. Come on, which one did you like?”
Raeth paused. “Well, if you have to know, I kind of thought the girl from Kavir was attractive.”
Darro sat quietly for a moment. “You’re serious?” he finally said.
Raeth sighed, leaning back. “Why do I even talk to you?”
“Because I’m cursed nervous, and anything that keeps my mind off of what’s happening is a blessing. You’re a Dari—you’re supposed to help peop
le.”
Raeth smiled slightly. “You need more help than I can give, brother.”
Darro smiled as well, though his nervousness didn’t leave, and he began to fidget as he watched Laene begin to hand out commendations to soldiers who had distinguished themselves in border clashes with the Harrmen. Raeth was more interested in his father, whose face seemed disturbed in the oncoming gloom. The shadows seemed to lengthen the wrinkles on his face, accenting the slight frown on his lips.
“He doesn’t like what’s coming next, does he?” Raeth asked, shivering slightly in the breeze. The sun was completely down, and the only light came from torches and Corpate light pillars.
“He spent months in the Senate fighting it,” Darro agreed quietly. “He almost won.”
“Who’s so important that the Emperor couldn’t even get him a pardon?” Raeth wondered.
Darro paused. “You don’t know?” he asked with surprise.
“I’ve spent the last four months locked in an alcove praying you a good wife, Darro,” Raeth informed. “I barely even know that the seasons changed.”
“It’s Shateen,” Darro said.
“Who?” Raeth asked, frowning slightly.
“You don’t know him,” Darro explained. “He was the new Shentis ambassador to the Imperium.”
Raeth froze in surprise. “We’re executing the Shentis ambassador?” he asked incredulously.
Darro nodded solemnly. “It’s the strangest thing, Raeth. He was caught buying children from orphanages.”
Raeth frowned. “What?” he asked with surprise. Even as he spoke, the crowd parted a short distance away, and several soldiers led a small group of men toward the dark pool in the center of the courtyard. “What did he want with the children?”
Darro didn’t reply immediately. Finally he just shrugged. “We don’t know. They just…disappeared. We think he sold them to Harrmen slavers. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about it—Shentis have been banned from Imperial lands. People are saying the old stories are true.”
Raeth shook his head. “I thought we were past the days of looking for demons under our beds. We have great relations with the Gol and the Viglix—I assumed the Shentis were next.”
“Raeth,” Darro said seriously, “he was buying children—and he’d been doing it for years, according to the owners of the orphanages. Can you really say you haven’t wondered about them? What if the Mahallen are right? What if they are demons?”
“The Mahallen think we’re demons too, because of the Aethers,” Raeth reminded. As he spoke, however, his eyes sought out the captive. He found a creature that looked like a man, but with blue-black skin. Not dark brown, like Seaborn from the islands to the south. Shentis skin looked more…bruised than it did tan, like the veins just beneath their skin had all burst. Legends and rumors about the Shentis abounded—most claiming that they were some kind of undead creature that fed off the souls of men. Raeth had always thought such myths nonsense.
He was buying children? Raeth thought with wonder.
“The Senate ordered his death,” Darro explained. “The Mahallen senators demanded it, and most of the other sub-kingdoms agreed with them. They weren’t happy when father let a Shentis ambassador back into Vae Annitor twenty years ago, and now they finally have proof for their claims.
Shateen was younger than Raeth had expected—the previous Shentis ambassador had been an old man. Suddenly, Raeth understood his father’s bad mood. The execution wasn’t just a distraction from the Bride Choosing, it was also a political defeat.
“Who’s the other man?” Raeth asked, nodding to a second prisoner—this one human—in the guards’ possession.
“A traitor,” Darro explained. “Once father conceded to allow the Shateen’s execution, they slipped a second one in. The man was caught selling strategic information to the Harrmen.”
Raeth nodded. There were usually only a couple of executions at Saedin every year, and the vast majority of them were traitors. A tribe of Harrmen had discovered several gold mines to the north, and their recent tactics—that of bribing Imperium soldiers—betrayed a dangerous change in their strategy.
The soldiers grabbed the human prisoner and led him struggling up a short stone walkway that extended a few feet over the pool.
“Kenet,” Laene announced to the crowd, “traitor to the Imperium. Sentenced to capitol execution after trial by an eighty-percent vote by the Senate.”
Eighty-percent, the minimum required for an execution. Laene nodded, and the soldiers shoved Kenet into the pool. The former soldier fell with a yelp, flailing in his bonds. His yell ended in a croak as soon as his flesh touched the dark surface. There was no splash, though the dark water did ripple. It seemed to wrap around the soldier, enveloping him and sucking him down. Then it fell still once again.
Raeth felt a chill. He’d never liked watching capitol executions—his sentiment was shared by the rest of the crowd, many of whom had averted their eyes. Theirs was not a blood-thirsty people—centuries of Imperium stability had fostered a safe, peaceful society. Men could walk the city at night and not fear for their lives, assuming they kept to the well-patrolled streets. Senators and Emperors no longer had to fear assassination by political opponents.
The people didn’t clap or yell at the execution, as was common on some Seaborn isles. They just watched in silence, feeling the dread of the pool, knowing that the unfortunate traitor suffered even beyond the grave. He had been rejected by his ancestors and his posterity. His children would be assigned to a brother or uncle, his name stricken from Line records. He was Forgotten.
The soldiers led the Shentis, Shateen, up onto the stone platform. He didn’t struggle; he walked calmly.
What will happen to his soul? Raeth wondered. Even if he wasn’t a demon, he certainly wasn’t human. The Shentis looked more human than Gol or Viglix, but they were obviously another race. What happened to their souls? Did they even have souls?
“Shateen,” Laene said quietly. “Murderer. Sentenced to capitol execution after a trial by ninety-seven percent of the Senate.”
Something was wrong.
Raeth’s eyes darted to the side, suddenly nervous. The soldiers moved to shove Shateen off the platform, but then they noticed it too. The pool had begun to ripple beneath them, its darkness undulating ominously. Shateen himself looked down with a confused frown, his dark blue head cocked slightly to the side.
A small black hand rose from the center of the pool. It was followed by a head and a shoulder, all composed of the same pure, light-sucking darkness of the pool.
Raeth rose from his chair, standing and stepping forward. Mumbling began to rumble through the crowd, though most faces were still paralyzed with shock. The dark body looked just like that of the man who had been tossed into the pool a few seconds before.
Suddenly, a dozen other hands broke the surface, and black figures began to rise beneath them. They were joined by dozens more, all rising slowly from the pool until its surface was clogged with figures that seemed composed from the darkness itself. The crowd watched with frozen horror, their reactions numbed by the strange event.
Only then did Raeth notice something. Each of the black figures was caring a sword in its left hand.
“Get back!” Raeth screamed. “Move!”
Chaos erupted. The black figures snapped into motion, stepping off the pool’s surface and onto the ground, whereupon they began to attack the crowd. People began to scream and fall as dark blades descended on them, slicing off limbs, piercing bodies, and throwing blood into the air. Other dark figures began to boil from the pool behind their companions, dozens upon dozens of hands rising into the air.
Slaughter and Despair! Raeth thought with shock as he dashed forward, summoning an Amberite sword. What is going on?
The sound of Amberite growing crackled around the pool, soldiers belatedly summoning weapons. Soldiers from Lines other than Amberite whipped free steel swords and began to lay into the dark soldiers, fighting wit
h paranoid fury, while Verdant bonds raised their hands, launching forth sprays of twisting vines.
“Protect the Emperor!” Raeth yelled as a large group of black forms broke through the soldiers and began to clamor onto the platform. Raeth kicked one in the face—the darkness gave just like flesh, and the dark warrior fell backward. However, three more replaced him, and several had already climbed onto the platform a short distance away.
Behind him, Raeth could hear Senators crying out in alarm, yells accompanied by the sound of chairs toppling or being tossed aside. Raeth didn’t pause to look, instead swiping at a dark warrior who was climbing to its feet. Raeth’s sword cut through its body like flesh, creating a gash directly across the creature’s face. Immediately, darkness began to hiss from the wound, sputtering into the air and evaporating like thick smoke.
The creature didn’t pause when it took the wound, instead swinging its own weapon at Raeth. Raeth blocked the blow, then struck with a neat thrust right through the creature’s chest. He whipped the blade free quickly, releasing another hissing wound in the monster’s body. The creature stumbled slightly, trying to maintain balance, and Raeth was forced to back away as three more advanced on him. He raised his sword threateningly, then noticed something. The blade was thinner, its surface etched and dissolved as if by a powerful acid.
He regrew the blade as he backed away, a half-dozen dark forms stalking toward him. People were scattering from the courtyard, and he could barely see that the pool was still putting out more dark warriors. Ancestors protect us! Raeth thought with fear as he stumbled back against a fallen chair.
“Raeth!”
Raeth froze. There was fear in his father’s voice. He looked with horror to see the Emperor being pulled away by a group of black warriors. A dozen soldiers lay dying on the platform.
“Father!” Raeth screamed in terror. He ducked to the side, underneath the swing of a dark warrior. The blow barely missed him, cutting into his cloak and ripping it free. Raeth continued to dash in the direction of his father. The dark warriors were retreating, dragging the emperor off the platform with them—back toward the pool.
The Aether of Night Page 6