by Jeff Wheeler
The balance of power in the empire was a perpetual dance. Evidence of this was apparent in the taciturn scowls and resistance Sera and Durrant experienced inside the privy council chamber following their visit to the secret room. The council existed to counterbalance any reckless tendencies. And it was clear from the sour expressions in the room that they considered what she wanted to do reckless.
Durrant pitted his will and all his formidable skills of persuasion against the dissenters.
“The longer we debate this course of action,” he said, mopping the sweat from his balding temple, “the less chance we have of succeeding. We have seen Montpensier’s fleet coming up the coast. There is no time to dither! We still haven’t heard from any of Ballinger’s men yet regarding their defeat.”
“We do not even know if the empress’s plan is possible,” Lord Welles said. There were many nods in response to his comment. Sera saw that he still had influence, if not power. “Lockhaven has not been moved in over a century. If one of the manors falls, only one, it could devastate the City and its inhabitants. The risk, Prime Minister, is grave. We saw what happened at Pavenham Sky.”
Mutters of assent and concern followed the comment.
“There is a risk,” Durrant conceded. “I would be lying if I said otherwise. But this happens to be the domain of the Mysteries of Law. Lockhaven was designed to wander. Empress Maia moved the court with her as she visited the various kingdoms under her authority. There are, Lord Welles, bonds and covenants that supersede those of the individual estates. It will move en masse. And surely we should attempt it before saying it is impossible.”
Some other voices rose in agreement. Sera kept watch on who spoke, trying to determine who was with her and who was against. Clearly Welles was not on her side, but she had the loyalty of the advocates for Law after choosing Durrant as prime minister. The Ministry of Wind . . . if Fitzroy were here, then their allegiance would be fixed as well. But the look on the minister’s face told her he was doubtful of her plan. Best not to ask for a commitment from him straightaway. That left . . . the Ministry of Thought. The Aldermaston was fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat. She believed he had no love or loyalty to Welles. His ministry was almost an afterthought to the old prime minister.
“What do you think, Aldermaston?” Sera asked. Though she trusted Durrant to argue in her behalf, he was new and so was she, and the resistance to her plan had been formidable thus far.
All eyes turned to the gray-haired minister. He looked discomfited by the sudden attention. “Excuse me?” he asked, blinking rapidly.
“The empress wishes to know your perspective on the matter,” Durrant said, taking her lead. He clasped his hands behind his back, giving the man a probing look. “She has ordered that Lockhaven be moved to the mirror gate during the night. It’s already nearly sunset. If we debate until dawn, then the plan will be fruitless.”
“I heard the plan, Prime Minister,” the Aldermaston replied with a huff of offense. “No need to repeat it on my account.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Durrant said.
The Aldermaston frowned and then cocked his head. “Moving Lockhaven from its position would require a most serious mind. A most deeply committed soul. And, need I add, one that is willing to submit to the will of the Mysteries. Is it not said in the tomes that if one has as much faith as the tiny seed of a water fir, they can say to a mountain, ‘Move to yonder place,’ and it will move? Is this not the principle by which Empress Maia fashioned the Leerings that keep Lockhaven afloat? Would it not take someone of her stature to move this mountain?”
At his words, a hush descended on the council. They all looked to Sera now, and she could see in their eyes the distrust and wariness. She had not done well at Muirwood. She’d always had trouble commanding Leerings back then. And the privy council knew it.
Sera felt a thistle of doubt prick her heart. Who was she to think that she could command Lockhaven to move, when a few years ago a Leering would hardly light for her?
“Well said, Aldermaston,” Lord Welles concurred. He gave Sera a mocking smile.
A sickening feeling began to creep into Sera’s stomach. She felt her own youth and inexperience. These men and women, these people who could ultimately countermand her wishes, were jaded and cynical. They had seen emperors come and go. There was one, Sera had learned about, who had been empress for only nine days during a particularly turbulent episode of civil war. The Minister of Wind was looking at Lord Welles, watching him closely, judging his merits. While they likely would not oust her after such a short reign, if the council heeded Welles’s counsel, they would shift their allegiance to his ideas and begin ignoring hers, which would essentially transfer the power of the throne to him.
Hadn’t the council begun to heed Fitzroy more than her father?
So Sera had to win their confidence. If she failed in her first attempt at ruling, it would be a disaster. Durrant glanced at Sera, and she saw his brows knit with worry. He, too, could feel the shift in attitude in the room.
“It may be more prudent to await Admiral Ballinger’s return,” said one of the other officers. “To hear firsthand of his defeat at the mirror gate. A timely delay may be best in such circumstances.”
A few of the council members grunted in assent.
Sera felt the sickening feeling worsen. She had to do something. Her own feeling of helplessness, her lack of confidence was spreading. This crisis of confidence had happened to her before while facing the privy council, back when she and her father had been in competition for leadership. Why was it happening again? She’d been so certain her plan would work. Now she saw only the problems with it. The risks.
The uncertainty seemed to spread from person to person, like the cholera morbus.
Durrant rapped his knuckles on the table, hard and commanding. Everyone turned their eyes to him. His jaw quivered, as if he might start shouting. “There . . . is . . . no . . . doubt . . . in my mind,” he said in a voice throbbing with passion, his knuckles knocking in time to his words, “that Sera Fitzempress is just such a woman as Empress Marciana Soliven. Maia’s wisdom induced her to share her power with her privy council, it led us to this very moment. Well, hear my words, ye members of the privy council. I have known this young woman since she was but a child. I have tutored her and been tutored by her.”
As he spoke, Sera felt a rush of warmth fill her. His heartfelt conviction was turning the mood in the room. He was giving her a chance to succeed.
“I have seen her grow from a young woman who struggled to light a Leering to one with complete mastery over the power. I’ve seen her face persecution with aplomb. She has the most serious mind, the most ardent spirit you will ever encounter. She is more fit for this duty than any who have preceded her in two centuries. I put my trust and my thoughts behind her. Just as each of you should. If you did not believe in her, why did you allow her to lead our people? Well, you might think, she could fail. And so she has. I would fear someone who hasn’t ever taken a risk and lost. Wisdom comes from experience. The plan may fail. It may succeed. But we will never know unless we try.”
He planted his palms on the table. Then he turned to Lord Welles. While Durrant’s words were meant for everyone in the room, Sera felt they were especially directed at the old prime minister.
“In the end, it is not the critic who must bear the burden of such a heavy decision. No. That duty belongs to the one who wears the crown. The one whose knees shake but do not buckle under the weight of it. Yes, though sometimes our empress will come up short, it is not because of her height or her stature, but because of the awfulness of the task!”
He pushed away from the table, shaking his head. “You see, no real accomplishment comes without error and shortcoming. That is why we have someone who will strive to do great deeds. One who abounds with passion and enthusiasm. One who is devoted to more than personal ambition. One who bears our sins on her shoulders. One who will either know the triumph of achievement or . . . fail while da
ring greatly. This is what you chose her for, ladies and gentlemen. The least you can do is let her try to budge this hulking bit of rock. And I say that she can. I know it. I don’t doubt it. And neither should you.”
The transformation in the room was palpable. Durrant had won the council over with his impassioned speech. His words had not only quelled their concerns, but they’d calmed Sera’s own misgivings.
“Then let us vote,” said the Minister of Wind. “Let us vote to support the empress.”
His choice of words showed his new allegiance. Sera wanted to grin at her victory. But she’d learned long ago to control her expressions. And she waited in anticipation as the vote happened.
It was unanimously in favor of her plan. Even Lord Welles grudgingly acquiesced.
Sunset. Darkfall. Orders had been given to cease bringing people up from the City. The sky ships were to moor themselves up on the manors. The land-based evacuation would continue for the rest of the night, trying to get as many of the people away from the City as possible.
Sera parted the window curtains and looked outside. Normally Lockhaven shone like a beacon during the night. Some called it the haven moon. But its glory had been muted. As she had ordered, the Light Leerings had all been extinguished. Officers of Law were being sent from manor to manor to enforce the rule, and soldiers from the Ministry of War had been gathered for battle. They would travel in darkness or not at all.
Becka answered a knock on the door, and soon Durrant was standing by the curtain with her.
“I’ve never seen it so dark,” he said, his voice a reverent whisper.
“All must be quiet,” Sera said. “When the fleet arrives, we’ll be gone.”
“We will,” Durrant said smugly.
There wasn’t much moon in the sky, but she could still see his face. “How long had you been practicing the speech you gave today?”
He pursed his lips. “Several years actually,” he replied. “I thought I’d get to use it when you were sixteen. I’ve always fancied it, though.”
“It was a splendid speech. You did well, Durrant. Even I believed it.”
“You were its intended recipient. And Lord Welles. I won’t forget the look on his face when he caved in. That triumph alone was worth it!”
“Thank you all the same. I needed to hear it at that moment.”
He nodded, still gazing out the window. “I thought you might.” He turned to her. “Throughout my career, I have been disrespected because I made my abode down below in the City. I could have worked solely in Lockhaven if I’d chosen to. Wealthy families require good advocates to represent their interests. Your mother, for example. But I wanted something more. Not just for personal ambition—mind you, I have plenty of that to spare!—but because I saw an opportunity to change the way society had become. I wanted to bridge the gap between. Even though I lived among the poor, I wasn’t any less intelligent than the advocates who worked in the sky estates. Less spoiled perhaps. Less vain. But their education wasn’t any better than mine. Ever since I was a young man studying at the abbeys, as you did, I discovered how we infect each other with our thoughts.”
His expression was solemn. “In my youth, I was ridiculed because of my lack of physical strength. My skill was always with my mind. At first the words smarted, but I became determined not to heed the negative thoughts of others. I would harness what I had learned to better the lives of the people surrounding me. I saw in you a bright prospect. I thought, if I could just harness my life to her star . . . I could really do something!” He turned his head, giving her a serious look. “You are the right choice for empress, Sera. I wasn’t trying to flatter you. If you are going to win this war, it will be because you refuse to give up. There will be casualty reports that will sicken and dishearten you. Much will be lost in terms of lives and wealth. On both sides. Once begun, we cannot look back. You cannot flinch. I think you have the mettle for this. Prove me right.”
“I will do my best,” Sera said, nodding in agreement. She had a dark feeling, a suspicion that once the war began in earnest, it would be difficult to stop. There was much resentment on both sides. But come what may, she was determined to see it through to the end. Her husband was probably a hostage to General Montpensier’s Espion.
Durrant glanced back out the window. “I haven’t seen any zephyrs come up. I think the last ones are being secured in the landing yards. We’ll be ready to depart soon. We should make our way to the Command Leering.”
Before leaving the room, Sera reminded Becka to keep the room darkened. She then strode down the inner corridor, which was lit as dimly as her chamber. The Leerings had all been deliberately muted, the curtains were drawn, and inspections from outside revealed that no light could be seen. When they reached the Leering room, her eyes were momentarily blinded by the radiance. She let them adjust and then positioned herself in front of the Leering shaped like Maia.
“It is time,” Durrant said, nodding to her.
Drawing upon the confidence she’d felt in the privy council meeting, Sera reached out her hand and touched the Leering, invoking it. She felt the throb of the Mysteries in her heart. There was no longer any worry, no longer any doubt. No hesitation.
In her mind’s eye, she pictured the mirror gate she had been to, the high arch nested amidst the sea. Take us there, she commanded with her thoughts, visualizing Lockhaven hanging in the sky above the gate.
A shudder rippled up from the stones beneath her, shaking her legs. The queer sensation of movement brought a little tickle to her stomach.
“It’s working,” Durrant said with a victorious smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY−THREE
BROKEN VEIL
Lockhaven raced against the coming dawn. After Sera had commanded the hovering mountain to move to the mirror gate, it had proceeded on its course without any further direction from her. But she could not control the pace of its flight. She and Durrant left the secret chamber and watched the floating city’s progress from the windows of the royal palace. It was steadier than traveling by hurricane or tempest, but there were gentle rocking motions whenever they entered areas where the winds were fiercer.
Still, they were not going quickly enough to ease her worry that they would not reach the mirror gate before the dawn exposed them.
Montpensier’s fleet would continue to wreak havoc on her shores, but removing the mirror gate would ultimately cripple his assault. Without an easy way back, without supplies and reinforcements, the force he had sent to invade the empire would be left undefended. Firm in her conviction that she was doing the right thing, she tried to sleep on the couch and gave orders that she was to be awakened immediately if there were any problems.
As she lay on the couch, beneath a blanket Becka had draped over her, her mind went back to the night of her wedding. The night Montpensier had decided to seize the Argentines’ authority for himself. She’d lost track of the number of days that had passed, but she was worried about her husband. Was he imprisoned in his own castle? Had he been executed? Not knowing made her heart ache and worry. Even if she managed to save him and his family, she wasn’t sure what the future would look like for them. She was the empress now. Going back to live in Kingfountain was no longer a reasonable option. He was the heir of his own world. She of hers. If she could crush Montpensier quickly, might there still be a chance to co-rule both worlds with Trevon? Or would a bloodbath harden both populaces against the idea of a union? With all the thoughts tangling in her mind, she drifted to sleep.
Becka roused her what felt like minutes later, but she could see bright light streaming in from the curtains. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up.
“The prime minister is here,” Becka said, rubbing Sera’s shoulder.
“Is it dawn?”
“Yes.”
Sera worked out a kink in her shoulder and then rose from the couch. Durrant’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all during the night.
“What news?” Sera asked him
worriedly.
“We’re not there yet,” Durrant said, an edge in his voice. “Our cartographers suggest we’ll be there within the hour, but we’ll be fully exposed to daylight. There aren’t any ships beneath us at present, but the Leerings at the mirror gate suggest a reserve has been kept to secure the portal. They will see us coming, Sera.”
“What options do we have?”
He scrubbed at his scalp. “We can send the sky ships ahead to engage the fleet below. In order to successfully strike at them, we need to go low enough to be within range of their cannons. Reports from the City reveal that the bulk of Kingfountain’s fleet is poised to attack them at dawn. Whatever we do, we must do quickly. But there is . . . a suggestion.”
“I’m ready to hear it,” Sera said, squeezing his arm.
“Some of the floating manors, Fog Willows for example, have powerful defenses capable of generating a cloud beneath the manor, concealing it from the sight of those below. I tried myself to summon one, but was unsuccessful. We thought you might give it a try. Not a storm. Just some clouds to disguise our approach. When it’s time to attack Montpensier’s fleet, if you think you could bring more than a drizzle . . . well, that would be ideal.”
“I will do my best,” Sera said. She nodded to Becka and then followed Durrant into the dimly lit corridor and hurried to the command room. There were many people up and about, servants preparing for the day and soldiers awaiting orders. When they reached the private door, they found Lord Welles waiting outside. Just the sight of him made Sera feel a stab of resentment.
“Ah, Your Majesty,” he said when he saw them approach. “I wished to consult with you about attacking the rearguard left to protect the mirror gate. I believe we can destroy it with an acceptable loss of ships. I would like your permission to launch the attack now.”
“I’ve discussed this option with her already,” Durrant said. “She’s elected to try the other approach first.”
“As much as I respect your judgment, Prime Minister, this is a military engagement, and the Ministry of War should be the first to act, the first to risk. We don’t know what will happen should their cannons fire volleys at us.”