Adan’s uncle stepped forward, confident, even defiant. He raised his voice. “I am King Kollanan of Norterra. I, too, have experience with wreths. I’ll accompany—”
The whirlwind of sand and dust went suddenly still, and the grains dropped into a pile in front of the gate.
“I do not think she heard you,” Thon said.
“Cra, Queen Voo wasn’t inside that summoning,” Hale said. “It was just a message recorded in sand.”
Kollanan shrugged. “Nevertheless, I plan to go with you.”
* * *
That evening as they all sat in the castle’s great room, Koll said, “I came here to learn about sandwreths. If Queen Voo wants an alliance with Suderra, maybe she’ll help my kingdom as well.”
“It’s not an alliance either of us should want, Uncle,” Adan warned. “Voo has betrayed countless humans. She is dangerous. But I try to stay in her good graces and prepare in case we must stand against them.”
“I didn’t say I would trust her! But maybe I can use the queen for my own purposes.” Koll’s expression sagged. “You saw what the frostwreths did to Lake Bakal, Adan.” His face turned ruddy with anger. “You showed me the horrible images of the desert slave camp. Even so, if the frostwreths captured my people, even for hard labor, at least they would still be alive! My daughter, her husband, my other grandson. Instead, the bastards wiped out the entire town. Because it was in the way!” He punched a fist into his other palm. “But Birch is still alive, and I shudder to think what Queen Onn means to do with him. Why would a wreth queen want a human child?”
Hale Orr gave his very pregnant daughter a worried look. “It’s clear that Queen Voo has an unwholesome interest in your child, too, dear heart.” He growled. “Cra! You can’t go there—she may imprison you and take your baby.”
Adan looked at Thon for possible answers, but the wreth man fixed his gaze on the flames in the hearth at the end of the great room. The fire danced and flickered, as if Thon was manipulating it with some strange magic.
Sitting in her comfortable chair, Penda answered, “You may be right, Father. She touched me. She wants this baby. I can feel it.”
“She will not have it,” Adan snapped.
“She will not,” Elliel agreed. “Not if Thon and I can help it.”
Adan made up his mind. “I will accept her invitation, and Kollanan will accompany me in your stead, Penda. We will ride out to the desert and see what Voo wants. She will have to be satisfied with that.”
The Norterran king nodded. “We will make the best of this meeting without putting Penda in danger.”
Adan turned to his wife. “You will stay here where it’s safe—far from any wreths.”
“I heartily agree,” Hale said.
Penda, as beautiful as ever, utterly refused. “No, Starfall, I will not stay here.” Before Adan could argue, though, she added, “And I will not go with you either. I don’t intend to hand myself over to Voo.” She turned to Hale and raised her chin imperiously. “Father, you will join me.”
“Of course I will, dear heart. But where are we going?”
“Out among the Utauk tribes, where we will never be found. We can ride with them, wander with them, and I will stay safe.”
Hale’s grin showed his gold tooth. “Cra, now that is a fine idea!”
“Into the wilderness? But how will I find you?”
“Even I don’t know where I’ll be—that is the point. I need to stay away from the sandwreths.”
Adan tried to contain his alarm. “What about the baby? You should stay here and rest. It is only a few weeks.”
Penda kissed his cheek. “Utauk women give birth out in our camps all the time. In fact, I’ll be more comfortable that way, with my people.”
“I want to be with you. I have to be there! For my child.”
“It is also your kingdom. Go, speak with Queen Voo and arm yourself with knowledge. Find a weakness.” She tried to reassure him. “Don’t fear, I will take both skas with me. When the time comes, they will find you.”
22
BIRCH didn’t know how long the frostwreth queen would forget about him, but he took advantage of his days of anonymity.
With the drones he was warm, and they gave him meals. Even if the food tasted awful, Birch could feel himself growing stronger. He would live. After everything the frostwreths had done to his family and to him, he would live.
He followed the drones through the tunnels into the glacier beneath the palace. By now he understood much of the drone language. They remained full of activity, inspecting storage chambers, moving objects from one place to another—with no purpose that Birch could ascertain. Maybe the drones just wanted to look busy so the frostwreths would leave them alone.
They led him into the vast grottoes filled with thrumming spellsleep chambers, thousands of ice-sealed alcoves with embedded tubes and glowing crystals. The chambers held a whole dormant army.
The drones moved among the cells, chittering as they inspected the frozen warriors, mages, and nobles. They ran small hands over the thin ice windows, melting smudges that refroze.
The entire grotto seemed empty except for the sleeping forms. No wreths were in the vicinity.
Oddly, a pair of drones looked directly at Birch, as if to make sure he was watching. Then they bent over the glowing crystal that sent threads of magic into the sleeping bodies. Unobserved, the drones took out small knives, short but sharp, and with a flicker of movement, stabbed the spellsleep crystal.
Another drone pricked a flexible tube filled with silver blood. Birch’s eyes went wide as he saw the fluid leak into the chamber, pooling at the foot of the frozen body inside. The glowing crystal changed color from a bright blue to deep purple.
The drones hurried away from their sabotage, moving as if this were part of their business. One of them muttered to Birch, a word that he understood to mean “break.”
He watched the creatures flit along, surreptitiously poking, jabbing, pricking. The group moved from level to level, continuing their subtle, random vandalism.
“Break,” the drone repeated, and the group scuttled out of the grotto, continuing their nondescript duties before anyone noticed them.
“Break,” Birch agreed, then added another word. “Kill.”
23
THE construction sounds around the Magnifica temple were both deafening and satisfying: grunts of effort, shouts of crew bosses, the clink of stonecutters’ hammers, the scraping of masons’ trowels. Key Priestlord Klovus stood in the shade beneath his awning on a high scaffolding platform that rose like a watchtower above the work site.
Below, he watched crews strain with ropes to raise enormous blocks of stone on ramps lubricated with mud. Bricklayers built archways on the second platform of the great temple, and tile setters adorned them with glazed symbols of godlings from all thirteen districts.
Several clustered neighborhoods had originally been razed to clear the plaza, decades ago, and now the religious markets and temporary sacrificial stations had also been torn down so the work could commence on the titanic temple.
Klovus had been contemplating the Magnifica for much of his life, and now he finally had the power and resources to make the structure a reality. A constant stream of wagons and sledges delivered construction stone, building up the second level of the huge pyramid. The design included a labyrinth of passageways, protected chambers, and interior worship halls, none of which were visible from ground level.
The godling, which currently dwelled beneath the temple square, would permeate the completed temple like blood flowing through veins, and the Magnifica would focus and concentrate the people’s faith like a lens, strengthening the godling.
Klovus felt giddy with the possibilities, but his joy was somewhat diminished because this victory had taken so long. The shortsighted empra had crippled the work for years! What had she been afraid of? Now he intended to complete the project in record time. Sitting back to watch from his high platform, he si
pped cool water from a goblet as more frameworks were laid. Soon, the third layer of the tremendous pyramid would begin. A sign of remarkable progress.
Down in the street, he saw a tall man approach his watchtower. Wearing dark purple robes and a square-topped hat of office, the man walked purposefully through the carpenters, masons, water carriers, stone carvers, and bricklayers. Recognizing him, Klovus grimaced.
Chamberlain Nerev was a careful man not accustomed to climbing rickety wooden stairs, but he ascended the thin steps to the observation platform with an intent expression. The key priestlord knew there would be no avoiding him.
Klovus stepped to the edge of the platform and looked down at the top rung of the lashed wooden ladder, thinking how easy it would be just to press his foot against the chamberlain’s head and knock him down to the pavement below. But Klovus didn’t need to worry about a minister who served an incapacitated ruler.
Huffing, Nerev ascended the last rung and raised his shoulders above the platform level. “Key Priestlord, I must have a word with you. Due to the urgency of the matter, I thought it best to come see you in person.”
Klovus stepped back but did not extend a hand to help the man climb onto the wooden deck. “Indeed that is a far better idea than writing me a note.”
The chamberlain gained his balance and brushed off his purple robes. Looking around the high platform, he seemed discomfited to find no guard railings or safety ropes.
Klovus remarked, “I’m not certain you are qualified for a position such as this. The scaffolding, I mean.”
Nerev immediately pressed his business. “Much of Serepol’s treasury has suddenly been diverted to this Magnifica project. I spoke with the finance ministers about the outpouring of funds. This is not authorized.”
Klovus placed his fingertips together. “That money should have been allocated to this project many years ago, during the reign of Emprir Daka. We are at last catching up, and that costs money.” He drew in a deep, satisfied breath as he surveyed the bustling construction site. “We needlessly lost a great deal of time, and because of that, Ishara is weakened. No wonder Konag Conndur felt confident he could try to assassinate our dear empra. Now we face war with our godless enemy again, Chamberlain, and Ishara is weak because the Magnifica remains incomplete. Our main godling is at only a fraction of its potential.”
Nerev worked his lantern jaw, refusing to be distracted. “Over the centuries of our existence, the districts of Ishara developed a solid rule of law. We are civilized now, not the barbaric survivors the wreths left behind in the old world. We have a set of laws that must be obeyed.”
Klovus huffed. “The priestlords and our godlings help enforce that law.”
“Ishara has a formal leader.” Nerev scratched the side of his face. “With Empra Iluris unconscious—perhaps permanently, perhaps only for a short while longer—this must be addressed.”
Klovus pursed his generous lips and appeared to be deep in thought, though he had nothing to consider. “For the past year, I have expressed my dismay that Iluris is without an heir or designated successor. That is why we are in our difficult situation. If only she had listened to me.”
Stroking his gold chamberlain’s medallion, Nerev said, “In the meantime, Ishara must have another empra or emprir, at least in an acting capacity, until Iluris wakes up. We both know that the empra intended for the young woman Cemi to be her successor. For the stability of Ishara, we should install her in that role. I suggest we arrange a coronation ceremony without delay.”
Klovus scoffed. The idea was absurd on its very face. “That little girl, a scamp from the streets? The people would never accept her!”
“They would accept her, because Iluris asked them to. You hear the crowds praying to their empra every day. Their chants grow stronger and stronger.”
Klovus snorted. “We are paying the price because Iluris did not take her reproductive duties seriously. This is not as dire a situation as you suggest. You worry too much.”
Klovus stood on the edge of the rickety wooden platform. The great city of Serepol had other temples that held smaller godlings, which burned bright with the fires of faith, but nothing would match the Magnifica. “The people are being led, Chamberlain. We already sent a naval expedition with the harbor godling to recapture Fulcor Island. They are guided by their faith, and we all know what must be done. Just listen to their prayers!” He closed his eyes and sighed, as if drinking in a cool draught of wine. “Hear us, save us.”
“Their prayers are for Empra Iluris.” Nerev’s words were like the chipping sounds of a stonecutter. “Cemi is the one who should be the next empra.”
What would it take to be rid of this annoying man? “I will take that under advisement, but I am busy at the moment. Let me ponder this for a few days.”
Incensed, Chamberlain Nerev wrapped his hand around the golden rank chain. “It is not your choice! The question must be brought before the council of advisors.” He turned and tried to make a dramatic exit, which was hindered because he had to pick his way carefully down the scaffolding ladder. The poor man had very little sense of balance. Klovus feared it would be his undoing.
* * *
Inside the empra’s tower rooms, Cemi began to feel claustrophobic, but when she received the horrifying news about Chamberlain Nerev, she realized this was also the only place she could feel safe.
An alarmed hawk guard had rushed to the tower chamber, breathing hard from running up many flights of stone stairs. “The chamberlain is dead!”
Cemi pushed forward, startled. “How? How did he die?” She realized the answer didn’t matter, because the official reason was almost certainly not the truth. Analera was also there, gathering the dinner tray. Her wrinkled face paled.
“He fell from a window in the palace.” The guard shook his head. “His own private chambers are above the plaza in the administrative wing. The window was open, and he was alone in his room. His papers were out on the desk. According to the announcement from the palace guard, Nerev must have been in such despair about the empra’s condition that he cast himself to the flagstones below, just like Emprir Daka.”
The old servant’s voice was filled with scorn. “That is ridiculous.”
Vos scratched his crooked nose. “That man did not jump out of a window. He came here to speak with us about the empra’s condition only two days ago.”
The messenger nodded. “I know that, and every hawk guard knows that. But the story is being spread among the people.”
“Emprir Daka did not throw himself out the window either,” Cemi said in a low voice. “Iluris pushed him. Daka deserved it, but Chamberlain Nerev did not.”
Vos stood close to Cemi, his expression grave. “We know that Nerev wanted to install you as the new empra. That would not serve Key Priestlord Klovus’s purposes … unless you were willing to be his puppet.”
Cemi scoffed. “I would never agree to that.”
Vos gave her a proud grin. “We all know that.”
Shaken, she sat down on the bed and took the empra’s cold hand in hers, trying to draw strength from her mentor. She knew that the hawk guards were faithful, and the people still prayed for the empra’s health, but Klovus controlled the godlings and focused Ishara’s need for revenge against the Commonwealth. He was also willing to kill to protect his power.
“What chance do I have?”
She stroked Iluris’s face. The empra’s eyelids twitched slightly as if she were having a dream, but then she went still again.
Analera spoke up to Cemi. “I suggest you increase the number of hawk guards, my lady. You cannot be too careful.”
Cemi hated the Commonwealth for what they had done to Iluris, but they were a distant enemy, and a war with them could be brewing for some time. If Cemi were to become empra, she would have to lead Ishara’s armies, listen to her generals, direct them, resolve any internal disagreements, and be prepared to fight the continent across the sea, while providing defense against any possib
le incursion here.
Right now, though, her real enemies were close at hand.
The messenger finished telling his tale and awaited further orders. The hawk guards were more on edge than before.
Captani Vos rested a firm hand on her shoulder, professional yet warm. “We will not let anything happen to you.”
Cemi placed her hand on top of his. “At times I feel alone without Empra Iluris, but I’m glad you’re here.”
She suddenly felt a new chill in the air, an external tingle. A strange sound flickered through the chamber like whispering wind and scraping rocks. The guards stirred, when they sensed it as well. Something moved within the tower room with an invisible rustling that unsettled them.
Cemi rose from the empra’s bed. “What is that?”
Before her eyes, the air rippled as if a film of water had formed and dissolved. A presence circled the room, prowling, powerful. To her surprise, she realized she wasn’t afraid.
Vos pressed close, his hand on his dagger as the unseen presence drifted over the empra’s bed, like a raft of wind.
Through the open window, she could still hear the murmuring chants of people praying for the empra. “Hear us, save us!”
Cemi experienced a strange warmth inside. “I do feel safe,” she said aloud.
The shimmering illusion faded away so subtly that a few moments later she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it.
24
WHEN the alarm bells rang from the tower, Watchman Klea sprinted up the stone steps to the top of the perimeter wall. Continuous gongs called the garrison to arms, and her soldiers took up their positions. Lookouts stood at the prominent corners, peering out to sea.
Klea scanned the eastern horizon and saw the red-and-white sails of seven Isharan warships heading directly toward Fulcor Island. Her commanding voice boomed across the courtyard below. “To arms. Prepare for the fight of your lives!”
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