Warrior (The Key to Magic) (18 page)

"He could simply be lying."

"Since I do not have the power to determine that, I must ignore the possibility for the same aforementioned reasons."

The strength of her expression did not falter. "I've chosen my course."

She rose before he could say anything more and moved to the hearth to transfer several lengths of split oak from a stack in the inglenook onto the fire.  Turning around to expose her back to the heat, she asked, "Will you tell Mar where I am?"

"No.  He might turn aside from the monks to seek you."

"He cannot.  He is a king.  The magic of the Blood Oath will not permit him to abandon his people."

Ghorn considered that, then suggested,  "What he feels for you may be stronger."

When she did not respond to this, he knew immediately, as if he had received a vision of his own, what he must say to sway her. 

"Do not run away from someone you love when he faces those who would burn down all that is good in the world."

She looked stunned, as if his words had struck her with physical force, then her face became stone.  "Get out of my house."

Without reaction, Ghorn stood, bowed low, and went out into the cold air.  Not once turning to look back, he started up the track.

The queen, wrapped in a dark wool greatcloak and shouldering a large satchel, caught up with him before he had gone a hundred paces.

"At the first farm, you'll pay someone to attend the goats until I return."  This was not a request, but the regal command.

"Yes, my lady queen."  Ghorn replied.  He felt no satisfaction at his success, but he did experience a brooding moment of relief and worry.

TWENTY-FOUR

"You will finally destroy it all," Waleck said.

"Magical civilization must be restored," the sorcerer countered, continuing to study the wavering ethereal images in the grime encrusted skrying tablet.  The color was washed out and the once polished stone chipped and rough, but the magics seemed intact.

"Only a universal return to the use of magic can alleviate the barbarism and savagery that afflicts the world today."

Naught but a single, insincere candle on the cracked stone altar moderated the darkness of the clammy and uncomfortably small chamber.  The state and size of the place resurrected unpleasant memories.  The sorcerer had come to the cold, isolated tomb on the Eastern Shore to retrieve this bit of ancient technology, which had been revealed to him in a dream.

"There is some degradation in the spells, but I believe that I will be able to repair it."

"Magic destroyed our world."

"The idiocy of its rulers destroyed our world.  This device will permit me to directly monitor all of my actors and insure their compliance with my script."

"In your time, you considered it unethical to attempt to manipulate the actions of others through the use of your sorcery."

"Before the war, I had sufficient luxury of action to entertain a more altruistic attitude.  Now, with all that is at stake, I cannot afford weakness.  Only fire and blood can turn the course of the world and restore magic so that all may benefit from it."

"As I said, you will destroy it all."

With an impatient gesture, the sorcerer powered down the damaged tablet, wrapped it in burlap, and tucked it away inside his leather pack.  Shouldering the pack and taking up the candle, he began to weave his way back through the crumbling maze to the surface.

"There may be significant damage, but my calculations prove that it will be restricted to a defined area."

"You have made an error."

The sorcerer ignored this.

"I have analyzed all the possible future scenarios that my manipulations might generate," he boasted, not bothering to conceal his deserved pride, as he navigated a double blind corner and then squeezed through a narrow opening ingeniously incorporated into the nostril of a giant petroglyph.  "The actions that I have taken will ensure the rebirth of magical civilization."

"You are deceiving yourself.  You have not taken into account the variables over which you have no influence."

"Those variables are of no consequence."

"All variables are of consequence.  You wrote that in your last monograph."

"But I also wrote that many insignificant variables can be disregarded."

"Once more, you are deceiving yourself.  You have made no provision for the unforeseen."

"Untrue.  When I am once more in command --"

"You would set yourself up as a despot over the entire world?"

"No, of course not.  But the peoples of the world will need a guide to show them the way to the peace and prosperity that only magic can bring."

"And that would be you?"

"Certainly I am the most qualified candidate.  Before the war, I spent a decade in high command and had consequent diplomatic experience.  I have experienced the complete span of modern history and am more knowledgeable of it and of the societies and economies of the present world than any other living soul."

"Knowledge is not the same as wisdom."

"I am the most powerful sorcerer alive and have sufficient magical power to turn aside any opposition."

"Mar is stronger.  You know this to be true."

"But he is untrained.  Regardless, his fate is destruction."

"He can avoid his fate."

"The preponderance of the forces that I have set in motion will make that impossible."

"The peoples of the world will reject you.  The ancient stigma of sorcery will cause them to despise and hate you."

"They love their nonsensical gods.  They will love me.  I will lead them as a god."

"You are insane," Waleck accused while the sorcerer climbed up through a breach onto the rain swept mountainside.

"Coming from someone who only exists within my head," the sorcerer said with a final, slightly troubled laugh, "that statement is absurd."

TWENTY-FIVE

The 1645th year of the Glorious Empire of the North

(Firstday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)

Khalar

Hwraldek looked around the table and saw uncertainty on the other faces.  Though there were five dinning rooms of various capacities and degrees of grandeur in his villa, he had chosen a small room with very thick walls adjacent to his own quarters to host this meeting.  No one not standing within the room could hear anything said inside it, and the tight space required the attendees to sit almost shoulder to shoulder, a proximity that would discomfort all of them.  He wanted the entire group to be slightly off balance.

Shared suppers were traditional during the festival days of the last fortnight of spring, and it had been a simple matter to disguise these conspiratorial gatherings as nothing more than that.

"The time is now," he repeated.  "The Brotherhood of Phaelle will begin its attack within days.  We must seize control while all eyes are on the east.  The Emperor will be too occupied to contest our rule and will be forced to accept it."

"The Army supports the Emperor," Erhtrys countered.

"Most of the Army has gone south.  I have made arrangements to keep those few that are left shuttered within their barracks."

"What of the polybolos boats?"

"They are wood.  They will burn at their moorings at the proper moment."

Mwyrlzhre tapped the table with his fork once to focus all eyes on him.  "The Viceroy's Personal Guard has more than doubled in size under Lord Purhlea and most have the Scar.  What of Erskh?"

"The Viceroy's Guard is a creature of the Mhajhkaeirii now.  Erskh no longer has any power or supporters in its ranks.  When we take control, he will hide in his house until we drag him out for his execution.  Only a third of the Guard's strength is kept in the Old City and those will be concentrated around the temples during the festival.  The riot will take care of most of these for us and those that manage to survive will be easy prey for our mercenaries."

Lhyt took a sip of wine and then tugged on his beard, a nervous habit that Hwraldek knew revealed that the metal trader was weighing his options, including, no doubt, the betrayal of the Hwraldek and the others to the Mhajhkaeirii.  "How many of the other Patriarchs will support the insurrection?"

"The most important have all made commitments.  Our victory will quickly sway the rest."

"There is a danger of total chaos if the riots get out of hand," Seoralye said.

"Once the Viceroy and his minions are dead, we will drive the plebes back to the Lower City and seal the bridges, as we always have."

"The sorcery is critical to the deception," Seoralye said.  "Are you sure of it?"

"I have myself seen the device demonstrated.  The illusion is perfect."

"After the sacrilege is made known, there can be no hesitation," Seoralye insisted.  "The Temples must be protected."

"I will personally supervise every stage of the operation.  There will be no missteps."  He looked around the table again and saw that no more objections would be raised.  "We are agreed?  In two days we shall retake Khalar?"

Nods circulated in slow succession. 

Only Lhyt was bold enough to confirm his ascent to treason verbally and he limited himself to a curt, "Yes."

The remainder of the exquisite meal passed in unenthusiastic and tensely neutral small talk.  As soon as propriety permitted, his guests, one by one -- none wished to be seen leaving together lest the others suspect treacherous collusion -- excused themselves and departed.

Hwraldek knew that his co-conspirators were weak, both in will and intellect, and that they must at the proper times be purged, but for the moment he needed each and every one of them to bring his plan to fruition.

As soon as all the other members of the Privy Council had left the dining room, Hwraldek's final guest, who had hidden out of sight behind a false wall, open a decorative panel and emerged to take one of the vacated seats across from the patriarch.

"Your allies seem less than committed," the man remarked without expression.

"None are pleased by their loss of status and influence under the rule of the Mhajhkaeirii, and all realize that if I am betrayed that I will make sure that they are all executed with me.  They will not fail to carry through with my plan.  The only question that I have is what level of support I may expect from you."

The man showed no reaction to the unsubtle challenge.  "The assassin is in place."

Though he had not shared his conviction with the rest of the Privy Council, Hwraldek knew that the only way to guarantee that he retained power in Khalar was to eliminate the magician-king of the Mhajhkaeirii.  "The Emperor must die."

The monk smiled.  "There is no doubt of that."

TWENTY-SIX

Firstday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire

Gh'emhoa

Pulling the draw knife carefully, Lhevatr smoothed the armlength long section of the starboard top rail that he had just spent a good hour replacing.  A rigger working to repair a spar had dropped a sledge from six manheight up and the heavy iron hammer had smashed a large splinter from the rail.

"Fine work there, Whoddhurl," the Captain commended as he passed, striding toward midships.

"Thank you, sir!"

With a colossal black beard in which he held great pride and the sturdy frame of a lifelong mariner, Captain Thylbr ran a relaxed but efficient ship.  Prior to the Phaelle'n invasion, he had captained a merchant galley under the second-tier Merchant House of D'haeor.  While he, like many of the new naval commanders of the Imperial Fleet, bore the scar of the Blood Oath, it had been his experience with the Aehrfhaen trade routes that had earned him the captaincy of the
Empress Telriy
.

When Lhevatr had applied to join Thylbr's crew, he had had no trouble convincing the Mhajhkaeirii that he was both an experienced marine carpenter and a trustworthy Gkuyoienii.  Neither was a true masquerade, however, as he had been born on the island of Gkuyoien, which with enthusiastic local support had been ruled as a colony for half a millennia by The Greatest City in All the World, and had apprenticed as a carpenter for five years before he had joined the Society of the Duty and later the Brotherhood of Phaelle.

The former Martial Director watched covertly as Thylbr went down the boarding ramp to join the guards and First Officer Rhoird'myg on the upper platform of the old stone watch tower, the highest structure on Gh'emhoa.  The unimportant island had not been on the original itinerary of the vessel, but since the primary though unspoken purpose of the voyage was to show the flag of the Empire, it had been made known to the crew that the Captain would entertain requests for non-frivolous detours to other ports of call.

Lhevatr, or course, had not been surprised when the
Empress Telriy
changed course to Gh'emhoa, nor was he surprised to see the two who waited before the First Officer, a cloaked and hooded but clearly heavily pregnant young woman and the armsman who had joined the crew under the name of Brendnt.  Waleck's instructions had been specific and thorough.

However, the accident that had coincidentally placed Lhevatr near enough to overhear what was now said on the tower platform was apparently simply a fortunate turn of fate.

"Armsman Brendnt," Captain Thylbr wanted to know, "what's this about a passenger?"

Though Waleck had not provided the information, Lhevatr, after listening to the armsman in the galley a few times and observing him discretely as he moved about the skyship, had already determined that Brendnt was likewise only playing a role.  Brendnt's common and scruffy appearance could not conceal his broad education, cultured manner of speaking, aristocratic poise, or the oft demonstrated skills and experience that indicated him to be someone who had held significant command.  Whatever his actual name, Brendnt was a Mhajhkaeirii lord.

Lhevatr saw Brendnt smile somewhat mischievously. 

"I must beg your pardon, Captain, but I have sailed on the
Empress Telriy
under false pretenses."