“Thank you,” Bordan said, as they both sat on the blanket, the action drawing a grunt of effort from his lips.
“Here,” Godewyn said, lifting a skin of wine from the pack and passing it over. “Might help you sleep tonight.”
“What time is it?”
“A little past dusk and evening is settling on the sky,” the High Priest said, unwrapping a wedge of cheese, some bread, and meat. “The guards checked the bag as I came in so there is no escape equipment.”
“Just a last meal?” Bordan said, taking a pull on the wine.
“Something like that,” Godewyn acknowledged. “There seems little point in lying.”
“This is insane,” Bordan said, leaning back and resting his head against the stone. “Aelia is not in her right mind. Like you, I see little point in lying.”
“She is stressed and on edge,” Godewyn replied.
“It is more than that,” Bordan said. “She is hurt and striking out without thought.”
“With a little more time, I am sure she will come to terms with her losses and her mood will improve,” Godewyn pointed out.
Bordan grunted. “You said you saw little point in lying, Godewyn, and as one soldier to another, don’t treat me like an idiot. I deserve better. We both know I don’t have that time.”
“I am sorry, my friend,” the High Priest said after a moment and the mask of rank fell away. “No one could have foreseen this.”
“I didn’t kill her family.”
“I know. I’ve known you for a long time, Bordan. The thought never crossed my mind.”
“But the Emperor does not see it that way?”
Godewyn took a drink from the wine. “She does not. I have tried to talk to her, however she is convinced and nothing I say will dissuade her. She claims your constant arguments for a delay were to give Abra time to gather his mercenaries, that you did not want to cross the bridge, that you killed Abra to keep him quiet. Aelia believes that you wanted to be Emperor. With the army behind you, it is not difficult to see that you could accomplish that.”
“I wouldn’t. I’ve never sought power and been content to serve,” Bordan complained, accepting the wine skin. “The joining with the amulet pushed her over the edge. All those souls, all those memories have her seeing shadows where there are only candles.”
“I’ve read the histories a little,” Godewyn replied, chewing on some fresh bread. “A few mention the process and talk of its effects. Usually, however, it sinks the new Emperor into a depression for a few weeks. They seek solitude and see few except to give orders. I would imagine the task of reconciling the memories of previous Emperors, including your own father, would be a great challenge.”
“Are you saying we should have waited to crown her? You know what that would do to the Empire. It needs continuity, not chaos,” Bordan answered. For a time there was silence between them. “I was going to retire, you know. I’ve a small estate. Out of the way and unknown, I’d have seen my remaining years out growing grapes and making wine.”
“You’ll never be the General again, but perhaps I can convince her to let you retire quietly to your estates.”
“Where, no doubt, she will believe I will be plotting against her. Raising an army to bring her down,” Bordan replied, his voice dulled by the stone walls.
“I will keep trying,” Godewyn said.
“And how long have I got?”
“A day,” the High Priest answered, “maybe two.”
“This isn’t how I wanted to end my service.”
“It was the conversation with Abra,” Godewyn said with deep sigh. “All the Emperor talked about on the journey back, and when I spoke to her earlier, is that conversation. Aelia is convinced that the traitor told you something, passed along a message. That or you killed him to silence him, so he would not reveal your part in the plot.”
“She wanted to give Abra a slow, painful death,” Bordan answered. “She thinks I stole that chance from her.”
“Possibly. She would have benefited from seeing it herself. An ending of sorts,” Godewyn admitted. “What did Abra say to you? Perhaps if I can convince Aelia of your honesty and Abra’s words, she will let you retire to your estate.”
“He didn’t say anything, my friend. He died with my sword in his groin. You stood the ranks, you fought in battles large and small. How often did you have a dying confession from a soldier stuck with a sword?” Bordan passed the wineskin back.
“When you put it like that…” Godewyn accepted the wine and offered a small smile.
“It is all soldiers’ talk, Godewyn. I stabbed him, he died,” Bordan said, and raked his hand through his greasy hair. “In front of all those people, those nobles, the power and wealth, the Emperor accused me of treason. She cannot back down. The loss of face, the embarrassment would undermine her rule from the beginning. An Emperor can never be wrong. It is our Empire’s unwritten rule. If another had made the accusation, there would be a chance. Not now.”
“You are ready to give up so easily?” Godewyn’s eyebrows rose. “That is not the General I know, nor the man.”
“What would you have me do? Stage a rebellion?”
“No.” Godewyn’s voice was low and the sadness it contained slowed its journey across the space separating them. “I saw what you did in the Church.”
“For a moment,” Bordan began, “I considered it. I am a soldier. I’ve always been a soldier and it is not in our nature to give up a fight when there is a chance to win, a chance to survive.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Godewyn leaned forward and picked up a piece of cheese, looking up and catching Bordan’s eyes. “I saw the look on their faces. I felt their desire and the way their loyalties were torn. One word and they would have followed you. It would be Aelia here and you resting in comfort in the palace.”
“Until the inevitable civil war broke out,” Bordan answered. “All those needless deaths just so I could have a few more years of life.”
“Your life is so easy to give up?”
“Of course not,” Bordan spat, a sudden rage sweeping through his body leaving him shaking. “My whole life, Godewyn. Every action, every thought, every decision has been out of duty and service to the Empire. I’ve given my life and the lives of thousands of soldiers to its defence, its protection, its survival.”
“And you’ll be remembered as a traitor,” Godewyn said, holding up a hand to forestall the anger driven response. “It is not fair, my friend, and not warranted. I know few have given as much as you to the Empire.”
“And Aelia, even with her father’s memories, puts that to the side,” Bordan snapped, smashing his clenched fist onto the stone floor at his side.
“Let me take Abra’s words to her, Bordan,” Godewyn pleaded. “Let me try. Give me something I can use as a weapon against her distrust. Something I can turn her from this course of action with.”
“Godewyn, he didn’t say anything. My name was his last breath.”
“I’ll tell her that,” Godewyn continued. “I’ll try to convince her of the truth. The stories do not help, they say he confessed all his sins. That he cursed the Emperor to the frozen wastes. That he thanked you for saving him from a slow death on the cross.”
“The girl has read too many myths and legends, too many stories of heroes of the ancients. She grew up with a scroll, not a sword in her hand. It is all she knows, Godewyn. Aelia believes in dying confessions, of noble deaths, and sacrifice. She thinks I silenced the man,” Bordan answered, his anger ebbing and leaving him hollow.
“I will continue to do what I can,” Godewyn said, reaching across and putting a reassuring hand on Bordan’s arm.
Bordan sighed. “For what they are worth, my thanks.”
“You have been my friend for many years,” Godewyn’s hand retreated.
“Godewyn…” Bordan started, as the thoughts he had been battling came back to the fore, “do you think it started and ended with Abra?”
“Now you ar
e starting to sound like Aelia.”
Bordan nodded. “I know.”
“There have been no more attempts on her life,” Godewyn mused.
“Because I am locked up?” Bordan grunted. “I’ve spent the journey back wondering who Abra might be working with, if anyone.”
“And?” Godewyn prompted.
“I don’t know, Godewyn,” Bordan said. “I’ve considered everyone close to the Emperor.”
“Me?” Godewyn’s tone was strangled.
“You. Vedrix. Me. Other officers. Palace staff. Other nobles.”
“And? You’ve a fine mind, Bordan. If not you, if not Abra, then who?”
“Aelia,” Bordan replied after a silent moment.
“The Emperor herself?” Godewyn rocked back and his startled voice filled the cell.
“Power is enticing. Aelia was the second child, destined for a political marriage, some land elsewhere, out of the way. Forgotten. She is no soldier, and the army would be ill-served by her leadership,” Bordan mused. “A priest, maybe, but unlikely. Her appetites and her life would never have prepared her for that life. She saw a chance, after her father’s death, to take the throne for herself and acted upon it.”
“Bordan,” Godewyn gasped. “That is treason to speak of.”
“I cannot be more condemned than I am, and this is only supposition and only if Abra was working with someone else,” Bordan said with a shake of his head. “And of that, I am not convinced.”
“I cannot stay and listen to this,” Godewyn said, standing and looking down at the disgraced General. “Do you truly believe what you are saying?”
“There are many questions unanswered, my friend, and I am sure of nothing. All I have is time to think and let every scenario play out in the darkness.”
“And what if it was you, as Aelia believes?”
“Then I would have taken the throne already with the might of the army behind me and be resting in the palace even now,” Bordan pointed out, reflecting Godewyn’s own words. “It would have been an easy order to give in the Church. However…” He left the word hanging between them.
“You did not,” Godewyn answered at last. “I will talk to the Emperor. There may be a chance, my friend.”
“I wish it were so, but it is not,” Bordan replied, looking away. “I thank you for the blanket, the food, and the wine. More, I thank you for the friendship, Godewyn.”
“It has been my pleasure, Bordan, and honour.”
“A last piece of advice, my friend.”
“Go on.”
“Do not get dragged down with me,” Bordan said, lifting the wine in a salute and drinking deeply from it.
LVI
The Magician
Three years ago:
They were shown into Vedrix’s study. The Master Magician stood from his chair, ignoring the ink he spilt with his sleeve and hurried over to them.
“Excellent,” the magician said. “Welcome, young man, to the Gymnasium of Magicians. We will teach you all you need to know, and you can find your place in the Empire here.”
“I just want the dreams and headaches to stop,” he said.
“And they will,” Master Vedrix said. “They will.”
He caught the disappointment which flitted through the old man’s eyes as he looked to the man who had raised him for the last seven years.
“I want to see him.” Kyron paced the outer room of Padarn’s quarters. The sleeping chamber was untouched, and some servants had placed a cot in the room for Emlyn to sleep on.
“They will not let you in,” Master Vedrix said.
The Master of the Gymnasium had taken the comfortable chair Padarn had always sat in to read one of the histories of the Empire or a treatise on magical theory. It was strange to see someone else there and Kyron’s thoughts strayed to his late master, the late nights and lessons delivered in this room.
“He will be allowed visitors,” Kyron complained.
“He is accused of being a traitor, of plotting the deaths of the imperial family. No one will be allowed in to see him,” Vedrix corrected. “I am sorry, my boy, but there is little we can do. You especially. Do not think your actions in the church went unnoticed.”
“What?” Kyron blurted, feeling a twist in his stomach as the memory of the motes gathering about him resurfaced.
“You’re stronger,” Vedrix said, raising a finger to illustrate his point, “but you’ve little more control. If anyone else had felt the magic drawn in the church, young Kyron, there would be a crowd at the gates, whipped up by the zealots of the Church, trying to break it down or burn us to the ground.”
“I didn’t,” was all Kyron could manage, and the distant motes and clamouring flame made him shiver.
“And you must never,” Vedrix said. “The Emperor is all that stands between us and the Church.”
“The High Priest wouldn’t,” Kyron said, confidence in his voice. His grandfather had spoken of Godewyn as an honourable man and he had been to the house for dinner enough times when Kyron was growing up for him to believe his grandfather’s assessment.
“He may have no choice,” Emlyn said from her seat on her cot. She cupped a hot tea and the scent of jasmine and bergamot wafted about the room.
“That’s true,” Vedrix nodded. “The High Priest may be a good man, but the Church has spent many centuries speaking out against the evil of magic and its affront to the Holy Flame. If he is pushed, he will bow to the pressure of his priests and the people.”
“He’s my grandfather,” Kyron argued. “I want to see him, to talk to him. There is no chance that he is involved in a plot against the Emperor.”
“We all know that,” Vedrix said. “However, he would want to keep you away from it all. Both Godewyn and I know of your relationship, but the Emperor does not.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“He is saying you are guilty by association, by family,” Emlyn said, plucking a stick from her belt and inspecting it. “They are worried that the Emperor will blame you too. After all, you were there when the first Emperor died.”
“I wasn’t anywhere near him,” Kyron snapped. “That’s just stupid.”
“You struck him down with magic,” Emlyn said, digging the point of her knife into the stick and flicking a tiny shaving of wood free.
“I didn’t.”
“But that is what they will say. You were a part of your grandfather’s plot. A General who is known for clever strategy and tactics, who plans every move to secure a victory. You were just one of those moves, the first maybe or perhaps one in a long chain of plans within plans. Is that not so, Master Vedrix?”
“I’m not sure it will be quite so eloquently put, but that about sums it up,” Vedrix nodded. “We cannot, you cannot risk being caught up in this. For now, we have to stay out the way and stay silent. He would want you to be safe above all.”
“What if the Emperor is right, that someone else was involved?” Kyron said, clutching at straws as the thoughts passed him by with the force of a hurricane driving them.
“What do you propose, Apprentice?” Vedrix said, shuffling forward on his seat. “Conducting some type of investigation, discovering the truth and setting your grandfather free?”
“Well…” Kyron tailed off.
“The hardest truth is the realisation that sometimes there is nothing you can do,” Vedrix said. “I cannot intervene with the Emperor. She barely trusts me as it is. All I can do is look harmless and trustworthy to the last. It is the best defence for the Gymnasium and all the magicians who call it home.”
“The High Priest?” Kyron swiped at another straw.
“I’ve already spoken to him,” Vedrix said. “It is the one chance, however slim. He is going to see your grandfather.”
“You said no one would get in to see him.”
“No one will stop the High Priest of the Flame,” Vedrix said, a sad smile on his face. “It may come to nothing, but they have been friends since b
efore you were born.”
“Then what can we do?”
Vedrix lifted himself from the chair and moved to the door. “Stay here and stay out of trouble. We are doing all we can, little as it is.”
After Vedrix departed there was quiet in the room. Kyron’s mind whirled and dived like a flock of sparrows while Emlyn sat on her cot, knife moving in slow, methodical strokes against a new stick.
“So,” Emlyn said breaking the silence, “when are you going?”
“What? Where?”
“To see your grandfather,” she replied.
“You heard Master Vedrix.” He glanced at her and looked towards the door. “He told me not to go. Anyway, they won’t let me in.”
“You are a magician?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I thought it meant you might have a way not to be noticed,” she answered, her carving continuing unabated. “Perhaps I was wrong.”
“It is getting dark,” Kyron said.
“Night will do that,” Emlyn agreed.
“I might go for a walk,” he said, “just for some fresh air.”
“If you do, be careful,” Emlyn said. “I’ll go and see about some food for when you get back.”
“Thank you,” he said, moving over to the desk and the sheathed gladius resting upon it.
“I don’t think you’ll need that,” she said, “but take a cloak in case it gets chilly.”
Kyron nodded, leaving the gladius where it was and sweeping the cloak she offered around his shoulders. “I won’t be long.”
“Of course not,” she said.
He turned left outside the gates of the Gymnasium, picking out the palace on the skyline and hurried in that direction. The streets were still busy with revellers, drinking and dancing in celebration of the coronation of the Emperor. As he moved through the crowds, he heard talk of his grandfather. Some were disbelieving while others saw a conspiracy where he saw none. It was a struggle, but he ignored their words and soon the walls of the palace came into sight.
There was a constant flow of people through the gates and he joined a group who passed under the guard’s watchful gaze without trouble. Detaching himself, he gazed around. The open ground here had been set aside for the celebrations and there were more vigilant guards on the stairs and at each doorway. The palace dungeon was down and his urgent reading of one of Padarn’s histories had given him a basic understanding of the palace’s layout.
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