As Gracchus started his story, Persephone approached, and Lucius eyed the cleric cautiously. As the shadows lengthened outside the tent and day turned into night, Vespasian, his empress, and the First Tribune found themselves engrossed in Gracchus’ unfolding saga.
CHAPTER XLIII
“YOU BASTARD!” VESPASIAN SCREAMED. “HOW DARE YOU gamble with my life?”
The emperor’s face was red with rage and the cords in his neck tensed as though they were about to snap. Rising from his bed, Vespasian grabbed Gracchus’ robe and pulled him so close that their faces nearly touched.
“I should kill you where you stand!” he screamed. “You, and all those other scheming harpies who make up the Pon Q’tar! You used all of us—me, Lucius, Persephone—the legions, the Priory—everyone! Is there no end to your treachery?”
Given the depth of Vespasian’s rage, Gracchus knew that he would have but one chance to make his case. If he failed to convince the emperor here and now, Vespasian would likely kill him on the spot or send him home to suffer a violent death in the coliseum. At the least he would linger for all eternity in the Ellistium dungeons.
Just now he had few allies in this war tent. Vespasian was enraged, Persephone would do anything to protect her husband, and Lucius would like nothing better than to see the Pon Q’tar stripped of its power. Gracchus knew that he must convince all three that his secret reasons had been just or suffer Vespasian’s wrath. Just as Gracchus had feared, his explanation of Vespasian’s special gifts had sent the emperor into a heated frenzy. If Vespasian chose to kill him, even Gracchus’ vaunted gifts in the craft couldn’t save him from the Blood Royal’s anger.
His rage taking over again, Vespasian summoned the craft, and he threw Gracchus the entire length of his private quarters. Gracchus landed hard, taking down an ornate table as he crashed to the ground. Lucius smiled broadly at the sight, and Persephone gave her husband a quick nod of support.
Gathering himself, Gracchus stiffly arose, then took a seat in an upholstered chair. He could not overpower Vespasian, so he would be forced to rely on his wits. The success or failure of his entire life’s work would be decided in the next few moments.
“You haven’t answered me, you piece of filth!” Vespasian snarled. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now!”
“We clerics did what we must to ensure our eventual victory over Shashida, Your Highness,” Gracchus answered calmly. “The entire Pon Q’tar was in agreement. When you were brought to us as a helpless orphan, we were astounded to learn that your blood signature held the long-sought-after Vagaries halves that would one day allow the ultimate supremacy to your blood. We had searched for such a child for aeons. In the name of Rustannica, we made the best use of your upbringing that we could. But there remains more to tell you. Should you wish to kill me after hearing me out, I cannot stop you. But if you want to live and to see Shashida vanquished once and for all, you will listen to what I have to say.”
At once Lucius stood and drew his gladius. Striding toward the cleric, he placed the point of his sword beneath Gracchus’ chin and forced it higher.
“You dare to bargain with the emperor’s life?” he demanded.
“I only wish to save him,” Gracchus answered. “Sheathe your sword, Tribune. If you kill me, he will surely die. There will be nothing that you, the empress, or anyone else will be able to do to stop it.”
“Explain yourself!” Persephone demanded. “No more tricks, cleric!”
Although Gracchus had rehearsed his speech a thousand times in his mind, for his explanation to succeed, it must be heartfelt and believable. More importantly, Vespasian must be convinced that what had been done to him was in his own best interests. But Gracchus remained confident of his chances, for although what he was about to say was not the whole truth, it was the truth nonetheless. Moreover, the emperor would have little choice but to follow Gracchus’ orders if he wished to avoid a gruesome and painful death. Taking a deep breath, Gracchus gave Vespasian a beseeching look.
“Your highness, the Pon Q’tar has long awaited the terrors that you have been experiencing,” Gracchus said. “But not because we wished to see you harmed. In fact, your continued well-being is of prime importance to us. The terrors are your blood’s way of calling out to your mind, begging you to make use of the banned spells. These spells are much evolved from those that caused the unexpected rise of the Tolenka Mountains so long ago. They are the strongest forestallments ever conceived by man. Only your blood and the blood of the reigning Jin’Sai can accommodate them without causing your deaths. By reaching out to your psyche, the spells are indicating that your blood is finally mature enough to employ them without harm to your person. We enchanted some memories of your darker youthful training sessions to remain hidden from your consciousness and to arise only when your blood finally came of age. This is your time, my emperor—the era of Vespasian Augustus I. There has been none like it in the history of the world, nor is there likely to be again.”
Vespasian was still seething, but he had calmed enough to resist killing the cleric. With a wave of one hand he ordered Lucius to sheathe his gladius.
“You said that if I do not listen to you, I will die,” Vespasian demanded. “Explain yourself.”
“We granted you these spells so that one day you might summon unheard-of power and vanquish Shashida once and for all,” Gracchus answered. “That time has finally come. If you do not heed my advice, the banned forestallments in your blood will keep causing the terrors to unfold in your mind. The banned forestallments and the memories of your training sessions were planted in your psyche by me and the other Pon Q’tar clerics while you were still young. It had to be this way lest you become too powerful and perhaps choose to refuse the forestallments because their use would violate the Borderlands Treaty. Even so, far darker sessions still linger in your subconscious. Many of them were put there before you lost your youthful fear of me, such as the one during which you watched the two dogs fight to the death. If they keep surfacing, they will drive you mad, the madness soon leading to your death. In the end, they will literally tear your mind apart.”
“You toyed with my very life!” Vespasian shouted, his rage surfacing again. “You took a great chance, did you not? How could you be sure that you would recognize the signs before the terrors killed me?”
“It was a certainty that as the terrors increased in frequency and strength, you would be taken ill,” Gracchus replied. “I must admit that you did an excellent job of keeping them a secret, for even we of the Pon Q’tar did not know. Even so, they would soon have become so terrible that you would have been forced to seek out our help. So you see, the end result would have been the same.”
His thoughts racing, Vespasian started angrily pacing the tent. So much of his world had been irrevocably turned upside down that he scarcely knew what to believe. After a time he stopped pacing and looked Gracchus in the eyes.
“Is this all that I am to you?” he demanded. “Am I but some ultimate tool of the craft that you would use for your own purposes? Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?”
Despite the emperor’s anger, Gracchus realized that Vespasian was reaching out to him, begging to understand. Now is the moment, Gracchus thought. I must console him and reclaim my role as his mentor and his friend. Only then will he do what we ask of him.
Rising from his chair, Gracchus walked across the room and took Vespasian’s hands into his.
“It was for your own good that we did not tell you,” Gracchus answered. “Had you known, we believe that the temptation to use the banned spells would have been far too great for even your will to resist. Using them without our guidance could have killed you, and at the very least, might have resulted in harm to Rustannica. We need each other, Vespasian, and the time has come. You cannot resist or ignore the spells. If you wish to survive, you must activate one of them. Only then will you have attained all that the craft has to offer and cause the terrors
to stop.”
The anger in Vespasian’s eyes flashed again. “What other lies have you told me?” he asked. “If I learn that you have deceived me further, your life won’t be worth a single sesterce!”
“Nothing, my liege,” Gracchus answered. “I swear it.”
“How do I end the terrors?” Vespasian asked.
“Use one of the banned forestallments and the terrors will forever vanish,” Gracchus answered. “Once one of them has been employed, your blood signature will sense it, and the spell that brings your long-repressed memories to the surface will be lifted.”
“There is no other way to break the spell aside from using one of the banned forestallments?” Persephone asked.
“No,” Gracchus answered. “Even we of the Pon Q’tar cannot otherwise undo it. It was conceived this way for a reason.”
“Indeed,” Vespasian answered skeptically. “It must be done your way, or I die.”
“That is true,” Gracchus answered. “But rather than being enraged by this news, I suggest that you look upon it as the final step in the long process that will bring you supreme mastery in the craft. When it is accomplished, you will thank me, I promise you. You will be known all through history as the Rustannican emperor who finally destroyed Shashida and the Vigors.”
“How does he go about using one of these gifts?” Lucius demanded angrily. His tone said that as always, he still mistrusted the cleric’s motives.
“Vespasian must use one of the banned gifts now—this very day—so that his terrors are forever put to rest,” Gracchus answered. Smiling, he raised one hand and gripped the shoulder folds of his robe. “I suggest that he begin with the town to which we currently lay siege,” he added.
“That means violating the Borderlands Treaty!” Vespasian protested. “We have honored that agreement for untold centuries!”
“That is also true,” Gracchus replied. “But if you do not violate the treaty, you will die, and the Vagaries might be forever defeated here and now. The choice seems clear.”
As Vespasian considered Gracchus’ words, he suddenly remembered the katsugai mosota he had killed only hours before, and the dire warning that the Shashidan had given him. Vespasian and Lucius had dismissed it as a lie, but now the emperor wasn’t so sure.
“There is something that you need to know,” Vespasian told Gracchus. “At first I thought it was nothing more than the desperate ravings of a dying man. But now it seems to have greater importance.”
“Tell me,” Gracchus said.
“A captured katsugai told me that he had recently come from the south,” Vespasian answered, “and that he was privy to secret information. He said that the Jin’Sai was trying to cross the Azure Sea. If that is true—”
“It is true,” Gracchus interrupted. “The Viper Lord tried to kill Tristan at the edges of the Azure Sea, but he failed. We cannot know whether the Jin’Sai has reached Shashida, but we must assume that he has. It is all the more reason to take the initiative and be the first to use the banned spells! Think for a moment, Vespasian! There can be only one reason why the Chikara Inkai would welcome the Jin’Sai into their midst! They wish to imbue his blood with banned forestallments as well! Now there is surely no choice—we must violate the Borderlands Treaty first, before they can give the Jin’Sai such powers and order him to do the same! And if the Jin’Sai is indeed there, we will finally succeed in killing him! Right now we may still have the upper hand, but if we wait until he reaches Shashida, the moment will be lost forever! But before we completely destroy Shashida, the gold mines must be safely in our possession, for we must first ensure that we can maintain stability at home. Without greatly adding to our treasury, a revolt is an eventual certainty.”
Vespasian tiredly walked to a chair and sat down. The issues that had been put before him were earthshaking. The longer he considered Gracchus’ words, the more difficult his decision became.
He had to agree that the Pon Q’tar’s scheme would likely succeed. If his gifts were in fact as powerful as Gracchus claimed, using them would likely mean taking the gold mines, vanquishing Shashida once and for all, and forever ending Vigors use on this side of the world. The Jin’Sai would be dead, and the only remaining impediment to the world domination of the Vagaries would be the Jin’Saiou. Moreover, his terrors would end and his life would be spared.
Despite all these temptations, Vespasian hesitated. As Emperor of Rustannica, he had strictly abided by her laws and agreements—especially the Borderlands Treaty. Vespasian had not been one of those who so long ago devised and ratified that agreement, but like every emperor since then, he had respected it.
Vespasian was a devout Vagaries worshipper, but what Gracchus was asking him to do would clearly violate not only the treaty, but also his personal sense of honor. Millions would die by his hand, and the earth’s devastation might be forever unredeemable. That was the very reason the Borderlands Treaty had been proposed by the Shashidans and later agreed to by both sides. His mind awash with concern, Vespasian looked worriedly at Gracchus.
“Can you guarantee that only Shashida will be destroyed?” Vespasian asked. “I know nothing of these spells. I must have your assurances that they can be controlled!”
“Like these spells, your blood is the most potent known to man,” Gracchus answered. “We believe that they can be controlled, but only by you and the Jin’Sai. Despite their immense power, you will find summoning them to be a relatively simple matter. Controlling their use will be more difficult, but not impossible. I will teach you all that you need to know. If Shashida is to be crushed and the Jin’Sai killed, these spells must be used. Only they can provide the raw power needed to do so—to say nothing of saving your life.”
“And what of my personal legacy?” Vespasian asked. “Can you guarantee that as well? I desire nothing more than to be known as the emperor who finally accomplishes these wondrous things. But the Borderlands Treaty is well known throughout Rustannica, and I have no wish to be the first emperor to violate it. If I do, history might not be as kind to me as you predict.”
Gracchus smiled. “We rule Rustannica,” he answered, “not the citizens. Our history has always been what we make of it. If we die trying to win this war, it won’t matter. Should we win, just as we censor the meetings of the Suffragat, we can easily explain our victory to the Rustannican citizens in any way that we like. If you do not wish to be known as the emperor who first violated the treaty, we will say that the Shashidans were the aggressors. Always remember that history is written by the victors, not the vanquished.”
Vespasian looked over at Persephone to see worry on her lovely face. Although at first she had been enraged, now more than anything she worried for her husband’s life. If that meant violating the treaty, so be it. After taking a deep breath, she gave Vespasian a nod, indicating her agreement.
Persuading the First Tribune would be another matter. As Vespasian turned to look at him, a dark look overcame Lucius’ face. He hated Gracchus, and he had never tried to hide it. Hearing that the lead cleric had duped them all for the sake of the craft had seemingly angered Lucius more than anyone. Even so, he recognized the need to go forward with Gracchus’ plan, for it seemed that the opportunity was far too tempting to squander. And so he too would consent to Gracchus’ wishes. But in payment for his agreement he would first demand his pound of flesh.
Raising one arm, he quickly pointed it at the lead cleric. At once Gracchus’ throat started to constrict as though someone had slipped a rope around it and was strangling him. Although Gracchus was a powerful craft practitioner, so was Lucius. If Lucius could subdue Gracchus fast enough, the cleric would likely be unable to summon enough power to strike back. As Gracchus choked and struggled, Lucius levitated the cleric off his feet. Then he looked at Vespasian.
The emperor nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Because of his treachery, you may have your fun. Just see that he doesn’t die.”
With Gracchus firmly in his power, Lucius walked ove
r to stand before him. By this time there was nothing that Gracchus could do to break Lucius’ hold over him. Placing his hands on his hips, Lucius looked up into Gracchus’ eyes.
The cleric’s face was growing red and his feet were wildly kicking as if trying to gain a purchase on thin air. Saying nothing, Lucius let him linger a bit longer. As precious seconds ticked by, drool started forming in the corners of the cleric’s mouth, then ran down his chin and onto his white and burgundy robe.
“Should any harm befall the emperor because of your secret spells, or should I learn that you have withheld any part of the truth, I’ll see to it that you and every other Pon Q’tar member dies,” he said quietly. “You are not in Ellistium, Gracchus. Your fawning citizenry is not here to protect you. And unlike them, you do not command my worship. Instead, you are surrounded by hundreds of legions, each of which owes its allegiance first to Vespasian, then to the empress, and then to me. They would as soon see you die as I would. I suggest that you remember that.”
Finally releasing his grip on Gracchus, Lucius let him crash to the floor.
Gracchus fell hard, causing Vespasian to wonder whether Lucius had miscalculated and killed him. Then the cleric gasped. Coughing wildly, he spat up more drool, then finally sat up. As he recovered, he looked at Lucius with hate-filled eyes.
One day you will pay dearly for this insult, First Tribune, he thought as he shakily came to his feet. No one dares treat the lead cleric this way and lives. But that will not be today. Today my only goal is to initiate my ultimate war weapon, and so I shall.
Weakened but undaunted, Gracchus ignored Lucius and looked into Vespasian’s eyes. Everything had come down to this moment.
“May I have your answer, my liege?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “The time is now. Not only does the war effort need you, but your next terror could come at any time. If so, it might kill you.”
Vespasian found much of the cleric’s proposal unpleasant, but he realized that he had little choice. Besides, he reasoned, if for some reason the Pon Q’tar had wanted him dead, they had had ample chances to kill him before now. Striding toward Gracchus, the emperor looked sternly into his eyes.
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