War God's Will

by Matthew P Gilbert

  Lucreta looked about the room, then back to Polus. “I understand how this applies to the house nominees, but how does this apply to what Tasinalta has done? Continuity of Government is for approving nominees, not officiating murder trials.”

  “I did not use the term murder, nor is she on trial for murder. She has submitted to judgment on the killing.”

  Lucreta looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What does that even mean?”

  Olemus snorted. “It's Meite foolishness, but without the Meites.”

  Davron shook his head in vehement denial. “Oh, there most certainly is a Meite involved. It just happens that he lost the battle.”

  Lucreta wrinkled her nose, her expression sour. “It seems legally iffy.”

  Davron chuckled at her. “This is how the Meites handle such things. They have done so multiple times in recent history.”

  “They just did it this week,” Polus muttered, prompting Rithard to do a mental fist pump. Yes! He’s admitted it! That’s all I wanted.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Lucreta insisted, seeming less certain of herself now.

  Olemus patted her leg gently. “It’s real, my dear. It’s rarely invoked now that Meites aren’t killing each other in the streets every day or so, but it’s ancient, older than Nihlos itself.”

  Polus looked back and forth at the four elders, then shrugged again. “There are no Meites present, and our best legal scholar is among the dead. Our situation is exigent.”

  Davron added, “It is Polus’s and my judgment that the continuation of government council is not merely permitted to rule on this, but obliged to do so. We are the only legitimate authority in Nihlos at the moment, so we must hear her case and judge according to Meite tradition.”

  Lucreta was still not pleased. She scowled back at Polus and asked, “And who decides? You?”

  Polus sighed and raised a palm to his face briefly. “No, Lucreta, we decide: you, Olemus, Davron, and I. We're all that's left.”

  Lucreta, shaken at this realization, shuddered briefly. “What about House Prosin?”

  Davron grunted. “Predictable snakes that they are, upon hearing our woes, their weasel of an elder abdicated his position in squealing, shitting terror. They've sent this vixen in his place to be confirmed.” He gestured to Teretha.

  Rithard could barely suppress a mad giggle. More like she had someone explain to him that his life would be much easier if he retired now. She wouldn't have put him up there if she couldn't easily remove him when the time came.

  Teretha waved at Lucreta. Shame, dear Mother, is an emotion you haven’t even a passing acquaintance with, is it?

  Lucreta turned and eyed the silent redhead, who was still lounging as if this were a sleepover rather than any sort of official proceeding. Rithard realized who the girl must be just as Lucreta spoke. “Presumably, you are House Veril’s candidate?”

  The girl twirled a lock of hair and nodded, but offered no words.

  Olemus smiled at the group and rubbed his hands together. “So you understand what we're at here, yes?”

  Lucreta shuddered and answered in a trembling voice, “I do.”

  Polus twirled his hand at her in a ‘get on with it gesture’. “Then how do you vote. Do we hear Kariana or no?”

  Lucreta sucked in a long, wavering breath, then let it out again slowly. “I vote aye.”

  Rithard found himself, for what seemed the first time in his life, confused about what was going on around him. The realization struck him like a brick to the forehead: if they restore Tasinalta, and confirm us all, they will have a quorum right here in this very room.

  Mei! This is a coup!

  Kariana offered Lucreta Strall a calculated blank expression. The old woman’s gaze probed at her, wheels within her mind turning as she considered. “How many more murders do you have in mind, I wonder?”

  Kariana answered in a sullen tone, “Only as many as needed, of course.” She nodded toward Polus. “I think he said it best: Nihlos belongs to those willing to seize power, and always has.”

  Lucreta’s blue hair seemed to stiffen, along with the very air about her, as she bristled in disapproval. “That sounds like an excuse for mayhem to me.”

  Olemus chuckled, and the couch beneath him creaked as his ponderous bulk jiggled in humor. “Prandil had his own body count, Lucreta. They all do.” He gave Kariana an approving smile. “For the first time, I actually see some merit in you.”

  Lucreta pursed her lips and shook her head. “She’s dangerous and unpredictable. Why trade one storm for another?”

  Davron glowered at Lucreta. “Make no mistake, this is their mess, not hers. They are far and away the stronger, so any responsibility for the chaos falls to them.” He raised a clenched fist. “Yet where are they now, in such moments of chaos? Gone, leaving us to clean their mess.”

  Olemus snickered. “I never liked having anyone clean my messes for me. They often throw away things I would keep.”

  Polus rubbed at his temple, wincing as if in pain. “Here is truth: most of us agree with the Meites in principle, but they are creatures of passion. They hurl themselves headlong into matters without considering the consequences. It is entirely possible to both love them and find them unfit to rule.”

  Lucreta looked back and forth at the other four, still frowning. “It leaves a bad taste in my mouth to reward a knife in the back.”

  Kariana growled in the back of her throat at the insult. The old woman was calling her a coward, an assassin! Kariana jerked at her chains and shouted, “It wasn’t in the back! It was in the eye! He saw it coming!”

  Olemus chuckled softly as Lucreta turned a shocked stare to Kariana. Polus laid a hand on Kariana’s shoulder, one she found surprisingly comforting. She took a deep breath, struggling to find some calm. “If he hadn’t been so invested in seeing me as a fuck doll instead of a human being, he probably could have killed me ten times. He just couldn’t imagine I would fight back. He hesitated because he was confused that I would even try!”

  She could feel her chest and temples pounding with emotion. “I was supposed to slink away, don't you see? Just accept that I was dirt beneath his heels, a toy to be cast aside when he was done with it!” She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, but it hardly mattered now. She locked eyes with Lucreta. Look in and see what you will, bitch. I have no secrets. “So were you!” She swept a hand through the air in a wide arc. “All of you! It’s what they expect you to do right now, don’t you see?”

  Lucreta seemed to shrink within her skin a bit, her eyes growing hard. “Yes. I do see,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ve seen for some time, in fact, out of the corner of my eye. You’ve forced me to look directly at it, as a leader should.”

  Olemus was no longer smiling, simply nodding slowly. “Tasinalta, if we do this, will you swear to us this little war is over?”

  Kariana clenched and unclenched her fists, filled with the urge to choke the fat bastard. “How can I swear that? There are at least three powerful sorcerers, and probably a fourth, who will be looking to even the score. I suspect if you have an issue with it, you’ll need to take it up with my corpse.”

  Davron shook his head. “I think not. The Meites are first and foremost warriors. They will respect your victory. If they were judging you instead of us, I have no doubt they would exonerate you.”

  Polus nodded. “I agree. Allow me to rephrase his question: if the Meites will have peace with you and with us, will you have peace with them?” He raised an eyebrow and locked eyes with her. Kariana found that staring into that gaze, she could understand exactly why this man was one of the true rulers of Nihlos.

  Olemus added, “It will be difficult enough to get them to accept what follows. If you are a gadfly to them, they will at some point give up any regard for tradition and strike us all down. We must have a firm commitment from you to at least attempt to reconcile. Will you offer that?”

  Kariana swallowed a large lump in her throat before she spok
e. “I swear it.”

  Davron gave her a stern look. “I will kill you myself if you betray that promise.”

  “Understood.”

  Polus banged his fist against the wall as a makeshift gavel. “Then we will now vote to affirm the replacements for our fallen colleagues.”

  I really need a drink. Rithard supposed that was a terribly inane thought, considering the magnitude of the proceedings in which he had just partaken, but it was true.

  I am now the Patriarch of House Amrath in truth. And if this goes badly, I'll be as dead as the other eight within the week. Why should I not look forward to small pleasures?

  Davron and Polus were convinced that the Meites would respect an honest, legal victory. Rithard, however, had his doubts. When the elders of Houses Aswan, Talus, and Yorn returned to find they had been removed from the council, it seemed nigh impossible that heads would not roll.

  Thrun, the former slave, had abstained on every vote. Ilvara, the new Matriarch of House Strall, had joined in the rebellion with great lust and glee. Rithard’s mother had gone at it with every bit the same zeal, but with considerably more style and grace, offering plenty of sighs and apologies of “I suppose I have no choice”. Seven votes would have carried the day no matter what. Rithard saw no reason to begin his relationship with these people on the wrong foot. He had voted along with them, offering no commentary at all.

  Now they had split into various cabals. It was well after three in the morning, but surely none of them would retire any time soon, a fact that irked Rithard. This might be the last time any of them slept soundly. Once the Meites returned, none of the conspirators would rest well, or, conversely, they might end up sleeping forever.

  Lost in his dark thoughts, he didn't hear Caelwen and Tasinalta approach. He started as Caelwen offered a half-filled glass of champagne. “You look as if you could use this.”

  Rithard waved it away. “That's a prop for my mother to wave about and pretend to be getting tipsy. It does not constitute in any way a 'drink'.”

  Tasinalta took it deftly from Caelwen's hand with a wink. “Mei, Davron actually prepped for an after party.” She downed the drink in one gulp and tossed the glass to shatter on the floor, grinning at Rithard all the while. “Bitch drinks will do the trick if you have enough of them.”

  Caelwen rolled his eyes, a look of resignation and embarrassment on his face as one of Davron's slaves came to clean up the broken glass. Rithard took a deep breath, but left his face blank. “I would take exception to being lectured on intoxicants, save that you may be the one person in Nihlos to exceed my knowledge.”

  Tasinalta tittered and batted her eyelids at him. “So, the new Patriarch of House Amrath is a complete lush, and single. You and I should spend some time together.”

  Rithard was suddenly glad for an empty stomach. It would likely have heaved up at that notion. He considered telling her he preferred men, or even pigs, but that would insult her, and certainly leave him no opportunity to ask a favor. “You'll have to speak to my mother about that,” he said. “She has my entire life mapped out, including whom I am to wed and names for the children.”

  Tasinalta’s face filled with a mixture of pity and horror, before she caught Caelwen shaking his head and grinning. She turned back to Rithard and said, “Well, she seems a bit busy with Davron at the moment. I suppose I'll have to schedule an appointment later.”

  Caelwen cleared his throat. “All joking aside, Empress, we did have a matter of import to discuss with you.”

  “Ah, yes,” Rithard said. He did his best to wipe the sarcasm from his face and voice and present himself as completely sincere. “Can we have your confidence on a matter? It is of grave importance.”

  Tasinalta looked back and forth at them as if she suspected they were playing a trick on her. “My confidence? Huh. It's comforting to know at least two people think I have any discretion at all.”

  Rithard offered her a charming smile and wink. “I know it's far too late for propriety, but would you consider retiring with us to my home? We've quite a tale for you, and I've considerably better spirits to share.”

  Tasinalta gave him a sly smile and rubbed her hands together. “Both of you, eh?”

  “There's a third man, as well,” Rithard chuckled.

  Tasinalta feigned shock and waved a hand in front of her face as if she were about to pass out from heat. “I don't suppose this story is a steamy romance novel, is it?”

  Rithard gave her a brief, sad smile. “No, Empress. I am afraid not. It is, at best, an adventure tale. If we don't take some action, I fear it will be a tragedy in the end.”

  Caelwen added, “It relates strongly to our last encounter with Aiul.”

  The blood seemed to drain from Tasinalta’s face entirely, and all pretense of flirting dropped away like a rotting fruit falling from a tree. She locked eyes with Caelwen, a grim expression on her face. “I'll get my things.”

  I am in Aviar. Ahmed knew it was not possible, and yet it was so. The smell of the sea was familiar now, not the bizarre, thrilling scent it had been when he had last set foot on Aviar's soil. He sat, mounted, towering over the Aviaran barbarians, scowling at the slave platform, the salt breeze cool on his skin. He knew now how it worked, how they took the unsuspecting victims from their homes and spirited them far away to be sold in chains. He even knew some of the men who were responsible.

  It was a horrible thing for men to do, this he knew, and yet he still found it difficult to feel much for the victims.

  Beside him, the large barbarian who had called himself Marcus said again, “Could be they didn’t understand what would happen to them until it was too late. Maybe if they had the chance to fight now, they would.”

  Yazid pointed toward the platform, and Ahmed followed his gesture. A lone woman was chained to the bar, sneering at the crowd, spitting, hurling curses and insults at them. Without those chains, she would be a formidable warrior.

  Ahmed shook his head. This is not how it was. The woman had not been defiant, not until he had prodded her. Nor had she been—

  Nihlosian! This woman is Nihlosian!

  “This one called to me,” Ilaweh rumbled. “Free her. We will see if she will fight.”

  Ahmed looked about for the slave master, but saw no one. “I have no key.”

  “There is no key.” Ilaweh extended a hand and offered Ahmed a long rasp. “You must use this.”

  Ahmed's eyes grew wide. “Her bonds are too tight! I cannot use this without drawing blood.”

  “Blood has ever been the price of freedom.”

  Ahmed opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, he heard a sharp click, as if some mechanism were turning, and Aviar melted into the dark, polished wood of the library. He started up as the doors opened, and Rithard entered.

  “We have a guest,” he called out.

  Ahmed rose to his feet. “I know. Bring her to me.”

  Kariana found she could not remove her hands from her face. They were welded there by shame and terror, and would not obey her. Judgement day for me. I fear Elgar less than this man.

  She had met his eyes the once, dark, burning, full of wisdom and strength, and would not do so again. Better to die than to see the depths of his disdain, to feel it burning her from the inside out.

  She'd killed his father. I don't even remember why, really. If only that were the end of it. She would have taken Sadrik's dagger from her blouse and plunged it into her own chest if she thought doing so would make the rest of it untrue.

  I am responsible for all of this. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She had known the moment he touched her, had felt the knowledge pour into her mind like a turbulent river, tearing at the soft spots inside her head, leaving little but debris.

  “Look at me,” he told her.

  She shook her head, knowing she had no chance of forming words through her sobs. She felt strong, warm hands seize her wrists, felt them easily accomplish what her own muscles, warring against themselves, could
not.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  “I can't,” she choked out, her eyes still squeezed shut.

  “You must! I dreamt of you. Ilaweh heard your cry, do you understand me?”

  She felt the sharp sting of a palm against her face, hard enough to slice through the raging torrent in her head.

  “That’s enough!” Caelwen shouted. Kariana felt a brief struggle around her, the Southlander shouting, “You don’t understand! She needs my aid!” and Caelwen shouting back, “Keep your hands off her!”

  The shouting continued for some time, Rithard joining in as well. She could barely follow the conversation. There was too much chaos in her head, too much guilt and grief at the knowledge burning in her mind. All she knew was that, somehow, they settled things, and the Southlander returned to her and took her face gently in his hands. “Look at me,” he commanded her.

  Somehow, she found the control to open her eyes. He stood before her, his own face not full of the rage she expected, but with pleading. “There is a warrior within you, but she is chained,” he said, speaking with a quiet intensity. “You called out to Ilaweh. Do you remember?”

  For a moment, she couldn’t understand, but slowly his words penetrated her confusion, and she remembered Aiul punching through the wall, stealing the piece of the Eye, and how she had begged for aid from the Southlander god. “Yes,” she whispered. “I did.”

  “Ilaweh heard you, and he has sent me to remove your chains.”

  Kariana shook her head again. “Just take your revenge on me. It's what I deserve.”