by A. C. Cobble
Amelie stood, still holding O’ecca’s hand. “O’ecca, I know what you are feeling right now. My father was killed too. He was caught up in the swirl of politics of more aggressive lords. I wanted nothing more than to take revenge, and I couldn’t. I’ve poured myself into this quest to battle the demons. Sometimes, I can convince myself that I’ve forgotten what happened. If I had a chance, though, I would go back and be with my people. I would lead them, protect them, and right the wrongs that were committed against us.”
O’ecca looked up and met Amelie’s eyes.
“We have a lot to discuss with the emperor,” said Ben. “The Red Lord, the demons. We can tie all of it together and get justice for your family.”
“We do have a lot to discuss with him,” agreed O’ecca firmly.
She stood, brushing out her green silk dress. She wiped a finger under her eyes, removing the tears and black kohl that had started to run down her face. She looked down at her dress.
“I think I will go change.”
A quarter bell later, O’ecca rejoined them in the common room of the inn. She wore light leather armor, her hair was tied up in a warrior’s bun, and her naginata rested on her shoulder. The look on her face sent other patrons of the tavern scrambling out of her way.
“M-My lady,” stammered her representative. “Are you certain that is appropriate dress to see the emperor?”
“It is appropriate for what I want to accomplish,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They followed O’ecca and her man out into the street, heading to the emperor’s compound.
12
Family, Home, Empire
As they walked through the streets of Shamiil, Ben tried to process the horror of what O’ecca faced. Her father, her brothers, all of them had been killed in battle with the Red Lord. She had responsibility for her House now, and if she wasn’t able to convince the emperor to assist her, she’d be hard pressed to defend her people. If he wasn’t severely censured, the Red Lord was certain to go back to the Iyrron prefecture and finish the job he’d started. Her House’s army was seriously weakened, and with her in Shamiil, it would be a disorganized shamble.
On top of that, there were hundreds of demons that would be escaping the Purple’s fortress. There was no telling how the emperor would react to that, but if he didn’t do something, then the Red Lord might be the least of everyone’s worries.
Ben was startled out of his reverie when the former guard captain Crai shouted, “Ho there! I thought you’d be gone by now. Did you find what you were looking for?”
The man was standing on the side of the street. He had acquired lacquered armor and a sword. He now looked like the former captain he claimed to be instead of a recently freed slave.
“Not yet,” responded Ben. He paused. “You should know the Red Lord is here.”
Crai grimaced.
“We must hurry,” stated O’ecca’s representative.
“Come with us,” Ben said to Crai. “We go to see the emperor. Your testimony about what happened in Lord Syvann’s prefecture and the Purple’s fortress could add weight to our claims.”
The former captain fell in beside them as they marched through the crowded streets of Shamiil. The city was sprinkled with low hills but was otherwise flat. Atop the hills sat the palaces of the wealthy. Above the throng of the city, they got a better breeze off the sea and didn’t have to deal with the smell and refuse of their neighbors. The palaces were behind tall walls studded with sharp spikes. They clearly did not welcome visitors.
The rest of the city contained remarkably similar architecture to Indo, white stucco buildings with black trim. The profusion of vegetation and colorful flowers wasn’t as dramatic in the city, but many of the windows held planters that sprouted herbs or vegetables.
The palace of the emperor stood above it all. A sprawling compound of white, pink-veined marble structures, it sat atop the highest hill in the city. At the top of the towers, all of Shamiil would be visible, from the port to the southern gates.
The hill below the compound’s walls was covered in a forest of sharpened stakes. They sprouted like a hedgehog’s quills. From a distance, Ben could see that men patrolled the walls with long wooden bows. Every hundred paces, towers rose even higher. Ben guessed a sharp-eyed lookout could see for leagues up there.
“I wouldn’t want to attack that place,” murmured Ben.
“In Ooswam, the emperor is the supreme power,” said O’ecca. “It is imperative that he shows that power to the world. If the other lords or foreigners see him as weak, they may be tempted to strike.”
“Having power is frequently about projecting power,” agreed Amelie. “If the people and the other lords perceive that the emperor is unassailable, then they won’t try.”
“Has anyone ever attacked the compound?” wondered Ben.
“Not with an army,” answered Towaal. “Many an assassin has tried. A few have been successful. The emperor shows his might because he needs to. The other Houses are almost as powerful as the imperial line, and they chafe under that yoke.”
“What happens when an emperor is assassinated?” asked Ben.
He was mildly curious about the answer, but he was more interested in distracting himself from their mission. Convincing the emperor to meet the demon threat to the south, to confront the Red Lord, and then to lend them a ship was going to be near impossible.
“His son will inherit, the same as any House. If there is no son, then a daughter, a cousin, and so on,” replied O’ecca. “The emperor has only one legitimate son, so the succession will be clear and is expected to be bloodless.”
“Do you know the son?” asked Amelie.
O’ecca nodded, her face tightening.
“You don’t like him?” guessed Ben.
“Chesson is not yet ready for rule,” she responded. “He also does not yet have a wife, and he believes that every girl in Ooswam should want the position. There have been some scandals as you can imagine.”
O’ecca fell silent, but her face grew darker and darker as they walked.
Amelie surmised the reason. “With the news about your family, you are now the Lady of your House.”
O’ecca nodded. “Chesson has already made advances toward me. My unexpected inheritance will only entice him more. He lives in his father’s shadow with no formal authority. By marrying me, he’d take control of a significant prefecture. The problems we have with the Red Lord would vanish as soon as a betrothal is announced. Merchants would come flocking to do business with us at generous terms, and lords would trip over themselves to ally with us. Chesson is, after all, the future emperor. Gaining his favor now would pay dividends for a lifetime.”
“Can you say no to him?” asked Amelie.
“We shall see,” responded O’ecca quietly. “He would be a powerful ally, and my people need help.”
Ben shuddered.
They marched up the twisting walkway to the gates of the emperor’s compound. An approaching army would be exposed the entire way. Ben mentioned as much to Rhys.
“That’s true,” agreed the rogue. “Of course, by the time an army got here, they would have already pillaged the entire city. Notice how the emperor’s walls are twice as high as the city’s? He’s not worried about foreign invaders. He’s worried about an attack from within.”
At the gates, a dozen men wearing the black and gold armor of the emperor stood watch.
“Back again so soon?” one of them asked O’ecca’s representative. “House of Iyrron must need even more assistance than is rumored.”
O’ecca’s official offered a curt bow of the head. “I’m back as often as required.”
The guard rolled his eyes and waved them through, apparently trusting O’ecca’s man wouldn’t bring in anyone who didn’t belong.
Inside, the top of the hill was covered in extensive manicured gardens and squat, pink-veined white marble buildings. Ringing the hill were heavily manned walls. They didn’t have the soaring in
timidation of Whitehall’s massive barriers or even the thick utility of Frisay’s, but the emperor didn’t need that. As Rhys said, he wasn’t worried about siege weapons. He was worried about assassins. He was well protected against those. Scores of his men were visible, patrolling the walls, walking the grounds, and standing guard at every door. Ben estimated they’d seen a full company of the men by the time they made it to a two-story side building.
“Not the throne room?” asked O’ecca.
“You didn’t want to be noticed, did you?” asked her man. “The emperor will meet us in his library. I’m told he spends many afternoons reading, so no one will suspect he’s seeing us.”
More guards were stationed outside of the library, but they appeared to know the party was coming. They didn’t speak when Ben and his friends followed O’ecca inside.
The building was a single open room. In the center were plush rugs, couches, stuffed chairs, and polished wooden tables holding oil-filled lamps. The space was surrounded by thousands of finely bound leather volumes. Each of the four walls were covered in bookshelves. There were only two doors on either end of the building and no windows, but the room was brightly lit by skylights above them.
“What do you think the emperor of Ooswam reads?” wondered Rhys, meandering over to view some of the titles.
Ben drifted toward a table in the center of the room. It was painted with a magnificent map. It detailed much of the South Continent, though the desert of Qooten appeared to be underrepresented. Out of curiosity, he looked for the Purple’s fortress or Frisay, but both were missing.
O’eccca, noticing where he was studying, remarked, “The emperor’s mandate is to protect Ooswam from external forces, but as long as those are outside of the border and are not sending armies, I don’t think he cares about them.”
“And why should he?” asked a high-pitched tenor.
Ben looked to the opposite end of the room and saw a young man standing there. He was clothed in a bright white robe and had his long hair slicked back with some type of oil. A sharp nose and receding hairline dominated his face. He waved behind him, and two soldiers exited out the door.
“Chesson,” said O’ecca, sketching a quick curtsy to the newcomer.
“My father told me you were here,” said Chesson. “I’m disappointed you didn’t write to let me know. After the Spring Gala last year, I thought I made it clear I’d like to see you when you were in Shamiil.”
Ben wasn’t sure whether he should consider the emperor’s son a man or a boy. He must have intended his haughty demeanor to add years and gravitas to his appearance, but he came off as immature and petulant to Ben.
“Where is he?” asked O’ecca.
“He’ll be here,” assured Chesson. “I wanted to see you first.”
O’ecca waited.
“Your family is dead,” declared Chesson abruptly. “I’ve informed my father to support your claim for the House seat. It is the least I could do.”
“Yes,” agreed O’ecca. “That is the least you could do.”
A slight frown marred the fop’s face, but he pressed on. “You knew already, didn’t you?”
O’ecca nodded.
“Good,” said Chesson, stepping closer to O’ecca. “After you are done speaking to my father, I suggest you stay and dine with me this evening. It has been a long time, and I believe there is much we should discuss.”
“I’ll see how the conversation goes with your father,” replied O’ecca slowly. “You are right. There is much to discuss.”
Chesson opened his mouth to respond, but a relentless clanging sounded from outside. An irritated glare fell across Chesson’s face, and his mouth snapped shut. He shot a look to the door where his guards were stationed, but none of them were coming inside or shouting alarm. After several moments, the clanging stopped.
“This is not good,” muttered Rhys.
“It may have nothing to do with us,” protested Amelie quietly. Gesturing at Chesson, she added, “It’s not like we snuck in, this time.”
“If not us, then what does it have to do with?” worried the rogue.
“That sequence is an alarm,” explained the former guard captain Crai. “It signifies an attack.”
Chesson waved a hand to quiet them, fighting to wipe the perturbed pout off his lips and appear regal.
“Some fool must have accidentally struck one of the gongs,” he claimed. He moved toward O’ecca. “Do not be alarmed, my lady. You are with me.”
Ben glanced at Rhys and could tell the rogue was thinking the same thing he was. No one accidentally hits an alarm gong over and over again for that long.
Chesson reached out to take O’ecca’s hand but was interrupted when one of his guards burst inside.
“I told you to wait outside,” snapped the young lord.
“Sir,” quivered the guard, “something is wrong.”
“Go fix it,” insisted Chesson. “Do not bother me again!”
Chesson turned to O’ecca and a false smile slid onto his face. “Do not worry yourself about this disruption. Maybe we can go somewhere…”
“Sir!” shouted the guard from the door.
Chesson spun to the man but didn’t get the chance to admonish him.
The guard grunted and staggered into the room. His face registered shock. He stumbled into a table, knocking it over, and fell face down on the floor. A red-feathered arrow stood from his back.
The blood drained from Chesson’s face.
“This is not good,” said Rhys.
“Go see what is happening,” instructed Towaal.
She bustled over to the fallen guard and fingered the feathers of the arrow.
Rhys ducked his head out of the door then immediately pulled back in, cursing.
“We need to go,” he said.
A scream sounded from the open door, and Ben saw black-armored men rushing by with swords drawn.
“Out the other way,” clarified Rhys needlessly.
Ben drew his longsword and trotted to the door they’d come in. Luckily, the gate was out that door. Whatever was happening, Ben was certain they’d be better off away from the palace.
Outside, he saw men rushing toward the main building. To the emperor’s quarters, he guessed. He nodded to himself. They certainly had no reason to go that direction. He gestured to friends that the route was clear.
“O’ecca!” called Chesson. The young lord was standing in the center of the library, wringing his hands. “Stay here with me. This place is defensible. My men are outside. They’ll quickly sort out whatever is happening. It’s best we stay in the building.”
Another of Chesson’s guards ran inside. “Sir, we have to leave.”
A scream sounded behind the man.
“That door,” he added, gesturing to the one Ben was peering out.
“Looks like we’re together for now,” muttered O’ecca.
They dashed into the bright sunlight. Around the grounds, the emperor’s guards were swarming toward the palace. It wasn’t clear who was attacking.
A shout drew Ben’s attention and he saw another one of the guards fall to an arrow.
“There,” he said, pointing to one of the towers that dotted the walls.
Under the shade of the tower, it was impossible to see who was inside, but arrows flew out. The shafts struck the guards as they raced across the lawn below. Outside of the tower, guards were pounding on a wooden door, trying to get inside.
“Another one there,” called Rhys, looking to the other side of the compound.
“Stay low,” growled Chesson’s guard.
The man was eyeing the open space between them and the palace. They’d be exposed to arrows for two hundred paces. He glanced to the main gate. The way seemed clear.
“We’ll follow the exterior wall and meet up with the gate guards,” instructed Chesson’s man. “There’s a dozen of them. They can hold the guardhouse if needed.”
Ben noticed a tiny golden stamp on the man’s sho
ulder, an insignia of rank, he assumed.
Rhys looked to Ben and Ben nodded acknowledgement. If the guard was headed to the gate, they may as well go with him. Ben had no interest in staying inside the compound while a war broke out.
They dashed across the open space. Ben kept his head low and tried to ignore the tickle in his back at the thought of an arrow plunging into him. The arrows had enough force to punch through the thick lacquer armor of the emperor’s troops. The heavy barbs would have no problem piercing Ben’s skin.
Amelie jogged beside him, scanning the walls above. So far, none of the towers near them were raining arrows.
They made the wall and tracked along it, staying in the shadows and hopefully out of sight for the archers. Shouts drifted across from the palace, but Ben still couldn’t see any of the attackers. Twenty paces ahead of them, he saw the gate to the compound stood open. Good, he thought. He had worried the guards had a protocol to close it anytime there was an alarm. With it open, they could easily walk out and let the mess sort itself out.
He thought that until they made it to the gate. Bodies of the emperor’s guards lay scattered underneath the portcullis. The dozen men who stood guard earlier were all dead.
“They must have been ambushed,” guessed Rhys.
“Doesn’t matter,” stated Ben. “The way is open. Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s not open,” remarked Towaal. She had walked out the gate and was looking down the path. Ben heard the stomps of booted feet. The mage turned. “We need to find shelter inside.”
Chesson’s guard looked around wildly then pointed to the palace. “The north tower. It has a side entrance, and the stairs at the top are easily defensible. There are men stationed there and weapons stored. If we can link up with those men, we could hold the tower stairs against a much larger force. You will help fight if needed?”
Ben nodded. “I don’t know who is attacking, but they are no friends of ours.”
“Good,” answered the man. “Follow me.”
Chesson tried to hold O’ecca’s hand, but she slapped him away.
