Roughly at the center of the chaos was a large and very comfortable chair. The arms and seat were covered in soft leather and stuffed well. The man who sat in that chair leaned heavily to his left and studied a manuscript written before the Fellein Empire had been even a distant thought in the first Emperor’s mind.
Jeron looked up from his studies as soon as she entered the room. He was a solid man with arms nearly as thick as her thighs, and though when last she had seen him he’d been sporting a beard and a mane of hair, he was currently bald and clean-shaven. His jaw looked better with a beard, but she said nothing of that. Instead Goriah smiled and gave an informal bow.
“You look well, Jeron.”
“You always look well, Goriah.” He rose from his desk and pushed past the vast stacks of papers that covered it. Jeron was always happiest when he was reading. Desh had once said that he felt Jeron would be perfectly content to spend the rest of his days studying words that had been written in the past and Goriah had no reason to doubt that comment’s validity. Neither did Jeron, who merely chuckled and nodded when Desh had made the comment.
He ambled over and hugged her to him. He was easily a head and a half taller than she was, and he hugged like a bear, with great strength, barely restrained. Still, nothing was broken by the contact, and she sighed contentedly. He had always given wonderful hugs, even when they had been children.
“How are you, little sister?”
“I am tired, and I feel like a hundred years have passed since I had a proper bath. I miss my bed and I suspect it will be a long while before I am properly comfortable again.” She smiled as she spoke and Jeron chuckled.
“Do you ever not complain?”
“Do you ever tire of asking me foolish questions to which you already know the answer?”
One thick thumb from the paw of his right hand stroked the side of her face and she smiled. “I never tired of hearing you speak. How could I then grow weary of asking questions that will make you answer me?”
“Are the others here, Jeron?”
“Of course.” His broad face moved into an easy smile. “Where else would they be?”
“Out and handling the affairs of the school? Perhaps seeking knowledge and wisdom?”
“Well, yes, that could possibly be a good goal for them, but there are many dire warnings of a war coming our way and so I sent for the rest.” He put a familiar arm around her waist and led her gently toward the doors. He was not urging her to leave, but rather guiding her toward the very goal she sought.
“You were expecting me then?”
“I was expecting you or one of the others. Desh does not change.”
“Desh sent me, of course. He wants to know what might be known of the Sa’ba Taalor and what you have learned from the old writings.”
“He could have just asked,” Jeron’s voice was only half in jest. “Or he could come to visit.”
“That’s why he has us, you know. So that he doesn’t have to travel as far.”
When they reached the massive doors he’d been leading her towards they opened of their own accord. Neither of them was the least surprised by that miraculous event. They crossed the threshold without hesitation and continued along their way.
A careful observer would have noticed that the corridor down which they walked was far too long for the house that Goriah had entered. That observer might also have noticed that the air was substantially warmer than in Jeron’s offices or in the main entrance. Both of them noticed, of course, but were unimpressed by the change.
They walked only a dozen paces before entering the next room. There, sitting around a comfortable table and picking at the foods laid out for them, a gathering of several very powerful sorcerers looked up and smiled warmly when they saw who Jeron had brought to visit them.
Goriah smiled back and one by one she hugged and was hugged by some of the only people in the world who knew her before she wore the face she had chosen to call her own.
There were smiles aplenty in that room, but that couldn’t hide the fact that the people she was facing were scared and had a very good reason to be afraid. Whenever the Sisters came to visit it was because Desh Krohan had sent them. And when Desh took note of the sorcerers he had trained, it was because he had need of them.
It could be said, and fairly, that few people wanted to be noticed by the wizard and less of them wanted to be needed by him. That sort of attention inevitably led to changes of an extreme nature. One needed look no further than the transformations in the life of Merros Dulver to understand that.
When the greetings were done and they had all settled themselves down to eat and drink and Goriah herself had made them mugs of sweet hot tea, she looked at the people gathered with her and spoke not with her voice but with the voice of Desh Krohan.
“These are dangerous times, my friends. And they are about to get much darker.”
Desh Krohan and Merros Dulver stood together and looked toward the south, where the dark plume over what had been the Guntha Islands remained like a distant storm cloud.
“What news from your Sisters?”
Desh leaned along the parapet and let the wind play with his hair. He’d scrubbed himself several times in scalding hot waters before he’d felt properly clean again and now that he was, he wanted to savor the sensation.
“Pella travels to the east. She’s gathering knowledge and will contact me soon, I hope. Tataya is far to the south. She’s been speaking on our behalf to the Brellar.”
“The Brellar?” Merros frowned at him.
“Well, we need to have a proper navy, don’t we?”
“We have a navy.” Merros frowned. “At least I think we have a navy.” His frown became a proper scowl. “Why don’t we have a navy?”
“We did. Actually we had a fleet of ships and boats, many of which were supplied by Roathes and the descending kingdoms to the south.” Desh gestured toward the distant cloud of darkness. “The Guntha blew up. And then Roathes was taken by black ships. And now we don’t have a navy so much as we have plenty of promises that when the time comes, if it comes, a few ships will be spared for the use of the Empire.”
“Would you care to explain how that works, please? Are there ships or no?”
Desh looked at the General and raised an eyebrow. “Mostly there are ships. They are held by the different kingdoms and assigned to the Empire, should there be a war. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
“So why are you now looking to hire a naval fleet?”
“You misunderstand, Merros. I’m preparing for the events that could happen.”
“No. You’re deliberately not telling me something. You have placed me in charge of defending the Empire and now you’re hiding things. Tell me what you’re hiding or find someone else to run this affair.”
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“I did not come out of retirement to be lied to. I came out of retirement because you promised me a preposterous amount of money and told me I would be in charge of the military forces.” Actually that was a lie. He’d been told that he would be a general and in charge of defending against the possible threat of the Sa’ba Taalor. The murder of the Emperor and most of his military staff had facilitated the rise to general and head of the army. “I can’t run anything if you hide secrets that can impact my ability to command our forces.”
Desh sighed and shook his head. “You know I really do prefer a certain level of blind obedience.”
“Which is fine when I’m not running an entire Empire’s military forces. Besides which, as we’ve already discussed, you’re paying me far too well for me to give less than my all.” He looked sideways at Desh. “Really, it’s embarrassing how much you’re paying me.”
“I could always arrange a cut in your salary.”
“Don’t be hasty. I’m perfectly willing to be embarrassed from time to time. I just don’t want to be left ignorant of important facts.”
“The facts are simple
enough. There’s been no need of an Imperial Navy for a long time. We have access to ships and we’ve made the most of it. But there might not be enough ships ready and waiting any longer and the best method of handling the situation is to bolster what we have with support from outside of the Empire.”
Merros shook his head and chewed at one edge of his mustache.
“No. We need to build more ships.”
“We’re currently under attack.”
“All the more reason to build more ships.”
“We can’t possibly justify building more ships if we don’t have the support of the Empress, and Nachia’s not likely to want to bother if you can’t prove your worth.”
“What do you mean by that?” Merros’svoice took on an edge.
Desh smiled. He liked knowing the man was paying attention. “What have you done about Roathes?”
“I’ve sent scouts.” His voice took on a defensive edge.
“And what have the scouts come back with?”
“Remarkably little.”
“Why is that?”
“You know why, Desh. They haven’t gone far before they returned.”
“Because?”
“Because there’s nothing there. The land is a ruin. It’s burned and blackened and the people are gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Mostly up this way, it seems.”
“How many?” Desh looked at Merros carefully as he asked the question.
Merros sighed. “Not enough.”
“Then you need to find out where the rest of them are, Merros Dulver. You need to find out where they are and you need to gather them together. The Roathians know how to build ships and boats and you want to build a navy’s worth of both. So find them and have them get to work.”
“And how do you propose I manage that?”
“What were you telling me only minutes ago? You’ve been put in charge of the greatest army on the planet. Find a way.” Desh waved a hand and stared out at the distant plume.
“Damn it.”
The wizard smiled. “Indeed.”
“You knew it would come to this.” Merros jabbed a finger at the wizard and stopped himself just before it would have touched the man. He was brave and he was angry, but he was not foolish. It was one thing to speak his mind with the sorcerer and another to touch without permission.
“Lanaie is now the queen of her people. Find her and ask her assistance.”
It was Merros who looked out at the horizon then, staring at the dark smudge that pointed toward the ruins of the Guntha.
Far to the south of the Fellein Empire, Captain Callan steered his ship, carefully following the orders that the Brellar had given. Next to him Tataya stood firm and swayed with the movement of the waves. Next to her was a complete stranger who was possibly the most important person in the world just then. Because he was the reason none of them were dead.
He hardly seemed especially significant. He was average height and a little on the slim side, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a long, thin mustache that was well suited to his long, thin face. He also sported a sword on his hip and no less than three daggers, but that was hardly unusual with the Brellar. As a rule, they remained heavily armed. Like all the Brellar he had scarred most of his arms and parts of his face with symbols that meant nothing to Callan. He knew only that the markings told stories or noted achievements. The scars were small, but numerous. He supposed that was to make room for more claims of greatness.
Ahead of them were four ships. Behind them were three more.
The man the Brellar had sent along to keep them company walked closer and took the wheel from Callan. He was not demanding, but he did not have to be. As the man currently in charge of their fates, he chose to be gracious. Callan was grateful.
The redheaded beauty that’d hired him watched the newcomer as he steered the vessel into the docks where the Brellar were waiting. They had caught a good wind and rode it all the way to the land where they came to a rest. Captain Callan had never been this far south and east. He did not know if they were at an island or if they were touching a larger land mass.
They had left the areas he knew seventeen days earlier. Now he was doing his best not to get killed. He had doubts about his success rate.
Still, they were all still alive when the men on the docks started securing the ship.
Callan felt a bit intimidated, really. He called his boat a ship, but, in comparison to the Brellar vessels on all sides, it was rather like calling a stunted pony a warhorse. The Brellar’s vessels were monstrous in comparison, and all of them were in fine shape.
Their Brellar escort gestured quickly and headed for the gangplank, chattering away in the common tongue about the beautiful weather and promising a meal for everyone.
Callan did not know that he trusted the cheerful mood, but he went along with it.
The redhead, Tataya, walked with calm assurance and glided her way down the to the docks. Several of the men gladly followed behind her. He doubted that their luck would be any better than his, and he’d been trying to woo her without the first hint of success since the day they’d met. The wind shifted and he caught a hint of his own scent. Perhaps if he’d bathed a bit more regularly.
Up ahead, a large group of large men with large swords was standing at the foot of a long staircase and looking toward the redhead with an odd expression on their faces.
No one was more surprised than Callan when the gathered strangers dropped to their knees in supplication before her.
Except, just possibly, Tataya herself.
Nachia Krous paced the throne room in long strides, her hair flapping in her wake. She seemed incapable of sitting still, and Merros was obliged to at least follow her with his eyes. He’d actually given up trying to walk next to her when she was in a mood like this very early on, even before she was properly crowned.
‘There’s no one left? No one at all?” Nachia asked the question for the third time and for the third time he answered.
“No one. My scouts didn’t even find very many corpses, Majesty.”
“Well, what did they do with them?” She looked toward him with wide eyes and a slightly dangerous expression.
“I have no notion. I’ve spoken with Desh about it and he said he’ll try to investigate. Didn’t look at all pleased by the idea, actually.”
“Gods!” She pointed at one of the guards in the room, a man picked by Merros himself for his loyalty. “You!”
The man flinched.
“Darfel. His name is Darfel, Majesty.”
“Darfel! Go immediately to Desh Krohan’s chambers and tell him I demand his presence!”
Darfel responded with a sharp salute and immediately left at a brisk walk. Merros suspected the man thought he was being sent to his own death, but he listened.
“You know he’s likely ready to wet himself at the notion of bothering Desh, don’t you?”
Nachia looked at him for a moment with a puzzled expression and then managed to relax a bit and chuckled. She shook her hair back into something resembling a proper position. “I guess if one doesn’t really know him, the old man is rather intimidating.”
“Actually he’s just basically rather intimidating all the time.”
“Are you intimidated by him, General Dulver?”
“Majesty, I deal with people who can order me executed on a whim. Why should one who can turn me into a spider and squash me under his foot be any more intimidating?”
“Do you really think he could turn you into a spider?”
“According to the rumors I’ve heard over the years, he could just as easily turn me into a butterfly or kill me with a glance. After a certain point you just accept that the man can kill you any number of ways.”
He kept his tone light, because the Empress needed a bit more levity in her life, near as he could tell.
“Well, you may rest assured I’ll only have you executed with good reason and if I do I’ll allow you a fair
chance to argue your case.”
“You know, I really don’t know you well enough to get if you’re joking when you say that sort of thing, Majesty.”
“Of course I’m joking.” She shook her head. “I’m just getting used to you. I would rather not go through finding a replacement.”
“Still not sure if you’re joking.”
“Good. I rather like keeping my staff guessing as to my motives.”
“You have been around that damned wizard far too much.”
“I should rather not be described as ‘that damned wizard’, thank you.” Desh’s voice had an edge of annoyance. He hadn’t been there a moment before, but he stepped out of the shadows and looked at Merros with a scowl.
Nachia shook her head. “You’re not to consult your damned spirits about the Roathians.”
Desh looked at her for a long second with narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good. That’s good. I’d prefer you not disappear for several days again.”
“Pity that. I was planning on going to Roathes myself to see what happened there.”
“What?” It took Merros a moment to realize that he and the Empress had spoken simultaneously.
“I’m going to Roathes. I need to find out what happened there and I have no one else here I can trust with the examinations.”
“Send more soldiers.” Nachia was shaking her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Soldiers won’t answer the questions. I need to go myself.”
“Send one of the Sisters.” Nachia’s expression brooked no argument.
“Can’t. They aren’t here. They’re otherwise engaged.” Desh crossed his arms and shook his head.
“I know you can talk to them over long distances. I’ve seen you do it.”
“I can be there and back before any of the Sisters could manage and I need to see this myself, Nachia. It has to happen.”
“What if I need your counsel?”
The Seven Forges Novels Page 46
