by Giles Carwyn
She kept her hands where they were. “Would you like to stay longer? I could talk to the Emperor—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I am anxious to get on to Ohohhom.”
She felt a thrill rush through her. “I thought you wanted to return to Ohndarien.”
His shadowed gaze met hers for a moment. He shook his head. “I changed my mind.”
“Can I ask why?”
He put the ladle down, and she feared he had somehow read her thoughts, that he would turn and leave. She felt she should say something, but she didn’t, merely let him study her.
Finally, she said, “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He turned away, checking to see if any of the stone carvers were finished.
“A look that long is never for nothing. What did you see?”
He cleared his throat, hesitated. For a moment she was sure he would return to his work, but he faced her again. “Sometimes you remind me of a woman I once knew.”
“Shara?” Arefaine asked. Her heart thudded painfully, hopefully.
“No.” He shook his head. “Another woman I knew in Physendria. We were lovers…” He stopped, then said tersely, “It ended badly.”
“I’m sorry, Brophy,” she said, and reached out for his hand before she thought to stop herself.
He backed away, leaving her grasping for empty air once more. She let her hand slowly drop back to her side.
“The Emperor is trying to manipulate us,” Brophy said suddenly.
She glanced up at him. Her pulse quickened. Then he saw. Of course he saw. He was of the Great Race. Such simple machinations could not slip past him, but she had been longing to hear him say it.
“Why would he do that?” she asked.
His green eyes held hers. “You tell me.”
Like Shara-lani, Brophy was difficult to read when he closed his doors. She felt his crashing ocean of anger, but she could not see past it to the true meaning behind the question.
“Because we are alike, you and I,” she said. “We have seen so much, know so much that the Emperor does not. Our knowledge makes us powerful, and it makes him afraid. He can’t control me, so he will try to get you to control me.”
“I see.”
“You don’t have to do what he says.”
“I know.” He gave her a curt nod and started downhill, headed for a stone carver who had just finished the block she was working on.
Arefaine turned away. Her hand gripped the edge of the fountain, and she tried to even her breathing. Brophy was determined to keep her at a distance, but he would come around. He would see the beauty of her vision once it began to flower. Just like Issefyn did. Just like Jesheks did. Just as the Emperor soon would.
She could wait. She had waited three hundred years already. Another few weeks or months would not matter. The Summer Fleet would sail north. The gates of Ohndarien would be thrown wide for them. The Imperial Navy would sail south to join them.
And then the two greatest fleets in the world would burn the Silver Islanders to the waterline, and Efften would rise again.
Once the Emperor was convinced, Brophy would follow. And if the man could not be convinced…
Well, even an emperor could be replaced.
Arefaine gathered her skirts to rise and leave when she noticed that all work around her had stopped. One by one, the Ohohhim pilgrims silently dropped to their knees and pressed their heads to the stone, all save Brophy. He continued to work as though nothing had happened.
Fighting a flutter of panic, she turned and came face-to-face with the Emperor. She was grateful for the powder that hid her sudden emotions. She couldn’t help but think he had read her thoughts, though she knew he did not have such power.
Turning her gaze downward, she nodded, and said, “Your Eternal Wisdom. I did not expect to see you.”
“Will you walk with me?” he asked. Two Carriers of the Opal Fire hung back, just out of earshot. She’d never known him to go anywhere with fewer than four of the Carriers nearby.
“Of course,” she said, raising her gaze and reaching to pinch his sleeve. Every other time they had spoken, he had summoned her to an official audience.
He subtly shifted his sleeve away and extended his arm for her to take. She hesitated briefly, then took his arm. He’d never done that before.
Control yourself, she thought. He has set you off-balance with barely a word.
The Emperor nodded to the workers. They slowly rose and returned to their tasks. Brophy hoisted another block of stone on his bare shoulder and carried it toward the scaffolding. He didn’t even look up.
The Emperor watched the Brother of Autumn thoughtfully as they walked, then turned to Arefaine.
“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?” he said quietly.
Arefaine was so shocked she said nothing.
“But his heart belongs to another,” the Emperor continued.
A swift pain filled her chest, and she swallowed hard. Was he trying to hurt her? She cleared her throat, and said, “People change. Feelings change. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
“Oh knows.”
Arefaine nodded respectfully, and her equilibrium returned. For a moment, she had feared that he had seen too deeply into her plans, but he had returned to his familiar platitudes. Oh knows. It was always about what Oh knows, and Oh knew everything. “Of course,” she said in a carefully moderated tone.
He led her away from the main construction to a little gazebo perched on the edge of the cliff. The monument surrounded the little shrine built by Brophy’s uncle, Celinor, during his lone years of vigil on the Cinder. The man used to watch for danger hidden amid a small cluster of boulders. He had carved every available rock face with images of the city of Ohndarien and her people. This little shrine had been the Emperor’s inspiration for transforming the Cinder.
“I am curious,” the Emperor said, looking out over the cliff at the distant blue ocean. “Why you left that woman, Issefyn, with one of your containment stones.”
A foreboding settled over her. He had looked into the case, but it didn’t matter. It changed nothing. This was something she had foreseen as a possibility.
“Don’t you think it is dangerous to leave a woman like that with so much power?” he asked.
The Emperor had never led a conversation so aggressively before, and it put her off her balance more than she would have thought. She couldn’t tell him about the dreams of her father, of course. She’d never told anyone, and events were too precarious to confide in him now.
“It is a calculated risk,” she said, careful to maintain an even tone.
“Like your alliance with the albino in the Summer Cities?”
Arefaine’s breath came quicker. She felt like she was backpedaling, stumbling toward the inevitable cliff. How did he know about Jesheks? And what else did he know?
“You have strange choices in friends,” he continued, again leaving little time for her to reply.
“You kept my options limited,” she replied, her icy anger cooling her initial shock. Why was he confronting her now, after so many years of silence?
“I suppose I did,” he said. “But that is about to change.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know of your plans to lead the Opal Fleet and the Summermen against the Silver Islanders.”
She found it hard to breathe. He knew. He knew everything. How? She gathered her magic, preparing for the battle if it would come. If he suspected her, why he had come himself? Why not send his Carriers?
“And you intend to stop me?” she asked.
“Certainly not. I have no desire to stop you.”
Arefaine drew a quick breath and allowed herself a small smile. He’d come to join her! Would he truly join her cause?
“I wish to aid you,” he continued. “You are not an enemy of the light. On the contrary, you are our last and only hope.”
She favored him with a smile. His eyes sparkled, but he did not
smile back. “Hope for what?” she asked.
“Completing Oh’s plan. Unweaving the harm wrought by the founders of Efften.”
Her heart sank, and her smile faded. Just like that, her hopes for fellowship with the Emperor faded away. The man still clung to the Ohohhim version of the history of Efften. Why couldn’t he set aside his fears and embrace the possibilities? “I see,” she said, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “And what is Oh’s plan?”
He led her past Celinor’s shrine and stopped at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the boiling bay.
“He wants you to bring the Heartstone to Efften,” he said, as though looking across the sea to the Great Isle.
“Then I agree with him.”
“But you need the Opal Fleet to bring you there.”
“Yes.”
“And you were prepared to kill those loyal to me to get it. You were prepared to kill me?”
This time, he let the silence fall as she struggled to find the right words. She felt like a little girl suddenly, exposed and vulnerable. He knew everything.
“I had hoped it would never come to that,” she said, lifting her chin.
He watched a gull float on the breeze that swept up the cliff. His curly black hair shifted. “So did I,” he said softly.
Turning, he took her hands. She actually started. Was he going to try to throw her over the cliff? Instead, he looked into her eyes and for the first time, she didn’t see the untouchable, unreachable Emperor. He was just a man.
“I feel I have failed you, Arefaine,” he said. “I have tried to raise you as a Child of Oh. I have tried to show you the beauty of decorum, respect, and acceptance for your place in the Divine Queue. But your heart belongs to Efften. You are overwhelmed by hunger and burdened by your great ambitions.”
For as long as Arefaine could remember, she had longed for this kind of tenderness from the Emperor, but not now. Not like this. She did not want a salve for her wounds and a slap for her bad behavior. It was not a crime to want to bring beauty back to the world.
“You have fallen in love with the stories of Efften’s grandeur,” he continued. “But you have blinded yourself to the cost of her beauty. Despite your impetuousness, you have never succumbed to the sins of your ancestors. Since coming of age, you have not made anyone a slave to your will. You have not harmed anyone in pursuit of your ambitions. Not yet.”
She kept her chin high, listening to his words. This man was not her judge, no matter what the Ohohhim—or the world—thought of him. He was, in the end, just a man.
“How far would you go to fulfill your dream of re-creating the City of Sorcerers, Arefaine? Would you really have killed me to do so?”
She swallowed down a dry throat. “As I said, I had hoped it would never come to that.”
He let out a breath and bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at her once more. “Very well,” he said. “I have decided to remove that dangerous decision from your path. If you chose unwisely when you came to that moment, you would start down a road from which you would never return.”
“What are you saying?”
He nodded once. “I have made arrangements for you to succeed me as regent of the Opal Empire upon my death. You are to have complete authority to rule as you see fit until the new Emperor is found and comes of age.”
Arefaine frowned. “But only upon your death.”
“Yes. But my death is only a few days away.”
“What?” Her heart lurched. “No.”
“Oh has shown me the time and place of my demise. It is nearly upon me.”
“Then you must change it,” she said quickly. “Run. Avoid it.”
He smiled. “I am touched by your concern. But I do not wish to change the future. I admit that death is a very difficult thing to face with faith and decorum. But my passing is a critical turning point in Oh’s struggle against the darkness.”
Arefaine’s eyes narrowed. “I refuse to accept that. There are a hundred paths to victory. We will find another.”
The Emperor shook his head. His hands were warm on hers, and he continued to look into her eyes. “There is no victory against the darkness. All we can do is follow Oh’s example, by turning our backs to temptation and giving our lives in service of the light.”
Her lip trembled. “But you can’t—”
The Emperor took her into his arms. “I am sorry that I raised you in such a cold and lonely home. There were so many times I wished I could hold you like this, like I would my own child. But Oh has shown me where your future lies. You will soon face a very difficult decision. And you cannot make that choice if you are afraid of being alone.”
“What? What decision?” she asked, pulling back. Her throat was tight, and she felt tears welling up.
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Finally, he opened them again and said, “I cannot say.”
“Why not?” she said, biting her lip to keep from crying. “Why can’t you just tell me what I need to know? Why didn’t you just talk to me when I needed you? Why only now, when you say you’re going to die?”
“Because the decision is yours to make alone. If I told you what your future would bring, you would try to avoid it, as you have just counseled me to do. You would attempt to trick fate, and this vital opportunity would be lost. Oh has shown me all possible futures. The only path that leads out of the darkness begins with my death and ends with your decision.”
“What decision? What must I decide?”
“You must listen to the voice of Oh and follow the sleeve he offers you.”
“Enough!” she shouted, pushing him away. “Enough of your riddles and your manipulations! Oh is nothing more than a fable told to keep your people in line. I won’t follow his sleeve or any other. Throw your life way if you want, but I refuse to hide from the darkness. I will bring it back into the light where it belongs. And I will do it by myself if I have to!”
He reached for her, but she knocked his hand aside and walked away.
“No,” the Emperor whispered, almost too softly for her to hear. “Brophy will be with you. Everything depends on him standing by your side.”
CHAPTER 32
Lord Vinghelt stood in Glory of Summer’s kitchen scowling and kicking the recently delivered barrels. The prince had doubts about their plan. “It just seems such an extreme measure,” he said for the third time.
Jesheks shifted his bulk, and the little stool he was perched on creaked alarmingly. He let his thoughts drift to Shara as Vinghelt went on and on, making the same points, drawing the same conclusions.
Shara-lani had slept for the last two days, drifting in and out of consciousness, but she would be awake soon. He’d been constantly monitoring her with his magic, and he could feel her thoughts drifting closer to the surface as she recovered from her wounds.
He was still astonished that she had survived. She had been the perfect clay in the hands of a master sculptor, strong yet supple enough to travel with him to the limits of his magic and back again. He had always dreamed of meeting someone who could thrive in the fires of Necani as he did, but at the same time, he had counted on her being shattered in that kiln. It was an odd feeling, to desire something and its opposite at the same time.
Now Jesheks faced a dilemma. He had his mission in the Summer Cities. Shara was the greatest danger to the mission, the only danger. Arefaine would certainly want her removed, but Jesheks would never break his word to the Zelani mistress. He had made a pact with both women and must find a way to honor both of them.
“I think we might find another way, a less dangerous way to persuade my people, that is all I am saying,” Vinghelt continued, tapping an unmarked barrel with his toe.
Jesheks sighed. “People don’t go to war over kitchen fires, my lord.”
“I don’t trust these Physendrian agents,” Vinghelt said. “They could betray us.”
Jesheks blinked lazily. The man was such a fool. “They are betraying us, my lord. We are
counting on them to betray us. That is why we gave them the tools to set fire to the Floating Palace.”
“I don’t like it,” Vinghelt said stubbornly.
“So you have said.”
“What if someone tries to broach one of these ‘wine casks’?”
“I don’t imagine our dear Physendrian helpers will allow that to happen.”
“But what if they are discovered ahead of time?”
“They will be posing as stewards on four different ships. The Waveborn never notice their servants. Do you remember who served you your lunch today?”
Vinghelt frowned and brushed the question away. “Are you sure they know how to handle this whale oil? Will it do the job?”
“There is nothing to handle, they simply pour the oil onto the deck, light it on fire, and run away. When the Ohndariens used this oil to repel the last Physendrian invasion, the wall of fire was over a hundred feet tall.” Jesheks had already told him this story twice. “It will more than do the job.”
“It just seems risky. Fire is such a random weapon.”
“Exactly, that’s why it inspires such strong emotions. I imagine the entire Floating Palace will be alight in a matter of minutes. That is why you must act quickly. When you hear the cry of alarm, you must light your own ship immediately. The Physendrians all have the same instructions. As soon as one fire is lit, they will all be lit.”
“That is what worries me. What about those trapped belowdecks? Or those in the middle ships? Will they have time to jump to safety?”
“Vinghelt, you cannot enrage your people without something over which they may become enraged.”
“Burning our ships is not enough for you?”
Jesheks waved a hand. “This is the only way, my lord. The rebels will rendezvous at a point I have designated, believing that I will then smuggle them back to Physendria. That is when we will haul them before the surviving Summer Princes and the Waveborn nobility as proof of a Physendrian sneak attack. Your people will be so outraged they will demand war, and you are the only prince fit to lead them into battle.”
