It was good to know that trustworthy men still existed in the world.
After a few twists and turns and staircases—more defensive measures, no doubt—they emerged into a squarish room with arched support beams soaring towards the peaked ceiling. A single table rested at the far end, ringed by a dozen men on stools. Several were speaking at once—loud, but not exactly argumentative. A figure in the center of them rose, holding out his hands. All talking ceased immediately.
The man who had stood locked his eyes on Daye.
“Chase,” Daye said. “Brother. I come on important business.”
Chase looked to each man around him in turn. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow, gentlemen.” They left, not ungratefully, bowing and muttering, “Prince Chase,” as they stood and walked out a side door. The looks they gave Daye were not nearly as respectful.
Chase came slowly across the room. It was a strange walk, soft and precise, like a cat’s. A slim sword rested on the man’s left hip, one hand weighed on the plain, sturdy hilt. The prince was much the same as the blade. His resemblance to Daye was obvious, but Chase was shorter, and his eyes glowed with intelligence, seeing and calculating everything in the brief glances he gave to the three of them.
With only a few paces left between them, Chase paused, narrowing his gaze on Daye.
The two brothers each pounced forward.
They embraced, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. Tension visibly receded from them both as each sought to outdo the other with the strength of his squeeze.
“Oh, it’s good to see you, Daye,” Chase said. “It’s been too long.”
“We’ve been apart for longer,” Daye said.
“Never by choice.” Chase pulled back, grinning. “How are things going with the refugees?”
“Better, now that they’re here.”
Chase followed his brother’s gaze to Jasside and Vashodia. “Well met. I am Prince Chase Harkun of Sceptre.”
“Jasside Anglasco,” she said. “I have no official title, but I’m here on behalf of the newly founded nation of mierothi. This”—she gestured to her mistress—“is our de facto leader, Vashodia.”
“Whether they like it or not, huh?” Chase said. “I’m sure there’s a story behind why they let a child lead them.”
“They’re all too afraid to stand up to me,” Vashodia said. “If anyone actually had the balls to do so, I’d gladly hand over the reins, so to speak. Oh, and I’m actually almost two thousand years old. But letting people perceive me as a little girl has led to so many wonderful occasions of underestimation. Care to join the club?”
Daye leaned in close to his brother. “They’re from the Veiled Empire.”
Chase glowered instantly. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? I’d gladly let the abyss take me if I never hear that name again.”
“Prince Daye told me of your troubles,” Jasside said. “I wish we could claim innocence, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“How do you mean?”
Vashodia smiled. “That little disturbance that drew all the rulers of the world together? My doing. The Shroud was an . . . inconvenience. I got rid of it.”
Both princes’ eyes flared at this.
“But enough gibbering.” Vashodia glared at Daye. “You promised to bring me to your leader. I expected a king.”
“We’ve no king at the moment. Chase refuses to take the title though he holds more respect than the past ten monarchs combined.”
Chase punched his brother in the shoulder. “They revere me because they’re desperate. Not because I actually deserve it. Once this crisis is over, Sceptre will be able to think clearly again. They’ll find a king worthy of the position.”
“You say that like victory is certain.”
“We will never give in. Never. That is victory enough to give the people reason to go on, to keep fighting. We may be outmatched in numbers, in quality of weapons, and in the sorcerous arts, but we will never be outdone in spirit.”
“That’s all very inspiring, I’m sure,” Vashodia said. “I suppose you’ll have to do, then. Tell me, Prince Chase, why is it that you are losing this war?”
“Did you not hear what I just—?”
“Oh, I heard you all right. I heard a pretty speech that might light a fire in the soul of the insipid masses. But I am not so easily swayed. Tell me why you’re losing and how you plan to win. Make me believe if you can.”
“Why should I?”
Vashodia only smiled. Jasside shivered at the sight of those pointed teeth.
Chase turned, showing them his back. He walked away, his previous grace lost in the slump of his shoulders. He leaned over the table. Jasside thought she might have even heard a sob.
“Get them out of here,” Chase said, voice quivering.
“Brother, pl—”
“Now!”
Daye sighed. He turned to the two women. “Come on. I’ll find you some rooms.”
“We know what we’re looking for,” Arivana said, as they marched through the halls of the now-familiar level of her tower. “We just need to find it. I must know why that family was arrested and where they were taken. This kind of arbitrary justice will not stand in my city.”
“But what good will that do?” Flumere said. “It is the council that shapes the laws, not the crown.”
Arivana froze midstep. “It is?”
“I . . . that is . . . at least I believe so.”
Arivana huffed and began striding forward once more. Her handmaiden squeaked, racing to catch up.
“One more thing I know too little about,” Arivana said. “I may just have to move my bedchamber down to this level. It will save countless tolls spent walking with all the trips I’ll be making here.”
They turned a corner. The doors of the library came into view.
“That may not be the best idea.”
“Why not? I mean, I’m sure I could use the exercise—”
“No, not that. I don’t think it wise to spend too much time here, is all.”
They arrived at the doors, and each grabbed a handle. Together, they pulled.
“You pick the strangest things to object to sometimes, Flumere. Why could coming to the library be a bad thing?”
The doors swung open before them, and they took a single step inside. They stopped before being able to take a second.
Tior lounged in chair directly before the entrance.
“Ah, my queen,” he said, smiling. He set aside a book, then rose to his feet. “I was hoping to catch you here.”
Arivana felt her heart begin to race. “Tior! I didn’t expect you.”
“You should always expect me, your majesty. It is, after all, my solemn duty to see to your well-being. And it is a duty I take quite seriously.”
She flashed him a smile in return at last, then bent her lips towards Flumere’s ear. “Go,” she said. “Find it. This may take a while.”
Flumere nodded, then stalked off.
Minister Pashams watched the handmaiden disappear into the stacks with cool eyes, but turned them, warm once more, back to Arivana as soon as the woman was out of sight.
“Come, sit,” he said. “This is as pleasant a place as any to discuss the business at hand.”
Arivana cringed, nearly choking to keep the reaction from showing on her face. She had a feeling she knew what “business” he had in mind and dreaded the conversation that was about to happen. She stepped forward daintily, smiling to hide her sigh, and floated down into the seat opposite him.
He sat as well, groaning the way old people always seemed to do. “Now, your majesty, what have you been up to lately?”
The question caught her off guard. Casual and harmless on the surface, yet all too direct. She didn’t have a response prepared and stuttered ove
r her reply.
Tior held up a hand. “No need to dissemble, my queen. I know all about your little trip to the city the other day.”
The blood turned to ice in her veins. “You . . . you know about that?”
“Indeed. I was only surprised it took this long for you to take it.”
Her head spun with a hundred scenarios, each with a thousand questions of their own, and the room started to spin with it. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, most Celandaris heirs get it into their heads, at some point or another, to discover the supposed ‘truth’ about our people. It usually happens at a younger age. Your oldest sister, Beckara, took her own tour of the city at the age of eleven. Now that I think about it, it’s no wonder that you waited until now to make the journey, considering you were never properly groomed to take the throne.”
All the careful planning, the secrecy, the fear at being caught—all pointless. He’d known all along. She wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’d sent guards to follow her while keeping out of sight. She shrank into her seat, feeling more like a child than ever.
“Fret not, my dear,” Tior said. “I take this as a good sign.”
“You do?”
“Of course. It shows me that you may finally be ready to learn what it means to rule.”
I passed some test, did I? Didn’t know I needed your approval to do what is mine by right.
The thought steeled her will just a bit. “I see,” she said. “Are there secrets you’re going to let me in on, now? Some hidden knowledge that will grant me the keys to unlocking the wisdom of my authority?”
Tior chuckled. “Oh, Arivana. Haven’t you been paying attention? I’ve been giving you that information all along. By showing an interest in the fate of your people, you have shown me that you’re finally ready to start fulfilling your role. In earnest.”
“And what role would that be?”
“That of queen, of course. Of beauty and grace, of knowledge and inspiration, of . . . stability.” He paused. “Arivana, you haven’t been spending any time with your suitors, have you?”
She hung her head. No use trying to lie my way out of this one. “No.”
“Hmm. If none are to your liking, we can arrange for a new batch to be sent.” He chuckled. “There’s no shortage of pretty young men dying to earn a favorable glance from you.”
“No. I’m sure they’re all very, um, nice. But I don’t think—”
“There’s your problem, if you don’t mind my saying, your majesty. Such things do not require thinking. Only feeling.”
“Is that really all the guidance you can give me for choosing the future king?”
“There must be peace within the royal household. Forcing two people to marry who can barely stand each other is counterproductive to the purpose of the throne. Without love, there can be no peace. And no citizen sleeps easy in a realm without an heir.”
Arivana furrowed her brow. He offered her everything a girl could want. The luxuries of being a queen with the ability to marry for love. Just like the princesses in all the storybooks. His reasons even sounded logical.
Then why does it seem so wrong?
“Peace,” she said, more to herself than him. “I suppose that’s a worthy enough goal.”
She tried to sound convincing, but the words rang hollow even in her own ears. There had to be more to ruling than that. What about wisdom? Judgment? Leadership? Courage? A hundred other traits that someone in charge is supposed to have? Did they mean nothing at all besides the power of stomach flutters after stolen glances? Was there no greater requirement to becoming a king?
Or a queen?
Arivana painted on a smile. “Thank you, Tior. This conversation has been most informative. I shall try to be more faithful about fulfilling my duties from now on.”
“Good, good.” He rose. “Enjoy your time among the books, my queen. But not too much time, I hope. There are, after all, more important things to be doing than reading.”
He left without waiting for a response. As the doors closed behind his retreating form, Flumere emerged from behind a bookcase.
Arivana sighed. “Find anything?”
Flumere’s eyes darted around, then she nodded. She pressed forward a slim book, titled Citizens Refinement Act, tapping a finger on the open page.
Arivana read the words:
Statute 87—all citizens of Panisahldron must maintain a respectable appearance at all times, as would befit a representative of our glorious nation.
That was it. No other stipulations. No guidelines as to what qualified for “respectable” or not. Just a note at the bottom indicating the penalty, which matched the patrol captain’s words: immediate seizure of all assets.
She flipped back and forth through the book, skimming every other statute. Most consisted of pages and pages of rules, stipulations, exceptions, and enough legal jargon to make her head spin.
“What makes this one so special?”
“Don’t you see, Arivana? It has no boundaries. It can be exercised at will, without procedure getting in the way.”
“But why?”
Flumere shrugged. “What better way to get rid of those considered a stain on your precious society?”
In answer, Arivana released a single tear from her left eye.
But only one.
Though frustrated by an impossible task and negligible resources—and the outright horror of the situation—she found the prospect of backing down and forgetting all this was happening too sickening to fathom. The only way out of this, she saw, was to keep going, straight through until the end.
She wiped the tear away and clenched her fist, at last finding a measure of resolve.
After her short but miserable time at sea, Tassariel had never been happier to have solid ground beneath her feet, despite the fact that she’d been walking for a week, with an unknown number of days yet to come. Anything was better than that perpetual rocking and the insatiable nausea it spawned. Step by step, she’d almost forgotten about all that had been taken from her.
Almost.
Tassariel fanned herself, a vain attempt to cool the sweat drenching every bit of her skin. “Is it always this hot on the surface?”
“This near the equator, yes,” Elos said. “Didn’t you study geography at all?”
“A little. Fifty years ago, or so. I can’t remember much of it.”
“I don’t suppose you committed anything to long-term memory, then.”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. While it may be uncomfortable for you, life thrives in abundance in the warmer climes. Just look around you.”
Tassariel did, marveling at the diversity and beauty in the natural world around her. A dozen different types of trees enfolded the road, every last one bustling with bright birds and inquisitive monkeys. Flowers and other plants, in more hues than even a rainbow could account for, dotted an underbrush indelibly marked by the passage of countless boars and snakes, elephants and crocodiles. The air smelled crisp. Even the faint miasma of mildew and scum floating atop nearby stagnant water did nothing to diminish the smell of aliveness permeating the air around her, a scent that seemed to be missing from the valynkar city. And the warmth, despite its penchant for making her sweat, felt more real than the sorcerous heaters back home.
“A shame I couldn’t make this whole world as vibrant as it is here.”
Tassariel nearly tripped. “Wait, what are you saying? Did you make the world, or not?”
“Make? No. I suppose I misspoke. I might have given a nudge here or there, but raw creation is far beyond even me. What do you take me for?”
“Um . . . a god?”
“And what does that mean, precisely?”
“I . . .” She shook her head. “How should I know? You’re the supposed deity
, here.”
“A word with as many meanings as there are minds to think it. More. I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
Tassariel froze with her hand about to push aside a branch hanging over the path. She peered at it and soon realized that it was moving ever so slightly. Not a branch at all, then. Her first thought was snake, but the motion was too chaotic and omnidirectional for that.
“Insects?”
“A particularly nasty variety, I assure you. Necessary, though. Like all forms of life, if you look hard enough. Just go under without contacting them if you want to avoid a few thousand tiny bites that will eventually leave you paralyzed, followed by a slow death as the swarm digests you over the course of the next several days.”
“Ew. No touching. Got it.”
She got down on all fours, then rolled under the fake branch, giving herself far more room than was strictly necessary. Better safe than devoured by a million murderous bugs.
On her feet again, she continued up the road. It had been climbing most of the last two days, but she thought she could see sky up ahead, indicating that it might start leveling out soon. Her legs and lungs, though grateful for the exercise, practically jumped for joy at the prospect of a break from the uphill march.
Not for the first time, she wondered what she might be walking towards.
Or why she had to walk at all.
Tassariel lowered her eyes, trying to fight off another bout of melancholia at the thought. She’d thought she had gotten over it already. Thought she’d resigned herself to her fate. But no one, it seemed, liked being held in a cage for too long. Even when my god holds the key.
She took a deep breath to dispel such blasphemy from her mind. It would do no good to dwell upon the impossible.
A burst of cool air made her lift her head again. She realized she’d come to the crest of the hill. The land opened up before her, spread out like a vast, rumpled blanket of green, sussurating in the breeze. Mountains marred an otherwise-flat horizon, strange and bright, with countless steep peaks.
Shadow of the Void Page 23
