by Scott Rhine
White fire erupted from the ground, consuming all evidence of the gods except the sword. The ashes turned to a brown metal puddle the size of a cemetery plaque. With his own finger, Archanos wrote the epitaph on the plaque. “The Last Messenger who will ever be slew the only daughter of Osos.”
Then he plunged the blade though the plaque and into the bedrock above the last line:
“All hail the fallen.”
Epilogue
The spirit folk lifted Legato’s wagon over the rock fall and bid them farewell at the border. Tashi and Pinetto had to ride the wagon to reach the great lake. Taking a ferry fr
om there, Legato and his new advisors reached the capital city of Kiateros. Word of the king’s restoration spread like wildfire. Legato had a second coronation for the sake of the masses and was crowned by the priests of the Forge.
As his first official act, Legato rewarded his advisors with those things the god Kiateros had promised, including a sesterina-plated torc for Sarajah. The ancient palace of Therak Umnarfor became the official residence of ambassadors and royal advisors.
Over the coming weeks, the king grew thinner with his added responsibilities. Brent and Simon patched the leaky roof in their ancient home, working in silence as they mourned. Sajika and Pinetto dedicated a sacred grove to Bablios and disvered they were pregnant.
Once Tashi was alone with the seeress, he found out that his rocky hide and increased strength made any sort of intimate contact dangerous. She eased his frustration by promising, “There’s one last Door at the Center. As soon as you’re healed enough to walk, we’ll travel there and transform you back.”
When Emperor Pagaose’s invitation arrived, Tashi said, “Jotham made it. He freed the Traveler and became emperor. The world will be right again.”
King Legato grunted, “Claiming a throne is easy, keeping it is a lifetime of work. Nonetheless, we shall declare our support.”
****
Emperor Sandarac and Empress Humi reacted to the message less favorably. Retiring to their chambers in private, Humi shrieked and shattered vases for an hour. Then, turning to her husband, she asked, “Well?”
“This new pretender is no doubt the thief Zariah warned us about. The Intagliosian army didn’t arrive in time.”
“What are you going to do about this?”
“Diplomacy is called for,” he said calmly from the bed. When she opened her mouth to object, he raised a finger. “First, we prevent the announcement from reaching Semenea while we negotiate terms acknowledging our claim. Second, we stall the College of Wizards and cut them off from all support. Third, we claim victory in a letter to the drunk King Borchart. We claim to have captured his Prefect. The sot knows nothing about military matters. With us controlling the sea, he will have to believe us. Our sole requirement for peace will be choosing us over this newcomer. Navarra can make him think it’s his idea.”
Impressed by this scheme, she admitted, “This could work.” The exotic beauty sat beside him.
“Meanwhile,” he said stroking her hair, “we muster every soldier we possess, including the army of Zanzibos, to invade the Center. I wrote the plans last week.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You anticipate my desires.”
“Our child will wear the Imperial crown at the Center, or Center will be no more.”
“Beloved,” Humi said, dropping her robes. “We are indeed of one mind.”
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