The Empress and the Acolyte

by Jane Fletcher

  Jemeryl hopped down from the chair. “We might as well go. I’m sorry I dragged you away from your book.”

  “That’s all right. I was in need of a break. Although I’m starting to get a feel for the words.”

  “You’ve got a knack for languages.”

  Tevi was surprised. “You’re better at them than me.”

  “No. I’ve used magic to acquire everything I know.”

  “It’s the same with me. I wouldn’t be able to make myself understood in Tirakhalod if you hadn’t helped with magic. And I didn’t even know that more than one language existed before I reached the mainland.”

  “I brought with me the necessary components for the spell so we could learn the main language used in Tirakhalod. And that accounts for everything that I can say or understand. Meanwhile, you’ve picked up bits of half a dozen different dialects without any more help.”

  “Only because I need it with the troops. They come from all over Bykoda’s Empire. It’s better if you can shout commands in their native tongue. But I couldn’t hold a proper conversation.”

  Jemeryl patted her shoulder. “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  Suddenly Jemeryl’s hand tightened in a grip, immediately claiming Tevi’s attention.

  “What is it?”

  Jemeryl was staring at the ceiling. “The chains.”

  “What? Oh...can you hit them using a reflection?”

  Jemeryl took a pace to the side, craning her neck. “It’s tricky with the shield in front of them, but...yes. Yes. You can. I think. I want to try. Can you go and hold the crystal on the right? I don’t want it to smash when it hits the floor.”

  Tevi walked over and grabbed the chain just above the crystal. Jemeryl took a few more seconds to check angles and then hurled a ball of silver lightning at the window. Tevi saw the reflected bolt hit the chain above her head, but even to her ungifted eyes, the power of the shot on the rebound was greatly reduced. The chain vibrated in her hands, but did not break. Jemeryl tried a second and then a third blast. Yet still the crystal mounting remained firm.

  “It’s no good,” Jemeryl conceded at last. “The windows look like mirrors at night, but they don’t reflect all the energy. Most of it goes straight through. I can’t put enough power into the bolt to do any serious damage to the chain.”

  Jemeryl’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She glared at the chain fixture as if it had just insulted her personally, then turned and slouched back to their rooms. Tevi followed behind in a far more cheerful manner. After four years together, she knew that she did not need to worry about her partner’s dejection. It would not last. Jemeryl could be obsessive when stumped by a magical problem, but she was naturally optimistic. No setback could demoralize her for long. Soon she would be chasing the next idea.

  Tevi was aware that her own personality was far more prone to negative brooding and a willingness to give up and let fate take over. Jemeryl was ambitious, with an eye to her future in the Coven. Tevi was content to take each day as it happened. As long as she was with Jemeryl the rest did not matter. Although some things could still get her wound up—like her current problem with a gang of crossbowmen holed up in a mine. After three attempts on the battle table she had failed to shift them. The problem was starting to cost her sleep.

  When they reached their rooms, Jemeryl threw herself into the chair by the fireside, but already her frown was easing. “I know we can’t save Bykoda. But it’s frustrating that I can’t see how the killer is going to do it.”

  Tevi dropped down beside her. “The how I don’t worry about. I probably couldn’t understand even if the killer tried to explain it. It’s the why that confuses me.”

  “They want the talisman.”

  “Not the killer. Bykoda. Why is she there?”

  “In what way?”

  “Bykoda knows roughly what day she’s going to be killed and where. Why will she walk into the chamber? Why not barricade herself in the top of the keep and not come out until after the danger time is over?”

  “Because it isn’t going to work out like that. For some reason she’s going to hold her normal autumn council meeting at the normal time.” Jemeryl’s tone sounded less confident as her sentence progressed.

  “But why? Does the oracle remove her free will?”

  “No. It gets very hard to phrase in normal words. But basically the oracle tells her what her free will is going to make her do.”

  “Bykoda doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who would freely walk to her death. The only way I could see her going into the council chamber on that day is as a prisoner.”

  “Oh.” Jemeryl’s eyes opened wide. “I hadn’t thought of that. Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “It only just occurred to me.” In truth, she had not been giving much thought to Bykoda’s impending fate. The unavoidable death of the ancient despot after they had left her lands was not something Tevi could bring herself to care much about. The suggestion had popped into her head unbidden.

  Various ways existed to inhibit a sorcerer’s powers. By far the easiest was an iron collar. Some years before, Jemeryl had explained how iron distorted the forces of the paranormal dimensions. The sorcerer had likened the effect of wearing an iron collar to that of fireworks continually going off in your face. It completely blocked out access to the higher dimensions until the wearer had learned to see through the commotion—an adjustment that could take months.

  “Would Bykoda have noticed in her vision if she’d been wearing an iron collar?”

  “Probably,” Jemeryl replied after some thought. “But there are other sorts of magical restraints she might have been held by. Something like that would tie in with the feeling of paralysis that she reported.”

  “So maybe the critical time is several days beforehand, when she’s defeated and captured. Maybe Bykoda is in the council chamber on that day because her killer wants to use the room for a public trial and execution. The crystal shield wouldn’t be able to protect her if her attacker could stand wherever they wanted.”

  “That’s worrying.”

  “Why? What difference will it make to Bykoda?”

  “I meant for us. Bykoda is confident that we’ll get back to the Protectorate safely. She won’t let the assassin take the talisman without a fight, and since she knows she won’t die until autumn, she assumes she’ll be able to defeat any challenge before then. But maybe the killer will first imprison her and then come after us.”

  Tevi frowned in thought. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think so. Bykoda is far too dangerous a person to keep under lock and key for six months. If the person who captures her has any sense, they won’t let her live six days. Six minutes is more than I’d risk in their place.”

  Jemeryl chewed on her lip. “I just wish we could feel more secure. With the talisman at stake, I don’t want to take a gamble.”

  “Just how dangerous is the talisman?” The question was one Tevi had worried about.

  “I don’t know, and nor does Bykoda. And that’s the frightening thing.” Jemeryl rolled her head around to look at Tevi. “Why don’t you get me a drink while I try to think of a good explanation?”

  “A feeble excuse.” Nonetheless, Tevi smiled as she went to open a bottle of wine. On her return, she passed a glass over and snuggled up beside her partner on the couch.

  Jemeryl adjusted her position to take account of this and slipped her arm around Tevi’s waist. “When you change time, you have to store the energy of the temporal paradox. Think of it like storing water behind a dam. With everyone else who’s ever tried, the dam burst immediately. Bykoda’s achievement is that the dam has held for years. And despite all the other people who’ve failed, we don’t have much more than guesswork about how the dam burst goes because all the information has been lost with them. However, we do know its power.”

  Jemeryl swirled the wine in the glass thoughtfully. “Sorcerers who’ve played around with time have tried to do something like bur
n a piece of paper and then change time so that it is unburned. Unfortunately for them, the temporal dam has burst. What we think happens is a bit like how water in a normal burst dam finds its own level. The released temporal energy tries to resolve any paradoxes. It doesn’t change the past any more than water flows uphill, but it tries to make it so that the present is in such a state that it doesn’t matter which way the events went. For the sorcerer with an unburned piece of paper, the easiest resolution is for everyone who knows what had happened to drop dead, and for the room it happened in to explode. But we don’t know for certain because anything that could tell us gets destroyed in the process of resolving the paradoxes. So far, the biggest attempts to change time have left some rather large craters behind.”

  “How much energy is stored in the talisman?”

  “Again, I don’t know. We think that a temporal dam isn’t like a dam on a river, in as far as energy doesn’t continually build up over time. It is time. But that’s guesswork. No one has ever had a dam hold long enough to test. But the more I think about the talisman, the more frightened I get. By now, the string of causal relationships must be affecting just about everyone in the world.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Consider. Bykoda changes time so that a man who would have bought a new pair of boots doesn’t. Everyone who would have seen him in the boots is affected. If the energy in the temporal paradox is enough to kill all those people, then everyone who would have met them is affected. And so it goes on. There have been decades for the temporal paradoxes to build up, and we can be sure that Bykoda’s tinkering with time will have changed more than just somebody’s footwear.”

  “Would there be enough energy in the talisman to kill everyone in the world?”

  “There might. My gut feeling is no, but I suspect that’s mainly wishful thinking. Bykoda is very worried, and she knows far more about it than me. Remember I said that a temporal rupture won’t change the past, like water won’t run uphill? Bykoda thinks there might even be enough energy to cause a sort of back-surge and remove her from history. But even if the temporal rupture can’t kill everyone, I don’t want to think about what sort of chaos would be left behind, the unresolved paradoxes bouncing around. It’s never happened before. That’s what’s frightening.”

  Tevi stared thoughtfully at her glass, adding it all together. “We can’t let the killer get the talisman.”

  “I know.”

  *

  Tevi marched into Ranenok’s main briefing room and snapped to attention. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  The summons had arrived just after breakfast. Tevi had dashed over, even though she had formally resigned her army commission in advance of leaving Tirakhalod, and so was no longer subordinate to the commander. The message had contained a worrying lack of information on what he wished to talk about. However, from Ranenok’s expression, it was not trouble. He smiled and gestured towards two chairs positioned in the warm spring sunlight by the window, clearly intending an informal meeting. No one else was in the room.

  Ranenok opened the conversation once they were both seated. “I wanted to congratulate you on your performance as an officer. You’ve been an asset to my command.”

  Tevi ducked her head modestly. “I was just following my profession as a mercenary.”

  “The Protectorate Guild of Mercenary Warriors has a formidable reputation. If you’re a typical representative I can understand why.”

  “Well, admittedly they’re not all as strong as me.”

  Ranenok laughed. “If they were all as strong as you, your guild would rule the world.”

  This, Tevi knew, was mere flattery. “I think not. I know I couldn’t hope to compete with anyone using magic.”

  “Don’t be so sure. We’re not invulnerable. And I have something for you that might help even the odds a little.” Ranenok rose and went to his weapon rack. He returned carrying a sword in its scabbard. “I would like you to accept this as a gift from me.”

  Tevi took the offered weapon and half drew the blade. Even to a first glance, the workmanship was clearly of the highest order. From the sheen of the metal, she could tell that it had been worked to give the rare combination of a hard edge and a supple core. Strange letters were engraved in a pattern down its length.

  “Thank you,” Tevi said, both gratified and a little surprised.

  “It’s a rune sword. Jemeryl mentioned that you have prescience. This blade is forged to cause the minimum disturbance in the temporal currents. It may allow you an extra fraction of a second at a crucial moment.” Ranenok spoke with warm sincerity. “I hope it will serve you well.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Tevi repeated, although this time her surprise was sufficient to have half robbed her of her voice. A rune sword was an exceedingly valuable item. Most mercenaries would never earn enough in their lifetime to buy one, even if they had the gift to make use of it.

  “You’ll need some final adjustments so the blade will harmonise with your own aura. I’ve made arrangements with Mavek to do it. He said that he’d be free just after lunch today, if that’s convenient for you.”

  “Thank you.” Tevi really could think of nothing else to say. She slid the blade back into its scabbard and smiled at the commander.

  “You’ll be leaving Tirakhalod within the month?” Ranenok’s tone made it a question.

  “Yes. I think so.”

  He hesitated and then said, “I suppose there’s no chance of you going on one last mission?”

  “I didn’t know that anything was planned.”

  “It wasn’t. I’ve just received news of a raiding party of trolls just fifteen miles north of here. It’s anyone’s guess how they’ve got so close. Mark it down to Yenneg’s incompetence for letting them through. I’m sending out troops at dawn tomorrow to hunt them down, but I can’t lead the platoon myself, since the council meeting starts then. Dealing with the trolls shouldn’t take much more than a day or two, and I thought that if the passes over the Barrodens aren’t open yet, you’d be back well before Madam Jemeryl was ready to go.”

  “I’d have to discus it with Jem.”

  “Of course.”

  Tevi felt a faint flicker of anger. She did not have to ask permission and she wanted to explain. “We need to make a joint decision about when we leave. I can’t just say—”

  Ranenok held his hand up. “It’s all right. Just a faint hope on my part. You’ve more than fulfilled any obligations to me.” He tilted his head to one side. A questioning expression crossed his face, with a hint of underlying amusement. “Jem? Is that what you call Madam Jemeryl?”

  “Er...yes. When we’re alone together.” Tevi thought it best not to admit that “Jem” was the least of the soppy endearments.

  The smile on his face strengthened. “I fear I had initially misunderstood your relationship. It was only seeing you together at the gathering that made me realise.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’d assumed that she was the sorcerer and that you were her plaything with very little say in the matter. It’s the way such things would run around here.”

  Tevi shook her head vehemently. “Jem sees me as her equal.”

  “And you love her.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “That’s good, although love can be very dangerous.” Ranenok turned his head to gaze out of the window. The smile was swallowed by a bleaker expression. “It leaves you vulnerable. It makes you take insane risks. It can hurt like nothing else. But I don’t think life is worth living without it.”

  His eyes scrunched closed, as if in response to the bright sunlight on his face, but Tevi suspected that was not the only reason. “I tend to agree with you, sir.” Once again the words let her down and she could think of nothing helpful to say.

  Ranenok looked back sadly. “Wherever your future takes you, Tevi, I wish you well.”

  *

  Clear blue skies hung above Tirakhalod. Jemeryl stood by a window overlooking the plain below. The
last traces of snow had retreated from the grasslands. A mat of green rippled in the wind from the south. She turned and drifted to the windows on the other side of the room. Unlike the thin arrow slits on the outer facing walls, these were wider, giving a good view of the entire bailey.

  Spring was on the way. Soon, Bykoda’s magic would not be required to maintain the blooms in the garden. Several people were visible out in the warmest day so far that year. Kharel was one, taking a midday stroll between the flowerbeds and doubtlessly reviewing various intimate memories of the summerhouse. At least, that was what Jemeryl would have been doing in her place.

  The sight of the steward reminded Jemeryl of something she had wanted to try out, a test for detecting the influence of love potions. She had already made the necessary preparations. Jemeryl grabbed an outdoor coat, dropped the tincture with its prognostic wrapping into her pocket and trotted down the stairs.

  When she reached the garden, Jemeryl wandered along an avenue between borders of red hot spikes set against a background of white trailing vinery. She then turned onto a paved way beneath a canopy of cherry blossom and finally joined up with a circular path around the lily pond.

  This seemingly aimless sauntering actually had her on an intercept course with the steward. As they got close, Jemeryl considered the other woman. Kharel was not someone you would suspect of a steamy love affair. Not because of her age or looks—Kharel wore her years well—but her emotions were under such tight control that it was easy to be misled into thinking that she did not have any.

  “Ah, Kharel. I was hoping to see you.” Jemeryl hailed her when they were still several paces apart.

  “Jemeryl.” The steward acknowledged her with a nod of the head.

  “I need to talk to you about supplies for the journey to Lyremouth.”

  Unbidden, Jemeryl fell into step beside the steward. Her hand in her pocket wrapped around the tincture. She needed Kharel to say Ranenok’s name. How difficult could that be? Was there a person in the world who did not want to talk about his or her lover? But, if there was an exception to the rule, then Kharel was very likely to be it.