Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  He looked up at her, his eyes lingering on her naked body.

  ‘You know what?’ he said. ‘Forget drinking when Keira gets here. I want to be fucking you when the city burns.’

  ‘There’s no chance of that,’ she said, getting back into bed, and pushing him onto his back.

  ‘Why not?’ he grinned, as her hands pinned him down.

  ‘Because I’ll be fucking you.’

  There were three tombstones in the small garden at the rear of the embassy buildings. Rose bushes at each corner extended up wooden trellising, providing shade in summer, but casting a long shadow in the winter thirds.

  Shella sat on a bench opposite the three graves, her eyes resting on the lettering on Jayki’s headstone, the words cut into the hard, grey surface.

  Jaykimolina. Born Switchback District, Arakhanah City. Died performing his duty.

  A chill breeze blew through the garden and she huddled into her overcoat, a woollen hat pulled down over her ears.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, her breath misting. ‘Why did you come back? You should have quit when you had the chance, you stupid asshole.’

  She looked away blinking, fighting the tears that were leaking from her eyes.

  ‘Do you know who the other two graves are for?’ asked Kalayne.

  Shella turned, scowling. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  She noticed Thymo sitting next to the old man on the bench.

  ‘Thought I’d take the boy out for a walk,’ Kalayne said. ‘He needed some fresh air. No one will notice us. Now, do you know who the other two graves are for?’

  ‘Of course I fucking do.’

  Kalayne stared at her. ‘Do you mind? I’m talking to the boy.’

  ‘No, grandpa,’ Thymo said.

  ‘Well,’ the old man said, ‘buried under that one there,’ he pointed with a walking stick, ‘is one Kadisutana, who was once a humble clerk working in the embassy, until one night nearly two years ago, when he decided to go out for a drink in the Kellach district, which was nothing more than a refugee camp at the time. Are you listening?’

  ‘Yes, grandpa.’

  ‘Kadi was a young man, and like many young men, he thought nothing of risk, feeling himself indestructible, and he ended up in a bar fight with a drunken man from Lach. One punch, Thymo, and he was dead. When his killer stood on the gallows that the Holdings soldiers had put together, he was asked if he had anything to say. The Lach man shrugged, and told the crowd that he had hit Kadi, but he hadn’t meant to kill him. Then he stepped into the noose.’

  Kalayne looked down at the boy. ‘Two died, over nothing. You still listening?’

  ‘Yes, grandpa.’

  ‘You’re a good boy. The second gravestone is above the body of Aurroballini, a guard that died seven thirds ago. Her story is simple. An accident. Another guard, who happened to be the woman’s best friend, misfired her crossbow. The bolt struck Aurro through the eye, killing her instantly. No one was to blame, despite her friend’s guilt-stricken grief. It could have happened to anyone, there was no higher purpose behind it, and there’s no point in asking why. ’

  Kalayne glanced down at Thymo again, and smiled as the boy gazed back at him.

  Shella tutted. ‘You should be showing him how to run away when Keira gets here, not wasting your time with this bullshit.’

  ‘I’ll make sure he’s safe from Keira,’ Kalayne said. ‘You too, if you wish.’

  Shella laughed. ‘You think you can save us from a fucking inferno?’

  ‘I could always put in a word for you.’

  Shella’s smile faded. ‘What?’

  Kalayne looked at her as if she were stupid.

  ‘It’s always so tedious to explain myself to you,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve lost count of the times you’ve given me that vacant expression and said “what?” after I’ve made a simple statement.’

  ‘You can put in a word for us?’

  ‘That is indeed what I said.’

  ‘You’re in contact with someone in the invasion?’

  ‘Madam,’ Kalayne said, puffing out his chest, ‘I organised the entire thing. The empire will fall, and the Creator’s plans will be in ruins, all because of me. I would have told you before, but who knows when a priest will read your mind.’

  Shella’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘You can thank me now,’ Kalayne said, ‘or when it’s over.’

  ‘But, how?’

  ‘Kylon, of course,’ Kalayne said. ‘Are you really so stupid? Kylon is by Keira’s side, and I’m the one telling him what to do.’

  ‘Kylon is helping Keira?’

  The old man laughed. ‘No. Through Kylon, I am wielding the power of Keira, as a weapon in my hand to strike down the church. Time is running out, and Keira is the best chance we have of stopping the Creator’s plans.’

  Shella edged back along the bench. ‘But the slaughter, the people who’ll be killed…’

  ‘They mean nothing when weighed against the destruction of the world,’ Kalayne said. ‘People die every day, for boring reasons mostly, like Kadi and Aurro. If I had the choice of how to die, I would rather it meant something.’ He stared at Shella. ‘Anyone who dies, in fact all those who have so far died at Keira’s hand, everyone of them will be a martyr if she succeeds, and prevents the Creator from killing us all.’

  ‘Stop,’ Shella cried, standing. ‘Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re justifying that mad bitch slaughtering thousands by calling them martyrs?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Shella said. ‘Go on, fuck off out of my sight. I can’t bear to look at you.’

  Kalayne shrugged at Thymo and got up, taking the boy’s hand.

  When they had gone, she sat back down on the bench, put her head in her hands and wept.

  Hours passed, and Shella remained by the graves, shivering from the cold despite her overcoat. Again and again her mind replayed the memories of Akhanawarah City burning in the inferno caused by the fire mage. She stared at Jayki’s tombstone, paralysed by the words of the old Kell man.

  ‘Your Highness?’ Jodie said.

  Shella looked up.

  Jodie’s eyes widened. ‘Are you all right?’

  Shella said nothing.

  ‘We have a problem, your Highness,’ her secretary carried on. ‘The One True Path are at the gates of the embassy, demanding to be let in.’

  ‘Wardens? Shit.’ Shella stood.

  ‘Father Rijon is leading them, your Highness.’

  Shella paused, her heart sinking.

  ‘What should we do?’ Jodie asked.

  ‘We’ll play it cool,’ Shella said, walking towards the building. ‘Might be about nothing.’

  They entered the embassy through a side door, and Shella unbuttoned her overcoat in the warmth of the passageway. As they walked there was a scream, and a crashing sound. Shella started running.

  They came out into the main entrance hallway, and Shella skidded to a halt, as over twenty crossbows turned to aim at her.

  ‘I want two wardens behind the mage at all times,’ Rijon cried. ‘If she raises a hand, shoot her.’

  Shella stared. The front doors were hanging off their hinges, and dozens of wardens from the One True Path were inside the building. Embassy staff were being shepherded towards the side walls, their hands over their heads, as crossbow-wielding wardens lined them up.

  ‘This is fucking out of order,’ Shella said. ‘This is an embassy.’

  Rijon smirked and unrolled a scroll.

  ‘Shellakanawara, you are under arrest for defying the law by ignoring the summons for all mages to report for imperial service.’

  Shella said nothing.

  ‘Did you think you could get away with it?’

  She shrugged, keeping her hands low. Behind her, she could feel the crossbow bolts pointed at her, and knew she would be dead in seconds if she used her powers.

  Jodie stepped forward. ‘This is the Ambassador of Arakhanah, who…�
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  ‘Not any more,’ Rijon said. ‘Her position has been rescinded. Your government will have to appoint a replacement.’

  ‘But she’s also a princess,’ Jodie cried. ‘You can’t take that away.’

  ‘True,’ Rijon said. ‘However, the Emperor has decreed that young Prince Thymo shall take up the mantle of your nation’s royal figurehead.’

  Rijon turned as a door was opened, and wardens dragged in Sami. He was struggling and shouting.

  ‘Bring him here,’ Rijon said.

  Shella watched as her brother was hauled across the floor, while Daly joined Jodie at her side.

  ‘This is an outrage,’ Daly said.

  ‘Be quiet, old man,’ Rijon said. ‘We’re only here for members of the Kanawara family. If the rest of you behave, you’ll be left in peace. But,’ he went on, glaring at the lined-up staff and disarmed Rakanese guards, ‘if there’s any trouble, I’m prepared to kill everyone in this building. The mightiest horde of savages this world has ever seen is burning its way towards this city, and I won’t hesitate to act in its defence. Flow Mage Shella is coming with us.’

  ‘Then what the fuck do you need me for?’ Sami groaned from the floor at Rijon’s feet.

  Rijon looked down at him. ‘Do you remember when Queen Obli had the high mages killed at that place where the Migration camped? Do you remember how she told Shella that she would kill you if she disobeyed?’

  ‘So I’m a fucking hostage again?’

  ‘Not just you,’ Rijon said, ‘the boy prince as well.’ He glanced up at Shella. ‘I know what you’re thinking. I know you want to kill me. You’ve already resigned yourself to being shot if you do it, but you should know that the wardens have orders to execute both your brother and your nephew if you try. You’re a powerful mage, and the empire needs you.’

  ‘Fuck the empire,’ she said.

  Rijon laughed.

  He signalled to a pair of wardens. ‘Bind Prince Sami’s hands and load him into the wagon outside.’ The wardens nodded, and led Sami out, a crossbow pointed at his back.

  There was a sound from the corridor leading to the stairwell.

  ‘That’ll be the young prince,’ said Rijon, turning.

  The door opened and Benel was thrown in. He hit the marble floor, sprawling, and a dozen crossbows aimed at him.

  Rijon stared, his mouth open, then started to laugh. He pointed at Benel and tried to speak, but couldn’t. He put his hands on his knees, and took a breath.

  ‘This is the best day of my life,’ he said. ‘Shella and Benel.’ He stood up straight and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  ‘Always glad to provide amusement,’ Benel said from the floor .

  Rijon nodded to a handful of wardens, and they approached, pulling batons from their belts.

  ‘Hey!’ Benel shouted, his eyes wild, but Rijon nodded again and the blows rained down on him. Benel raised his arms as the batons clubbed him over his back and legs.

  Rijon watched for a minute, then raised his hand. ‘Enough.’

  The wardens retreated, and Rijon went down on one knee next to Benel. The priest grabbed him by the back of his hair and lifted his head.

  ‘Time for a few questions.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Benel gasped, blood trickling down his face from a gash in his forehead.

  ‘Leave him alone, you fucking freak,’ Shella said, her hands trembling with anger.

  Rijon glanced up at her. ‘Don’t worry yourself, little princess, I’ll be gentle to Benel’s mind. After all, he’s a mage, and the institute needs him whole. They wouldn’t thank me for scouring the inside of his head now, would they?’

  Rijon gazed into Benel’s bloodshot eyes for a moment then pulled away. He let go of Benel’s head, and stepped back, his face enraged.

  ‘Who did that to him?’ the priest cried. ‘Someone’s been in his mind already, and wiped out whole chunks of memory.’ He stared at Shella. ‘Who did it?’

  Shella smiled.

  Rijon spat on the floor. ‘Bind Mage Benel’s hands and hood him,’ he said to the wardens. ‘His mind is sound, despite the missing memories.’ He walked over to where Shella stood. ‘Bind her hands too.’

  Shella felt her arms pulled behind her back and her wrists tied together. She watched as Benel was bound, and a large sack was secured over his head.

  ‘The questions will have to be for you to answer,’ Rijon said to her. ‘How did Benel get here, and how has his presence been shielded from us?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her eyes unwavering .

  ‘Is there another mage?’

  She said nothing.

  Rijon shrugged. ‘Brace yourself, princess. I’m coming in, and I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.’

  He stared at her and she felt an immense pressure build up behind her eyes. Rijon’s face strained, and the pressure increased, but didn’t yield. It pushed out against the priest, and he staggered back, nearly falling.

  He dropped to his knees, holding his head.

  ‘You bitch!’ he cried, his eyes clenched shut. A trickle of blood ran from his nose.

  ‘Father,’ said one of the One True Path, rushing to the priest’s side. ‘Are you hurt? What happened?’

  ‘She blocked me,’ Rijon said as the warden helped him to his feet. ‘My head feels like it’s been hit with a hammer.’ He glared at Shella. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

  Shella laughed. ‘Bring it on, asshole.’

  Daly shot her a look.

  ‘This is getting out of hand,’ the old secretary said. ‘There’s no need for violence.’

  Rijon grabbed a crossbow from a nearby warden and shot Daly in the chest.

  Jodie cried out as the old man fell, and Rijon pointed the bow at her.

  ‘No,’ Shella cried.

  Rijon turned to her.

  ‘If I can’t get inside your mind,’ he said, keeping his bow trained on Jodie, ‘then you’ll have to tell me what I want to know. Otherwise I will kill everyone here, starting with her.’

  ‘It was Daphne,’ Shella said. ‘She put the block in my head.’

  ‘You’re a terrible liar,’ he said. ‘Daphne had already left the city when I last searched your mind.’

  ‘She came to me in a vision,’ Shella said. ‘I told her you’d been in my head, and she said she would stop it from happening again, then she did something to my mind. ’

  He stared at her.

  ‘She’s not that powerful.’

  ‘Yes she fucking is. You have no idea.’

  Rijon said nothing. The room was in silence, except for Jodie, who was crying by the body of Daly.

  The door to the stairs opened, and a group of wardens entered.

  ‘Father,’ said one. ‘We’ve searched the building. There’s no sign of Prince Thymo, or anyone else.’

  Rijon shook, his face red.

  ‘You incompetent bastards,’ he screamed. ‘He must be here!’

  ‘We’ve been in every room, father. Twice. And up on the roof, and out in the garden. We found the prince’s quarters on the top floor but there was no sign of him anywhere.’

  Rijon turned to Shella, and approached, until their faces were inches apart.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ she said, ‘and you can execute the entire embassy staff, and my answer will be the same, because it’s true. Or, you could try to get inside my head again.’

  She smiled.

  Rijon took a step back and swung the crossbow, striking her on the left side of her jaw and sending her flying to the marble floor. She opened her eyes, dazed, and Rijon kicked her in the stomach.

  ‘Hood her.’

  Hands grabbed her shoulders, and a sack was pulled down over her face and secured round her neck. She fell back to the floor and lay still, curled up, her head pounding in agony, and her stomach aching. She had missed her chance to kill him, even though she knew that death would have been the price.

  The wardens picked her up.

>   ‘Let’s go,’ she heard Rijon shout. ‘The institute’s waiting.’

  Chapter 30

  Burnt Out

  S lateford, Imperial Rahain – 4 th Day, Second Third Winter 506

  ‘What do you think of this one?’ the shopkeeper said, holding up a silver locket on a slender chain.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Daphne.

  The shopkeeper smiled.

  ‘Did you make this yourself?’

  ‘No, my dear,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘My wife does the making, I do the selling.’

  ‘She’s the best silversmith on the estate,’ Killop said. ‘We’ll take it.’

  ‘Many thanks, Chief,’ the shopkeeper grinned. ‘Is it a gift for someone?’

  ‘It’s for our daughter,’ Daphne said. ‘She’ll be one in a few days.’

  Killop pulled a pouch of coins from his pocket.

  ‘No, no, Chief,’ the shopkeeper said, raising his hands. ‘If it’s for your wee lassie then I’ll not accept any payment. I insist.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Daphne said. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘Not at all my dear, it’s an honour,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘And I hope you won’t mind if I tell folk that the chief’s daughter will be wearing one of our lockets.’

  Killop laughed. ‘You do that. ’

  The shopkeeper nodded. He wrapped the locket and chain in paper, then placed the small parcel into a velvet bag, tied at the top with red string.

  He held it out and Daphne put it into the pouch on her belt.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He gave her a bow. ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘We know where we’ll be coming for our wedding rings,’ she winked, ‘if Bridget ever lets us get married.’

  The shopkeeper gave a nervous laugh.

  ‘Have a lovely afternoon,’ he called out as they left the shop.

  Daphne tightened her cloak against the cold winter air. The single street of the small village was quiet under the shadows of the heavy grey clouds above, and the corn and rye fields beyond were empty.

  ‘Why did they put their shop out here?’ Daphne said. ‘Must be at least three miles from town.’

  ‘They went through a lot in the war,’ he said. ‘I don’t think they care about the money, they just want a peaceful life.’