by Chris Evans
“Ah, the lone wolf,” the Suljak said, his voice sincere. “Alas, I’ve never actually seen a wolf, but I understand they typically hunt in packs. Only the sick or the deranged hunt alone…so I’ve been told.”
Konowa blinked and looked at the Suljak again. He appeared close enough to the grave to smell the freshly dug dirt, but the timbre of the Suljak’s voice bespoke a will to live that wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “Are you also a lone wolf, or do you have an adjutant to cause mischief and mayhem when events demand it?” Konowa tried to think who among the Iron Elves he would choose. Sergeant Arkhorn sprang to mind. The dwarf was a diversion all by himself.
“I have several,” the Suljak said. “Though they don’t always know it.”
In spite of his desire to leave, Konowa found the Suljak charming. “Why do I have the feeling I am one of them?”
The Suljak shook with laughter for several seconds. Konowa worried the old man might fracture a rib.
“Another time perhaps. However, in all the commotion caused by your unfortunate accident, the three enchanting ladies escorted by the Prince took advantage of the opportunity to make good their departure. They appear to have left the party almost entirely unnoticed.”
Konowa spun around and looked to where he had last seen Visyna, Rallie, and his mother. They were nowhere in sight.
“Son of a witch,” Konowa said, half angry and half admiring.
The Suljak’s eyes opened a little wider. “Yes, and I understand you are also the son of a wizard. Tell me, have your parents’ magical abilities transferred to you?”
Konowa hadn’t forgotten where he was…or who the Suljak was. “If getting into trouble counts, I’m certainly a wizard at that.”
The Suljak tilted his head. “You are modest. Rumors swirl like dust devils about the legendary Iron Elves and Major Konowa Swift Dragon. I’ve been led to believe you are becoming quite adept at wielding power.”
“What rumors are those?” Konowa asked. The acorn resting against his chest gave no indication the Suljak was a threat, but it was dawning on Konowa that the Shadow Monarch’s power was ill-equipped to understand the subtlety of this old man of the desert. For that matter, Konowa doubted he or the Empire were going to fare much better. Pimmer might just know what he’s talking about.
“We get the Imperial Weekly Herald even here,” said Suljak Faydarr, smiling broadly.
It was time to change the subject. “Pimmer…excuse me, Viceroy Alstonfar, tells me you hold sway over most of the desert region and the tribes living there,” Konowa said, stepping out of the way as additional servants arrived to assist with cleaning up the broken glass.
The Suljak waved away the compliment. “Pimmer flatters me. I simply offer advice and leave it up to each tribe how they use it, or don’t. Walk with me, won’t you?”
Konowa found himself being ushered out of the courtyard and into a smaller garden no more than ten yards in each direction. The stone walls were obscured by large palm trees, creeping vines, and lush shrubbery, all of which created the illusion of jungle. It was even humid in here, no doubt because of the large gurgling water fountain set at the far end of the enclosure. Water splashed over the sides of the stone basin surrounding the fountain and drained away through cracks in the stone walkway to either side of it.
“Looking at this it’s hard to imagine there’s nothing but filthy, hot desert just outside the city,” Konowa said, then immediately regretted the remark. “Though I’m sure the desert can be quite nice, what with all the wide-open spaces…”
The Suljak lowered his head for a moment, then raised it and looked Konowa straight in the eye. “Major, should you ever be offered the position of diplomat at any time…don’t.”
Konowa accepted the rebuke with a smile. “You’re not the first to comment on that. It’s been mentioned to me that getting along with others is not exactly my forte.”
“And yet you are at ease among your soldiers,” the Suljak said.
“I understand them. And most of the time, they understand me.”
“And what of your Empire? Does it understand you?”
Konowa felt the ground shift beneath their discussion and wondered where it was going. His talk with Sergeant Arkhorn about the role of the Empire in the world had stuck with him. “The Empire is a complicated beast. For colonial subjects such as you and I, I suppose it’s even more complicated. For my part, I do my best to keep things simple. The Queen declares someone, or something, an enemy and I go out and kill it.”
The corners of the Suljak’s lips turned up in the faintest of smiles. “And if she declared me an enemy?”
Konowa returned the smile. “We both know the answer to that, don’t we?”
“Do you see the water fountain, Major?” the Suljak said, changing the subject. He grabbed Konowa’s arm and steered him toward it. “In many respects, this is the Empire.”
Konowa uttered a silent curse. “A metaphor for the Empire’s wasteful ways with people’s lives, perhaps? All the lost productivity? The unnatural harnessing of energy put to a single use?”
The Suljak laughed, and Konowa could tell it was sincere. “When Pimmer first arrived, the two of us talked by this fountain for hours. It was months before he went a hundred yards from the palace, and almost a year before he ventured out of the city. You, on the other hand, you are already out there. You stand here with me, yet in your heart you are roaming the desert now, no?”
He made as if to pat Konowa’s chest, but Konowa caught his arm and casually lowered it. The Suljak continued talking as if nothing had happened.
“You are a man of action, but tonight, well, tonight you stand among those who talk, and it is like pulling teeth, yes? Here you are, staring at a water fountain, talking to an old man, and wondering how long you have to humor him before you can make your excuses and get back among your soldiers. Or am I wrong?”
Konowa started to object, then saw no good reason to. “You aren’t wrong. However, I am sure I would enjoy our conversation more after I’ve done what we came here to do.”
The Suljak waved a hand to the sky. “There won’t be an after, I’m afraid.”
Something in his tone made Konowa turn. “What do you mean?”
“The fountain. See how the water gushes forth, forever filling the basin? That is the Empire, surging forth into uncharted—or at least little explored—lands in order to shine the light of civilization among the heathen and lift them up from their ignorance.”
“I’m not unfamiliar with this line of reasoning,” Konowa said.
The Suljak smiled. “I am sure you are not. I was most fortunate in that I had a lovely conversation with your mother and the delightful Miss Tekoy and Miss Synjyn earlier. I had hoped to engage them again, but it appears they had other business.”
Konowa groaned. “They always do. I’m also sure they informed you of my feelings about discussing the affairs of the Empire in general.”
“Indeed,” the Suljak said, his voice light with laughter, “but it is actually not the Empire I wish to speak to you about, but rather what comes next.”
Konowa gave a quick snort. “Despite what you’ve heard, I don’t think Calahr plans on going anywhere.”
Suljak Faydarr patted Konowa’s arm again. “I’m sure it doesn’t, but despite the Prince’s utmost faith in himself and your regiment, the wind of change he so boldly claims to harness is even now being hitched to other wagons.”
Konowa suddenly wished for another drink, no matter how foul. If he was going to have a headache, he’d rather it was from a hangover. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I have had my fill of riddles. You spoke with the three…women, so please, if you have something to tell me, just say it.”
The Suljak nodded. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were an honest elf. Perhaps too honest for your own good, but I can see that Her Majesty’s faith in you is entirely justified.”
Konowa couldn’t keep his voice from rising. “You’ve sp
oken with the Queen?”
“Not directly, no, but through…intermediaries. She is an astute women. Her thirst for knowledge is insatiable.”
“Like her son’s,” Konowa said, looking over his shoulder and relaxing. There was no sign of the Prince.
The Suljak gave Konowa a sad smile. “No, not really. The Prince seeks knowledge—is quite fascinated by it—and dreams that the simple act of accumulating it will stimulate change. Her Majesty is more practical. Her accumulation of knowledge is always in service of an end.”
“And what is that end?”
“The peaceful dissolution of the Empire,” the Suljak said.
Konowa almost smiled, then realized the Suljak was serious. “She said this?”
“She is not stupid—far from it. This world is in flux, Major, the return of the Stars only exacerbates what lies underneath all these years. Tell me, are the elves of the Long Watch happy with Calahrian rule? Are the dwarves, the elfkynan, and all the other peoples? The Stars’ returning gives focus to something that already existed.”
“You’re talking about rebellion,” Konowa said. “Hundreds upon hundreds of elfkynan died when that Star fell. They died believing a lie. And the Empire still rules their land.”
“True, but thousands upon thousands did not perish. Elfkyna has already begun to change. The Red Star returned, and now it, not the Empire, is seen as the true guardian and ruler of Elfkyna. That one, simple notion is more powerful than a thousand cannons. The Star seed you planted there has given rise to much more than a magical tree. It has given birth to the idea of freedom.”
Konowa paced a few steps, looking about the garden and feeling as if he was back in the Elfkynan wilderness. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. “Even if you’re right, and the next Star—the Jewel of the Desert—returns here to the desert, then what? There are still grave dangers out there only the Empire can truly oppose…or do you think the Shadow Monarch will not venture so far south?”
“I have every confidence that She will. In this regard She is less astute than Her Majesty. The Queen knows the days of empires and one rule are coming to an end. The Shadow Monarch does not.”
Konowa shook his head. “I’ve seen what the Shadow Monarch is capable of. If She gains a foothold in your desert, it will take the Empire to dig Her out again.”
“How fortunate you are here then,” the Suljak said. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “Alas, the Shadow Monarch’s coming to these lands is thousands of years too late. A deadly power already exists here that threatens all.”
“You mean Kaman Rhal?” Konowa asked, walking back to stand close to the Suljak. He debated mentioning what had happened on the island, but decided against it. “I know the story, at least some of it. Are you saying he has returned?”
“I don’t know. There are stirrings in the desert. Rumors abound. It is a fact that his body and that of his reported wife, the she-drake, were never recovered, but buried along with his library and the city of Urjalla. How much is real and how much is superstition I cannot say, but enough darkness has risen as of late to suggest that what was once thought impossible is now only improbable.”
“My fight is against the Shadow Monarch…and all enemies of the Empire,” Konowa added. “If Kaman Rhal or any remnant of his power attempts to interfere with us, it will be dealt with. More ships are coming. The Prince is keen to find Kaman Rhal’s resting place.”
“I hope he does,” the Suljak said.
“Really? You aren’t concerned with the Empire looting the accumulated knowledge and treasure of your people?”
“I harbor many concerns. I am concerned about the return of Kaman Rhal and the encroachment of the Shadow Monarch, but these worries pale in comparison to my greatest concern.”
“And what is that?”
“You.”
“Me?”
The Suljak nodded. “Earlier, you mentioned you slept well. Alas, I do not. My dreams have been haunted lately. Do you know what I see in them? You, Major. You with the Jewel of the Desert in your hands, just as you held the fate of the Red Star in Elfkyna. You gave up that power once in order to preserve the lands of the elfkynans. A very selfless act, Major. Tell me, could you do so again?”
“My duty is to defend the Empire, and that is what I intend to do.”
The Suljak bowed his head for a moment, then raised it and looked straight at Konowa. There was no longer any mirth in the Suljak’s eyes.
“And my duty is to defend my people and their land. I will do so, no matter what the cost.”
Konowa understood. “My quarrel is not with you, Faydarr. I’m here for my elves. Once I have them, I have my own enemy to defeat, and She isn’t you.”
For a long moment, neither one spoke. The water in the fountain gurgled and splashed as the excess sloshed over the sides and ran down the stone and onto the cobbles. What a waste, Konowa thought, all this water for a fountain in a land as dry as bone. As the water seeped between the cracks, an image of spilled blood came unbidden to him. The fountain was like the Empire. All those dead, and for what? If the Empire really was breaking up, what had it all been for? Konowa looked at the Suljak. “The Queen isn’t the only one who plays a deep game around here.”
The Suljak of the Hasshugeb winked at Konowa and patted his arm. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let go and turned to leave. “Oh, if a person were looking for a quiet way to leave the festivities, he might want to take a walk around behind the fountain. He’d find a path that leads him to a side gate and back to the main grounds without having to walk through the courtyard.”
Back at the party, the guests were momentarily startled by a loud whoop from somewhere off the main courtyard. Conversation quickly resumed, as there was clearly no need for alarm; the shout had been one of pure joy.
SEVENTEEN
Having marshaled enough of his courage to make it up the stairs of the Blue Scorpion, Alwyn pushed aside a silk curtain and stepped into a room unlike any he had ever been in before, or smelled before. He had no idea what scents were floating on the air, but everything was soft and inviting. He blinked and looked around. There was nothing remarkable about the furniture, just more pillows, but it was who was sitting on the pillows that put a wobble in his one remaining knee.
Women. As in several. As in more than Alwyn had ever seen in one place at one time. He wasn’t sure how many, however, because he’d closed his eyes almost as soon as he realized they were wearing sheer robes. You could see their bodies underneath, and they weren’t wearing anything at all! The first time he heard the mewling cry of a rakke hadn’t terrified him as much as this.
With his eyes still closed, he took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his jacket before putting them back on. He risked opening an eye. They were still there, still staring at him. One giggled behind a jeweled hand and Alwyn riveted his gaze on her face. She looked magical. Everything about her was perfect. Her skin, her long dark hair, her bright green eyes…the graceful line of her arm as it rested near her—Alwyn brought his eyes back up to hers.
“I think, that is, um, I think I’m supposed to…choose. One of you, I mean. Uh, if that’s okay?” He was certain that wasn’t okay. Why hadn’t Yimt told him there would be so many! “Oh, I’m Private Renwar, I mean, Alwyn…hi.”
Now several of the women laughed and Alwyn could have sworn his wooden leg began to shake. This had been a terrible idea.
“You do not choose us, Private Renwar Alwyn,” one of the women said, rising to stand. His eyes traced her outline from her feet to her head while his heart roared in his ears. Curves. All he could think of was curves. “It is we that choose you, and I can see that Nafeesah has already chosen.”
The woman who had giggled earlier now stood, and Alwyn found his hand clenching air, remembering Yimt had taken his musket from him. Not that he thought he needed it, but not having it at hand made him feel naked, which only compounded his nervousness. He hadn’t been without his musket
since joining the Iron Elves.
“Come with me,” Nafeesah said, holding out a hand.
Alwyn gulped, took a look over his shoulder at the exit, then reached out to take her hand. It was soft and warm. To Alwyn’s amazement, not even the hint of frost fire sparked at her touch. She smiled and led him past the other women and into another, much smaller room through three sets of beaded curtains.
Nafeesah motioned Alwyn to sit on yet more pillows, and he did so, carefully easing himself to the floor so that his caerna didn’t reveal more than he wanted. It was a courtesy Yimt was utterly incapable of mastering.
Candles burned merrily in several small alcoves notched into the plaster walls, giving off a warm light and a scent of pine trees. A long, flat pillow lay in one corner, which Alwyn assumed was the bed. He immediately felt his cheeks grow hot.
“You are an Elf of Iron, yes?” Nafeesah said, tucking her legs underneath her as she sat down in front of him. A sizable chunk of her thigh was revealed, the skin smooth and unmarred.
“Yes!” Alwyn said, surprised at the loudness of his own voice. “Uh, yes, Iron Elf actually, although we’re not really elves, but I guess you knew that. Well, except the major really is an elf. Then there’s his mother, Miss Red Owl, and Tyul Mountain Spring, and the major’s father, the wizard, only he’s not exactly himself right now. Oh, and there was Corporal Kritton, but he ran off back in Elfkyna and we haven’t seen—”
Nafeesah’s finger rested against his lips. “And you are nervous, yes.”
This wasn’t a question.
“What, no. I mean, maybe a little. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. Have you tried a hookah before? I just did, earlier I mean, and that smoke really gets to you.” Did his voice really sound that high? And why was he talking so fast?
Nafeesah smiled. “So you’ve done this before then.”
Alwyn nodded several times. “Yes, of course, I mean lots of times…well, no, not yet, not with a woman.”
Nafeesah raised an eyebrow.
