Percepliquis trr-6

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “She told me that her mother said her father would make her a fairy princess and that they would live in a beautiful place where she would be a queen of the forest.”

  “Did she?”

  Hadrian nodded. “Seems a shame to disappoint her, and if Gwen told her that, it must be true.”

  Royce sighed.

  “So will you take the throne from Modina?”

  “Emperor Royce? I don’t think so. But I’m stuck with the job of elven king, aren’t I?”

  “How’s that going, by the way?”

  “Funny as it sounds, I think they’re terrified of me.”

  “A lot of people are terrified of you, Royce.”

  He laughed. “I feel like one of those guys in the circus that train bears with just a chair and a whip. They destroyed half of Apeladorn without a single loss of life on their side and the only thing stopping them from finishing the job is me and their crazy religion. They really hate humans but are convinced I was chosen by Ferrol to be their ruler. To disobey me is to disobey their god. To kill me is unthinkable. So here they are, ruled by a human who they must obey and can’t kill. You know they’ve got to be panicking.”

  “Only you aren’t human.”

  “No-I’m neither.”

  “Maybe that will help.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “So you still haven’t told me. What do you plan to do?”

  Royce shrugged. “I don’t know yet. How could I? I don’t know anything about them, really. I do know that I’ve seen cruelty from both sides. After seeing how Saldur’s empire treated people like me, I can understand the elves’ hatred. The old me certainly remembers that feeling, the certitude of justice, the purity of unquestioned purpose.”

  “And the new you?”

  Royce shook his head. “I forgave Magnus, for Maribor’s sake.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Tired, I guess. Tired of killing-no, that’s not really it. The real reason, I think, is that part of me wondered what Gwen would think. I can’t imagine her wanting me to kill Magnus any more than she would want me to punish the elves for what they did. She was such a better person than I am, and now that she’s gone, I…”

  Hadrian squeezed his shoulder. “Trust me-she’s proud of you, pal.” He gave him a second, then in a bright tone said, “How is it we never had king and emperor on our list of potential careers? When you think about it, it beats the heck out of winemakers, actors, and fishermen.”

  “You always think everything is so easy,” Royce replied, wiping his eyes.

  “I’m just a glass-half-full kinda guy. How’s your glass looking these days?”

  “I have no idea. I’m still trying to get over the sheer size of it.”

  Hadrian nodded. “Speaking of glasses…” He lifted his head when he heard the sound of a fiddle and pipe. He put his arm around Royce’s shoulder and led him off the bridge. “How about a nice pint of Armigil’s brew?”

  “You know I hate beer.”

  “Well, I’m not sure you can really call what she brews beer. Think of it more as… an experience.”

  CHAPTER 29

  FROM OUT OF A CLEAR BLUE SKY

  A surprising number of people survived the attack on Aquesta and came out of their underground bunkers to find a different world. The elves were gone and so was the city. All that remained were the bodies of the dead and the shattered rubble of the once-strong walls. In the weeks that followed, the weather grew warm, the snow melted, and people took to the roads. Many dispersed south or east to Colnora, which had managed to survive unscathed. Some, those originally from there, ventured north to find a ravaged land, which they vowed to rebuild. A few remained in Aquesta, picking up the stones and brushing away the dirt.

  The empress took up residence at the unlikely estate of Lord Baldwin. It took several weeks before the full contingent of the imperial government was reestablished, but soon messengers in imperial uniforms were racing across the roads bearing news and orders from the empress.

  Much to the dismay of the Aquestians, the empress decided not to return. She announced plans to build a new city at Amberton Lee, which would be named New Percepliquis, after the ancient imperial capital. She called on all artisans, engineers, mapmakers, stone workers, wood carvers, road layers, and a host of others to come. With many out of work and, in many cases, homeless, they came in droves. Among this assortment of workers came a surprisingly large number of dwarves, the largest assembly of little folk seen in centuries. No one knew from where they came, but once they arrived, the work began in earnest and those passing near the Lee remarked at the sounds of hammers in the dark of night.

  Rumors spread along with the people. One story maintained that it was not the elves who had destroyed Aquesta, but Nationalists who invented the lies about them to strike fear across the countryside. These stories told that Degan Gaunt fought in single combat against the empress’s champion, Sir Hadrian, to decide the fate of the empire. Another bit of gossip held that Rufus’s Bane had risen from the dead and laid waste to the countryside, hunting the empress. When it found her in Aquesta, she led it away to save her people and single-handedly slew it once again on a hilltop. They said it remained there in a secret place guarded by priests, who watched over it to make certain that it did not rise again.

  The most outlandishly incredible-and therefore most popular-tale was one replete with amazing adventures, monsters, heroes, and villains. It was a story about how the elves invaded, and nothing could stand against them. In this version the empress in her wisdom sent ten heroes into the bowels of Elan to seek the Rhelacan from the tomb of Novron. Among them were the Teshlor Sir Hadrian, a dwarven prince who they befriended in the depths, a pious monk, the last giant to walk the world, and the good wizardess Arista-whose evil twin sister was the Witch of Melengar. The story told of how this courageous band fought through caves, sailed across underground seas of glowing water, battled hordes of goblins, and slew a Gilarabrywn. It told how three of them fell in battle, but the remainder emerged victorious. According to this story, Sir Hadrian, armed with the Rhelacan, defeated the king of the elves and saved the empire. The tale grew with each passing tinker and new characters were added, including a thief, a sailor, and a master swordsman.

  All that really mattered was that the empress was alive and well and that Amilia the Beloved was with her. Not all the news was welcome, however, as edicts declared dwarves and half-elves were to be recognized as full citizens of the empire. This touched off the Spring Riots in Colnora and Vernes, which Sir Breckton squelched with a contingent of imperial troops.

  In the north, the realm of Melengar all but vanished. What the imperial invasion had not destroyed, the elves had. The young king Alric, who never married and had no heirs, did not return, nor did his sister. After more than seven hundred years, the line of Essendon ended, and it was Count Mauvin Pickering, now Imperial Governor Pickering, who returned to administrate the province of Melengar. By all accounts, he was a good and just man, and before long rumors of his marriage to Lady Alenda Lanaklin circulated.

  The death of Archibald Ballentyne left the province of Chadwick vacant of a lord. The seat was replaced when the empress appointed Degan Gaunt earl. In her announcement speech, she said that the appointment was not only deserved but appropriate.

  By Summersrule, heralds were crossing the empire shouting in every village about the news from New Percepliquis. The first buildings were standing on the mount at Amberton Lee, just enough to allow the empress to move her court, and she was using the holiday to celebrate the move and commemorate those who had given their lives to save the empire.

  The games where held in the newborn city, which was little more than chalk and string outlines. Thousands came hoping to glimpse Sir Hadrian or Sir Breckton on the field, but neither entered the competition. Sir Renwick won top honors, unhorsing Sir Elgar in the final tilt.

  The highlight of the celebration, however, was the marriage of Sir Breckton to Lady Amilia in
a moonlight ceremony performed by Patriarch Merton. On the last day of the celebrations, Empress Modina made the startling announcement that she had adopted, as daughter and heir, the half-elf child Allie, henceforth to be known as the imperial crown princess Alliena Novronian.

  The celebration lasted a full two weeks, and when it was over, the roads were filled with carts and wagons of soon-to-be-footsore travelers on their long journeys home. The hilltop at Amberton Lee, now officially renamed New Percepliquis, was once more filled with the sounds of hammers, chisels, and saws. Sheep grazed on the southern slope, and milk cows on the north.

  As the sun began to set, lights appeared in the windows of the “palace”-a simple thirty-room blockhouse. It was the first of the dwarven constructions and designed to be servants’ quarters for stable hands and groundskeepers. For now it housed the whole of the imperial government.

  On the front steps, which were broad and afforded a fine view from the hilltop, a small group gathered to watch the sunset and the approach of the imperial carriage.

  “It really is coming along nicely,” Hadrian told the dwarf as he sat with his arm around Arista. He was dressed in a soft tunic and she in a comfortable blue linen dress. “It’s hard to imagine this is where I fought only four months ago.”

  The now leveled land revealed tiers where buildings would be constructed partially into the sides of the hill. Huge blocks of stone marked corners that anchored string lines held in place with stakes that designated future walls, roads, and pathways. Most were rectangular, but some were octagonal or completely circular. Still others defied any description, looking haphazard and bewildering from their footprints in string.

  “It’s beautiful,” Arista said.

  “Bah! You can’t tell a thing yet!” Magnus scoffed. He tapped his temple. “If you could see what’s in here, then you could really appreciate it. This city will make the old one below us an embarrassment.” He looked out across the hill. “But it will take time-years-decades, really-but yes, it will be beautiful.”

  The laughter of children blew in with the evening summer breeze as down the slope Allie and Mercy chased fireflies, where a holly tree stood and five boys once spent days in a tent they called the Hovel.

  The carriage pulled to a stop, and when the door opened, the white-wigged chancellor Nimbus stepped out. He was dressed in his usual outlandish colors, and on his chest was the massive gold chain of his office. He smiled at Modina and Amilia and greeted them all with a sweep of his hand and a lavish bow.

  “It’s about time you arrived,” Modina said, rising to meet him.

  “Forgive me, Your Eminence,” he said, dusting himself off. “But there was a great deal to be done before blowing out the last candle in Aquesta.”

  “How long will you be staying?” Amilia asked.

  “I’m afraid not long. I’ve really only come to see what you’ve started here and to say goodbye.”

  “I can’t believe you won’t stay. I don’t know how I will get along without you.”

  “Alas, as I told Your Eminence in our correspondence, it really is time for me to move on. You have matters well in hand. New Percepliquis is coming along nicely. When I accepted this chain of office, we both knew it was temporary. I will be leaving in the morning.”

  “Really?” Amilia asked. “So soon? I thought we’d have a few days at least.”

  “I am afraid so, my lady. I’ve had many farewells and found that they are best kept short.”

  “You’ve been wonderful,” Modina told him, squeezing his hand. “This empire wouldn’t have survived without you. Every citizen owes you a debt of gratitude.”

  Nimbus addressed Amilia while gesturing toward the empress. “We did all right with her, didn’t we? I think that board really helped.”

  “Yes,” Amilia agreed, and raced down the steps and hugged him tight. She kissed his cheek, startling the chancellor. “Thank you-thank you for everything.”

  Modina motioned for Nimbus to come closer and briefly whispered in his ear.

  “Oh yes, the new couple,” Nimbus said, looking at Hadrian and Arista. “Congratulations on your wedding. What will you do now?”

  “Yes,” Modina said. “Now that the honeymoon is over and you’ve been duly knighted, Sir Hadrian, what are your plans?”

  “Don’t look at me. Arista is running this show. I thought we’d be back in Medford by now.”

  “Oh right.” She rolled her eyes. “I could just see you as king in the royal court, listening to the earls and barons griping about who has the right to water cattle on the north bank of the Galewyr, or settling a dispute with the clergy over their refusal to pay a tax on the vast tracks of church-owned land. No, I know how it would turn out. I would be the one left alone in the throne room sorting through the tangled string of a dozen petitions while you’re off hunting or jousting. I’m sorry but I’ve had more than my share of ruling and it would only make us both miserable. That’s why I gave Melengar to Mauvin. It also made it easier to admit Melengar to the empire, as he didn’t have any problem with accepting a governorship as opposed to a crown.

  “Do you know what our good knight here has actually been doing with his time? During our honeymoon?” Arista bumped Hadrian with her shoulder. “Why he was too busy to take part in the joust?”

  Everyone looked slightly uneasy, wondering what she might say next.

  Arista paused a suitable moment to let their minds wander, then said, “He’s been working as the smithy in Hintindar.”

  Magnus chuckled, Modina modestly smiled, but Russell Bothwick roared. He slapped his thigh until his wife, Lena, laid a calming hand on his leg. “You’re a romantic, you are,” he said through laughter-invoked tears. “Stoking a forge instead of-”

  “ Russell! ” Lena burst out.

  “What?” he asked, looking at his wife, bewildered. “I’m just saying that the man has got his priorities all wrong.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m there all day and night,” Hadrian said, defending himself. “The fact is they don’t have one. Grimbald left over a year ago and they have all this work. They’re desperate. I hate seeing my father’s forge lying cold. It was taking twice as long to till the fields with dull hoes and spades.”

  “But it hardly seems the best use of time for the last living Teshlor Knight,” Nimbus remarked. “And you.” He looked at Arista. “The last master of the Art… what have you been doing?”

  “I learned to bake bread really well.” She too received many surprised looks, not the least of which came from Modina, Amilia, and Lena. “No, seriously, I’ve gotten good. Arbor says I’m ready to marble rye and wheat together.”

  Nimbus glanced at Modina, who nodded.

  The empress leaned forward. “I would like to ask you both something. The lord chancellor and I have been corresponding on this matter and I think he is right. There is so much that needs to be done. There will be warlords, more uprisings like the riots this spring. With the elves back across the river, goblins have begun raiding again. And of course something must be done about Tur Del Fur.”

  “I’ll second that,” Magnus grumbled. “It was bad enough when humans controlled Drumindor; now there’s Ghazel wandering its halls.”

  “The empire needs people of good character to guide and protect the people, good arms, strong arms, wise arms. I can only do so much.” She gestured at those in her court. “We can only do so much. The realm is vast and we can’t be everywhere. Plus, there is the matter of stability. While I am alive, the empire will be strong, but even small kingdoms have fractured at the passing of a monarch. The larger the empire, the greater the threat. With no structure in place, no solid tradition to hold us together, the empire could break into civil wars.”

  “Two of the things that made the Old Empire so strong-so cohesive,” Nimbus told them, “were the Cenzarium and Teshlor Guild. The Grand Council was created from the best and brightest of both. They maintained order and could govern in the absence of a ruler. Until these ins
titutions are restored-until wizards and knights of the old order patrol the roads and visit the courts of distant governors to ensure they are upholding the law-until they guard the borders of Calis and Estrendor, the empire will not be safe or whole.”

  “Imagine what a hundred Hadrians and a hundred Aristas could do,” Modina told them. “And you.” She glanced at Myron. “We need a new university. Sheridan is gone. We can think of no one better to lead such a project.”

  “But I-” the monk began.

  “Think of it as a bigger monastery,” Nimbus interrupted. “Administering to a larger flock. You will teach them of lore, philosophy, engineering, languages-including elvish-and of course about Maribor. Teams can be sent into the old city to retrieve any volumes that still remain there. They can be the seeds that can help you spread knowledge to all who are willing to learn.”

  “We will collect all the works and place them under a huge dome of the greatest library ever constructed,” Modina added.

  “That does sound nice, but my brother monks…”

  “There will be plenty of work for all.”

  “I’ve already started laying the foundation for the scriptorium,” Magnus told him. “It’s five times the size of what we had at the Winds Abbey.”

  “And the Cenzarium?” Arista looked at the dwarf.

  Magnus smiled sheepishly. “The walls are already going up. If you look out there, to the left, you can see them.”

  “So this has already been settled on?” she asked, pretending to sound indignant.

  “While certainly no one,” Nimbus replied deftly, “least of all those present here-would ever ask any more of you two, and while you have earned a long and well-deserved rest, I was confident you would not abandon your empress, or the empire you fought so hard to establish.”

  “Where’s the guildhall to be?” Hadrian asked.