[Nagash 02] - Nagash the Unbroken

by Mike Lee - (ebook by Undead)

  After presenting the gifts, a light meal of Eastern delicacies was served, followed by more tea and polite conversation that lasted for two long hours. Then came a period of digestion and restful contemplation that normally would be accompanied by soft music or recitations of poetry. Neferata grimaced as the droning of the priests continued, and wondered if perhaps the Eastern Empire’s culture was on the decline.

  Meeting with the delegates from the Eastern Empire was the only official function left to Neferata. King Lamashizzar hadn’t opened the palace to his citizens on the high holy days in many decades, and the temples no longer had the power to influence court affairs as they once did, so Neferata now spent the vast majority of her time locked inside the Women’s Palace. The only reason she was still allowed to receive the Easterners was because Lamashizzar had never had any patience for the Silk Lords’ tedious social rituals, yet couldn’t risk offending his erstwhile allies by fobbing them off on one of his viziers. It was the primary reason she’d been given so much authority when the king had taken the army to Mahrak. At the time, the risk of a royal scandal paled in comparison to a diplomatic incident with the Empire.

  Since the war, official visits from the east generally only happened once a year, when an Imperial delegation arrived to collect Lahmia’s annual payment for the shiploads of iron and dragon-powder that Lamasheptra had purchased more than a century before. The next scheduled payment wasn’t due for another three months, so the unannounced arrival of an Imperial vessel had caused considerable curiosity among the members of the Lahmian court.

  Something was definitely going on, the queen knew, studying the resplendent figure of the Eastern ambassador. The Empire didn’t send a prince of the blood all the way across the Crystal Sea on a mere social call.

  Xia Ha Feng, August Personage of the First Celestial House and Scion of Heaven, was young and very handsome, in the coldly detached manner that all the Silk Lords affected. He was clad in layered robes of blue and yellow silk. The outer robe was embroidered with sinuous, bearded serpents whose scales were picked out in tiny garnets, and whose belly plates were fashioned from lustrous mother-of-pearl. The prince’s raven-black hair was oiled and pulled back in a severe topknot, and a circlet of gold rested upon his brow. Long, artificial fingernails, also crafted of fine gold, capped all ten of the prince’s fingers. Though a mark of refinement and wealth in the Silk Lands, the affectation seemed sinister, even monstrous, to the queen. She wondered idly where the young prince fell in the line of succession to the Imperial throne. Despite hundreds of years of trade and diplomatic relations with the Silk Lands, the Eastern Empire was still largely a mystery to the Lahmians. It was reputed to be vast in size, but foreigners were forbidden to travel beyond a handful of sanctioned trade cities situated along their western coast.

  The Silk Lords claimed that their civilization was far older and more advanced than that of the Nehekharans, but Neferata, like most Lahmians, doubted the truth of this. If the Eastern Empire was so old and powerful, why were they afraid to let foreigners see it?

  All at once, the priests’ disquieting song came to an end. Rather than build to a satisfactory conclusion, like proper music did, the droning simply stopped. The priests bowed low to the queen and swiftly withdrew. Neferata blinked dazedly in the sudden silence, uncertain how to respond. She stole a surreptitious glance at Khalida, who sat upon a lesser throne to Neferata’s right. Over the last half-century, the little hawk had blossomed into a tall, elegant young woman, though somehow she’d never outgrown her love for horses, hunting and war. She remained one of Neferata’s favourites, though once the queen had given birth to her own children they had grown inexorably apart. Soon she would be leaving the City of the Dawn altogether, for Lamashizzar had arranged her betrothal to Prince Anhur, the son of King Khepra of Lybaras, during the last round of trade negotiations.

  The young princess was sitting very straight in her chair. Like Neferata, her face was hidden behind a serene golden mask, but the queen could see that her chin was bobbing ever so slightly as she fought to stay awake.

  As one, the Imperial delegates nodded their heads and gave a contented sigh as the priests silently left the hall. The prince turned to the bureaucrat at his right and spoke softly in his native tongue. The functionary listened intently, then bowed his head to Neferata.

  “The Scion of Heaven hopes that this gift of song is pleasing to your ears, great queen,” he said in flawless Nehekharan. “The music of the mountain priests is reserved only for the gods themselves, and those whom Heaven deems worthy.”

  “I can’t imagine what I might have done to deserve such an honour,” Neferata replied smoothly. She thought she heard a tiny, muffled snort of amusement from her cousin. “The Scion of Heaven is as discerning as he is generous.”

  The Eastern prince listened to the translation and inclined his head to the queen. He spoke again, very softly, and the bureaucrat smiled. “The Scion of Heaven would be honoured to share the gifts of the gods with you whenever you desire, great queen.”

  The statement sent a prickle of alarm racing up Neferata’s spine. “The Scion of Heaven’s generosity is truly boundless,” she answered calmly. “The court is always honoured to receive a visit from the Celestial Household, and we hope he travels to Lahmia often in the coming years.”

  As the functionary related the queen’s words, the prince smiled for the first time. The look in his dark eyes as he spoke reminded Neferata very much of the cold, predatory stare of the falcon he’d given to Khalida.

  “The Scion of Heaven has no plans to travel in the foreseeable future, great queen,” the bureaucrat replied. “And he is looking forward to sharing the fruits of our civilization with you in the coming months.”

  Neferata straightened slightly on the throne. “Do I misunderstand?” she asked. “Are we to be graced with your august presence for a lengthy stay?”

  This time the functionary didn’t bother to translate. “The Scion of Heaven will take residence in Lahmia,” he replied. “His factors are seeking appropriate lodgings near the palace even as we speak.”

  For a moment, the queen forgot all sense of Eastern decorum. “Will he be staying long?” she asked.

  The bureaucrat frowned ever so slightly at the forwardness of such a direct question, but he replied smoothly, “The Scion of Heaven wishes to broaden his education of foreign cultures, and hopes to gain a deep understanding of your ancient and noble traditions.”

  He means years, Neferata thought with alarm. She hesitated, composing herself and considered her reply. “This is unprecedented,” she said carefully. “And a momentous event in the history of our two peoples.”

  The prince’s smile widened as the bureaucrat translated. His reply was delivered with carefully modulated deprecation. “The Celestial Household merely wishes to become closer to our Western neighbours, and hopes to offer what meagre aid we can in this time of transformation and rebirth.”

  Neferata’s unease deepened. “We are naturally deeply grateful to the Emperor, and appreciate his interest in our people’s wellbeing,” she replied.

  The bureaucrat bowed deeply. “The Emperor of Heaven and Earth is a dutiful son, and is responsible with the gifts that the gods bestow upon him,” he replied. “A momentous event in Guanjian province has enriched the Empire, and he has taken it as a sign from Heaven that he must turn his attentions to our neighbours who are in need.”

  “That is very comforting to know,” the queen replied, though she felt anything but. “Might one inquire as to the nature of this blessed occurrence?”

  The functionary beamed proudly. “Imperial surveyors have discovered gold in the mountains of the province! Even the most pessimistic reports suggest that the vein is larger than any found in the Empire’s history. Within two years, three at most, the Imperial treasury expects to benefit from the gods’ great bounty.”

  Neferata felt her blood run cold. Now she understood the reason behind the prince’s sudden arrival. />
  “Truly, the fortunes of the Celestial Household are a wonder to the rest of the world,” she replied, as calmly as she could manage.

  Prince Xian rose gracefully from his chair and clapped his hands together. His translator bowed once again. “The Scion of Heaven thanks you for the graciousness of your welcome, and hopes that this audience is but the first of many to come.”

  Neferata rose to her feet. “The august personage of Prince Xian is always welcome,” she said, “and we hope that he will grace us again with his presence soon.”

  The queen remained standing as the prince and his entourage departed. When they were gone, Khalida leaned back in her chair and sighed. “What an insufferable bunch of fops,” she growled. “I think I fell asleep at some point during the meal. Did I miss anything?”

  Neferata drew in a deep, silent breath. “No, little hawk. You didn’t miss anything at all.”

  The prince’s message had been for her and the king alone. Among the Silk Lords, even betrayal was delivered by polite implication.

  Rain hissed against the thick glass windows, obscuring the view of the predawn city and the sea beyond. Within the bedchamber, Neferata’s handmaidens lay sleeping. Every now and then, one of them would whisper or sigh, deep in the grips of a lotus-fuelled dream. The queen had pushed the bottle of dream-wine on her maids, insisting that they should all drink a cup before she partook herself. It was a rare luxury for the maids, who were expected to be ready to serve the needs of the queen on a moment’s notice. Neferata appeared to sip from her own cup, but scarcely let the bitter liquid touch her lips.

  Tephret was the last to succumb. The elderly handmaiden had held on until well past midnight, until finally Neferata had been forced to feign sleep herself before Tephret would finally give in herself. The queen had lain in her bed for several hours afterwards, grim thoughts whirling through her head as she listened to the rain steal over the slumbering city. Finally, not long past the hour of the dead, she rose and slipped on a robe, then lit a small oil lamp and sat down at her writing desk.

  The words had not come easily. The Eastern devils have laid a trap for us, she’d written in deft brushstrokes. Within two to three years, the value of gold in the Empire will plummet.

  On the surface, the statement seemed innocent enough. She chewed the end of the ink brush. Did she need to spell it out for Lamashizzar? She sighed. As a result, our annual payment to the Empire is certain to increase well beyond our capability to pay.

  What had possessed their late father Lamasheptra into entering such a potentially disastrous deal with the Eastern Empire would remain a mystery for the ages. He had concocted the scheme not long after Nagash seized the throne at Khemri and made the queen—Lamasheptra’s daughter Neferem—his hostage. After years of secret negotiations in the Imperial trade cities across the sea, the Imperials agreed to share with Lahmia the same arms and armour that equipped their own fearsome legions. This included enough of the Easterner’s mysterious and explosive dragon-powder to equip an army of warriors, as well as weapons to employ them, which alone would be enough to make Lamasheptra’s forces the dominant military power in all of Nehekhara.

  In return, the Emperor demanded a staggering sum, equivalent at the time to ten tons of gold per year for the next three hundred years, and required nothing less than the sovereignty of the city itself as security for the trade. If Lahmia failed to make even one payment to the Empire, the city would become an Imperial possession from that day forward. Lamasheptra accepted the deal without qualm, despite the fact that the amount of money owed to the Empire each year was greater than the city’s yearly tax revenue.

  Perhaps the old king had planned to supplement his payments with plunder taken from Khemri; possibly he thought to exact tribute from the other great cities once the fearsome power of his army became known. As it turned out, the delivery of the promised arms and armour had taken more than a century. The final shipment, consisting of the dragon-powder itself, reached Lahmia some five months after Lamasheptra’s death, and the young king Lamashizzar proved far too cautious with the powerful weapons he’d inherited. Meanwhile, the city treasury had dwindled steadily away. It was only through several shrewd trade deals with Lybaras, Rasetra and Mahrak during the war that Lahmia was able to survive at all.

  Of course, the Empire had never intended to deal fairly with Lamasheptra. They’d done everything in their power to make it difficult for the city to fulfil its financial obligations, and now that there were only a few years left before the debt was fully paid, the Silk Lords had gone to extreme measures to ensure that Lahmia would be theirs.

  Neferata was sure that the discovery of the gold mine was a lie. The Imperial household would flood the market with coin from their own treasury to convincingly drive down the value of their currency long enough to force Lahmia into default, after which point things would gradually return to normal again. It would cause a short period of suffering for the Empire’s subjects, but it would be a small price to pay for a strategic foothold in Nehekhara.

  The question, Neferata thought, is how do we get out of the trap before it snaps shut?

  The complex web of trade deals that Lamashizzar had built after the war had produced dividends, and greatly increased Lahmia’s influence across Nehekhara, but it wouldn’t be enough if the Empire demanded more gold. The only way to save the city from the hands of the Easterners was to either seize more wealth from Lahmia’s neighbours, or defy the Silk Lords, and Neferata was certain that Lamashizzar hadn’t the nerve to do either.

  To be honest, she wasn’t even certain if her brother cared what happened to the city anymore.

  The confrontation in the council chamber, now a half-century past, had ended whatever feelings of affection Neferata had for her brother. There was a time once when she thought she might have loved him, when she thought he would stand up to centuries of hoary tradition and treat her as a co-ruler instead of a mere possession. Now she knew better. All he wanted from her were heirs to continue the dynasty, while he fumbled after the secrets of immortality. Nothing else mattered.

  Well, Lahmia mattered to her. Neferata would be damned before she saw the City of the Dawn become a plaything for foreign lords. She could rule the city with a surer hand than her brother ever could.

  The queen set aside the ink brush and listened for a while to the sound of the rain on the windowpanes as she turned the problem over in her mind. Always, she came back to the same conclusion.

  Something had to be done. If Lamashizzar wouldn’t take action, then she must.

  Neferata took up the sheet of paper and considered it for a long moment. Her expression hardened. Slowly, carefully, she fed the paper to the flame guttering in the oil lamp on her desk.

  It was no more than an hour before dawn when Neferata rose from her place by the window and dressed herself in a dark robe and slippers. She left her black hair bound up and pulled on a black wool cloak, then picked up a small gold box from her dressing table and tucked it into her girdle. Her golden mask was left on its wooden stand, its smooth curves masked in shadow.

  Her maids were still sleeping soundly, though she knew that they would begin stirring as soon as it was light. There wasn’t any time to waste. The queen slipped quietly from her bedchamber and hurried down the dark halls of the palace towards the Hall of Restful Contemplation.

  She moved as quickly as she dared, keeping to little-used passageways as much as she could. Twice she saw the telltale glow of a lantern crossing down an adjoining corridor, but each time she found a pool of deep shadow to hide in before the sleepy servant girl passed by. Within minutes she was standing before the tall bronze doors of the audience chamber. The metal surface was cold to the touch as she pulled one of the doors open just wide enough to slip through.

  Heart racing, she dashed down the length of the hall and pressed her ear to the outer doors. Would there be guards on the other side? She had no idea. After listening in vain for several long moments, she gave up and
decided to take a chance. She grasped the door’s heavy brass ring and opened it just a bit. The corridor beyond was dark and empty.

  Neferata felt a faint thrill as she slipped across the threshold into the palace proper. Now she was officially an escapee, in violation of royal and theological law. But only if they catch me, she reminded herself, and grinned in spite of herself.

  The going was slower once she emerged into the palace proper; she was far less familiar with its layout, and not accustomed to its routines. At least there were no guards about. Once upon a time the halls would have been patrolled by the king’s Ushabti, who were as swift and deadly as Asaph’s terrible serpents. She had only the vaguest memories of them now, from when she was a young girl. Neferata remembered their silent, graceful movements and their depthless, black eyes. All that remained of them now were the great statues that guarded the royal tombs outside the city.

  Once again, she kept to deserted hallways and managed to avoid the few servants who were up and about at such an early hour. It took her nearly half an hour to make her way to the far side of the palace and the dusty, deserted wing where Lamashizzar hid his darkest secrets. The main doors to the wing were locked, but Neferata expected as much. Within a few minutes she located the entrance to the servants’ passageways and felt her way into the oppressive darkness that lay beyond.