Key to Magic 04 Emperor

by H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  "Will this life -- this identity -- that you have now pass away also?"

  "No, the process is finally complete -- as much as it can be. I am, if not the man I was, then a reasonable facsimile. Some parts are gone forever, unrecoverable, but the essential elements are all in place. Who I am now is less important than who I have been. Somehow, some shred of my original memory survived in each of my past incarnations, tempting me with dreams of the lost age and of the magic that men could no longer do. For three thousand years, Mar, under a hundred different names in countless scattered places, I have striven for but one goal -- to find a way to restore magic to this world."

  Waleck's expression darkened. "I had a hundred schemes, many scores of plans, but each temporary life ended before I could see any to fruition. Many times the things that I had done faded away and left no mark on history, but sometimes my actions generated situations that expanded beyond my original mandate and grew into something entirely different. These abortive efforts sowed the seeds of the chaos that exists today."

  "You're to blame for all of this?" Mar spread his arm and stump and then laughed. "You underestimate the stupidity that people are capable of."

  "The Brotherhood is my doing. I trained its founder, filled his head with fantasies of the magic that was, led him to his first Relic."

  "Was it your plan that the monks use their magic to conquer the world?"

  "No. I taught creation, not destruction."

  "Then don't presume that you are the only source of evil in this world."

  "I cannot claim it all, but I must accept blame for much of it, for I have done more than incite evil, I have begotten it."

  Mar laughed again. "So you are the father of evil?"

  "In a way, yes. In my original life, I was not a recluse. I had a wife, I think, or at least a companion. I can picture a face though I cannot remember a voice. I was not, likewise, celibate in my temporary lives. From the beginning, I took solace with women -- for a day, for a year, for half a lifetime. I do not say this for the sake of apology. There was no reason then and none now that I should not have sought comfort in family. I know, though I do not recall any of them directly, that I sired children."

  This was something that Mar had not expected. Somehow, it seemed so incongruous. "Are you saying that for three thousand years you have bred sorcerers?"

  "Not men and women with the full gift of magic, no. You are correct, however, that one inherits the ability to manipulate flux. As I was born of the ancient stock, my children should have received the full measure of skill, but I have a fault in my seed. I do not now know the origin of the fault. It may have been a result of the wounds dealt me by the war, or it may have been some defect that I myself inherited. I do not remember the name we had for such a thing then, but even if I did it would be meaningless to you. Whatever the cause, the odds of a son or daughter being born of my loins with magical ability are as poor as one in a score and even then that ability would be incomplete, limited by my faulty contribution. Even so, today my descendants with some measure of the gift will number in the tens of thousands."

  "There must have been others who survived that ancient war, people who could do magic. Their children would have passed down the trait."

  "Some, no doubt, but the vast majority of the survivors were the magicless, for only they were immune to the spells used in the final holocaust. Much as I would wish it to be different, it can only be true that those who do magic today -- those that the Brotherhood recruits to operate their ancient devices of war -- owe much if not all of their ability to me."

  Waleck fell silent for a moment, then said, "One of the places that I sojourned was Gh'emhoa."

  Mar knew that Telriy was of Gh'emhoa. She had not spoken much of her life before the Library in Khalar, but she had said that she and all the generations of witches before her had been born on the island.

  "What of me?" Mar asked without emotion.

  "I do not know, but I do not think that you are of mine. Your sense of the ether is pure and far stronger than that of any that has lived for five thousand years. It is perhaps stronger than any who has ever lived. As I said, I do not know. My guess is that you are a spontaneous mutation, if you understand the term, cast up by the ether itself."

  Mar made a half shrug. "The world is the way it is. The only thing that I care about is the present. You said that you would tell me why you have come to me now."

  "I wish to ask you to change your path."

  Mar could not contain a surprised grunt. "You want me to let the Brotherhood win?"

  "No, not at all. They are a mistake that must be undone, a blight that must be controlled. It is the personal journey that you make toward the future that must be changed."

  "Explain."

  "When I was a sorcerer, my greatest magic was the ability to look beyond the present to see what lay ahead. Recently, I have regained much of that ability."

  "You can't trust visions, old man. I've been shown my future more than once, and it was nothing like this." He waved at his missing legs.

  "That's the odd thing about visions, Mar. The ether will only show you what will happen given your current direction and circumstances -- what I call your path -- and that future only remains constant if you don't veer from the path that has been shown. The vast majority of people, from the day they are born until the day they die, walk but a single, fixed path."

  "Fate."

  "Near enough for most."

  "But not me?"

  "Your future is different every time I am given a glimpse of it. Your path changes continually."

  "And my current future does not suit you?"

  "No. You will die."

  "All men die."

  "You will fall within the year."

  "Perhaps. But I know for a fact that I can and will decide my own future."

  "You cannot escape the inertia of your own actions, Mar. You are setting events in motion that no power on this world will be able to change. Regardless of how my visions vary, there is one constant -- your death. Oftentimes, you die a hero's brave but otherwise unproductive death. Sometimes you die a fool's. But you always die."

  Mar shrugged. "I will take my chances."

  "Without you and your magic, the army that you have raised will be destroyed. The Mhajhkaeirii and their allies will be crushed and the Brotherhood of Phaelle will rule the Silver Sea. Instead of a rebirth of magic, the world will be crushed into a darkness of oppression and ignorance."

  "I can only do what I can. I never promised anyone that I would save the world."

  "Telriy will also die and your child with her, within months of your own demise."

  Mar said nothing for a moment, then, "What does that matter to you?"

  "You are the hope of the world, Mar. You must live so that her and your descendants, great magicians all, can return the benefits of magic to this world. Without you, it never happens in any future."

  "Say that I believe all that you have said -- what do I have to do avoid Telriy's death?"

  "For her to live, you must live. Return to your quest for the texts. Find them and expand your magic. Were I to say more this, I could risk corruption of your path."

  And then the shade of Waleck vanished.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Mar stopped for a half a fortnight at the Monolith.

  He arrived late in the afternoon, almost at dusk, and found Telriy at her villa, sitting alone in her room and sewing a button onto a pair of trousers in the fading light.

  She said, "So you've given up playing at Emperor?"

  He grinned. "I appointed Mhiskva as Viceroy of Khalar. If there's to be an empire, it'll be him that builds it. With all that has to be done, there can't be an offensive against the monks until spring or summer, and the they wouldn't have left if they had the strength to come back, so there's no need for me to hang around."

  "As easy as that? He just let you go?"

  He made a face. "As people have a habit of telling me, I am Mag
ician, King, and Emperor. Odd thing about that. I get to do anything that I want."

  Then, his intentions plain, he reached for her.

  She slapped his hands away. "Odd thing about that, husband. You don't get to do anything you want. At least, not without a bath, first."

  Making Number One ready to resume its aborted journey proved not the complicated matter he expected, since Telriy once again refused his suggestion to put off the extraneous (which he still interpreted to mean everyone else) crew. She had kept the skyship fully stocked and outfitted for any foreseeable contingency and the only decision that needed to be made was when to depart.

  "We can go in the morning, if you like," Telriy told him as they sat to breakfast at a table set up on the balcony.

  Thoroughly bathed and very well rested, some of the urgency that had driven him to dash from Mhajhkaei to the Monolith with nothing but his brigandine, a heavy purse, and a canteen of water had abated. At least for now, Telriy seemed in no danger.

  "I suppose I should take a little time to check with Master Khlosb'ihs while I am here. He may need skyship hulls infused. Mhygaeus may need help with polybolos carriages and the like. It can't hurt to do some work before we go."

  "Just let me know a day ahead of time so that Yhejia and I can go over the stores."

  "Alright." He had risen early to prepare a solid meal and he noticed that she had hardly touched her sausages and eggs, ignored the milk, the porridge, and the melon, and taken only few nibbles of toast and a few sips of her tea. "Are you not feeling well this morning?"

  Her expression instantly clouded. "What does that mean?"

  "You're not eating."

  The cloud became a storm. "And?"

  Ignoring the possibility of the incipient explosion implied by her tone, Mar forged ahead, feeling that it was time to confront the obvious. "How's the baby?"

  "My baby is fine," she said, glaring.

  "Have you been by to see Aunt Whelsi?"

  "Yes."

  "What did she say?"

  "She's growing and she's fine."

  "The baby?"

  "Of course."

  "Do you want something different to eat? I can --"

  "No."

  Then she frowned, turned pale, and threw up.

  After Mar got the splattered remains of breakfast cleaned up and they had both washed and changed clothes, in the process sharing a quiet, cuddling interlude during which Telriy grudgingly allowed him to lay his left palm on her slightly protruding belly and delve the tiny life within, he invited her to join him for a casual wander through the much expanded and improved settlement. After making him promise that he would not act like some silly, doting husband, she agreed.

  Prior to his sudden departure from Mhajhkaei, he had forbidden Phehlahm and the Hangers-on from following him north, but Telriy's guardians, the legionnaires, Dhem, Kyamhyn, Scahll, and Taelmhon, were waiting in the courtyard with full armor and weapons when the pair of them emerged. As Telriy took it for granted that the armsmen would accompany them, Mar felt compelled to submit to their presence.

  With Signifier Aael off on some errand, Hryen and Lyeut, who had been kicking a rag ball in the courtyard, begged Telriy to be allowed to come along. When she blithely said yes, all of the rest of the Auxiliaries, save for Daymion and Oeryhm who were firmly remanded into the care of Tsyl, presumed that they could also tag along. As the cavalcade made its way into the settlement, the youths did prove of some worth, however, scouting ahead, forming a loose cordon to make way in heavier foot traffic, and generally announcing the approach of the royal pair.

  Mar expected to have to stop and speak with the much more numerous populace a the large and growing neighborhood south of the villa, but aside from waving and calling felicitations for the day, the inhabitants left them to their own devices.

  Seeing his curious expression, Telriy explained, "Firstday is 'Talk directly to the Queen' day. All the rest of the time, anyone with a problem has to speak to Yhejia or Tsyl first. There are so many here now that I was spending all day talking with people who really only wanted to chat."

  With the liberation of the city, he had presumed that the civilians at the Monolith would all pack up and move back to Mhajhkaei, but only a few owners of significant property or business concerns had done so. In fact, the population of the Monolith had expanded and continued to grow, with the institution of a regular sailed skyship route bringing a steady stream of new immigrants -- the standard curious adventurers and restless vagabonds, of course, but also dispossessed families in search of new homes, young men and women seeking work in the growing skyship yards, craftsmen recruited by Khlosb'ihs to help rebuild the ruins, and tradesmen drawn to the expanding Khalar-Monolith market.

  With no fixed destination, he allowed his route to wind around to Aunt Whelsi's, and was instantly dragged inside to treat such conditions as his magic had proven able to moderate, with Telriy close by his side studying his flux manipulations and asking very detailed questions.

  A market district had taken root on the promenade just west of the witch's residence, and after Mar finished his hospital chores, they moved on to see what the new booths and shops offered. Along with the dust and clutter of ongoing boisterous construction, there was a surprising (at least to Mar) variety and abundance: fruit of all sorts, tart, sweet, just-picked, dried, or cooked into pies; vegetables, fresh, pickled, and cooked with or without meat; rags, bolts of cloth, old clothing, several tailors, cobblers, and a hosier's shop; odds and ends, jewelry, cutlery, leather goods, and one place that sold swords and knives. One particularly fortunate find was a one-oven bakery run by three sisters. It sold sweets, cookies, and their specialty, a raisin scone that was astoundingly delicious when spread with butter, honey, and jam.

  After Telriy wolfed down a sample, and then another, and then a third, Mar bought out the entirely of the next batch, sharing them amongst the legionnaires, the Auxiliaries and even some passers-by.

  As the rich aroma of his third purchased baking wafted through the open front of the shop, Mar had the idea to outfit a small, adjacent half-shaded terrace for a brunch. Breaking the Axillaries into three groups, he passed out bright silver coins to each. Siel, Mlehn, Dehnl, Polg, and Bieldu, he dispatched back into the heart of the market to find tables and chairs. Tsyie, Klyvett, and Mhyerst sallied forth to locate and purchase ale and wine for the legionnaires. Pertwie, Hryen and Lyeut's task was to bring back as much cheese, cured sausage, flat bread, dates, apples, melon, juice, and tea as they could possibly haul.

  Telriy, leaning against the shaded front wall of the building while she contemplated yet another scone, watched the carefree distribution of money and then asked, not quite frowning, "So, you're rich now?"

  "I took a disbursement from the Imperial Treasury before I left Mhajhkaei," Mar told her. "The Patriarchs in Khalar have been laudably diligent in their tax payments."

  "Ah."

  And then she threw up again.

  The Auxiliaries all successfully completed their missions and brunch, though languid and protracted, was accomplished without calamity. Telriy's stomach finally settled for good and she ate her fill, including several scones. Seeing no pressing need to do anything in particular, they followed a relaxed path back to the villa, investigating the new neighborhoods that were growing all through the ruins. Once home, they simply spent the rest of the day enjoying each other's company.

  By an unspoken conspiracy of shared intent, they did not separate for more than a moment or two in the following days, going everywhere and doing everything together. Telriy was occasionally irritable for no discernable reason, but never for very long. One morning he awoke to find her quietly weeping and unaware of why she did so. Most of the time, though, she seemed happy.

  He certainly was.

  At midmorning of the sixth day, Number Seven arrived from Mhajhkaei, piloted by Ulor and bearing Lord Hhrahld and Wilhm.

  "The boy said that you were leaving for the mountain tomorrow," th
e Prince-Protector explained. "And said that we should be here today so as not to miss the voyage."

  Mar shrugged. "Tomorrow is as good a day for me as any. Telriy?"

  "Number One will be ready," she said confidently. Then she glanced at Wilhm and back again at Lord Hhrahld. "You're coming along?"

  Lord Hhrahld offered a sad smile. "So say his dreams."

  Ulor also brought a lengthy communication from Mhiskva to update Mar concerning the state of the city, as well as his own application to rejoin the expedition.

  "Fine with me," Mar told him with a shrug. He had wondered if Mhiskva would send someone to watch his back. "Who's going to take Number Seven back?"

  "Mistress Lysael came with us. She's ready for an independent command."

  Lysael, a small, thin, middle-aged woman with quite a large family, was one of the best of the new batch and also, incidentally, a philosopher of the neo-modern school. Mar did not actually care for the woman, for no specific reason that he could express, but he could think of no reason why she should not be given charge of a skyship.

  With the departure abruptly set, Mar was suddenly very busy, hurriedly contributing promised magic to dozens of minor endeavors, checking the settlement's defenses, awarding promotions suggested by High-Captain Mhiskva including raising Mhygaeus to Vice-Commander, ferrying extra loads of timber to the shipyards, and generally trying to leave as few things as possible undone. As his last act before he flew back to board Number One, he informed a very harassed looking Master Khlosb'ihs that he was now Viceroy of the Monolith and fully responsible for the sustenance and defense of the fortress, an irrelevant but officially necessary confirmation of the job that the shipwright had already been doing.