by Phil Tucker
Athash stirred uneasily. "Do we have an estimate as to how long they can hold out?"
A broad-chested man in the military uniform of Agerastos leaned forward. He had an impressively expansive mustache and hard, almost cruel, dark eyes. "It depends, of course, on what strategy the Ennoians choose to employ. Should they seek to starve them out, then perhaps two months. Otran was already greatly depleted by the time the walls were breached and must be without stores. But the fact that they are building siege towers indicates a more active approach. The weakened walls will not withstand a determined assault for long. I would hazard a month, at best."
"Thus, we have two weeks," whispered the emperor. "Given how old our news is. Two weeks, with the crossing to the Ennoian mainland taking even our fastest ship a week at least."
The general looked over to Ilina. "What would you hazard is the condition of our Vothaks in Otran?"
Ilina, ashen-faced and severe, shook her head. "Poor. I pity them. I do not doubt that the sudden defeat of Otran came at their great personal expense. Those who yet live must be consigned to their deathbeds. I would not count on immediate assistance from them."
The emperor nodded. "It is thus essential that assistance be sent within the week. Lady Iskra, how fare our Gate Stone mines?"
Iskra felt a jolt of tension as all eyes turned to her, but she forced a calm smile. "Very well. Ser Tiron has confirmed that the mining towns are safe for habitation, and Ser Asho has brought some three hundred experienced Bythian miners to begin the operations. Barring accidents, I expect to have a first delivery of the Stone within two weeks."
"Two weeks?" Athash looked to the others in dramatic disbelief. "What use is that?"
Iskra fought to keep her smile genial. "You forget our key asset, Senator. Starkadr."
Ilina nodded her agreement. "It is the cornerstone of any future plan of aggression. Contained within its dark halls are hundreds upon hundreds of Portals. Portals that I have just learned our Vothaks can learn to operate." She smiled coldly at Alasha, who stood against the wall and fought to retain a modest smile. "The entire expanse of the Empire is now ours to traverse at will."
"Precisely," said Iskra. "In two weeks' time, we can send as many soldiers and Vothaks as we desire through Starkadr and into Ennoia, laden with their first shipment of Gate Stone."
The general stood up and leaned over the table, his mustache quivering with furious thought. "Do we have an exact list of which Portals open up where? If we could send an army at the Ennoian force from behind, we could pincer them, encourage our soldiers trapped in Otran to sally forth, and crush them on the field."
Asho stirred. "We don't have an exact listing yet – many of the Portals are beyond our reach. But I can work on getting a list of their destinations to this council."
"Excellent," said the general, nodding vigorously. "Freed from Otran and resupplied, we can then march on Ennoia itself."
Ser Tiron stirred as if finally paying attention. "And why the hell would we do that?"
The general blinked at him in confusion. "You ask why we should attack Ennoia's capital city? Why we should capture their Solar Gates? Why we should crush the very heart of the Empire's armed forces?"
"Yes." Ser Tiron leaned back in his chair. "It seems rather a waste of time to me."
The general was clearly not used to being spoken to in such a manner. His face darkened, and he went to retort, then the emperor raised a gloved hand.
"A moment, General Pethar. I would hear the knight's thoughts."
Ser Tiron leaned forward, raking the table with his gaze. "We have access to hundreds of Portals in Starkadr. Why send our men to die in battle with Ennoians, when we can send them directly into Aletheia to seize the Ascendant and the White Gate?"
Stunned silence answered him.
Everyone stood and peered at the map, but instead of staring at Ennoia and its markers, they all looked at the floating island of Aletheia.
Ser Tiron sat back, arms crossed, and Iskra gave him a subtle but approving nod.
Athash regained his composure with great difficulty. "We will still need to rescue our forces in Otran. They comprise the bulk of our army. We can't attempt another attack without them."
Iskra nodded. "We are in agreement, Senator. We should follow our wise general's strategy of breaking the siege and drawing our army forth, but then send them through a Portal back into Starkadr. Once they have been tended, fed, re-equipped, and their Vothaks cared for, we can open a Portal to Aletheia and storm the capital."
"Beautiful," whispered Ilina. "The White Gate will fall to Thyrrasskia, and with it all resistance."
Everyone around the table stirred, with several people taking up their goblets to drink deep of their wine. All eyes eventually turned to regard the emperor, whose expression remained hidden and his form immobile.
"This shall be our plan," he said at last. "I can see no fault, only advantage. We shall strike swiftly, without warning." He looked to Asho. "Can these Portals be opened at night?"
Asho nodded.
"Then we shall attack while the Solar Portals are inert, depriving them of all assistance till dawn."
Athash beamed. "What a night it shall be! With the Virtues in Ennoia, there will be nothing but a token resistance to crush. Two weeks? I cannot wait!"
The emperor fixed Iskra with his gaze. "Do you have everything you need to execute your plans? Do you need more laborers to help open the mines?"
Iskra nodded firmly. "Yes. As wonderful as your attention to the Hold has been, now that we know the mining towns are safe, we need to flood them with workers who can open the mines, shore up the shafts, and do whatever else the Bythians deem necessary. How many can you spare?"
The emperor waved a hand lazily. "How many do you need? Five hundred? A thousand souls?"
Iskra felt her pulse beat faster. "With the food, of course, to provision them."
The emperor nodded as if that were of no consequence, but from the way the senators' expressions hardened, she knew this was a great gift. The emperor had bled his island dry in funding his invasion, had pushed it to the point of revolt. Orishin had reported that starvation was on the verge of setting off riots in the streets, and that the number of Agerastians who wished to capitulate to the Empire was growing by the day.
"Your Majesty," said Asho, placing both hands flat on the table. "I have a proposal that might serve all our purposes. It concerns the Bythians who yet toil as slaves in the mines."
He was greeted with nothing but silence.
Iskra felt a flash of annoyance. What was this?
Asho took the silence as permission to continue. "If I were to return to Bythos, I believe I could bring many more out of the mines. Empty out the city, and leave the Empire scrambling in confusion. It might divert Ennoian forces from Otran, making your army's escape all the easier."
"I like the sound of that," said the emperor. "Why do you phrase it as a request?"
"Because they would need a new land to call their home, Your Majesty." Asho leaned forward. "The land of the Hrethings won't support so many. Would you grant them asylum? They would work hard, would be loyal to your Highness like no other, would –"
"Peace, ser knight. I believe I understand your intent. How many Bythians do we speak of?"
"Perhaps several thousand. Maybe more."
Athash shook his head. "How would we house and feed such a mass if we can barely feed our own people?"
Iskra dug the heel of her shoe into Asho's boot, forestalling his heated outburst.
"Unfortunately, they will have to wait," said the emperor. "We must focus all our energies on acquiring Gate Stone. If they cannot mine, they are of no use to us."
Iskra knew she couldn't silence Asho again. He was aware of her displeasure. She sat back, her face cold.
"Your Majesty," said Asho. "What if they bring Gate Stone with them?"
"How so?"
"There is an entire shift of Bythians – nearly three thousand strong
– who work exclusively in mines sunk around the Abythian Portal. They mine Gate Stone, which is stockpiled and used to bribe the kragh. But ever since the kragh fled the Vothaks in their first defeat against your army, they've refused all bribes and trade. As such, the Gate Stone is just piling up." Asho spoke slowly, clearly thinking on his feet. "What if I were to lead a group of Bythians and secure that cache? What if we were to return with it? Would you give us asylum then?"
The emperor sank back on his divan and said nothing. Athash drummed his fingers on the table, but a glare from the general silenced him.
"If you bring me a sizeable amount of Gate Stone," said the emperor, "then I shall give your people asylum. For Gate Stone will win the war, and then we can resettle the Bythians wherever they wish to reside." He raised a finger, cutting Asho off. "But I mean sizeable. Don't waste my time with trivial amounts. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Asho.
"We shall investigate this opportunity," said Iskra, cutting in. "In the meantime, we are agreed. In two weeks, we break the siege of Otran, and, depending on the condition of the Agerastian army, we then launch our invasion of Aletheia."
"Much might happen before then," said the emperor. He looked around the room. "I would speak with Iskra alone."
The senators, the Vothaks and the military rose without comment and began to file out, followed by the servants. Ser Tiron and Asho hesitated, looked to her for agreement, and then left when she nodded, Asho dragging his heels. The chamberlain was the last to leave, pulling the heavy wooden doors closed behind him.
The room suddenly seemed far larger than she had thought, the emperor a disturbing figure on his divan, slender and small as a child, yet watching her with his fixed stare. She could just make out the burn marks around his eyes.
"My Lady Iskra. Your gifts are such that we now stand a chance of striking at the heart of the Empire and truly tearing it down."
Iskra nodded. Why did she feel so nervous?
"Your news and strategies have enlivened our council, but I fear that it may yet prove a temporary fervor."
Iskra cocked her head to one side. "Rebellion?"
"Not while I live." The emperor stirred uneasily on his divan. "Over the past twenty years, I have removed any individuals of sufficient mettle to contest my authority. No, I don't fear revolt. I fear death."
"Death?" Iskra rose to her feet. "Your Highness? Are you..." Her diplomatic skills deserted her. She didn't know what to say.
"Soon." He sounded, if nothing else, simply weary. "Very soon. This body cannot take much more. Even now I feel it trying to stop, to rest. Only my will keeps it moving. It is a tiresome struggle."
"Your Majesty, I don't know what to say." Iskra rounded the table and stepped up to the foot of his divan. "You have my sincere condolences."
He laughed, a rasping sound that set her skin to creeping. "Save your condolences. I don't want them, nor do I merit them. I have become a monster, Iskra. I am sure that were I to meet the man who stands on that pillar outside the palace walls, if I were to come face to face with the person I was forty years ago, why, he would not hesitate to run his sword straight through my heart."
The emperor looked down at his clawed hands, hidden beneath immaculate white gloves. "In my quest for justice, I have destroyed everything I loved. Even my daughter, the very last person I loved, was twisted by my struggle. Even she is gone now. I am surrounded by sycophants, boot lickers, the dull and mendacious. Through no fault of their own; everyone else who showed any intelligence or ambition, I ultimately betrayed or had killed in self-defense."
Iskra raised her chin. Her fear was growing.
"I tell you this so that you do not think their enthusiasm dependable or indicative of true support. The moment I die, they shall fall upon each other, each eager to fill my throne but not possessing the intelligence, will, or lack of scruples to do so. The senators will immediately seek to placate the people and end the war effort. The military will no doubt seek to seize power so as continue the invasion, but in doing so will run afoul of the Vothaks. Civil war, my dear. It stalks my empire like a bloody-handed echo of all of I have done."
Iskra took a moment to ensure that her voice remained calm. "My dedication to defeating the Empire is unshakeable." Roddick, she thought. "With or without Agerastian assistance, I will pursue my goals."
"Well do I know it, my lady. But without my armies, my Vothaks, my ships and laborers, what chance do you have? Oh, perhaps you could send an assassin against the Ascendant, but he is well-protected. And even if you did slay him, he would simply be replaced by the next in line, and all of the Empire would stiffen its resolve to crush you. No, you cannot afford to lose my empire."
Iskra pressed her hip against the table's edge. Her stomach had clenched. "Then what do you propose, Your Majesty?"
"That you marry me, of course." He watched her with idle amusement, and laughed at her expression. "Oh, don't worry, I am far too old and withered up to entertain any thoughts along those lines. It would be purely ceremonial. For if you became my empress, you would inherit my authority when I died. You –"
He stopped talking suddenly as a spasm ran through him, causing him to curl up tightly on his side. She heard the grinding of his teeth behind the mask, saw him shiver violently. "Your Majesty? Should I call –?"
"No." He gritted out the word. "Wait." He turned his face into the pillow and for a long minute simply shivered as if wracked by pain. At last he drew a wheezing breath and relaxed. "Not long now. The prices we pay. Remember this, my lady, if nothing else: everything has a price, and that price must be paid in blood."
Iskra fought to control herself but couldn't. Her legs felt weak. She pulled out a chair and sank into it.
The emperor watched her. "You said you would make any sacrifice to save your son. Let this be your last, your grandest sacrifice. Become my empress. And when I die, rule in my stead. Direct my empire as you know I would, make of it a spear that you shall hurl into the poisoned heart of the Empire."
Iskra couldn't speak. Empress of Agerastos. Her heart quailed. Any hopes of ever returning to her old life at Kyferin Castle would be forever extinguished. Any hopes of ever achieving peace after this war was over would be forever gone.
And yet...
Could she afford to lose Agerastos?
No. The emperor was correct. Without Agerastos, she would be back where she had begun: the target of overwhelming assaults, unable to effect real change, on the run, hiding and perhaps causing a few assassinations before everyone she loved was killed.
Oh, Tiron. Forgive me.
She inhaled shakily. Empress.
Iskra rose to her feet, and all emotion drained away from her. She would do this thing. She would sacrifice herself so that her son might go free. In the end, there had never been any doubt. Iskra smiled at the emperor. "Yes, Your Majesty. But on one condition."
The emperor didn't move. "Yes?"
"Our first target shall be Kyferin Castle."
He took a calculating pause. "Before Aletheia, even?"
Iskra narrowed her eyes.
"Very well. We shall be married immediately, and Kyferin Castle made our first target. Are we agreed?"
Iskra closed her eyes. Joy and faltering fear twined through her. "Yes, Your Majesty. In that case, I accept your proposal. I shall be your empress."
CHAPTER TEN
Kethe moaned and turned to push her face into the pillow. Dreams of falling, of song, of warmth and security were fading even as she became aware of them, replaced by a harrowing sense of loss that made her fight to engrave them in her memory. She focused fiercely, but they were gone.
She lay still. The bed was delicious, as soft as the one she had slept in back at Kyferin Castle. The pillow was clean and plump.
Where was she? What had happened?
Kethe heard low voices coming from an adjoining room, and, suddenly alert and cautious, she cracked open her eyes. She was lying in a circular bed in a c
ircular room. The sheets were peach, the walls were white, and the only source of illumination was a fat white candle that had nearly burned down to the base. The air was cool, the delicious, subtle kind of chill that made sleeping under blankets a pleasure.
Where was she?
A snatch of song played through her mind, and her soul thrilled without her knowing why. Something had happened. Everything was changed. But what? Frantic, she searched her memories.
Asho. She remembered standing beside him on the walls of the Hold. Remembered demons. The terror of the battle. Falling. And then –? A face returned to her, hauntingly beautiful, arrogant and disdainful, and along with it a name: Theletos.
Kethe sat upright in a rush as everything came pouring back. How close to death she had been! The White Gate – oh, by the Ascendant, the White Gate!
Kethe fell back in her bed and wrapped an arm over her eyes. Never had she dreamed it would be like that. So real. So personal. How many times had she cursed its name? She'd almost come to think it simply a symbol, an abstraction. But that was far from the truth. And how could she reconcile that with her recent skepticism? No, call it what it was: apostasy. She couldn't deny the Gate's existence, or the effect it had had on her.
Did that mean...?
"Hey, she's awake!"
The voice was brash, cheerful, and familiar. Kethe dropped her arm to her side and propped herself up. Dalitha was standing in her doorway, arms crossed, grinning at her. Her black hair was still wild, her features animated and alive.
"Good afternoon, Kethe Kyferin," she said. "Welcome to your new life."
Gray Wind stepped up and placed a hand on Dalitha's shoulder. "Come on, leave her alone. She's just been through it. Have you forgotten the state you were in when we brought you back from the Gate?"
Dalitha scowled and shrugged Gray Wind's hand off. "I don't know what you're talking about. And it's not like lying in bed brooding's going to be of any help. Right, Kethe? I bet you're dying to meet everyone. Come on. I'll introduce you."
