by John Bierce
In the center of the circle of thrones was a massive, round metal seal embedded into the granite of the peak. It was covered in spellforms so intricate that she doubted that Hugh would even have a chance at figuring them out.
There were only three things outside the circle of thrones— the stairwell down into the mountain, a ring of massive, detailed wards inlaid into the stone, and the edge of the mountaintop.
Sabae raised her eyes out past the edge. The Skyreach Range stretched as far as the eye could see to the east, north, and south. It was the largest mountain range on Anastis— it stretched from the icy north shore of the Ithonian continent to the tropical south. Skyhold was carved into one of the largest mountains on the edge of the range bordering the Endless Erg, but there were some truly enormous peaks deeper into the range— peaks so high that even dragons struggled to reach their summits.
There were no foothills on this side of the Skyreach Range. On the eastern face of the range there were, but the western face was just a series of peaks jutting straight out of the ground. As Sabae slowly turned to take in the view, it reminded her of nothing so much as an impossibly huge wall holding back the Endless Erg.
To the west the Endless Erg stretched farther than the eye could see. Sandships looked like insects from this height, and Sabae spent a few minutes watching them skid about the desert.
In just a few days, one of them was going to arrive carrying her grandmother, and it would most likely mean that Sabae’s life was about to change drastically.
She could only hope it would be for the best.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” someone said.
Sabae tried not to jump in surprise. She’d been staring out into the Endless Erg for who knows how long and not paying attention.
She turned to see Rutliss the Red standing behind her. He was in his early sixties, and his bulk definitely wasn’t muscle. He wasn’t obese by any means, but no one would ever call him skinny.
“I still remember the first time I came up here like it was yesterday,” Rutliss said. “I couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven— my father had asked me to deliver a message to a councilor at the time. Innith Isleborne, her name was. She had a throne of sky that showed the night during the day and the day in the night. I was terrified that I would get in trouble for interrupting a council meeting, but it was just a few councilors taking care of minor procedural issues. They pretended not to notice me gawking as I took my time going back down into Skyhold.”
For all that Sabae had come into the situation expecting to dislike the man on sight, he was fairly inoffensive looking. He was well-groomed and a little fussy looking, but mostly he just looked like a middle-aged man reminiscing about his childhood. He wasn’t oily, or greasy, or shrewish, or anything else Sabae had expected from him.
Though, admittedly, those expectations were probably being influenced by Talia’s novels, and her persistent ideas that the world should work the way they did.
They were definitely entertaining novels, at the very least, and Talia always seemed to know the best ones to recommend— not that Sabae had had many opportunities to read for pleasure this year.
The one part of Rutliss that did meet her expectations were his clothes— all entirely red. Even the leather satchel slung over his shoulder was dyed red.
“Councilor Rutliss?” Sabae said.
“You must be Sabae Kaen Das,” Rutliss said, extending his hand to shake. His voice seemed to linger a bit on her family name. “I believe your master sent you with the proposed budget for your grandmother’s visit?”
Sabae nodded, and handed over the folder Alustin had sent her with.
“If you’ll give me a minute to look it over,” Rutliss said, already engrossed in the contents.
Sabae turned her attention back to the view.
After a few minutes, she heard a polite cough from Rutliss.
“This all looks more than acceptable,” he said. “Frankly, I wouldn’t have blinked twice at a budget several times this size. Nor, in fact, was scheduling this meeting even necessary. This could have been sent to me via paper golem quite easily.”
Sabae gave him a wry look. “A larger budget won’t be necessary. My grandmother will be bringing just about everything she needs herself.”
She turned her attention back towards the view.
“It’s a claim to power,” Rutliss finally said. “We’re saying that we have so little to worry about from our enemies that we can just meet out in the open without a care.”
Rutliss sighed. “It’s not entirely true, though. This is probably the single safest, heavily defended part of Skyhold. It has some of the best constructed wards on the continent, along with plenty of other magical defenses. Even if someone were to attack, the council is comprised of some of the most powerful mages on the continent. Do you know what its greatest defense is, though?”
Sabae just waited.
“It’s a little something Kanderon set up. If you were to head down the mountain, you’d be able to go down just fine— assuming you were a good climber. To traverse the same distance towards the top, however, would take you days or weeks. Kanderon did something to the space around this peak centuries ago— she altered it so that distance works differently depending on what direction you’re traveling. The only reasonable way to get to the top is taking the stairs up.”
Rutliss frowned, and tucked the budget proposal into his satchel. “Unless, of course, you’re Kanderon. Every meeting, she flies right in, ignoring all the defenses like they’re not even there.”
He gestured around them.
“The Council Chamber is unquestionably a show of strength, but it’s directed at the other council members most of all. Kanderon wants it to be very clear that we lowly humans could never defend Skyhold without her. That we’re not fit to rule ourselves.”
Rutliss’ frown shifted into a smile. “Your family, though… you stand against all of that. Your grandmother is living proof that humans don’t need a patron to get by in the world. We don’t need a Kanderon, an Indris, or a Dorsas Ine to make us part of one of their territories.”
“Neither do Highvale, Tsarnassus, or Havath,” Sabae pointed out. “I think only around a third of the human population of Ithos lives under nonhuman rule.”
“It’s closer to half,” Rutliss said, “but it shouldn’t be any of us. Humans should rule ourselves, not be the playthings of those larger than us. And many of those states under human rule face far more frequent attacks on their sovereignty than states like Theras Tel or Ras Andis.”
This wasn’t, Sabae knew, entirely true. Large-scale warfare might be relatively rare on Ithos, but raids and attempts at conquest by duels between great powers were fairly common. Ataerg’s attempted coup in Theras Tel, for instance— there wasn’t much point to a protracted siege of the city, so he’d attempted to poison and replace Indris. In those states that lacked a great power like Indris or Kanderon protecting it, it was often actually more difficult for another to simply step in as a replacement. That wasn’t to say they weren’t at threat by the great powers, of course.
Besides, Sabae knew that attempts on Ras Andis were far, far more common than most people realized. Her family, however, specialized in information gathering and working storm magic at great distances— many attempts on the city were ended almost as soon as they had started.
Her grandmother, Sabae was fairly sure, was currently the single greatest cause of shipwrecks on the continent.
Still, there was always some dragon, sphinx, or deranged archmage convinced they could conquer a state that lacked a great power, so Rutliss wasn’t entirely wrong.
Of course, there was often a reason why a state lacked a great power. Most commonly it was just due to low aether density in the region. Sabae had never even heard of a great power entering a mana desert like Emblin.
On the other hand, Rutliss had told her something important— so far as he was concerned, she was just another apprentice who didn’t unde
rstand politics or power.
When Sabae was younger it had infuriated her when people underestimated her. Now, though, there was little that pleased her more.
“I know the real reason Alustin sent you to meet with me,” Rutliss said. “He wanted you to try and convince me that you could get your grandmother to do something to make it worth my while to change my vote on the alternate test.”
He paused for confirmation, but Sabae said nothing, merely looked at him.
“He thinks I’m a fool,” Rutliss said. Sabae could tell his voice was supposed to sound disappointed, but she could hear the anger. “He thinks that I don’t understand Kanderon’s game. She doesn’t need to win that many battles to stay in power. She only needs a few victories that will pay out in the long run. This is how she’s stayed in power longer than anyone else on the continent— by focusing all her efforts on the long term, and by planning decades, even centuries, in advance. She’s broken far too many rules in Hugh’s situation already.”
Rutliss put on a regretful look. “It’s not that I wouldn’t be tempted by some sort of favor from Ilinia Kaen Das. I’d be a fool not to be. Ultimately, however, I must hold myself to higher ideals. I’ve been given a chance to work for the betterment of humanity itself, and I cannot put myself first.”
Sabae struggled not to sigh. What a petty, grubbing little attempt to try to raise the price on a bribe.
Rutliss reached into his satchel and pulled out a sealed letter. The spellform-imprinted seal, of course, was red.
Something else fell out of the satchel when he removed the letter. Sabae ignored the letter for the moment, and reached down for the other object.
It was a little green pill.
Rutliss groaned in irritation. “I swear, I’ll never be rid of those things.”
Sabae shot him a curious look as she finally took the letter.
“My predecessor as Bursar was more than a little unhinged,” Rutliss explained. “He took these for his nerves, but I’m fairly sure they only made things worse. I’ve been finding them all over my office for years, and no matter how many times I think I’ve finally seen the last of them, more just keep showing up.”
Sabae raised her eyebrow at that, but she didn’t respond as she took the letter. She stared at it silently for a moment, then looked back at Rutliss.
“Your motives are, it seems, quite high-minded,” Sabae finally said.
Rutliss smiled and opened his mouth, presumably to thank her or offer false self-deprecation.
“My family,” Sabae continued, “is not, however, known for its high-mindedness. We’re not known for our adherence to any sort of ideology. We’re known for being powerful, and we’re known for being good at holding onto that power. In voting against the alternate test, it’s not just Kanderon you’re crossing— it’s my family.”
Rutliss’ face had taken on a vaguely fish-like look of shock.
“It’s one of life’s lovely little ironies that Kanderon is the one sheltering you from our irritation, isn’t it?” Sabae said.
She smirked, then tapped the letter against her palm. “I’m sure grandmother will be most interested to read your letter.”
Sabae strode to the stairs back down without sparing Rutliss another glance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ilinia Kaen Das
“How is it okay for you to threaten Rutliss, but not for me to get angry at Abyla?” Hugh whispered to Sabae, adjusting his spellbook’s strap.
“Because I went in intending to threaten him,” Sabae said. “I was baiting the hook for my grandmother to seal the deal.”
“This is really not the time or place to be discussing that,” Alustin interjected quietly.
Sabae frowned, rocking back and forth on her heels and clutching the package in her hands even tighter. Sabae hadn’t wanted to talk about the package much, but she had let it slip that it held the Kaen Das book she’d claimed from the library last year, as well as the amulet she’d gotten from Indris, and that she was planning to give it to her grandmother.
He suspected that Sabae might be subconsciously trying to bribe her way out of an arranged marriage. At the least, she was definitely trying to prove that she wasn’t a failure as a Kaen Das, despite her inability to become a traditional storm mage.
Hugh suppressed his grimace— he’d been trying to do his best to keep Sabae’s mind off her grandmother’s impending arrival, but somehow every topic kept wandering back that direction.
Though in fairness, Hugh was trying to keep his own mind off things as well. The docks were packed with people waiting for Ilinia Kaen Das’ arrival— both the official greeting party and countless gawkers. Quite a few mages hovered in the air around the docks as well. Sabae’s grandmother was one of the most powerful mages on the continent, and everyone wanted a glimpse of her.
And, to Hugh’s displeasure, he and his friends, along with Alustin, were front and center.
From the looks they were getting from some of the Skyhold Councilors behind them, they weren’t particularly pleased about having apprentices front and center either, but since Ilinia Kaen Das’ expressed purpose for her visit was visiting her granddaughter, well…
Skyhold’s harbor scryers hadn’t listed Ilinia’s ship on this morning’s schedule, but soon after they were posted, the windtalker on duty had apparently collapsed, clutching their head in pain. They’d waved off any talk of healers, however— they knew exactly the cause of their abrupt headache. Ilinia had informed them of her impending arrival, and she hadn’t bothered keeping it quiet.
After a truly uncomfortable wait, the murmuring of the crowd changed in pitch. Someone up on the balconies had spotted something, apparently.
“Here she comes,” Alustin said. He was wearing the look that Hugh had, with experience, come to recognize as the one he wore when he was using his farseeing attunement to scry with.
On the horizon, a sand dune exploded.
It was a peculiar sort of explosion— as though a giant, invisible sword had cut down the middle, and then shoved the two halves aside.
A few seconds later, another dune did the same. This dune was much, much closer to Skyhold. Hugh could feel something actively draining the aether around Skyhold, which he never had before, even with thousands of practicing mages living on and in the mountain.
“Grandmother doesn’t hold with going around or over dunes,” Sabae said, looking a little embarrassed.
Hugh’s eyes widened as he did a little bit of mental calculation. The sheer amount of power required to blast an entire sand dune apart with wind…
There must be a track of drained aether stretching all the way across the Endless Erg.
Another sand dune exploded, and Hugh finally caught a glimpse of Ilinia’s ship.
It looked like no other sandship Hugh had ever seen.
Sabae had told them a lot about That Old Pile of Junk. It had been constructed especially for her grandmother as a gift by a past Prince of Ras Andis— she’d lived through three of their reigns so far, and since the Kaen Das family essentially propped up their rule, the ruling family was very attentive to her needs. They’d spent a truly mind-boggling sum on the ship.
That Old Pile of Junk was absurdly over-built for a sandship. The masts were not only much thicker than normal, but they also had massive braces running towards the fore of the ship, as well as cable stays running all the way to its aft. They were also covered in spellforms to help reinforce them and prevent them from breaking. (Sabae had, finally fed up with her friends getting nautical terms wrong, spent hours and hours over the summer drilling them on the correct terminology, with Avah and Irrick’s amused help. Sabae only winced every third or fourth time they talked about ships now.)
That Old Pile of Junk had neither runners nor a sled-like bottom. Instead, the ship narrowed to a keel, giving it an absurd, top heavy appearance, like it would fall over at any moment. The bottom of the ship was apparently weighted pretty heavily to compensate, and the sheer
speed it moved at increased its stability, but it was still pretty alarming watching it move without toppling.
That Old Pile of Junk, though, was built for speeds unmatched by any other ship in the desert. With Sabae’s grandmother raising winds to propel it forward, it could traverse the Endless Erg faster than a sandstorm or most dragons. The reinforced construction, the enchantments, and the unusual keel— they were all designed to help it survive Ilinia’s winds.
Even the huge metal weights inside the bottom of the hold were there more to keep the ship from getting lifted off the ground than anything.
The ship had apparently started life with the name Pride of Ras Andis, but Sabae’s grandmother had decided she didn’t like it, and the Prince of Ras Andis certainly wasn’t going to argue with her.
As That Old Pile of Junk drew closer, Hugh could actually see the massive wind currents smoothing out the desert in front of the ship. Despite the gouting blasts of sand, not a grain of it landed on the ship, and Hugh could see a perfectly flat, even road extending past the horizon, with only a narrow gouge in the middle where the ship had sailed past.
He almost nervously took a few steps back as the ship approached— it was slowing down, but still going far faster than he’d ever seen any ship approach the harbor. Sabae wasn’t moving, though, so he took his cue from her.
Quite a few people in the crowd were shuffling backward, though.
That Old Pile of Junk drew to a precise halt in a cloud of gusting sand— none of which, Hugh noted, landed on the ship or them, though plenty landed on the councilors immediately behind them.
As the ship came to a halt, several long metal rods were dropped along its sides. Hugh realized after a moment that they were there to keep the ship from falling over while docked.
No one on the ship moved for a minute, until an obviously distressed sailor staggered up to the ship’s railing and vomited onto the sand.
Hugh glanced at Talia, who had a look of nauseous sympathy on her face.
A quiet refrain of muttering became audible from the ship, and then Ilinia Kaen Das came into view.
