Persephone was everything Vespasian could have asked for in a mate-save for the one flaw that had produced a crack in her heart and stubbornly refused to heal. She had gladly given him everything she had, everything she was, and everything she would ever be. In return he loved her with an ardor and fidelity unheard of during the reigns of past emperors, who brazenly took lovers despite their empresses.
Yet there was one last gift that she had yet to bestow, and she deeply mourned her failure to do so. Worse, it was the one thing that she wanted to give him most of all, and what she knew that he hungered most to receive. She had yet to give him an heir.
Persephone knew that she was a strong woman and a Vagaries sorceress without equal. Should Vespasian die, she believed that she could effectively rule in his stead. Even so, she felt unfulfilled. Despite her immense command of the craft and the fact that she was one of the most powerful people in Rustannica, her inability to do what most women took for granted often made her feel inferior and alone. Vespasian always comforted her during these times of self-doubt, telling her that it didn’t matter and that there was still much time left in which to try. But when he said such things she could sense the pain lying behind his words. ThePon Q’tar had chosen her to be his bride, and neither of them had been given any choice in the matter. Because of that she often wondered whether Vespasian harbored any resentment about not being able to live his life as he chose or with whom he chose. Another woman would have probably given him a child, she knew.
But Persephone also knew that right now it didn’t matter-nothing did, save for their loving each other and overseeing the final death blow to the Vigors. And so she would do her best to put her personal inadequacies aside until the campaign was through. If they were victorious, she and Vespasian could keep trying to have a child. And if not it wouldn’t matter, for they would probably be dead.
Just then she saw Lucius stride into the command tent. She was surprised not to see Vespasian by his side. After looking around, the First Tribune hurried toward her and took her hands into his. His face bore a worried expression.
“Are you alone?” he whispered.
Persephone nodded. “Where is Vespasian?” she asked.
“I’m glad you’re here, Empress,” he said loudly, as if trying to make sure that he was heard outside the tent. Then his conspiratorial look returned.
“There is something I must show you!” he whispered. “Stay here, and no matter what happens, let me give the orders!”
As Persephone watched him hurry from the tent, she noticed that the two centurion guards were gone. Then Lucius’ booming voice called out again.
“Bring it into the tent!” she heard him order. “The empress is waiting!”
To her surprise, three legionnaires carried a great rug into the tent. The rug was rolled up and lay across their strong shoulders. On Lucius’ order they placed it on the ground.
“Shall we unroll your prize?” one of them asked the Tribune.
“No,” Lucius answered. “I will do so myself. I had to kill three Shashidans to get it and it is to be a personal gift for the empress. Now begone!”
After giving the First Tribune crisp salutes, the legionnaires left the tent to go about their other duties.
Persephone scowled and placed her fists on her hips. “Why would you bring me a rug?” she asked. “Where is Vespasian? And what has become of the two guards who were outside the door?”
Before answering, Lucius pointed at the rolled-up tent flap. At once it came loose and fell earthward to close out the world.
“I sent the guards away!” he whispered. “You will soon see why!”
Lucius pointed at the rug and it began to unroll across the ground. As it reached its full length, Persephone was amazed to see Vespasian lying atop it. He was clearly in distress. His eyes were closed, he was bathed in sweat, and his body shook uncontrollably.
Persephone immediately realized that Vespasian was in the grip of another day terror. Before going to him, she grabbed Lucius by the shoulders. Calling on the craft, she augmented the strength in her arms and swiveled him around to face her. The look on her face was desperate.
“Does thePon Q’tar know about this?” she demanded.
“No!” Lucius whispered quickly. “But it is likely that some legionnaires on their way to the front saw him like this, and we cannot assume that word of it won’t reach Gracchus! Just before losing consciousness, Vespasian told me to hide him in the chariot and bring him straight to you. He said that no one else was to know. I did as I was told.”
Lucius looked down at his friend of so many years. In all his life he had never seen Vespasian so helpless. The sight of the most powerful mystic in the world humbled and struck down so quickly by an unseen enemy had unnerved the stalwart tribune.
“What is wrong with him?” he asked Persephone. “He talked as though this has happened before.”
“It has,” she answered. “And now that you have seen it, there can be no going back for you. I’m sorry that you had to become involved in this, Lucius, but what’s done is done. This was never our intent. I thank the Afterlife that you were there when it happened! You did well to bring him to me unnoticed.”
Persephone sat down on the rug and took Vespasian into her arms. Lucius watched sadly as she rocked her husband back and forth like the child she never had.
“Shall I call for a healer?” Lucius asked.
“No!” Persephone answered. “I know of nothing that can be done for him. He must return to us on his own.” Suddenly the look on her face became commanding.
“And now you too know the secret,” she declared.
Looking down at her stricken husband, she wiped his brow and smoothed his damp blond curls. Despite her legendary skills in the craft, she was helpless to save the person she most loved in the world. That painful awareness caused her recent thoughts to resurface, and she realized that this was yet another way in which she had failed him. I can’t cure him, but I can protect him, she decided. She looked back up at Lucius.
“What I am about to tell you must remain a secret,” she said. “Only we three know about the emperor’s affliction. If thePon Q’tar or any other Suffragat members learn of it they might declare him unfit to lead this badly needed campaign. In the end, that defeat would crush Vespasian as surely as this affliction might. The Suffragat has the right to declare him unfit, but we must hide his secret. If word of this gets out I shall know that it came from you and I will kill you myself, do you understand?”
“Yes, Empress,” Lucius answered respectfully. “I love him too. But is there nothing that we can do for him?”
“Pick him up,” she ordered. “We must take him to our private quarters before anyone else comes in! Only there can I protect him and explain away his absence! Hurry now!”
Lucius bent down to take Vespasian into his arms. With the empress leading the way, the First Tribune carried Vespasian down one of the many connecting canvas corridors and into the safety of the emperor’s personal quarters.
SCARCELY ABLE TO BELIEVE WHAT SHE HAD JUST HEARD, Julia Idaeus stood stock-still, praying that she hadn’t been noticed. She stood only two meters away, just out of view down the long canvas corridor that connected her private quarters to the communal war tent. Finished with her rest, she had decided to rejoin Persephone to see whether she could coax the empress into telling her something that might be useful to theInkai.
Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to hear such revelations as these. As she neared the war tent and heard the urgent conversation taking place there, she had immediately halted, then called a spell to cloak her endowed blood so that the empress and the First Tribune would not sense her presence.
After Persephone and Lucius spirited Vespasian away, she stood in the canvas corridor, thinking. They would likely not return for some time, she guessed.
Deciding to enter the war tent, with shaking hands she poured a cup of wine, then went to sit on one of the finely upholst
ered benches. She could not know how long she might have the luxury of being alone, and she would use every precious moment to think.
What she had just overheard was vastly important, and theInkai must be informed at once. She had found but one safe occasion to commune with them since that day in the Hall of Antiquity, using that instance to supply them with vital details regarding Vespasian’s advance. To her delight, she had been told that theJin’Sai had finally reached Shashida.
But the news that she had just stumbled across might be even more valuable, she realized, and theInkai must be told straightaway. All she needed was another safe opportunity to do so, but when and where?
Taking another sip of the excellent wine, she smiled to herself as she ended the spell cloaking her blood.
CHAPTER XLI
RENJIRO’S WORDS HIT TRISTAN LIKE A THUNDERBOLT.“Just as thePon Q’tar did with Vespasian, we intend to imbue your blood signature with forestallments that have long been banned because they might literally mean the end of the world…”
Renjiro’s mention of banned spells immediately reminded Tristan of his first visit to Crysenium and what the envoy Miriam had told him about the early days of the War of Attrition. She too had mentioned spells that had been banned from use by both sides of the conflict. As Tristan thought about it further, the pieces of Renjiro’s mysterious announcement fell into place. The sudden awareness was terrifying.
ThePon Q’tar was about to take the struggle to the highest level. The only thing holding them back had been their need for an endowed person of supremely powerful blood whom the Shashidans could not effectively counter. With the birth of Vespasian they finally had one. And only Tristan’s blood was the supposed equal of the emperor’s.
Tristan looked into Renjiro’s eyes. “It’s true, then-I’m the only one who can stop this,” he said. “ThePon Q’tar will try to take your gold because no matter what else happens, they still need the gold to keep their nation from falling apart. But afterward they will try to accomplish far more. They wish to destroy Shashida completely-to wipe its civilization from the face of the earth with one stroke. Using the banned spells, they mean to do with this one campaign what they have failed to achieve in aeons of relentless conventional war. You’re right, Renjiro. With Vespasian’s coming they finally have the ultimate weapon with which to realize their dreams.”
A blank look on his face, Tristan sat back in his chair. “I beg the Afterlife,” he breathed. “Despite its disastrous consequences, it’s an inspired plan.” Suddenly something else occurred to him and he shot a quick glance at Mashiro.
“Does Vespasian fully understand his role in all this?” he asked.
Mashiro sadly shook his head. “We can’t be sure, but we have reason to doubt it,” he answered. “Our best guess is that he still believes that the entire battle plan concerns only taking the mines. If we’re right, thePon Q’tar will tell him soon enough. We suspect that Vespasian’s blood already possesses these awful gifts, but that he remains unaware of them.”
“Why would thePon Q’tar not inform him?” Tristan asked.
“Excuse me,” Wigg interjected. “Would someone please explain what you’re talking about?”
A short smile crossed Tristan’s lips. “As you have been so fond of telling me over the years, you already have the needed information,” he answered. “You simply don’t understand how it all falls into place. I must say that it feels good to explain something toyou for a change.”
Wigg pursed his lips. “Then I suggest that you enlighten this simple old wizard and your Conclave privateer,” he said. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“It all goes back to something Miriam told me in Crysenium before she and the other Envoys were killed,” Tristan answered. Before continuing he shot a questioning glance at Mashiro. “Am I right?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” theInkai elder answered. “After all, I wasn’t there. Any time I know you speak in error I’ll humbly correct you, Jin’Sai. ”
“Fair enough,” Tristan answered.
“And so?” Wigg eagerly pressed.
Tristan looked back at the First Wizard. He took a deep breath, as if even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say.
“I told the Conclave the things Miriam said to me about the early days of the War of Attrition,” Tristan said. “Surely you remember them.”
Wigg nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “But it seems that you have taken those revelations a step further in meaning.”
Tristan thought for a moment as he tried to recall Miriam’s words.
“Aeons ago, everyone here lived in a fragile and tense coexistence,” he said. “Then the Vagaries practitioners became fanatically devoted to the dark side of the craft. Eventually they split away and started the civil war. What followed was a miscalculation beyond description.”
Wigg nodded. “Go on,” he said.
“During the war’s early years the Vagaries rebels used especially dark magic to influence the forces of nature,” Tristan explained. “Spells were formulated that allowed them to employ natural phenomena as weapons of war. The destruction was unprecedented, and millions died. To survive, the Vigors practitioners had no choice but to do the same thing, even though it went against their principles.” Suddenly realizing something else, Tristan again glanced over at Mashiro.
“These environmental spells are much like the forestallments, aren’t they?” he asked. “They represent a direction in which you would have preferred not to take the craft, but you had to follow thePon Q’tar ’s lead to ensure the survival of the Vigors.”
Mashiro nodded. “Well done,” he said. “Please continue.”
“Before the war started, what we now call Eutracia and Parthalon were part of this world,” Tristan added. “The Tolenkas didn’t exist, nor did the Sea of Whispers. The lands encompassing Eutracia and Parthalon were one and the same. Once loosed, the dark environmental magic produced devastating and unexpected side effects. The Tolenkas suddenly arose and the land mass separated, creating the Sea of Whispers. Since then these environmental and seismic arts have been abandoned by both sides because their far-reaching effects might kill their users as easily as the enemy. But the formulas were held in reserve by each side, in case the other should try such madness again.”
Tristan looked at Mashiro. “ThePon Q’tar plans to resurrect these ancient arts, don’t they?” he asked. “The only reason why they abandoned them at all was because they knew that you could retaliate in kind. But with Vespasian among them, they know that if they imbue these gifts into his blood, Shashida will be defeated once and for all. Nothing could stand against the lethal combination of his blood quality and those dark arts.”
“Well done,” Hoshi said. “But there remains much that you don’t know. Long ago, a treaty was signed between Rustannica and Shashida that outlawed environmental spells by both sides. Until now thePon Q’tar has kept its word. EveryInkai you see here took part in the negotiations, and at first we had hoped for an outright end to the war. We were rebuffed on that score, but thePon Q’tar did agree to ban the nature spells because they realized that more than anything else, those particularly powerful craft devices could mean their defeat. Gracchus and I were the treaty’s chief architects, and it was signed in the no-man’s land that is the Borderlands. EveryInkai andPon Q’tar member signed the document. Many of those people are still alive. The Borderlands Treaty has survived the test of time, but we fear that thePon Q’tar is about to violate it.”
“How long ago was the treaty signed?” Tyranny asked.
“One hundred and fifty-one centuries past,” Hoshi answered. “Each side agreed to never use this terrible kind of magic again. But two unique occurrences have intersected in time to tempt thePon Q’tar into rethinking their position. One is the depletion of the Rustannican treasury, and the other is the birth and coming to manhood of Vespasian Augustus I. Had either of these events occurred separately, thePon Q’tar mightn’t fee
l so emboldened yet also so deeply threatened at the same time. If the banned spells are used by Vespasian, he will summon unheard-of power. We have no wish to reply in kind, but if we are to survive, it seems we must fight back with a weapon of equal ferocity. Our use of such spells was stopped, but our research into their workings was not. Surely thePon Q’tar has been doing similar, if not superior, study. In the entire world only theJin’Sai ’s blood and Vespasian’s are strong enough to accept these advanced but untried spells without dying. But the stakes might rise even higher than that. If Vespasian uses these gifts improperly, it could mean more than the destruction of Shashida. It could cause the vaporization of the entire planet.”
Tristan sat quietly for a moment. “And you wish me to become a weapon like Vespasian, an ultimate destroyer of worlds,” he said. “I thought that my mission was to be one of peace.”
“That was our wish as well,” Mashiro said, “and so we agreed to the Envoys’ plan. But as we have said, that prospect is dead. We asked for none of this, Jin’Sai. Now it seems that if we are to find a lasting peace, there is but one way. As I said, while thePon Q’tar fights to destroy the Vigors, we fight to saveboth sides of the craft. Not to resist Vespasian and thePon Q’tar would mean the end of Shashida. With our civilization gone, thePon Q’tar could turn their full efforts toward finding a way across the Tolenkas to your side of the world. One day they will eventually succeed, or perhaps Vespasian might use his banned spells to do it for them. No matter how it happens, your sister and her meager forces will never stop them. Their next step would be to destroy the Vigors Orb, just as Wulfgar twice tried to do and failed. But thePon Q’tar will not fail. With the Vigors destroyed, the world will plunge into a craftless, endless chaos from which it will never recover. The many gifts of peace, order, and balance that the craft provides will be no more, and barbarism will forever reign. ThePon Q’tar embrace a frame of mind in which madness is their only muse.”
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