by Scott Rhine
After an hour, he heard a whisper. “Your guards are asleep, Sun priest.”
He didn’t open his eyes. “Greetings, Serog. I am called Pagaose.”
“You’re not afraid?”
Since this was officially in the Deep and uninhabited, she could trespass here. He heard claws over rock, but she stopped at the outer ward ring. She might breech the protective barrier, but he would have enough time to draw the One True Sword. “I’ve done nothing to offend you, have I?”
“No.”
“Then we can parley.”
“For what?” she hissed, suspicious.
“Sometimes, people just need to talk.”
“I am Fallen.”
“I can’t confide in humans. I freed the Traveler but can tell no one what I learned.”
She gasped.
He concluded with, “You’re wise and know suffering.”
She coiled around the perimeter of the circle. “You want nothing from me?”
“I don’t expect you to go against Sandarac’s orders—” He broke off as the wind from her wings knocked him over. He opened his eyes to find an enormous gray, stone-like dragon staring at him.
“He does not control me! I act for the sake of my new daughter.”
“I did not mean to offend. You’re a good mother; Sarajah said as much.”
“She speaks of me?”
“She did when I saw her last at the Final Temple. She was well. I sent her to safety in Kiateros before I ascended. I’ve invited her to my coronation.”
“What are you staring at?”
“In the light of the Compass Star, your scales are like pearls.” Her eyes were jewels the size of his fist. The intelligence behind them captivated him.
This made her preen a little. “They’re a mess. I rarely get time to care for them.”
“If you’re hungry for mana, I have a Door you can feed from.”
“You would strengthen your enemy?”
“You’re not my enemy. We’ll both outlast Sandarac and this current unpleasantness.”
“I am full, thank you. I have access to a seam. It leaks enough mana for my needs. Besides, how could I reach your Door? I’m forbidden to touch the shores of men by that sheriff.” She spat.
“As emperor and high priest of several religions, I can modify your strictures.”
“At what cost?”
“Goodwill. You can walk on my shores in human form whenever you want to parley with me.”
She stared at him, unable to believe the kindness. “Thank you, Sun emperor. What can I do in return?”
“This body is new to me. I was recently poisoned, and it has made me restless ever since.”
She sniffed the air. “You have no trace of poison. It is the killing that troubles you.”
He jolted back. “But I had no choice.”
The dragoness cocked her head. “When your spirit is not in alignment with your deeds, the whole suffers.”
“What am I to do?”
“Lay your hand on me. Tell me what happened. I will take the stain.” She closed her eyes in preparation.
The offer stunned him. He looked her over, and strode to the very edge of the containment circle. “You’re not afraid I’ll harm you?”
“You are incapable. Give me your pain.”
He described what had happened in the alley and placed his hand between her eyes, on her sloping forehead. When the transfer happened, he felt euphoric and could immediately breathe easier. “Bless you, Serog.”
She opened her eyes, fixing him with her gaze. “You really freed him?”
“Yes.”
“I look forward to our talks, but I have many miles yet to fly. May you have peaceful dreams, Pagaose.” So saying, she launched herself into the night, vanishing again.
He returned to his bedchamber and did just that. With the lingering feminine scent in the air, several dreams involved a certain brewer etched with tattoos of fire.
Chapter 11 – Restoring Kiateros
On Orphan Day, King Legato arrived in Therak, the ancient capital of Kiateros, ferried across the great lake with the hundred irregulars who could fit on the craft with him. A great many of his acquaintances from his misspent youth lined the shore to greet him. Several had the same reddening of the eyes and nose that marked his barroom career. They brought beer, musicians, and loose women to celebrate his homecoming. Legato was short even for a Kiateran, so he had to climb onto a stack of crates to be heard. As he gazed out in sadness at the rabble, he said, “They have crowned me already.” The word ‘crowned’ sounded like ‘killed’ in his mouth. Indeed, atop his black curls he wore a simple, golden torc with the symbolic, steel sword pointing up at its center.
The barkeep from the Pier Tavern, his old friend Bung, stared. “You’re not drunk, then? It’s true? Then come lift a pint of our finest.”
“There is no time to waste in revelry. The Intagliosian soldiers that survived the Battle of the Falls might be on our heels. I have returned with the Obsidian Throne; it must reach the holy mountain of the horned god!”
His men immediately commandeered a wagon. They loaded the throne but left several men behind. Bung noted, “Why do they just get to lounge about?”
“The wounded and my advisors have done their part. They faced an army to enable me to sneak past the falls with my throne. Now it’s our turn to finish the job. When the Pretender invaded our kingdom, he installed his own regional governor in my palace. How big is his garrison?”
Bung laughed. “They all left for parts south. He’s got a handful, maybe twenty foreigners, plus the constables he appointed to keep order.” The barkeep spat. “He and his men do anything they please to decent folk, but our singing the old anthem or a hymn to our god lands you in the mines for a year.”
The procession followed him through the streets and up the mountainside. People came out of their shops and homes to take part in Legato’s victory march.
“Who are these foreign advisors you bring?” Bung asked.
He spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear him. “Sajika the bold, the one in red with topknot, is the new ambassador from Bablios. We’ll be planting a holy orchard by her palace as a sign of our abiding friendship with her fine kingdom. My new vizier, Pinetto, is an Imperial wizard.”
The crowd around him booed until he raised a hand. “Pinetto is the staunchest of allies and a brilliant theorist. He personally led the troops who covered my retreat against five fire mages and over two hundred Intagliosian soldiers and won! I don’t think there’s a spot on his pale body that isn’t bruised or scratched.
“Also supporting our just cause is the Queen of Archanos, Sarajah the Seeress. She crowned me at the border and helped to close the temple of the ki mages for good. Watch her, though, she’s a powerful witch. She’ll ask for your socks and you’ll want to throw in your shoes for good measure. Her favored, Tashi, is a former sheriff. If you haven’t heard of his strength and fearlessness, you soon shall.
“I brought Lord Simon Builder from Reneau to help rebuild our defenses. He was the one wearing white for mourning. He left everything behind to assist us. As he drove the wagon with my throne during an earthquake, he lost his wife of thirty years.”
Bung nodded. “Rich?”
“Wise and kind as well,” added the king. “But we need him bound to our kingdom if we’re to survive.”
“I give it a year before he’s wearing something young and flesh-colored instead. Anyone else?”
“I’ve sent scouts back to the waterfall to find the last hero, Baran Togg, the smith who bears the Defender of the Realm. He forged this magic blade alongside the god Kiateros and used it to save me more times than I can count. As his only reward, he asked that the abandoned brewery and the lands around it be deeded to his beloved, Anna of Tamarind.”
“Ah, a saint, if there ever was one,” mused the barkeep.
****
News of the throne’s return reached the palace before the mobs.
Soldiers and peasants alike cheered this news.
“Inside this smoking mountain lies the Forge of Kiateros, where incredible steel swords are formed. Our weapons are so powerful that the emperors of old ordered that a limited quantity could be given to each kingdom, lest they destabilize civilization. The notoriety that should have won our craftsmen riches brought us ruin instead. Twenty-one years ago, Sandarac and the kings of the north coveted this forge so much that they invaded our mountain home. They treated us as slaves. I was only seven, but I saw everything. The southern thieves raped our mines and women, while disparaging both.”
The men in the square below hung their heads.
“No more. Our shame ends today, my brothers!”
The crowd cheered even more loudly.
“I have brought with me great heroes of the Independence War to help us prepare for the possibility of war in the spring. We will have many tales to share with you in the mead halls by the hearth. As reward for their aid, I have made them my advisors and given them the old palace by the lake. They’re busy preparing the grounds for winter as we speak. I want you to join me in welcoming these allies to our grateful nation.”
****
In the decaying palace of Therak Umnarfor, Ambassador Sajika looked around the straw-covered floor of the kitchen. Designed to withstand heavy snow and extreme cold, the ancient walls were thick and squat. “My palace is a glorified chicken coop!”
Simon’s adopted boy, Brent, laughed as he pulled a brown egg from under a hen roosting in the cupboard. “Eggs are good to eat!”
“Go get me some water while I find a skillet in our packs,” she said, pulling back her long, chestnut hair that marked her as a citizen of Bablios. She fastened it in a topknot the way a soldier would. In her own country, little would have differentiated her from the crowd except a subtle lack of symmetry where one high cheekbone had been smashed by a boot.
He shook his head. “Dad said I have to help him patch the roof of the dining hall before it snows. We’ll all be sleeping in there until the other fireplaces are repaired.”
She sighed. “The other men are resting. Tashi can’t walk yet, and Pinetto shouldn’t. At least scavenge some firewood while I sweep this mess; otherwise, you won’t have anywhere to warm up when you climb back down.”
“I guess. Dad’s buying supplies in town now. I could gather wood till he gets back.”
“Where’s the seeress?”
“I think she went to a jeweler to sell some of her trove and that fancy necklace the empress gave her.”
“Good luck with that. I doubt anyone around here has that much gold. If they did, the Pretender would’ve carted it off,” she predicted. “Someone has to clean this place; I’ll start with the table.”
While she was drawing a bucket of water from the well, a drab village woman approached her. “Fine Winter’s Edge to ye. Thought you might do with a bit of spare bacon grease I had in my kitchen.”
“Thank you, goodwife,” the ambassador replied, accepting the ceramic jar. They chatted for a while. When the woman commented on the tiger’s-eye ring on her finger, she admitted, “I just got engaged this week.” The ring could be used as magical light source, but she left out that detail.
“How’d’ja meet?”
“He was studying to be an astronomer at the university and . . . volunteered for the detail I was leading in the War for Independence.”
“A good man, then,” the villager decided.
“The best,” she confirmed.
Back inside, Sajika tossed a handful of straw and a broken chair leg into the kitchen stove. Rather than wrestle with flint and steel, she strode into the den with a twig.
“Yes, beautiful?” asked Pinetto. He had his nose buried in a book while he healed from dozens of minor injuries. His pale, skinny body sported a wide palette of colored spots, including one on his forehead from not ducking when coming in the front door.
Hearing him, she smiled, and her face transformed from a stern taskmaster into a helpless, flirting girl. “Would you please light this for me?” she asked, holding the twig out to him.
He concentrated for a moment and the twig flared so brightly she screamed and tossed it into the fireplace. Without acrimony, Sajika threw crumpled papers and more stubble from the floor after it. She knew there’d been no malice. He was so tender he couldn’t kill his own food, yet his newfound magic was a threat to armies.
“Sorry. If I don’t bleed the power off often enough, too much builds up.”
She asked questions because it was her stock in trade, and her fiancé loved to explain. “I thought the magic current thingy is only strong by the waterfall.”
“Any border, really. If you ignore these tall mountains, Intaglios is practically in our backyard. It was stronger at the falls because three kingdoms and a Door meet there.” Normally, he would have rambled for twenty bits on such an open question; however, he stopped suddenly, frowning.
“What has you so distracted, dear?” she asked pleasantly.
“I was searching for paper to take notes on this new magic Jotham taught me, and I found something fascinating in Sarajah’s pack.”
When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “Tashi told me I could. It’s filled with thin bronze plates engraved with lore about the Dawn folk and the teachings of Archanos.”
“Do you think she’s pretty?” Sajika asked out of nowhere.
“Eh?” Pinetto puzzled for a moment until he realized it was a test and he’d already taken too long. “She can change shapes and her cloak enchants people. It doesn’t count. Besides, her boyfriend is a jealous half-troll.” He nodded to Tashi, sleeping on the floor at the far side of the room where prying eyes couldn’t see him from the front door or windows. His skin had a southern, olive cast and his jet-black hair was cut so short that it stood on end. They covered him with blankets because the thick hide visible on the backs of his arms and neck frightened peasants. Men who’d seen him jump from great heights and gleefully bowl over bands of soldiers feared him even more. The sleeping man wore the gray uniform of a defunct warrior-priest sect known as the sheriffs; however, the emblems of office had been torn off, and the shirt back had been ripped to shreds in battle.
Cradling his ribs, the wizard led his betrothed to the cloak room to speak more privately.
“I’m only reading her notes because we still have that monster from the crystal mines chasing us. My wards might not hold it at bay forever. Sarajah might be able to give us information we need to defend ourselves. The dimensional mechanics she describes are mind-blowing. I don’t know what she is, but this information is not from a human source, not entirely.”
“Can we trust the witch?”
The wizard shrugged. “Jotham, that priest I told you about, said she was the Ghost Rose, hope for the gods themselves. But the boy says that until Tashi fancied her, they kept her chained up because they thought she was too dangerous.”
“Lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.” She groused like one of the old wives she’d been gossiping with. A spy by training, absorbing local color was an unconscious habit in her profession. “Why did you crumple up that paper? It’s not like you to waste.”
He smiled, fishing a singed quill from his pocket and waving it in the air. “Happens when I write too fast; the page starts to smoke.”
She shook her head. “For gods’ sakes, hire a scribe.”
“I’m sort of broke, love. Why don’t you hire a cook and a maid?”
She blinked at this. “I suppose my station demands it. I’m used to being the one hired. First we need money. I’ll take out a loan from the crown using my l
etter from the Prefect of Bablios and this broken-down heap as collateral.”
When Brent brought in a bundle of twigs and branches, she stoked the den fire to a toasty blaze. Taking a few lit sticks to the kitchen, she caused the stove to flare as well. Soon it was so warm in the kitchen that she took off her wine-red uniform coat with the stiff collar and hung it on the only good chair.
After the boy filled the bin in the kitchen, she released him to study repair work with his adopted father, Simon. While she brought the water to a boil and swept the floor, a small, old man brought a jar of extra pickles. Following this were visitors bearing foods of the north: salted bacon, potatoes, dried fish, goat cheese, and fermented cabbage. The amounts were not significant, but they helped her meet the neighbors and spread the word about possible employment opportunities.
Sajika had to travel to the market to buy apples, flour, a few familiar southern spices, wine, and an outdoor coop for the chickens. Simon could’ve built one, but he was so depressed that he rarely spoke. He only fixed the door latch that morning because he saw Pinetto doing it the wrong way and couldn’t bear to watch. A stout lad volunteered to bring the coop and barrels of supplies.
When she returned, Simon and Brent were hammering away at the cedar-shake shingles. A local man hauled bundles up the ladder in exchange for advice about weatherproofing a barn.
Pushing the front door open with a sack in each hand, Sajika complained, “I know you’re sore all over, but you could at least open the front door for me.”
“I need help,” the wizard said, hiding in the shadows by Tashi.
Afraid the half-troll was harming her lover, she dropped the sacks and removed the thin, red belt that hid her garrote as she ran.
Seeing her charge in, Tashi soothed, “Nothing life-threatening, barely noticeable, really.”
The curtains were drawn and Pinetto covered his face with his hands. “Close the door.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, holding the garrote before her, eyes darting around the room. In a pinch, the wire could be used to block a weapon while she disabled the wielder with kicks.
