Raeth nodded slowly, following the Mahallen up the Corpate loading walkway and climbing onto one of the vehicles. Behind him, Darro and Tarrinon appeared from the crowd and joined them.
“This should be interesting,” Darro noted as he hopped onto the Corpate’s silvery platform.
Raeth shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too bad. All I have to do is not make a fool of myself.”
Darro smiled ruefully. “Good thing I don’t ever have to worry about that. Making a fool of myself is almost a daily habit for me. What do you want me to do?”
“Well, if you really want to help, make sure we win this battle today. I’m going to be stuck in a room with about forty of the Imperium’s most powerful, most annoying men. You’ll be the one out on the battlefield.”
Darro nodded firmly. “We’ll hold them back,” he promised.
“Your Majesty,” an accented voice noted from the side.
Raeth turned to see Rall Hannin gesturing for him at the front of the Corpate. Curious, Raeth moved forward to stand beside the Mahallen King. “Yes, your highness?” he asked.
Rall Hannin nodded toward the Corpate moving down the street in front of their own. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said. “They must have gotten on before the Verdant Senators.”
Raeth frowned, looking forward. Up ahead, he could make out several figures standing atop the other Corpate’s platform. One plump form in a green cloak was certainly Laene. Several others were speaking with him. They looked like… .
“The War Counsel,” Raeth realized.
“Indeed,” Rall Hannin said. “It makes one wonder what business the Counsel has with the High Senator.”
“But General Gaedin is an Amberite Bond!” Raeth said. “They’re supposed to be my allies.”
“Sometimes annoyance drives men to stronger reactions even than hatred,” Rall Hannin noted.
“Even still… .” Raeth said, shaking his head. “Beyond that, Laene voted for me. Gaedin should be annoyed with him too.”
“Agreed,” Rall Hannin replied, his eyes thoughtful.
“Well,” Raeth said with a sigh, “whatever it is, at least the Counsel will have to listen to my suggestions now. For a day, at least.”
The two men fell quiet, both looking at the figures across the gap. Staring, however, brought them no closer to knowing the answers. So, eventually, Raeth broached a topic he’d been wanting to discuss with the Mahallen King.
“Your highness,” Raeth began. “You’ve…heard of your daughter’s allegations.”
Rall Hannin’s smile was very slight. “I warned you about Mahallen women, your majesty. In Aedinor, hunting is a masculine sport. In En Mahall, however, the women grow quite deft at it.”
“Your highness,” Raeth began. “Your daughter is…well, I mean—”
Rall Hannin held up a hand. “Please,” he requested, “if you’re going to tell me whether or not her allegations are true, forebear.”
“But, don’t you want to know?” Raeth asked.
Rall Hannin shook his head, his face becoming grave. “If, by chance, you were to tell me that she is lying, it would be my duty as her father to see that her sentence is carried out. That would be a pity, as there are still two weeks until you must make your choice.”
“I…see,” Raeth said, not certain if he did. “I thought, however, that Nahan’s claims would, perhaps, force the process to move more quickly.”
“No need,” Rall Hannin said. “Everyone knows that you won’t make your choice until the end of the Ynaa. If what my daughter claims is true, then your duty as an Aedin will force you to choose her. If, however, she lies. . .well, then your choice of another will be enough of a denial for our laws. No one will question your honor as our Emperor. In that instance, she will be dealt with.”
Raeth could see latent worry in Rall Hannin’s eyes as he turned away, leaning against the Corpate’s railing to stare out over the city.
“She certainly is…determined,” Raeth noted, leaning down beside the king.
“She is,” Rall Hannin agreed. “I asked her not to beg this opportunity, but I have never been able to deny her anything. In En Mahall we value strength and determination in our women, but it is possible for anyone to go too far.”
Raeth nodded his agreement.
“However,” Rall Hannin noted as the Corpate entered the military district, “you have other items to think about for the moment. Go and save our country, Emperor Hern. Troubles with women can wait for a safer day.”
#
The Counsel room was large, but what space wasn’t taken up by the enormous map was usually clogged with pages and bureaucrats. There would barely be room for all thirty Senators, so most of the other dignitaries—even aristocrats or High Aedin of important Lines—would have to wait in side rooms. The scene outside the Counsel room was one of mild chaos as the Corpates took turns unloading, and the non-Senator occupants tried to pull rank and get into the Counsel room. As far as Raeth saw, only the Shorriken king was able to succeed.
Raeth stood impatiently, waiting in the cold. Now that the entire Senate was attending, the battle had become a formal event. And so, Tarrinon had explained to him, Raeth had to enter last. Raeth found it quite odd that the same traditions that named him the most important man in the Imperium also forced him to wait out in the cold as a group of aging men shuffled into the building’s warmth.
Raeth shivered slightly, putting his hands together and summoning Amberite around them to break the wind. Darro was gone, off to a Sending platform to prepare for the attack. If the cursed Senators didn’t hurry, the battle would begin before Raeth even got into the room.
As he waited, he noticed a familiar dark-haired form walking down the loading walkway. D’Naa. He caught her eye, and the slight-framed girl curtseyed obediently.
Raeth suddenly grew nervous. He’d avoided her for most of the week, putting his mind to other concerns, but he knew he’d have to confront her eventually. Her…visit had left too many questions. Gritting his teeth, Raeth forced himself to walk forward.
The girl frowned slightly, then waved her elderly attendants to back away to a respectful distance.
“Lady D’Naa,” he said. “I am in your debt. Your intervention gave me that vote.”
She regarded him with curious eyes, though her posture was stiff and unyielding.
“Kavir has long been seeking martial aid from the Throne,” she finally said. “I thought that if I helped you today, you might be more inclined to send us the troops we need to defend against Harrmen raids.”
Raeth smiled to himself. You’re right, Rall Hannin. Everybody is up to something. The answer, however, gave him no clue to her intentions at sneaking into his room in the middle of the night. He opened his mouth to ask, but then he suddenly realized where he was and what was happening. There were too many ears around.
“Either way, my lady,” he said instead, bowing slightly. “I am in your debt. I assure you, once this war is over, you’ll have your troops. If necessary we’ll make Kavir so well-defended that the northern border looks tempting by comparison.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “I’ll hold you to that, your majesty.”
“I’ll hold myself to it, Lady D’Naa,” he replied. Then the both fell silent, staring at each other awkwardly.
“We need to talk,” Raeth finally said. “I’ve been having the lunches in order of Senatorial prominence as to not show favoritism, but I doubt I can wait to see you for another week. Would it inconvenience you if I had my steward rearrange my schedule so that we dine together tomorrow?”
“I…think that would be all right, your majesty,” the girl replied. She looked confused, though her hostility was less apparent.
Raeth bowed again and backed away, feeling silly at his formality. Wasn’t this the girl he had so impetuously kissed just a week before? His heart was pounding as he stepped back up to Tarrinon—it almost felt like he’d already fought the day’s big battle. After confronting a w
oman, how hard could the Forgotten be?
“Tarrinon,” he said, “would you please rearrange my lunch appointments so that I eat with lady D’Naa of Kavir tomorrow?”
Tarrinon frowned, but opened up his ledger.
“What?” Raeth asked at the frown.
“Need I remind you, your majesty, of the importance of appearing impartial? A good number of people saw you approach and speak with her. If the others assume that you have already decided on a bride, you will lose a great deal of support in the Senate. Even if you gain autonomy today, do not forget that it can be removed by another eighty-percent vote.”
Raeth nodded. “I understand,” he said, forcing himself to keep from looking back at D’Naa. “But, I need to do this for reason I can’t explain. You can make the change look like a simple bureaucratic move, can’t you?”
Tarrinon sighed. “I suppose. Just remember, your majesty. Don’t play favorites. Not yet.”
“All right,” Raeth replied. “Point taken. Now, have all of them entered yet? I’m getting cold.”
#
The nervousness began when Raeth entered the Counsel room. The shuffling forms grew quiet as he entered, and heads bowed formally. The map table sat, as always, dominating the center of the room. Several clerical tables had been removed on the side to make way for thirty chairs, upon which the Senators sat as soon as Raeth bid them do so.
What am I doing? Raeth thought, stepping into the room and surveying the map. Thousands of pieces had been set upon it, great groups of colored pieces manning the border’s large wall, even larger groups of black pieces representing the Forgotten army. A childhood and young adolescence of training and study did not compensate for five years reading poems in the Irae. Raeth was not a warrior. How could he presume to take command of the Imperium’s armies?
Calm down, he told himself, taking a deep breath. You don’t have to lead them. You just want to have a say in what happens.
He paused as General Gaedin stepped forward. The general bowed stiffly. “I hereby relinquish command of the United Aedinor Imperium’s forces to you, Emperor Hern. Use them well.”
Raeth nodded. “Thank you, general. We shall continue with some very minor changes. Please, gather your men for—”
“I don’t think so, your majesty,” Gaedin said, his voice quiet, but hard.
Raeth froze. “Excuse me, general?” he asked, turning apprehensively to regard the man.
“I said, I don’t think so, your majesty,” Gaedin repeated. “You wanted autonomy, so the Counsel has been forced to give you autonomy. Command your armies, Emperor. You shall receive no help from us.”
Raeth grew cold, then angry. “This is the fate of our country, you fool,” he hissed. “Don’t play foolish political games.”
“I know what’s at stake, your majesty,” the lanky man growled back. “I know it all too well. The Senate might have forgotten your mistakes of the past, but I haven’t. I say this with all the respect I can muster, Emperor, but you leading these armies will be a disaster. Better one disaster than an entire war full of them. If you fail today, the Senate will forget this idiotic vote, and perhaps we can pick up the pieces tomorrow.”
Raeth sighed. “General, I don’t want command. I just want you to listen—”
Gaedin bowed in the middle of Raeth’s sentence, then backed away, obviously not listening.
Raeth paused, fuming. Could he order them to help him? Their attitudes seemed to imply that he couldn’t. He could threaten them with incarceration, but the senate could quickly overturn that.
The entire room was looking at him. Suddenly, Raeth felt foolish—like he really was Hern. What good had the vote done him? The Imperium needed both their War Counsel and their emperor, not one or the other. Should he just concede? Perhaps if he gave in now, the Counsel would realize he didn’t want to dominate them, just advise them.
He glanced at the table, studying the hoard of Forgotten. You can do this, Raeth, he told himself. You know how they think. Your plan is a good one.
Besides, he didn’t have to do it alone. “You,” he said, pointing at a messenger. “Bring me General Taenen and my brother from the battlefield.”
“Yes, sir!” the courier snapped, stepping onto the Sending platform.
Raeth turned back to the War Counsel, who sat with uniform hard faces in a line of chairs beside the Senators. He had this one chance to prove himself to all of them. Perhaps if he succeeded, he would finally be able to live down Hern’s legacy.
A moment later two flashes of light appeared on separate messenger’s Sending platforms. Darro stumbled forward, grumbling about being bounced back and forth, but Taenen followed more reservedly, perplexment showing in his human eye.
“What’s this about, Hern?” Darro demanded, putting hands on his hips. He wore an Amberite breastplate—a piece of armor beyond the powers of most Amberite Bonds, but which was an almost negligible thing for Darro.
Raeth waved the two men forward. “It appears that this battle will be fought without the aid of the War Counsel,” he explained.
Darro frowned in confusion, but Taenen’s eyes opened slightly with understanding. He shot a look at the ten men sitting defiantly at the other side of the room.
“They didn’t!” the Bestarin general said.
Raeth nodded. “They think the only way to get rid of me is to embarrass me through failure.”
Darro growled quietly, his Amberite crackling quietly. “That borders on treason, Hern,” he spat. “Perhaps I should go ‘encourage’ them to reconsider.”
Raeth snorted. “They’d be even less use to us if you bashed their heads in, Darro,” he said.
“True,” Darro agreed. “But it’d be extremely satisfying nonetheless.”
Raeth rolled his eyes, turning back to the map. “I’m going to need you two. I’ve thought this battle through a hundred times, but the truth is that I don’t have much experience.”
“I understand, my lord,” Taenen said. Darro just nodded.
“General,” Raeth said, eyeing the dark pieces as they approached. “How long would you say we have until the Forgotten reach the border?”
“Two, maybe three hours, my lord,” Taenen said. “The map is a bit misleading—the mapkeepers scale the distance when groups are further away.”
Raeth studied the border, pushing aside nervousness. The Imperium forces were arranged by Line and race, as normal. Two huge blocks of Amberite High Aedin made up the core of the army defending the central wall. Verdant Bonds were at their flanks, as were Bestarin. There weren’t any Ferrous Bonds—war Corpates would do little good from atop the wall.
Those warriors that weren’t High Aedin were much more numerous, but they were arranged almost tangentially to the High Aedin. The regular Aedin troops waited behind the High Aedin, to act as reserves. The Shorriken and few Kavir troops were at the extreme edges of the walls, and the Mahallen cavalry was back in the compound itself, probably to act as extreme reserves.
It was a decent enough arrangement, considering the lack of space on the wall itself. There was only one problem—the layout depended on the High Aedin. This had better work, he told himself.
“All right,” Raeth said, taking a deep breath. “Here’s what I want you to do. General Taenen, send messengers to the border with orders for our High Aedin forces to remove their cloaks and give them to the regular soldiers.”
The comment caused a stir in the room, and hushed whispers began. Raeth tried to ignore the Senators and their attendants as he continued on.
“I want the High Aedin to retreat off the wall and take up flanking positions just in case the enemy breaks through. Have the regular Aedin and Shorriken troops take their place, wearing the High Aedin cloaks.”
“Yes sir,” Taenen said immediately, moving over to the Sending platform and speaking with one of the messengers.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Darro said quietly.
“I do to,” he replied. “Now, as f
or you—”
“Lord Hern,” a voice objected. Raeth turned to find Laene and several of the other Senators standing from their seats. “This is very irregular. What good will it do to dress those troops up as High Aedin? They still won’t have the Aethers of a High Aedin.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Raeth said.
“But—”
“High Senator,” Raeth interrupted. “Did you or did you not grant me Martial Autonomy?”
Laene’s face fell, and Raeth could see the antagonism contained therein. Why in the name of the Twins did he vote for me?
“Very well, your majesty,” Laene said, sitting.
Raeth turned back to the map. “What about archers?” he asked Darro.
“There aren’t any,” Darro replied. “Arrows don’t seem to affect the creatures—they just keep on moving no matter how many times we hit them.”
Raeth stood in contemplation for a moment. “Put them back,” he finally said. “They may not look like they’re doing anything, but they probably aren’t hurting our cause either.”
“If you say so,” Darro said, waving to a messenger.
Taenen was back a moment later. “It’s done, sir,” he said. Then, more quietly, he continued. “They aren’t going to like it very much.”
“I expect not,” Raeth said. “General, how do you suppose the Forgotten plan to get through the wall?”
The general paused, then he shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. I doubt they’ll have siege engines. The barbarians usually try ropes.”
Raeth ground his teeth. They knew so little. Whatever it is within me, he thought. It reproduced the effect of an Amberite Bond. It made me armor. What if these things can do the same? What if they can clone the powers of the Aethers? The thought of thousands of Forgotten sprouting Verdant vines and whipping easily up the wall flashed in his mind. His forces would be trapped on a narrow space, unable to retreat or flank.
“Taenen,” Raeth said. “I changed my mind. I want to take our forces off the wall.”
The Aether of Night Page 24
