by Edun, Terah
With his callous words, Ciardis flashed back to her last conversation with Thanar, winged Prince of the Daemoni race. Thanar had practically spit in her face as he’d said, “You think we don’t know how you treat the kith of your own empire? You segregate them on little pieces of land when they used to rule this entire empire. They are nothing more than the dirt beneath your feet.”
Even then her attempt to defend the empire’s actions had been weak. Now she had no defense to stand upon.
Of course you don’t, Ciardis thought miserably of the emperor. Thanar was right, the kith aren’t even people to the rest of the empire.
The emperor continued, oblivious to the passage of her thoughts, “The princess heir had a purpose in going to that forest. One that was unfilled. It is your job to find out what. I don’t care how. If you don’t accomplish this within the week, not only will your mother be executed, but so will your brother.”
The air around them chilled. Through the whalebone corset and the fabric at her waist Ciardis felt cold reverberate from the emperor’s chest. He turned his distant silver eyes down to her as he said, “You are my subject, Ciardis Weathervane. Just as all of those present in this ballroom and throughout my empire are. Even you are not beyond my powers. You will obey my commands. Because those who don’t obey fall before my blade.”
Ciardis licked her dry lips as she fought not to push the emperor back from her and draw the blade that she had hidden in her dress. She wanted to stab him where he stood. She was tired of threats. Tired of an imperial family that did nothing but serve their own needs. But then she thought of her family. The only family she had left. She pushed down her anger.
Her brow furrowed, she said. “I will find what you seek, sire.”
“Very good,” responded His Imperial Majesty. “I will have sent to your residence two of the princess heir’s personal effects. You may find them useful in this endeavor.”
She nodded her head stiffly. “Thank you, sire.”
To the surrounding nobles it looked as if the Lady Weathervane had pulled a coup at the height of this season’s most prestigious ball. A dance with the Emperor. A private conversation with the man with the power to give them anything – wealth, land, and titles. Little did they know – Ciardis only wanted one thing. Freedom.
The emperor paused for a second and then leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Here is why many of my subjects would prefer death over this assignment: the two objects I will send you are the only ones that I have not sent to my own mages. My dear sister kept them close to her. They may be the keys to her secrets. But others want them as well. Others who have stripped mages’ souls for the knowledge contained within them. I hope you don’t become one of those unfortunate few.”
As he finished, he looked into her eyes. “I only to tell you this to warn you of what you’re walking into. You will also need the daemoni prince to stay on your side, just as my sister did in Ameles. But I would caution you to place your trust in very few.”
Surprise rocketed through Ciardis. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“And one other thing, Weathervane. You will mention this to no one. Not your family. Not my son.”
“Now, do smile,” he said with a sharp smile of his own. “We can’t have my courtiers thinking you aren’t enjoying yourself. You’re the talk of the ball.”
He twisted his arm out and Ciardis watched as faces flew by and blurred together as she turned and turned on the arm of the empire’s most powerful man. Her hand outstretched as if greeting the people around her. Whispers flew by and heads turned in comment as she gracefully folded back into the emperor’s arms. He was right. She was the talk of the ball.
She gathered her anger to her as she faced the man who held her family’s life in his hands. Her golden Weathervane eyes met his silver visage. Her eyes flamed with fiery retribution. His eyes returned her ire with cool calculation.
“There’s something I need from you, Sire,” she said firmly, “My mother has only come to court to clear her name. Whatever you think of me, she has had nothing to do with—”
“All will be forgiven,” he interrupted, “If you do what I’ve asked. If you don’t fail me, that is. Otherwise judgment for her actions, and judgment for the death of my wife, will fall from her peers. The magistrate’s council will convene. Blood price will be called.”
She moved like a doll in his arms. Her mother’s life and her own in his hands.
“Find out about the princess heir, Weathervane. That is your task. Report to me when it is done.”
He swept her out once more in a graceful arc, while the gathered nobles waited in a circle around them. Lillian’s eyes caught Ciardis’s, and there was triumph in them. Her mother thought the emperor was dancing with her as a sign of his favor.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Chapter 3
Their dance ended as coldly as it began – with frustration on both sides. The emperor escorted her back to the table, the gathered nobility following like children behind them. They sat through a gentleman’s course, then a ballroom dance and then broke away for an evening’s play. The whole time Ciardis’s mother acted the debutante, flittering from conversation to conversation, dancing with partner after partner, laughing with the Archduke of Cavois, conversing with the court artist who had fashioned the latest craze, and generally ingratiating herself amongst the nobility. When they broke away from the entertainment, Ciardis expected more of the same, but surprise rocketed through her when Lillian swept in on her left and Caemon on her right. With a tight grip on her elbows, they directed her outside to the ballroom balcony, down the side steps, and onto a more private second-tier balcony.
When Ciardis broke away and whirled around to face her mother and brother, Lillian huffed with impatience, “I thought we would never get you alone.”
“I would have thought you were enjoying yourself, Mother.”
Lillian said, “I was doing my job as matriarch of this family. Assessing our place in court was a priority. Without knowing where we stand, what could we offer our allies in partnership?”
Ciardis said, “I realize that. My problem is that none of these people are helpful. They’re simpering idiots. We need leaders. Those who will rally their soldiers to our cause.”
“They may be simpering idiots tonight but by day they rule the largest land-holdings in the empire,” Caemon interrupted, “Don’t let the lace, the wine and the laughter fool you. Under all of this finery are calculating minds. They’re judging us. Seeing if we’re worthy. If we’ll be more than this season’s entertainment. We only have to show them we mean what we say.”
“And how do we do that?” Ciardis was itching to get out of here. To be in a room discussing strategies and town barricades. But she wasn’t a fool. She knew that playing the political game might get them out of here with allies by their side.
Lillian said, “By being smart. You must remember every step, every move is done in service of our family, of our goals. We rise and fall together as a family. But more than that, we impress upon them that they will need us in the coming war.”
“And so that’s what you did with that fop of a man who has more shoes than I do?” Ciardis said while gesturing towards the Archduke of Cavois, who spoke with guests outside.
Lillian narrowed her eyes, “Appearances may be deceiving. The Archduke is not only a connoisseur of fashion, but one well-feared for the stable of mercenaries he has hired to protect his lands.”
“Lots of them,” said Caemon dryly, “He sent three regiments to the northern campaign, all from his reserves. With him and the hundreds of mercenaries he commands on our side we could take a city.”
“It seems I was wrong,” Ciardis admitted, “Not all fops are fools.”
“Not wrong, sister,” said Caemon, “Just unobservant. We’ll fix that.”
Turning to his mother he said, “What else did you find out Mother?”
“Nothing good unfortunately. We are o
ffal under the boots of nobles and merchants alike,” Lillian said.
Caemon sucked in a breath and exhaled heavily. “It was to be expected, Mother, with the scandal.”
“You mean treason?” Ciardis said.
Lillian rubbed her brow with irritation. “Watch your tone, young lady.”
Ciardis shifted her glare to the woman in front of her.
Lillian put a gloved hand on her son’s shoulder and another hand on Ciardis’s shoulder and pulled them closer to her. As they stood in a tight circle, she said, “We are offal now, but we will turn offal to diamonds soon enough.”
“And how do you suppose we’ll do that?” Ciardis said. Her mind was half a world away, focused on the emperor’s commands.
Lillian smiled at her two children. “By acting as a united front. We cannot win this battle while sniping at each other.”
Ciardis felt some regret, she had been disagreeable. Without thinking she moved her foot to kick softly into the ground—an easier way to dispel her anxiety than bunching her dress. Just in time she remembered that these shoes were borrowed, not bought, and needed to be returned. So instead she shifted uneasily, reminded of the uncomfortable and true reason she had returned to court. She was here for one primary reason—to gather allies and support in the fight against the blutgott and end a war against the mystical being before it had even begun.
“Something to say, Ciardis?” Lillian said.
“Yes,” Ciardis said resolutely, squaring her shoulders and unfolding her arms. “I understand your reasoning but we should be attacking this coming battle on multiple fronts. I could be more useful elsewhere.”
“Where then?” said Caemon.
“Talking to mages about the arcane, asking the emperor to convene a war council, getting people ready.”
Lillian looked at her with something akin to derision in her eyes, “And how do you suppose to do that, Ciardis? By walking up to the emperor and asking him to fight a dark creature not seen in over two centuries. Oh, wait. Perhaps you already have? I assume he has agreed to throw his wealth, his men, and his resources behind you in a fight against a being that is not even on this plane of existence?”
“It actually didn’t come up,” muttered Ciardis as she ducked her head, ashamed.
“Really?” said Lillian. “You mean you had the ear of the most powerful man in this empire and you didn’t bother to push for your cause?”
Ciardis felt shame and anger burn inside her. She had been fighting. Fighting for her mother and for her life.
“What have I taught you? Nothing will be given to you. You must take it.”
Ciardis clenched her fists and jerked her head up as she stepped back in a rush and raised her voice in anger. “Taught me? You’ve taught me nothing. You’ve left me alone. You haven’t done a thing to help me since I’ve been here. I’ve been alone my whole life while you lived here at court. You never even left.”
Lillian’s eyes sharpened as she stepped forward. Caemon hastily stepped between the two women.
“Calm down,” he hissed. “Your voices will attract attention.”
Ciardis took in a deep breath and exhaled, practically trembling in fury. An uncomfortable silence descended, one filled with secrets and lies.
Lillian said with a more even temper, “Trying will get you nowhere. You must act. And in order to act you must have allies. Allies who will support your cause.”
“I understand that,” Ciardis said, thinking to herself, She didn’t even attempt to justify herself.
“Good,” Lillian said in an even tone. “Then understand this, as well. The lesson here is that the emperor may be powerful, but it is the nobility that control the armies. The nobility pay the soldiers, the mercenaries and the mages that will fight your war.”
“There will be no war if we can stop the blutgott from crossing the boundary in time,” Ciardis said pointedly.
Caemon nodded and interjected, “By finding the object hidden in the Sarvinian mines. The only one capable of killing the blutgott. We know. But if the object can’t be found, we need to be ready. The empire must be ready.”
Uncertainty flickered on Ciardis’s face. While turmoil encased her heart at all the things left unsaid. The tensions and emotions that lay between mother and daughter were like a wound that had been improperly sealed over. The only way to heal would be to tear the wound open, push out into the air the illness that followed it, and start afresh.
She looked at Lillian in that moment and realized that they were completely different individuals. Her mother had it all as a child - jewels, ponies, elegant meals. Ciardis had never wanted any of that. What had she desperately wished for every night that she sat alone on her blankets on the cold dirt floor? Someone who would tie ribbons in her hair in the morning, a mother who would soothe her hurts after the weaver’s son pelted her with dirt again, or even give a kind word when she burned a pot of soup for the third time. And then teach her to remake it properly. All of the girls in her village had had that—the love of their mothers. But Ciardis had the horrible feeling that even if Lillian had been there for her, she would have done none of those things. Because she wasn’t that type of person.
As turmoil flashed on her face Caemon quickly reached for his sister’s hand. “Imagine your home village overrun by the blutgott’s horde. No warning. No preparation. They would be slaughtered.”
Ciardis swallowed and squeezed his hand. He was right. She could only imagine the death, the destruction, and the bloodshed that the horde would invite throughout her small, idyllic countryside.
She bit her lip. “We need to be ready for the battle and for the fight.” On this she was determined. She would deal with her issues with her mother later.
Caemon nodded. “Ready for all challenges. Which means getting the powerful nobles as well as the imperial family to band together and gather arms, to prepare the countryside, and to command mages to bridge the gap with defenses.”
Ciardis shifted her eyes to Lillian, who waited patiently with a gleam in her eye that reminded Ciardis of a spider crafting a web. “Now, my dear, what did the emperor say?”
The slow sound of a person’s hands clapping came from behind them and the weathervanes quickly turned to face this new person. Thanar stood on the balcony above them. His wings were slightly spread in the darkness and he was dressed in a gentleman’s suit that fit him well.
Too well, thought Ciardis. He looks quite dashing. She quickly squashed that thought before it could blossom any further. Mass murderers were not dashing, or handsome, or anything, really, but lunatics. As she thought about Thanar – his propensity to kill and heal in the same day brought memories she’d rather forget back to the forefront of her mind. Particularly the night when Lillian had suggested that Thanar be the one to heal Caemon’s burn trauma—charred skin covering his body from the Sarvinian mine blast. She knew Thanar was evil, but at times he could also be good. He had saved her brother’s life that night, she was sure of it.
As she stared at Thanar clapping on the balcony above Ciardis remembered the conversation she had with her mother when they had sought out his healing skills.
Ciardis had said, “He’s no healer. He’s a thief, a charlatan, and a murderer.”
And her mother had replied, “Oh, but you see, my dear, one can be all of those things.”
She now wondered briefly, Could one be both a mass murderer and dashing?
Thanar now stood a few steps above them with a mocking smile on his face. “An inspired performance, Lady Weathervane. But it’s not enough.”
Ciardis wasn’t sure if he spoke of their elaborate entrance to the ballroom or her conversation with the emperor earlier.
Lillian clasped her hands together in front of her midnight blue dress and stepped forward with a brittle smile. “I’ve only just begun to fight.”
Thanar walked down the steps until he stood directly in front of her mother. “I would hope so.”
He continued without pause as
he turned to Ciardis, “Now, Ciardis, do tell us what the emperor said.”
Out of the corner of her eye Ciardis watched an ugly frown mar her mother’s face, which she quickly smoothed over. Lillian didn’t like being talked over, particularly by people she probably considered beneath her.
Ciardis bit her lip in indecision. She couldn’t tell them what the emperor really wanted—the key to the princess heir’s project in the Ameles Forest. But that was okay; she didn’t have to lie in order to fudge the truth. She would keep the emperor’s request a secret...for now.
Ciardis told them, “He plans to have a trial of peers for mother’s actions.”
“When?” said Caemon.
“I don’t know,” said Ciardis while shaking her head.
“Hmmm,” said Lillian as she paced around the outer edge of the lower balcony. “This could work in our favor.”
“Really?” said Ciardis, a little stumped.
“Really,” said Lillian with a wicked smile.
Just then a voice on the other balcony called down, “You there! All attendees are required to return to the festivities.”
They all looked up to see a unfamiliar gentleman staring down at them before he left his position on the upper balcony’s edge and joined the crowd pouring back into the light and sound of the ballroom.
Ciardis Weathervane had been inclined to hope that the evening was almost over. But she was no fool. The festive galas held by the court nobles and attended by the emperor always went on into the wee hours of the morning. They would be here for quite a bit more. The midnight hour had not even struck yet.
Flowing up the staircase and into the ballroom, she managed to get disconnected from her family and Thanar. Looking around, she saw several lords that she had little interest in making conversation with and a strange mage whose aura was flickering rapidly from one color to another with astonishing variety. She watched the light show until it settled on a muted orange. Now that was interesting. Interest piqued, Ciardis made a beeline for the mage. His robes were simple but fashionable, and he seemed to be staring into the air at nothing as she approached him.
