Emperor Mage

by Tamora Pierce

  The moment he spotted her and the others, the reek of fear almost wiped out his other smells. He was disheveled, sweat-soaked, bleeding, soot-streaked. He wore only a light green robe and costly, shredded slippers. The fabric over his chest was torn: beneath lay a long, open wound that still bled sluggishly.

  He’s trying to escape on the griffin, I bet, Daine told her companions. He can think again!

  She sprang and hit the emperor’s magical shield headfirst, making it flare briefly. She howled, barely noticing the pain of a bruised head and neck as she dropped. Far more important than pain was the fact that the magical shield had weakened a hair when she struck it.

  Teeu and Aranh leaped and hit the barrier, sparking twin flares in it. They fell, snarling in fury. Daine, watching, saw that the flares weren’t as bright as when she’d hit. Iry attacked from Ozorne’s left. This time the emperor’s shield only flickered from the impact. It still held firm, but he was losing strength.

  The caged immortals watched silently.

  Emerald fire gathered, slowly, around Ozorne’s hands; he swayed as it grew. There was a white-hot edge to its glow, the kind that left a streaky imprint on eyes that watched it too long. The hyenas circled to the man’s left and right, yipping with excitement. Daine stayed in front of him, teeth bared, mane erect.

  One more blow should do it! she told the others. One more and he’s ours.

  “No!” cried a human voice behind her. Sparkling fire leaped through the air to form a bubble around the emperor.

  Daine snarled without looking away from her quarry. How dare two-leggers cheat her of what she had won? She threw herself against the new fire barrier, and received a nasty shock on her delicate nose.

  “You’ll have to choose, Uncle.” This voice was different from the one that had cried “No.” “Abdication and imprisonment—or the hyenas. You must give in. Your Gift is almost used up. We can see you’re taking it from your own life force now.”

  Ozorne’s fire had evaporated. He swayed, his skin gone cheesy white under streaked facial paint. “Abdi—? Never!” His voice was hoarse with effort.

  “Then it must be the hyenas, Uncle, just as the Graveyard Hag promised.”

  “Give him to the animals!” cried the female Stormwing, Barzha. “They have worked hard for his flesh—let them have it! Let them feast, so we can sup on his fear!”

  The emperor stared at the female immortal in open terror. Daine, Teeu, Aranh, and Iry cried their triumph in a series of hollow yips that made Ozorne shudder. Daine stalked up to the sparkling barrier, intent on the man inside. You’re mine, she thought, and bared white, bone-crushing teeth. For Numair, you’re mine.

  Ozorne’s eyes brightened feverishly. “Promises, is it? Well, I have a promise in reserve!” he grabbed the hair on the back of his head, fumbling among its strands.

  A rattle of steel made Daine glance to the side. Barzha and Hebakh were at the bars of their cage, staring at the Emperor Mage with grim concentration. Above them, on the roof of their prison, Rikash had also come to watch.

  “See!” Ozorne cried. Daine’s head whipped around. The emperor held a metal feather—the one Rikash had given him, pulled from a braided strand of hair. “I have this promise!”

  She snarled in fury and threw herself at the barrier as Ozorne drove the feather through his arm.

  Something exploded in a burst of light. Daine, falling through a vanishing barrier, slammed into metal that cut. She rolled away and struggled to her feet. A Stormwing with Ozorne’s face and hair stood where he had just been. Steel feathers and talons gleamed as if newly minted. The gash on his chest was now a clean, broad scar.

  Chimes filled the air. One after another the cages disappeared, releasing the inhabitants. The griffins and hurroks wasted no time: they fled into the night sky, filling Daine’s ears with the sound of flapping wings. Magic of a deep-gray shade, almost like fog, washed and wrapped itself around the killer unicorns, spidrens, and killer centaurs, holding them where they were, as the more peaceful centaurs fled. Kitten, in a cage at the far end of the courtyard, sat up with an inquiring cheep; Zek clambered up her back to perch on her shoulder. The Coldfangs looked around, tongues sliding out to taste the breeze.

  Barzha and Hebakh stretched their wings in a slow, ominous movement, exercising each feather. “Humans, stay out of this,” commanded the queen. “Now he is in our form; he must answer to Stormwing justice!”

  Ozorne gaped in horror. “No! I am the Emperor Mage, lord of Carthak.”

  “No immortal may hold a mortal throne,” Hebakh said, rocking to and fro. “Wake up, Emperor Mage! Do you understand now the trap that was laid for you?”

  “No immortal may rule over humans or use human magic.” Rikash had drifted gently to earth, wings outstretched, when the Stormwing cage vanished under him. Now he stood behind his queen and her consort, razor-sharp teeth bared in a nasty grin. “Go ahead—try it.”

  Ozorne croaked a word. Something boomed, and he went flying end over end, as if blown by a powerful wind. He smashed into the menagerie’s rear wall and lay stunned.

  “You forgot our earliest lessons, Ozorne,” said a voice behind Daine. It struck a chord in her memory, but if her life had depended on it she couldn’t have looked away from the drama taking place before her nose. “Once you take immortal shape, you can never change back.”

  “We are free!” cried Barzha in triumph. “First I take payment from that motherless worm Jokhun and then I will tend to you, Ozorne!” She took to the air, Hebakh behind her.

  Ozorne screamed and struggled to stand up on his awkward new claws. “I have magic! I—I have Stormwing magic!”

  “Of course you do, sweetheart,” Rikash said pleasantly. “Do you know how to use it?”

  A scarlet bolt edged with gold struck from overhead to blow a hole in front of Ozorne. For a moment he stood there, panting, mouth working as he tried to speak. Sweat rolled off him.

  “You’ll get the hang of it in a few days or so,” Rikash told him with false sympathy. “If you live that long, of course. There is a reason the former King Jokhun didn’t want to fight Barzha Razorwing on her terms.”

  A second bolt struck the flagstones behind the new Stormwing, spraying him with sharp fragments. Ozorne cursed blackly, then leaped, pumping his wings clumsily. For a moment he dropped. At last he began to rise, bit by slow bit. Everyone watched as he climbed into the darkness overhead.

  Rikash sighed. “I must go after him. I wouldn’t like him to lose interest, not after it took so much work to get him into the proper claws. Barzha will want him eventually, after all.” He looked at the hyenas. “Is one of you Daine?”

  The girl trotted to the edge of the dais that had once been a Stormwing cage.

  Rikash waddled over to look down at her. “If it counts for anything—though I’m not sure that it does—you have my gratitude. And things aren’t as bad as you think. You might look around.” He took flight and sped away, calling, “Ozorne, my precious, where are you?”

  The hyenas gathered around Daine. What did that mean? asked Teeu. Look around for what?

  I don’t know, the girl replied, turning to find the human mages behind her. Kaddar was standing by the griffin’s empty cage. Lindhall, Bonedancer on his shoulder, was keeping the killer centaurs, spidrens, and killer unicorns penned with his fog-colored magic.

  In the gateway stood Numair Salmalín.

  Daine gasped and lost her grip on the hyena shape. She turned human instantly—human and unclothed—and sat down hard. “No,” she whispered, breathless. “Gods, this is too horrible. Don’t do this to me.”

  The hyenas shifted to form a circle of furry bodies, concealing her, as the man came forward.

  “I’m real, sweetling. It truly is me.”

  “Kaddar and Varice saw them kill you. You’re a—a ghost, or a—puppet. A simu-thing.”

  He lifted a hand: black, sparkling fire grew around it. “Ozorne couldn’t attach magic to a simulacrum, remember?�
� He let the fire die as the hyenas watched, heads cocked in interest.

  She swallowed. “Very well, then—you’re one of Numair’s simal—”

  “Simulacra. Magelet, remember how we met? I was a shape-shifted hawk. You nursed me until Alanna helped me regain my true form. Last year, in the courtyard of Dunlath castle, I changed Tristan Staghorn into an apple tree with a word of power.” He removed his cloak and tossed it toward her. Borne by his magic, it settled onto Daine.

  Rising, she wrapped the cloth around her with numb fingers. She didn’t think a fake would know so much. Gingerly she stepped away from the hyenas and reached for him, then yanked back, terrified that if she touched him, she would know he was dead.

  “Kitten?” she cried. “Is it really him?”

  The dragon chortled happily and nodded.

  Numair waited, one hand extended to her. Steeling herself, she reached again and placed her hand in his. Roughly he pulled her into an enveloping hug, arms encircling and lifting her off her feet. Nose buried in his shirt, she breathed his unique smell, one of spices, soap, and clean clothes. No one would think to copy that, she realized, and began to cry.

  He murmured softly to her, arms wonderfully tight. When at last she stopped, he let her go and produced a handkerchief.

  Obediently she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Where have you been?”

  “At the university. Once the emperor’s men arrested my simulacrum, I had to play least-in-sight for a day or two.”

  “But—they knew—Varice and Kaddar were sure it was you.”

  “It was a very good simulacrum, my dear. I worked on it for weeks in secret and had it shipped to Lindhall from Tyra. I didn’t quite trust Ozorne’s good intentions, I’m afraid.”

  Memory flared: in Lindhall’s office, Lindhall had placed the turtle in another room, and she had seen a shape like a body covered with cloth.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Numair sighed and smiled ruefully down at her. “I have no idea. I think I forgot.”

  “Oh.” That made more sense than it didn’t. “How’d you find out? About—all this, then?”

  “Kaddar made it across the river. We have enjoyed a most informative evening. Are you aware that the entire west wing and Astronomer’s Tower are burning?”

  She scuffed a foot on the ground. “I thought they’d killed you. I lost my temper.”

  Numair’s eyes danced. “Magelet, that is the greatest understatement I have heard in my life.”

  “She had help,” said a cracked female voice. “She couldn’t have done it without me.” The Graveyard Hag had appeared at the back of the immortals’ enclosure, cane, eye patch, and all. The badger waddled at her side.

  “That’s true enough,” Daine snapped. She hadn’t forgotten her anger with the goddess. “But if you’d done what you’re supposed to, none of this would’ve been necessary.”

  “And I told you, we have rules.” As she passed the Coldfangs, they slid their tongues out, tasting her cape. “Oh, go away, you,” the goddess ordered. Silver light gathered around the Coldfangs, and they were gone. “You, too,” she said, pointing at the spidrens, then at the killer centaurs and unicorns with her cane. “I’ll talk to you when I get back.” Silver fire gathered, and they vanished.

  “Interesting company you keep these days,” Numair told the badger as Daine stifled a yawn.

  —If I’d had a choice, I would have given up the experience,—was the grumbled reply. —You did very well, kit,—he told Daine.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, Badger. Coming from you, it means a lot.”

  The Graveyard Hag came over to Daine. “Well, dearie, it’s been fun, but you have something of mine, and I want it back.”

  Numair put a protective arm around Daine’s shoulders. “She doesn’t have anything of yours, Goddess—does she?”

  “Bringing the dead animals back,” Daine said, yawning. “That part’s hers. You can have it,” she said, extending a hand to the goddess. “It makes me nervous.”

  The Hag wrapped a gnarled hand around Daine’s. White light blazed, and vanished. Suddenly the girl’s knees felt rubbery. She swayed, and Numair caught her. Kitten, who had managed to leap down from the platform of her former cage with Zek on her back, trotted over, whistling angrily at the goddess while her scales turned pink.

  “Oh, stop it,” chided the Graveyard Hag. “She’s just a bit tired. It’s only to be expected.”

  “Goddess—will you listen to me for a moment?” They had forgotten that Kaddar was also there. When they turned to look at him, he went down on one knee. “Please?”

  The Hag grinned cheerfully and leaned on her gnarled stick. “What have you got for me, handsome?”

  “Gracious lady, my uncle’s palace is a shambles, its treasure burning or scattered or buried. His chief mage is dead, as are many of those mages who supported him. There are people of good will in this realm, people who feared to cross my uncle while he ruled. I know the gods are angry, but—please, will you stay your hand from more destruction? Intercede for us before Mithros’s court? Give us a chance to prove our worth. I represent a secret fellowship of nobles, academics, and merchants who genuinely wish things to change here. Carthak is not beyond hope.”

  Lindhall bowed deeply to Kaddar. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he said.

  “So he is,” remarked Numair, and bowed.

  Daine, after a moment’s hesitation, copied them, yawning. When she straightened, the Hag fixed the girl with her one good eye. “What do you recommend? Seems to me, since you did the hard work, you ought to have a say.”

  “Give him the chance,” Daine said, fighting yet another yawn. “Prince—Emperor Kaddar, I s’pose—he cares about the land and the people. If you gods were only interested in destroying the empire, not saving it, you wouldn’t have waited to use me. You’d’ve gotten on with it.”

  The Graveyard Hag grinned and looked at the badger. “You were right about her,” she said. “Sharp as a Shang blade, she is.” Looking up, she said, “Well, my brothers and sisters? What do you think? I say let’s give ’em the benefit of a doubt.”

  For a moment nothing happened. Then a rich wind filled with the scent of growing things filled the air. Overhead, thunder boomed again, a long, rolling crash that seemed to peal forever. When it ended, rain poured down in sheets, drenching everyone.

  “Very good,” the Graveyard Hag said with approval. Gripping her cane, she stumped over to the new emperor. “Get up,” she commanded. “Silly for a ruler to kneel in a cloudburst.”

  Kaddar obeyed, looking dazed.

  “I hope your memory is better than Ozorne’s, sonny,” she informed him. “I won’t be ignored! Not in my own empire! Now, give me your arm. We need to talk.”

  The young man swallowed and offered his arm to the goddess with a courteous bow. She took it, cackling.

  “That’s more like it,” she said, leading him toward the gate. “Now, don’t worry about the army and the Guard. They were told to stay put or they’d risk the gods’ wrath if they came to help your uncle tonight. By dawn they’ll be ready to go to work. Oh, wait.”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Arram, or Numair—whatever you call yourself—put that girl to bed. She’ll sleep for three days, give or take.” To Kaddar she said, “Where was I? Now, I like fresh flowers in my temples, and no more cheap pine incense.” Her voice faded as they walked off into the gardens.

  “Three days?” Numair asked, looking at Daine with concern.

  —It was divine power moving through her,—said the badger.

  Daine found that talk was too much work just now, as was standing. She sat and smiled up at Numair.

  —Sleep is all she needs.—

  She smiled agreement, then hugged Kitten and a deeply unhappy, wet Zek.

  —Don’t worry about the escaped menagerie animals.—

  The badger’s voice was the last thing she would remember as she closed her eyes.

  —We ani
mal gods will see to it that they reach their proper homes unhurt. It is the least we can do.—

  EPILOGUE

  When she opened her eyes, it was raining softly outside her window. A breeze carrying the scent of wet earth came in, to mingle with the scent of sun-dried cotton sheets. She inhaled, smiling, and a joyful, earsplitting trill sounded from around her feet. When she sat up, Kitten leaped forward to strike her chest, almost knocking her back down. “Easy, Kit, easy,” she protested, laughing. “Calm down!” Zek jumped onto the bed and came to curl up on the girl’s shoulder.

  “So you’re awake.” Alanna came over to the bed. “How do you feel?”

  “Rested.” Cuddling dragon and marmoset. Daine frowned. “Weren’t you shipped back home?”

  “We were called back. You were busy to some purpose here, youngling!”

  Daine had the grace to blush and look down. “I lost my temper—”

  “And the gods did the rest. At least you’re alive and well, after such an experience!”

  “Is Carthak still going to war against us?”

  Alanna shook her head. “Kaddar’s—the emperor’s—ministers are signing the treaty with Duke Gareth today. Not that the Army of the North could march in any case. They seem to have run out of supplies that are fit to use.” She lifted an eyebrow at Daine, who blushed again.

  Alanna filled her in as the girl cleaned her teeth and dressed. She had slept for four days, and they were in guest quarters at the university. At first they had gone to Kaddar’s mother’s house. That had lasted until the princess learned the full story of the events at the palace. Once the word got out, nothing the new emperor could say would convince her or her servants that Daine, asleep in the women’s quarters, would not pull the villa down around her ears.

  “That’s what they’ll think back home, too, isn’t it?” asked Daine.

  Alanna handed the girl some breeches. “Not necessarily. See, youngster, it’s a good thing that all this happened in Carthak. By the time those in Tortall hear the tale, they’ll think it’s just a tale.”

  “Really?” Daine asked, clinging to her friend’s hand. “They won’t shun me, like the servants and the princess and all?”