Chains of the Earth, page 25
“Empress,” Yuli said with a deep bow.
She slid off Jiri’s back, dropping the reins and trusting to her horse to graze without straying away from the lodge.
“Show me” was all she needed to say.
The girl in white climbed atop the cart, where a white sheet had been spread across its bed, and pulled the top aside, revealing what she’d been promised she would find.
Reyne d’Agarre.
Dead.
His skin was ashen and tight, his lips cracked and dry. He still wore his red coat, spattered with dried blood. Both eyes were closed, more peaceful than she’d ever seen him in life.
“We found him outside the city,” Yuli said. “Reed led us to his body. Dead in the same way the city’s denizens were: dropped to the ground, without any obvious sign of injury.”
“It confirms why we heard the voice again,” Arak’Jur said. “‘For this one, it ends.’ It had to be Reyne d’Agarre.”
She nodded, studying the body. Poor, stupid fool. He’d been a thorn in her Empire’s foot since they’d returned from the Gods’ Seat. But he was still one of Sarine’s champions. Losing him was a blow, alongside far worse damage done to her capital city.
“Where is Marquand?” she asked. “And have Sarine and Tigai returned yet?”
“We expected both around midday,” Yuli said. “But we haven’t seen Marquand since… since the battle. I was worried we’d find his body, too, while searching the graves for Reyne.”
This time she cursed. If Marquand had finally gotten himself killed it would be ten times as dear a loss as Reyne bloody d’Agarre.
“He fought better than anyone I’ve seen,” the girl in white said, perched over the body in the cart bed. “Never saw a man handle a knife like him. But then the old man snapped his fingers and he fell down, dead, same as the rest of the city, I guess.”
“Who is this girl?” she asked. “You called her Reed?”
“That’s right,” Yuli said. “Reed. A survivor of the battle.”
The girl glowered at both of them, still hovering over Reyne’s body as though it were a holy relic.
“You fought alongside Master d’Agarre?” she asked the girl. “You were there when he died?”
“I was, and I did,” Reed said. “Rode with d’Agarre into the woods. Saw it all. Even shot the old man twice before he snapped his fingers. Then I ran, and hid.”
She exchanged a look with Arak’Jur and Yuli. Gods damn Marquand if he’d gotten himself killed. She needed his mind right now. So far as she knew there were no magi among the enemy that could kill with a look, or a snap of the fingers, though it was all too possible the girl was fabricating stories, even if she claimed to have been there.
“Describe it for me, girl,” she said. “Now, and spare no detail. How, exactly, did Reyne die?”
“Who made you the bloody fucking Empress?” Reed said.
“She is the Empress, Reed,” Yuli said. “It would be a great help if you could…” She turned her head midsentence toward the cleared green behind the lodge. A figure had appeared there without warning—a man, and Erris’s nerves spiked until she recognized Tigai. “If you could tell us what you saw,” Yuli finished.
“Get what you can from her,” Erris said, already striding toward the green. “As much detail as she can remember.”
She crossed the yard, leaving the girl, the cart, and Reyne’s body behind.
“Empress,” Tigai said as she approached. “Unexpected, to have you here in person.”
“I came to see d’Agarre’s body,” she said.
“They found him?” Tigai asked.
She nodded, letting the loss settle between them.
“What do you have to report?” she asked. “Any news from the Jun lines?”
Tigai shook his head. “They’ve tightened security since their Red Lady’s death. The leylines are still active enough, but I have to be careful when I move between their camps.”
“Take due care, of course,” she said. “But I need to understand their deployments. A hundred field scouts mapping their positions could be worth less than a single document, a single conversation you might overhear. And find out who’s been promoted to the command, with Lin Qishan dead.”
“So far it’s all rumors,” Tigai said. “Companies are being relocated by their Dragon-magi, though no one knows to where. The only standing orders are to take up defensive positions and wait. No orders to prepare for an attack.”
“My scouts report the same,” she said. “What I need from you is why. Even with the victory we won against their vanguard, they should have triple my numbers deployed here in the North already. I need to understand why they’re digging in instead of maneuvering. It defies sense. There’s nothing of value to hold in the Sinari forests.”
“Their advance got cut off when I killed the Veil,” Sarine said from behind them. Erris spun, her heart all but seizing in her throat.
“Nameless bloody take me, girl,” Erris snapped. “Announce yourself before you speak.”
Sarine shrugged. “I saw activity on the strands,” she said. “Figured it would be safe if Tigai had just arrived. And I think that’s why the Jun aren’t attacking. When the Veil died, they lost their tethers of Body, so their armies will be spread out across the continent, stuck where they were. They’re weeks or maybe months away now, instead of days.”
“My scouts confirmed that already, and we’ve already accounted for it,” Erris said. “It doesn’t explain why the units they have here in New Sarresant haven’t maneuvered around my armies. A command of seven or eight million wouldn’t be mired by indecision with one loss at the top. There would be redundancies, corps and division commanders able to operate independently of their commanding general.”
“You think their objectives have changed,” Tigai said.
“I know it,” she said. “But so far as I can tell, they aren’t threatening me anywhere along our lines. Which suggests their eyes have turned elsewhere.”
“They already murdered the whole bloody city,” Sarine said. “How much more threatening are they supposed to be?”
She shook her head. Arguing with Sarine was fruitless on the best of days.
“On that point,” she said. “What I need from you is—”
“Is that… oh Gods, that’s Reyne,” Sarine interrupted, leaving them both midsentence as she stormed toward Yuli and the cart.
“She’s never been one for proper decorum, has she?” Tigai said.
“As much of a thorn as Reyne d’Agarre ever was,” Erris said. “And doubly so for her still breathing while d’Agarre lies in that cart.”
“I’ll do my best in the Jun camps, Your Majesty,” Tigai said with a slight bow. “I have Kitian, one of Yuli’s sisters, with me. I’ve studied their Dragons’ movements along the leylines. We should have access to their command tents soon, within a few days’ time.”
“Good,” she said. “Get me what you can on their commander at least. And take care of yourself. No unnecessary risks.”
Tigai bowed again, and they moved together toward the front of the lodge. Sarine had climbed up into the cart alongside the girl, Reed, kneeling beside the body. How much simpler it all might have been if Sarine’s gifts had been given to someone with military training. And Marquand. His absence stung. With so many dead in New Sarresant, it was all too possible he’d been among them. She’d need to appoint a new commander for Sarine and her champions as soon as a suitable replacement could be found; until then, their reins would sit squarely in her hands. Another burden she didn’t need.
“He’s really dead,” Sarine said. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
“It speaks to what I need from you, girl,” Erris said. “With the Veil dead and the Regnant attacking our cities directly, we need a plan. My council of advisors is assembling to review our situation, but I need insight from you on what to expect from our enemies.”
“What do you mean?” Sarine asked. “The Watcher’s book? I told you already I went over it with Marquand, we agreed the contest between champions was at the heart of—”
“Not the bloody book,” she snapped in reply. “Go to your Watcher himself if you have to. I need answers, not speculation. I need to know before the Regnant slaughters one of my cities, if that’s something of which he’s capable and intending to do.”
“You think New Sarresant is my fault?” Sarine said. “How was I supposed to know what he was planning? You’re the strategist, not me.”
“Strategy is only as good as our intelligence,” she said. “I need more. I need you to understand what the Regnant is aiming at, and to what lengths he’ll go to get it. His tactics have shifted, and I need to know before they shift again.”
“Fine,” Sarine said. “It’s my fault, then. I’ll go to the Seat and see what I can get you.”
“Sister, wait,” Yuli said. “That’s not what the Empress meant.”
“Yes it was,” Sarine said. Cold anger shone on her face. Erris kept her features smooth and cool. Anger could be useful, if it motivated action. She hadn’t laid the blame for New Sarresant at Sarine’s feet; that responsibility was hers, and no one else’s. But perhaps shame and guilt might push Sarine to get her the answers she needed.
“Step back unless you’re coming, too,” Sarine said to Yuli. Yuli stepped closer rather than replying. No surprise there, but she hadn’t anticipated the girl in white, Reed, rushing to stay at Yuli’s side. Sarine spared her a last glare before all three of them vanished.
“Well,” Tigai said. “That was something.”
“I don’t know how Marquand dealt with her,” Erris said. “But we need whatever answers she can bring.”
“You have vessels in the Gods’ Seat, right?” Tigai said. “You can speak with her there if she learns something?”
“I do,” she replied. “They’re overdue for a report. And there’s been no unexpected activity on the strands here around Rasailles?”
“None,” Tigai said. “Which is fucking bizarre in its own right. I was sure Marquand meant this place as a trap for them.”
“He did,” she said idly. Her thoughts remained with Sarine. If there was knowledge at the Gods’ Seat, she had to hope Sarine could find it. Something had changed in their conflict with the Regnant. He’d marched the entirety of his armies across a continent, then all but abandoned them after one minor defeat at her hands. Perhaps Lin Qishan’s—the Veil’s—death had realigned his efforts, but to what end? She needed to know, before another city’s population fell dead.
“Give me a hand with this?” Tigai asked, untying a pick and shovel lashed to the cart’s side. Arak’Jur moved quietly to help him.
They were finished here. Confirming Reyne’s body was enough without dirtying her hands putting him in the ground. She clicked her teeth for Jiri, who came trotting with long grass half-chewed in her mouth.
She ran through her vessels without thinking, brushing Need across the thousands of connections that ran from her at their center. Tigai’s reminder focused her thoughts on her vessels in the Gods’ Seat, studying the map device and seeking connections to help find the enemy’s champions. If they’d had anything to report with urgency, she would have felt it through their bond of Need. So far they hadn’t.
Better, then, for her to focus elsewhere. Two lights shone from the South, in the Thellan colonies. But something was off. She retraced her thoughts. Something was missing. Out of place.
“Empress?” Arak’Jur said. “Are you well?”
Jiri snorted at her impatiently. She ran through her Need connections again. And suddenly she knew.
“They’re missing,” she said. “Gone.”
“Gone?” Tigai said. “Who?”
“My vessels in the Gods’ Seat,” she said. “The ones I sent to track the Regnant’s champions through the maps. They hadn’t requested my attention since their arrival. I assumed it was for want of anything to report.”
“Wait,” Tigai said. “You’re sure? If they’re missing, that means…”
“It means my vessels are dead,” she said.
“Dead,” Tigai repeated. “And Yuli and Sarine just went to the Gods’ Seat. Bloody fuck me. What if the Regnant is bloody well sitting there waiting for them?”
“No point in idle speculation,” she said, swinging her legs up over Jiri’s saddle. “See to d’Agarre’s body, and to your posting. We’ll know soon enough if the worst is waiting in the Seat.”
“What?” Tigai demanded. “How will we know?”
“The voice,” Arak’Jur said. “‘For this one, it ends.’”
“Fuck me,” Tigai said.
She clicked her teeth and Jiri moved forward.
Arak’Jur was right, painful as it was to think it. Speculation was pointless. Whatever was waiting for Sarine in the Gods’ Seat, she had wars to fight here. Sarine was one ploy to suss out her enemy’s intentions, but she had scouts and reports waiting on both sides of the ocean. The pieces were there. It fell to her to find the way to join them together.
25
OMERA
A Pilgrims’ Hostel
City of Domakar, the Western Empire
He kept his head down over his plate. Fresh fish, tomatoes, and rice made for a fine comfort after hard days on the road, but it had been a risk to enter Domakar, no matter that he needed supplies to cross the open sands. The woman now pushing through the beaded doorway, drawing the eyes of half the travelers gathered in the common hall, was the reason why.
Her clothes were fine, and free of the dust clinging to the rest of them. She wore gold bangles on either wrist and a shawl of purple silk wrapped across her shoulders. The color alone marked her as out of place, though her demeanor did for the rest. She scanned the room with piercing clarity as she strode toward the kitchen’s proprietor, expecting deference from those in line to eat, and getting it without needing to ask.
“Now what do you suppose a woman like that wants with us,” one of the two men seated next to him asked. Caravan guards, the first touched with gray hair in his beard, the other younger, chest and arm muscles worthy of being sculpted from marble, both with leather scabbards slung from their belts. He’d chosen to sit beside them in hopes they’d draw attention away from him as he ate.
“Maybe she’s lonely, eh?” The younger guard grinned. “With a fat husband who cannot satisfy her like Meeshok of Sabadou.”
“Hope for her sake you handle your rod better than your sword, boy,” the first one said.
“Twice as good,” the second, Meeshok, said, still grinning. “Ask your sister, eh?”
Omera ignored their banter, keeping his eyes focused on the woman while one hand slipped down to his pack. He’d been a fool to stow his blade. At least he’d kept his herb pouches fastened to his belt. A dab of tisa irinti calmed his nerves as his other hand unfastened the stays. He was the weary traveler, stopped for food and fresh canteens before the long journey west. Nothing more than the twenty or so others who had come here for a midday meal.
The woman’s gaze shifted back to the commons after exchanging words with the kitchen-master. She scanned the room with precision, pausing as though she took the time to memorize every face. He took a bite of his fish when she came to him, relying on tisa irinti to keep his pulse calm. He’d found his sword, the hilt now sticking up at the top of his pack. Easy to draw if he needed to. Her eyes bored through him as he chewed. She lingered on him, longer than she’d spent on the others, and she frowned, pushing his heart to surge even with the herbs calming his blood.
He could announce what she was, and send the room into a panic. Some might have guessed already, though their fears wouldn’t settle until after she was gone. Seers, they were called in some cities. The Queen’s Hand in others. Mindhunters, in the sorts of tales that spread in the aftermath of what they could do. Scores of princes controlled cities in their mother’s name, throughout the Bhakal Empire. The Mindhunters controlled the princes, wielding slivers of his mother’s magic to keep them bent to her will. His mother’s personal agents should have found no fault with his passage through Domakar. But the Queen had told him to trust no one. “No one” would include even the agents of her Hand.
“I told you, eh, Orbon?” the caravan guard Meeshok said, rising from his seat as the woman drew close to their table. “She is come for love, and like to find it here. Come, pretty lady, let Meeshok of Sabadou show you—”
Meeshok froze midsentence, hovering halfway between sitting and standing, his arm extended in a gesture to invite the woman to sit.
Tisa irinti burned in his veins, keeping his nerves calm and cool.
The woman stopped across the table in front of him, her eyes still focused on his. The rest of the room fell silent.
“Prince Omera,” she said. “I am called Jahi, a servant of the Queen. You will come with me.”
He held her gaze.
His mother had done something to him, in their last meeting in Abakra. A shield, she’d called it. A shield against the sort of Mindhunter magic that would otherwise have had him blubbering and falling over himself to comply with a Hand agent’s order. The Queen also gave him a charge: reach Konghom. Kill her sister, Sakhefete, before the Empire could be plunged into chaos. Let nothing stand between him and the fulfillment of her command.
His hand gripped his sword from within his pack. The Mindhunter’s eyes widened. Then the room erupted into madness.
He drew his shotel, his other hand dabbing a pinch of ubax aragti from his belt pouch and smearing it across his gums. Instinct told him to spin and parry as he drew the blade; he followed his training without question.
