Blades of the Old Empire (38 page)

The nine seats around the council table were spaced so evenly that there seemed to be no possibility in accommodating an additional, tenth seat. Yet, it took Ayalla no more than a glance to send the servants scurrying, pushing the heavy ornate chairs out of the way to make room for a tangled chair-like contraption that seemed to be watching the activity in the room from the deep darkness of its woven branches. Evan suppressed a shiver as he saw it approach the table without any visible aid, positioning itself exactly opposite his chair, between the tall, lean seats of the two religious orders. A silent escort of Mirewalkers, led by Garnald and Alder, followed behind, planting themselves at the chair’s back as Ayalla took her seat, her spider dress rustling about her.

Evan leaned back in his chair, watching the council members and their entourage take their places around the table. Some groups were so large that they barely fit behind the backs of the chairs they attended, including little Princess Aljbeda’s seat, whose tall ornate back decorated with a red and gold lion of Shayil Yara harbored a full set of colorful Olivian ladies. Tanad Eli Faruh’s place at her right elbow was prominently empty. Evan had used his authority to temporarily relieve the Olivian of his duty until his fate could be decided by Queen Rajmella herself. Instead, the place at the Princess’s left side was now filled by a thin man with straight white hair and dark skin crumpled like a piece of old parchment – her teacher, Ravil El Hossan. His deep purple eyes held an alert and guarded expression, reminding Evan of the rumored wisdom and influence of this man, who had been single-handedly responsible for developing the Princess’s incredible composure, knowledge, and the ability to hold herself far beyond her years.

A prominent gap in the royal gathering was obvious on Evan’s left side, where the occupant of the green and gold chair carved with the Illitand’s rivergull looked quite a bit smaller and more refined than Lord Daemur’s imposing shape. Lady Celana graced her family seat with the quiet air of one well aware of her birthright, yet modest enough not to make it too obvious. Her smooth, porcelain face was calm, eyes surveying the gathering with an unreadable expression.

It had been a hard decision to exclude Daemur Illitand from this gathering. Evan was aware that sooner or later he would have no choice but to forgive the Duke, pretending that his entire adventure in the Illitand castle was no more than a ploy by a clever and evil enemy. Both he and the Duke knew how true this really was, but neither was willing to dwell on it for the sake of royal tradition in the kingdom and the future prospects of the two families.

Evan glanced at Kyth, seated in the Dorn family chair opposite Lady Celana. The Prince paid no notice to the royal lady’s hopeful glances, his vision directed inward to the silent shape of Kara, who stood behind his chair next to Raishan. She wore no mask or armband, stripped of her Majat regalia, and that absence of distinction in itself made her slim black-clad shape ominous and menacing. For the moment, Evan could think of no better protection for his son. He hoped this status quo could remain until they dealt with the enemy once and for all, and that no drastic measures from her Guild would leave his son vulnerable. If only Kyth didn’t care for the girl more than a crown prince should care for his bodyguard. Evan looked away.

Mother Keeper’s suite had a new addition. Ellah stood behind her chair next to Odara Sul, dressed in a white robe that resembled the Keepers’. Only the absence of the lock and key emblem on its left shoulder indicated her apprentice status. The thrown-back hood revealed the girl’s pale, determined face, her hazel green eyes fixed firmly on the smooth table surface. She deliberately avoided looking at Mai, standing behind the King’s chair next to Brother Bartholomeos.

Perhaps the most drastic change in the council’s chamber was at the chair to Mother Keeper’s left, an ancient seat marked by the chipped image of a black stallion galloping along the plain. The Cha’ori seat, the focus of their worries and hopes, now housed Dagmara, an impassive middle-aged woman with slanted, all-knowing eyes. A large group of the Cha’ori warriors crowded behind.

The High Council was in full assembly. Evan couldn’t believe that they had actually pulled it off. Everything was ready for the Reverend Cyrros to make his appearance.

As the last council members settled into their seats, the doors to the Council Chamber rolled open, letting in a procession of robed men. Cyrros solemnly crossed the hall toward the table, throwing an uneasy glance at Ayalla, the crawling mass of spiders of her dress within easy reach of his narrow, armless chair.

“Welcome, Reverend,” Evan said. “I am overjoyed to have you join this historic gathering, at which every council seat is occupied.”

Cyrros pursed his lips, his eyes darting from Ayalla to Dagmara. “I am duly impressed by this show, Your Majesty. However, I could not help noticing that some of these seats are taken by those who have no right to them.” He paused his eyes on Kyth, then looked at Lady Celana.

“The Lady of Illitand is here in place of her father, who has been temporarily indisposed.”

“Conveniently so,” the Reverend murmured.

“Anyone else’s seat you’d like to contest, Reverend?”

Cyrros raised his hands and pushed the hood off his face.

Pulsing waves of power crept through the hall. They crept straight into the head, making it hard to concentrate.

“You think your pathetic assembly can contest the power of the Church?” he heard Cyrros say.

Struggling to remember what they were going to discuss, Evan looked around the table, meeting the same confusion in the others’ eyes. His gaze was inadvertently drawn to Ayalla. He wasn’t sure why she seemed so important to him. She was obviously powerless against whatever was going on because she made no move to resist, her gaze holding the quiet curiosity of a teacher, interested to see how a group of children was going to get out of a difficult situation they created.

In the stillness that ascended into the room, Kyth raised his head.

“You’re using some strange power, Reverend Cyrros,” he said. “It reminds me of another power I recently encountered. They call it ‘power to control’, don’t they?”

Evan had no idea what he was talking about, but the pressure seemed to have eased a bit as the reverend’s watery eyes rested on the Prince.

“I have no idea what you mean, Your Highness.”

“I think you do, Reverend,” Kyth said. “In addition to your title of Reverend Father, do you also, by any chance, have the title of a Kaddim?”

The reverend’s eyes widened. The pulsing power subsided.

“What a preposterous thing to say, Prince Kythar,” Cyrros said distinctly.

“Do you?”

The two men locked their gazes.

“The title you are referring to,” Cyrros said, “is unfamiliar to me.”

There was a stir in the back row and Ellah stepped forward, meeting Kyth’s gaze.

“That was a lie,” she said, her voice ringing clearly through the hall.

Cyrros jumped up from his chair and backed off. His men surrounded him in a protective ring. He drew himself up, spreading his palms parallel to the floor. There was a momentary stillness and the blast hit, so powerful that Evan shuddered under the blow.

Everyone in sight crouched, cowering under the pulsing force, but several figures remained still. Ayalla kept her back straight, surveying the scene with the calm detachment of an onlooker. Kyth half-closed his eyes, concentrating. But before he could do anything, there was a movement behind them.

Kara and Mai came into motion almost at once. They sprang forward like two black arrows, their slender, powerful shapes moving in unison. Steel rang as it left the sheaths. They spun around and stopped, coming from action to stillness on the same beat.

The flow of power from the reverend’s shape subsided. He stood very still, blades crossed at his throat just short of piercing the skin.

“Won’t you come back to the table, Reverend,” Evan asked pleasantly. “Or, should I say, Kaddim Cyrros?”

The man glanced at the two Majat standing still at his sides, the angle of their blades suggesting that they could go in really deep in a really short time. He moved his gaze to Evan, but before he could say anything, Ayalla stood up.

“
Die
,” she said.

Gray shadows darted away from her body, running across the floor toward Cyrros and the hooded men of his suite. Enough of the spiders disappeared to expose Ayalla’s bare feet and the side of her long, slender leg, but no one paid any notice to this sudden display of flesh. The Forest Woman nodded and each spider struck, digging into their victim’s skin.

Time stopped as the reverend and the men of his suite twisted and sank to the floor, rolling around in horrible agony. A shrill, inhuman wail rose to the ceiling and echoed in the giant stone vault. Ravil El Hossan, one of the few who kept his wits about him, stepped forward and threw his arms around the little princess, forcing her face into his shoulder to spare her the horrifying sight. The rest of them had no choice but to watch.

The men rolling on the floor disintegrated right in front of their eyes. It took minutes for them to stop moving, and what seemed like seconds afterwards before their flesh started peeling away from their bones, trickling onto the floor in a horrifying, reddish goo. More spiders streamed off Ayalla’s body, their crawling mass covering the rest of the mess, hiding the dissolving human bodies from view. Fighting nausea, Evan forced his eyes to the Forest Woman, who stood absolutely naked, her eyes glowing with a deep, indigo fire. In a subtle way, the sight of her was no less horrifying than the sickening action going on at her feet.

Evan couldn’t help looking onward to where Kara and Mai stood side by side in the very center of the turmoil, their faces so still that they looked like masks. Waves of spiders crawled around their feet, making it impossible for them to move. Evan wondered what kind of training it took to make them so controlled in the very midst of terrible chaos, when even the side observers around the council table were sobbing, retching, or nearly fainting.

When it was finally done, the spiders moved over, leaving nothing in place of where thirteen robed men had so recently stood, ready to attack their entire party. There was no trace of flesh, or even bones on the smooth marble floor. Heaped robes and metal orbens were the only evidence that none of it had been a dream.

The spiders returned to the council table and gathered at Ayalla’s feet. They made no attempt to climb back up, surrounding the foundation of her chair with a dark velvety cloud. There was an awkward pause as she stood, peering down her own naked body, as if hesitating what to do. Then Garnald took off his patched forest cloak and stepped forward, wrapping it around her shoulders. She gave him a brief smile and closed it tighter, draping it around herself like an exquisite mantle.

Kara and Mai stirred and flicked their weapons back into the sheaths. They exchanged a brief glance and walked toward the table side by side. Evan could only imagine what it had been like for them, standing inches away from people being digested and eaten alive, but none of it showed in their neat, graceful postures as they took their places at the back of the appropriate chairs. The only indication of their possibly unsettled state was the fact that they had kept their weapons out so long after they had become unnecessary.

Around the table, people were slowly coming to their senses. Lady Celana, the first to regain her composure, sat very still, keeping her careful gaze on Ayalla. Kyth’s face was paler than usual as he exchanged a long look with Alder standing at the back of Ayalla’s chair. The Duke of Aeghor and Sir Orlon of Bengaw, the silent additions to today’s council, didn’t look well at all. Their greenish faces were shamed by the bright pink of Princess Aljbeda’s cheeks as she disengaged from her teacher’s embrace, looking at Ayalla with quiet curiosity.

The Forest Woman turned back to the table, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“We have very little time,” she said. “The enemy is strong, and close. Much too close. Your Church is infested with them. A new Church leader must be appointed, to take care of things.”

She looked across the table to Brother Bartholomeos.

“You,” she said in the quiet commanding voice of someone who didn’t consider disobedience to be an option. “Take the priest’s seat.”

Evan found it admirable that the old priest glanced at Evan and waited for a nod of acknowledgment before making his way around the table toward the empty chair. He took the seat with an uncertain look.

“To make this official, Your Majesty,” Bartholomeos said, “I’ll have to be elected by the Conclave, and this might prove to be a problem. Given my past history–”

“Your past history concerned your disagreement with Reverend Haghos,” Evan said. “And he has recently been proven to be a renegade and a Kaddim Brother. You have the support of the crown, Father Bartholomeos. I’m certain the Conclave will see it this way. It has traditionally consisted of reasonable men.”

Bartholomeos shook his head. “Your Majesty is talking of the men who elected two Kaddim Brothers in a row as Reverend Fathers.”

Evan hesitated. He had no idea whether these choices were made willilngly or under the influence of Kaddim power, but Bartholomeos was right. They needed to find out how deep the problem went and how hard it would be to turn things around. If the Conclave, or some of its key members, were part of the Dark Order…

“We’ll deal with them,” he said. “But first, we have business to conclude at this council. We have a law to vote out.”

“But first, there’s another change due on this council,” the Forest Woman said. She rose from her seat and ran a glance around the seated figures with a fond expression of a mother looking at her children seated at the dinner table.

“Since I cannot be here every time the council meets,” she said, “it is my right to appoint an emissary, who can speak for the Forestlands in my stead.”

She turned to Alder, standing on her left, and smiled. Then she stepped aside and pointed toward her empty seat.

“The seat’s yours, fair one,” she said.

“
Alder
?” Evan asked. “But he–”

The gaze of her deep indigo eyes stopped him.

“You have much to decide,” she said. “And I can’t possibly stay here with you all this time. My children need me. In my absence, you’ll need a man to speak on behalf of the Forest.”

“But
Alder
?” Mother Keeper joined in. “He– he hasn’t even been properly trained!”

Ayalla held her gaze.

“If you mean training in what you call politics, Alder doesn’t need any. You have too many trained people on this council. What you truly need is a man of the forest. A man with a pure heart.”

She turned to Alder and nodded. Alder stepped forward with a stunned look and lowered himself into the seat.

“You are by far the oldest person in this room, Ayalla,” Evan said, “and this seat is rightfully yours since the times before any of us can remember. We have no choice but follow your wish in this matter.”

She met his gaze and smiled.

“You’re right,” she said. “You don’t have a choice. And if I’m not mistaken, you still have business to conclude, don’t you?”

Evan ran his eyes around the group.

“Indeed, lords and ladies,” he said. “As your king, I move to abolish the Ghaz Shalan testing of infants at birth. Since, for the first time in centuries, this council is in full assembly, our vote today can decide the fate of this law. Does anyone wish to object?”

There was a silence.

“Then,” Evan went on, “we hereby abolish the Ghaz Shalan testing. From now on, no gifted children in this kingdom will be put to death.”

Nods came from various seats around the table and shocked glances from others, but nobody spoke. The only one whose face still held doubt was Bartholomeos.

“It would be a hard one to pass through the Church, Your Majesty,” he said quietly. “Especially since my position here isn’t exactly official.”

Evan nodded. “It could indeed be hard if we encounter many of the Dark Order members in the disguise of priests. So, the
real
question is how far did our enemy penetrate our Church?”

“Aghat Raishan and I had recently paid them a visit,” Egey Bashi said. “We didn’t manage to catch Reverend Cyrros in the act, but things looked bad indeed. We barely escaped with our lives.”

A movement around Ayalla drew Evan’s eye. The spiders had started waking up from their stupor and climbing up her legs to regain their places on her body. They were scarce at first, but as more and more of them regained their strength after what must have been an extremely filling meal, they made their way higher, until she, once again, was clad head to foot in their exquisite intertwined velvet. She took off the cloak and handed it back to Garnald. There were a few spiders still clinging to it, but the Mirewalker took it without a flinch and put it back onto his shoulders.

“The enemy’s strong,” Ayalla said. “Things will get worse before they get better. But in the end, we all have a chance.”

She ran her gaze over Kyth, and the Majat standing behind, then moved her eyes over the Keepers and finally rested them on Alder, giving him a fond glance. Then she turned back to Evan, her indigo eyes shining with deep intensity that made Evan shiver.

“Will you stand by our side in this battle, Ayalla?” he asked.

She slowly nodded her head.

“Then,” Evan went on, “we do have a chance.”

Kyth stood in his room staring out of the window at the distant activity in the castle courtyard. Prominent additions to the usual setting made the usually quiet grounds almost unrecognizable. Besides the Kingsguards and stable hands a large crowd of Cha’ori warriors milled around, attending to their horses, which they insisted on keeping outdoors, making the yard look like a rather disorderly extension of the stables. A group of snakewood trees took root by the castle wall, waiting for Ayalla to finish her business with the people, so that they could escort her back into the forest.

Kyth strained his eyes to see into the Majat grounds, but from this angle he couldn’t make out much beyond the jagged line of the wall. He knew that Kara must be in there, polishing weapons with Raishan and Mai, or engaged in one of their strenuous training exercises, to which no outside observers were usually admitted. He longed to see her, to talk to her one on one, but he knew there was nothing he could do until she was ready to come to him herself.

He heard a click of the door opening behind him and turned to look. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the slim, graceful shape outlined against the doorway.

Kara.

She carefully closed the door behind her and approached, stopping by his side. He looked into her eyes, feeling warmth spread through his body at the mere sight of her.

“I came to say I’m sorry,” she said, “for not being around all this time.”

He paused. It was so good to be next to her once again that the past didn’t matter anymore. All he wanted to do was stand and look at her. He slowly shook his head.

“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” he said. “All because of me. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Her gaze wavered. “It wasn’t because of you. The Kaddim Brothers – they
used
you to get to me. They wanted me out of the way. And, they almost succeeded.”

There was a strain in her eyes that made her seem distant. Concern rose in his chest as he looked searchingly into her face.

“What will happen to you now?” he asked.

She hesitated.

“My future’s uncertain,” she said. “Such a thing has never happened before in the history of our Guild. There’s no way to tell what they’ll do if they find out I’m still alive. But for the moment,” she went on, “I seem to be the only Diamond in the history of our Guild with freedom to do what I choose.”

She reached over and touched his cheek. He shivered at the touch, a feeling so intense that he felt momentarily disoriented. He covered her hand with his, pressing it gently against his face.

“Is this what you choose to do?” he asked quietly.

She held his gaze. “No promises.”

“No.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. She shivered. Then she pulled her hand free and stepped into his arms.

Her closeness overwhelmed him. He held her, immersed in the feeling of her skin against his face, her sweet, maddeningly sensual scent that slowly reached into the deepest corners of his mind, filling him with the strength of a thousand men. It felt like coming home after being lost for a very long time. And more. It felt as if he was, once again, complete, as if, after being alone and lost, he had finally found his other half.

He didn’t remember how, instead of standing upright they found themselves lying down on the bed, how the clothes separating their bodies was gone, so that nothing could possibly be in between them anymore. She shivered in his arms as he found his way to the ultimate closeness, so intense that he lost himself in it, letting his body take over from his weakening mind to yield to the overpowering passion that couldn’t possibly be controlled.

It was late evening when they finally emerged from the world beyond worlds, filled with new strength and new weakness that left nothing else to wish for. He lay next to her, feeling her warmth against him with every bit of his skin, and hid his face in her soft golden hair.

Whatever the future held, when she was next to him like this, he wasn’t afraid of anything anymore.

Around them, the sapphire shades of the evening deepened and the wind carried the distant boom of the bittern from the lake.