Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams (54 page)

As friendly irregulars rushed onboard, one of his archers commented, “I think we’re sinking, Lord Niftkin.”

“Aye, that happens to every ship I’m on. Get used to it.”

“Shall we take the flag back to the emperor, lord?”

“Hell, no. We have a mission to complete. Find Sandarac’s cabin.”

“That would be the one with the big windows in the aft.”

“Men of Center, to me,” Niftkin shouted, praying he’d be able to stand and not go into shock.

He was startled when a cluster of fireballs struck the golden crescent, blowing one end off the huge artifact. Another one of the demons died. Black clouds billowed from the deck of the
Lady of the Deep
. “Not my battle,” he muttered, using the mast to rise. An archer held up his left side and together, they made it to the emperor’s cabin.

The door was reinforced metal with every known glyph and ward decorating the surface. Drawing in a shaky breath, Niftkin shouted, “Surrender or die!”

A voice from inside the room said, “You’ll never get in!”

Niftkin put his blade in the crack of the door and pushed. The handle heated in his hand as he dragged it upward. When he’d sheered through the last hinge, the door fell into the lavish bedchamber. Sitting on the floor with a model of Center around him was a man in a black cape and an iron crown. He had marked every attack point with red chalk.

Sandarac swallowed hard. He only had three guards left, and the halls were brimming with angry sailors from the city he’d just torched. “Pagaose mentioned something about a deal where I’d rule the western half of his empire.”

“That ship,” said Niftkin, “has sailed.” He ducked back and let the archers do their duty. When the last defender fell, he strode forward and beheaded the Pretender with a blade that glowed. “That’s for Ember.”

He wrapped the head in the flag and announced to the others, “Tell the men on the other ships that Sandarac is dead. Long live Emperor Pagaose.”

On Starday, Pinetto stood before the College of Wizards in the palace council chambers as he summarized the naval battle. “After we neutralized the fire mages with smoke, the Chorus managed to reform. Between the
Elegance
team taking the flagship, the arkies terrorizing the invaders from the
Pride of Fireton,
and one more pounding from the Scythe, the enemy surrendered. Lady Komiko and Lord Niftkin are recovering upstairs. We’ve already dispatched the Greens and the arkies to inform the other islands and mop up any resistance.”

 “What about Humi?” asked Pagaose.

“We’ve sent a courier. Sarajah said that Serog could reason with her, but we can’t find any trace of the dragon.”

“What else does Queen Sarajah say?”

“She returned to the Crooked Isle with Ashterah and the Scythe. They lost five of the thirteen demons.” He didn’t mention the side trip to meet Archanos. Ashterah wanted to be reunited with her husband. Sarajah was needed to wear the eighth suit of armor in the goddess’ place so the Scythe could make the journey back to the armory.

“You’re not returning with her?”

“The . . . heat in the Outer Islands isn’t to my liking.” Pinetto replied. “I much prefer the welcome of Kiateros.”

“Indeed,” the emperor said with a grin. “We have given you leave to return for the birth of your child once the Festival is complete. Any diplomatic messages for me?”

Pinetto passed over a page from ‘the Song of Serog’ with a hastily scrawled note on the back. “She has offered to join his majesty’s empire in exchange for her rule of the plague-lands. She also wishes the return of the Crooked Isle from Zanzibos as part of the war reparations.”

Pagaose nodded. “I concur. Any opposed?”

The judge councilman noted, “That’s a lot of territory, sire.”

“And even more work rebuilding. Do you want to do it?”

“No, sire.”

“Motion passes. Any other old business?”

The judge slid over a sealed document. “In view of evidence submitted by Lady Komiko and Lady Corrie’s meritorious service in the war effort, the high court clears Lady Evershade of all wrongdoing and restores her title.”

“Thank you,” the emperor said, accepting the judgment. “I will have her family honor returned.”

Pinetto interjected, “Where is she? Queen Sarajah left a gift for her that I was supposed to deliver.”

“Out of order,” the judge said, banging.

Pagaose said, “This is his first council meeting. We should grant a little leeway to the man we just decorated as a hero. We’ll find her soon. I’m sure she’s just catching up on some much-deserved rest. Other old business?”

Lord Pangborn sighed. He’d drawn the short straw to raise this issue. “The Spring Festival is still scheduled for Sunday. Lady Anna has enrolled another twenty women with the influx of Reneau Imperial officers, mainly widows and slightly older, unmarried candidates. We won’t have room for it on the dueling grounds anymore.”

The emperor closed his eyes. “No. Having it there would be wrong—too much death for a celebration of life.”

“I recommend the Osos memorial,” said Pangborn. On a reef that could be reached inside an hour, the memorial symbol marked the location immediately under the Compass Star. Open to the sky, the holy site was covered by a large, round platform so that hundreds could pay their respects to Osos at one time.

Ashford nodded. “The yachts can tie off there and make the party space bigger. Seconded.”

“It’ll give people a chance to get off the island and see the beautiful weather. We’ve all been cooped up here too long,” said the judge. “Opposed?”

The emperor rubbed his forehead. “Do I have to go?”

Every other man at the table said, “Yes.”

The judge tapped his gavel. “Carried. New business?”

Pagaose said, “Whereas we need a new abbot for Muro, I nominate my chief scribe as replacement. This doesn’t need council approval, but I wanted his meritorious service entered in the record.”

“So noted.”

The judge raised his hand. “Point of law: the murder of a priest of Osos is a capital offense. We should write out a warrant for Navarra’s arrest and any other soldier present. There were over sixteen such murders.”

Lord Pangborn scoffed. “What about the rule of Archanos? Everyone gets a second chance.”

Pagaose said, “A compromise: we pardon the soldiers if they bring me the staffs of three fire mages for every priest of Osos and thirty for the abbot.”

“I’m not sure there are that many fire mages left,” said a clerk doing the math.

“It’s a fair chance and solves several problems, including prison overcrowding,” said the judge.

“I also need a new yacht to take to the Dance,” Pagaose said. “Niftkin sort of made my last one into a fish habitat.”

Ashford chuckled. “I’m fresh out.”

No one in the College wanted to pay for a new yacht for one event. Finally, the judge suggested, “The quarters on
Lady of the Deep
appeared luxurious enough. It would also provide a measure of security.”

“Seconded.”

“Show of hands. Carried. Next item.”

Pinetto cleared his throat. “Several kegs of Lady Anna’s Peach Ale survived the burning.”

Lord Sulfur volunteered, “I’ve sampled some. It’s quite good. Smooth is an understatement.”

“Since this ale was brewed in honor of choosing the new empress,” Pinetto continued, watching the emperor for signs of displeasure, “she formally requests to use the name ‘Empress Ale’.”

“Have my herald come in.”

“Yes, sire.”

Anna approached Pagaose. He said, “Had you the name of empress, you could name the ale anything you pleased.”

“Sire, may I speak freely?”

“Always.”

She sighed. “You’ve chosen a more violent path than my nature can abide. A wife should support her husband in all things.” She faced the floor. “I understand you need to do terrible things to save lives, but I can’t watch you do them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I wish to follow Lord Pinetto back to Kiateros. I own a brewery there now, and he has offered me the wing of his mansion once occupied by Queen Sarajah.”

Pagaose stared at her for a long while. His voice cracked as he said, “You have been a faithful herald. I award you the name for your brew here and in Kiateros as well, so that my subjects will know of your value. You may depart after you fulfill your role as Dance chaperone.” He waved a hand to dismiss her.

He looked about to say something more, but Lord Vapordoom interrupted. “Managing the fire brigades from the observatory worked rather well during the crisis. I think we should discuss making a permanent improvement of this nature.”

Anna walked out, ignored by the debate that had transformed the succession war into the everyday.

****

Serog lay on the deck of the barge, held down by chains made of black glass. “Please, feed me, daughter,” she begged. Wisps of smoke wafted up where the sunlight melted her.

Humi paced, her prominent stomach telling all about her advanced pregnancy. “You let them kill my husband.”

“I am injured. I don’t have a body in the Halls of Eternity. If I perish—”

“Then you’ll do what I say!” the empress of the north shrieked. “Are you listening?”

“I can hear the whisper of your need across the sea, child.”

“Silence. Yes or no answers.”

The dragoness closed her eyes.

“Can I extract a vow from you in exchange for freeing you?”

“Yes.”

“If Pagaose dies now, would the College support my child?”

“Likely. He’s named you as concubine as he promised me.”

Humi beat the dragon with a whip tipped in sesterina. The tip hissed and left scratches in the sunlight. When she was done venting, Humi repeated, “Yes or no. Can you travel as a spirit like my servant Tumberlin did?”

“Yes.”

“In daylight?”

“No.”

Humi smiled, stroking the whip handle. “Will you honor the oaths written in your holy books?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want you to finish what you started. If you want your body back, travel to Center, consume Pagaose’s heart, and dance on his grave.”

“Yes.”

“Cover her up,” Humi ordered. “She’s starting to stink.”

On the night before the Dance celebration, Corrie sat on the balcony of the new lighthouse, the most isolated spot in Center, where no one would hear her scream. The drugs Ashford fed her were supposed to keep her unconscious, but she’d developed a resistance from her own drug habit over the past few months. She clenched the bird figurine around her neck with one hand as she petted the fox with her other. “Maybe I should kill myself, Kitten.”

 “Why would you want to do that?”

So drugged that she didn’t wonder at the fox’s speech, Corrie answered, “Because otherwise, mean men will hold me hostage to make the emperor do terrible things. I wish they’d kidnapped me after the courts returned my family Honor. I could’ve stabbed myself quickly. I’m just worried that the fall to those rocks won’t kill me right away. It’s going to hurt, Kitten.”

“You’re very brave.”

“I’m a lady of the first circle,” she said, finally noticing that the fox was asleep on her lap. “Who said that?” She rose and crept into the room. In the cracked mirror beside her bed, Corrie saw a woman in mourning white with a huge bloodstain spreading across her abdomen. Was this what she would become if she committed suicide?

“You wear my jewelry. The day has come for me to reclaim it.”

“No, please. I’ll do anything to keep it. The figurine is all I have to remind me of Pagose.”

The woman in white makeup tilted her head. “He loves you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” said the mirror.

“He loves me in dreams.”

“Yes.”

“If only I could get out of here,” said Corrie.

“There might be a way I could help you with that.”

“I have friends and influence.”

“Not very good ones if you’re stuck here. I’d need something from
you
.”

“Anything.”

“Hmm. That’s the second time you’ve said that. I wonder if you mean it.” The woman in the mirror wasn’t so transparent now. She had more substance, and the wound on her side wasn’t so ragged.

Corrie put her hand to her chest. “I feel so empty.”

“I can fill that void and save Pagaose from blackmail.”

“You seem familiar somehow.”

“We have a lot in common, but you’re far prettier than I ever was.”

Lady Evershade blushed. “My face is synonymous with shame. I could never show it for all the wrongs I’ve done.”

“I could.” The woman on the other side of the mirror was now identical, posing and examining her new body from all angles. “And I could dine for a week on your iniquity and regrets.” Corrie’s face looked out of the warped mirror at her. “Down to business. If you could have one wish, no matter how outrageous right now, what would that be?”

Lady Evershade didn’t hesitate. “I want to dance with Pagaose in the flesh.”

“You could.”

“You could arrange that?”

Serog smiled. “I’m a goddess. I can give all this to you: life, rescuing your emperor from Ashford, devouring all your guilt, revenge, and your dearest dream. I only ask a small fee in return—the use of your body.”

“For how long?” Corrie asked nervously.

“Forever.” When the mortal’s eyes grew wide, Serog reasoned, “Hardly a price at all since you were going to throw it away.” Suddenly, the mirror image was standing behind her. “Even if you didn’t jump, how long could you live with all this shame and pain?”

Corrie choked back a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“A part of you will live on in me. We’re joined already in the Eog. You drank from my life. All we need to do to complete the circle is let me drink from you.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It will be like entering a dream. Since I feel what your body does, I’ll take every effort to avoid future pain. If there’s too much discomfort, you can slip away any time you like.”

“I don’t know,” Corrie said, sitting on the bed.

Serog knelt behind her on the bed, wrapped her arms around the noblewoman, and whispered in her ear, “If you don’t go, by noon Pagaose is going to be pulling his pants down for sweet, young Majah.”