The Crown of the Conqueror (33 page)

  "I can't deal with the situation in Magilnada and the Mekhani at the same time. The treasury is almost empty, and the nobles will not be putting up any more money for the campaign any time soon. Tax revenues are low, and slow to come in. I'm paying legions in Salphoria to stand idle. Anglhan is strangling trade through the Magilnada gap. I had hoped to hire some Nemurians to bolster the armies, but there is not the money for more than a handful. I thought the resources of the empire were inexhaustible. It seems I was woefully wrong."

  
Are you asking for my advice, or simply complaining?

  Ullsaard hesitated, kneading his knotted brow with his fingers.

  "I need your help," he admitted. He sighed heavily. "There are so many decisions to make. Everyone has plenty of advice, but every piece comes with another demand for action, another choice to make."

  
You thought being king would be a mere matter of leading the armies to victory and everything else would fall into place?

  Ullsaard grunted and slumped to one side, elbow on the arm of the chair.

  "Maybe. I have a chancellor, governors, paymasters, engineers all filling my head with information, expecting me to make sense of it all."

  
You know the advice I would give.

  "The Brotherhood." Ullsaard shook his head. "How can I trust them?"

  
You misjudge them, and their loyalty. The Brotherhood is dedicated
to the success of the empire and not one man. Only one, the High
Brother, knows the truth of my existence. With the line broken, you
are the rightful king. The Brotherhood will ease away the many pains
of rule, allowing you to concentrate on the matters that are truly im
portant. I could not have founded the empire without them. Like you,
I have no mind for figures and commerce, though I have picked up
much strategy over the years. Do not carry burdens others are willing
to bear for you.

  Ullsaard sorrowfully shook his head and scratched at his chin.

  "It's too late," he said. "I do not know how to start the rebuilding of the Brotherhood. Most of the Brothers fled, some are under house arrest, and I have several thousand of them under guard in a camp at Parmia. I don't know what to do with them, or how to start things moving again."

  
You are the king. There is still one right you have yet to exercise. Go
the Grand Precincts and demand entry, as is your sole privilege.

  "The Grand Precincts are as deserted as any of the others. My men had no response from within. The High Brother has fled, no doubt, with the rest of his cronies. No food or other supplies have passed into the building for more than a year; there's nobody in there."

  
The Grand Precinct is never deserted, Ullsaard. Have you gone yourself to the great door and demanded entry?

  "No, why would I? The knock of one man is the same as any other."

  
You are not any other man, you are the king! You accept your respon
sibilities with furrowed brow and sagging shoulders, but make no use
of the rights that you possess. Go to the Grand Precincts. I will guide you.

  The king considered this. There was no assurance that Askhos could be trusted; in fact, every reason to believe the opposite. Similarly, the Brotherhood was Askhos' tool, and had used every means they had to thwart Ullsaard's claim to the Crown. It was likely they would continue to resist his rule.

  
Your are wrong,
Askhos interrupted his thoughts.
The Brotherhood opposed you because you were a usurper and, as Lutaar, I
instructed them to. You still act like a usurper, not a rightful king. Re
establish the Brotherhood and command them as I did. Show the
Brotherhood that you do not fear them, that you have every right to wear
the Crown as any man that came before you. You think that the Broth
erhood is inactive, simply because they do not carry out your bidding?
Better to bring them back into the light of your gaze than leave them to
foster their own plans in the shadows.

  This last comment struck a chord with Ullsaard. In Askhira, with the burning of Ullsaard's fleet, the Brotherhood had demonstrated their power to work unseen. Even now they could be manipulating the people of the empire. Somewhere, Erlaan and Kalmud were still alive, and no doubt there were those amongst the Brotherhood who would see the previous line restored. Askhos was right. If Ullsaard was to be treated as a king, he had to act like one.

  A bell chimed the second hour of Duskwatch. The thought of going to the Grand Precincts as darkness fell unsettled Ullsaard.

  "I will sleep on the decision," he said, though the laughter of Askhos in Ullsaard's mind revealed that the dead king knew his true reasons for delaying until the light of morning.

 

Only the drip of the water clock disturbed the silence within the mausoleum-like bowels of the Grand Precincts. Consisting of two bowls set one above the other, the clock sat on the table in the chamber of the High Brother.

  Lakhyri stared at the drops of water as they fell, his golden eyes following each from the top bowl to the second. It intrigued and irked him in equal measure, this passing of time, the slow wearing of mortality and entropy. In the Temple he was immortal; here in the world every passing drip was a passing moment of his life. It did not wear on him heavily, but was a slow erosion of his existence like the wind wearing down a mountaintop. The runes carved into his flesh itched, leeching life-giving power from the thousands of small creatures and insects that infested the deserted Grand Precincts, sustaining him with their tiny contributions of force.

  He dismissed thoughts of time and turned his mind to more pressing matters. Erlaan was installed as the new figurehead of the Mekhani. He was under instruction to begin a more concerted campaign against Okhar before the end of the year. The situation in Salphoria was confusing to the high priest. He could fathom no reason why Ullsaard had stalled his advance so swiftly. By Lakhyri's calculation, the king should have been smashing down the gates of Carantathi by the end of the summer.

  Lakhyri wondered if he had moved too soon. Had encouraging the Mekhani distracted Ullsaard from his campaign? It seemed unlikely. The raids had been carefully planned to add impetus to the king's war, not delay it. Ullsaard was meant to crush Salphoria swiftly so that he could return to deal with the Mekhani attacks. Instead, he had called a halt to his conquest and returned to Askh.

  Like many things of late, it perturbed Lakhyri that matters were progressing in ways he had not foreseen. Ullsaard was so unpredictable. Other men, even his brother Askhos, had been simple to manipulate; acting and reacting in ways that had been laid out in Lakhyri's mind like a map. This new king, he caused problems. He was an anomaly. He should never have been born. From that moment, things had started to go awry, even if the full extent of his deviation from the great plan of Lakhyri was not yet fully known.

  The high priest reined back his thoughts from such amorphous speculation. He had to focus. The dripping of the water clock rang loudly in his ears, reminding him that the eulanui were losing patience. He could not allow himself to be distracted by the longer consequences of what had gone wrong. The empire had to be complete. Ullsaard needed to conquer Salphoria. At the moment of Ullsaard's triumph, Erlaan would sweep hotwards with his Mekhani horde and take over Greater Askhor, thus uniting the new empire of Askh with the ancient realm of Mekha. As foretold, a single king would rule all of the lands between the seas.

  And when that happened…

  A gong echoed along the corridors. For a moment, Lakhyri thought that he was back in the Temple, hearing the call to prayer. The moment passed and as the gong sounded twice and thrice, he realised what was happening. The lingering presence of Udaan stirred in a corner of the body Lakhyri had stolen from the High Brother and the meaning of the three gong notes became clear.

  The new king was paying a visit.

  He picked up the silver mask lying next to the water clock and pulled its straps over his head. Lifting up the hood of his robe, Lakhyri stood, mind abuzz with concerns at this development.

  With long strides, he navigated his way along the corridors and halls until he came to the large double doors of the Grand Precinct's main portal. Pulling a rope, he activated a series of counterweights. The doors ground inwards, sweeping two arcs through the dust that had settled on the stone floor.

  Morning light streamed inside, silhouetting a large man stood with legs braced apart, arms folded across a muscled chest. He was dressed in a simple tunic and kilt. Lakhyri noted with interest that he did not wear the Crown, and there was no sword at his waist.

  So this was Ullsaard, who had stolen the Crown of the Blood. Lakhyri measured up the man in an instant. Physically powerful, self-confident, ingrained with the assumption of command. Prideful. He had come here unarmed, which showed that he was either arrogant or naive. Lakhyri detected the singular presence of the Blood, lingering beneath the surface of the man.

  Remembering that he currently played the part of the High Brother, Lakhyri dropped to one knee, eyes locked on the newcomer.

  "Welcome, King Ullsaard, to the Grand Precincts of the Brotherhood."

 

Lakhyri ushered the king into the reception hall, noting the man's roving eyes and tenseness in his body that conflicted with his affected air of confidence.

  "You're not Udaan," said Ullsaard. "Even without the eyes, I can tell you're someone else by the way you hold yourself."

The high priest did not waste his precious time with denial.

  "My name is Lakhyri. I am the custodian of the Brotherhood's secrets. If I can be of any service, please inform me."

  Ullsaard paused for a moment, the slightest of frowns creasing his brow, as if he was listening to someone whispering in his ear. He gave a slight, involuntary shake of the head.

  "Show me everything," said the king. "The Archive of Ages, the lava tanks, the ailur pits."

  "There is little to see, my king. There are no Brothers here except for me."

  "And we both know that you are not really a Brother," said Ullsaard, a lopsided smile briefly twisting his lips. "You are something far more important, aren't you? And you can dispense with calling me 'king'; I know that you have no loyalty to me."

  Lakhyri stifled a hissing intake of breath. He scoured the king's face, searching for clues as to his intent. The high priest detected amusement, curiosity. And something else, something Lakhyri could not place, momentary distractions of attention.

  "You are well-informed," said Lakhyri. A glimmer of an answer was born in the depths of the priest's mind, but it was indistinct, as yet nascent. "Unnaturally so."

  "King Lutaar was very helpful before I slit his throat," said Ullsaard.

  The implied threat was immature, an unnecessary reversion to basic animal instinct. Lakhyri smiled thinly behind his mask, certain that the usurper was far less sure of himself than he was pretending.

  "It is not a tour of the Grand Precincts that brought you here," said Lakhyri. He waved for Ullsaard to follow and turned towards the corridor that led to his adopted chamber. "If you would come with me, we can discuss these matters in more… comfort."

  Ullsaard stepped forward quickly; catching up with Lakhyri in four strides, anxious not to be trailing behind the man he considered his inferior. Again, the king's eyes were taking in every detail; the stonework, the dust on the tiled floor, the faded murals all were subjected to his active gaze.

  "The Grand Precincts are older than Askh, right?" said Ullsaard.

  Lakhyri glanced to his left to see the king trailing his fingertips along the wall, perhaps trying to get a sense of the place by touch when eyes and ears had failed. Lakhyri considered something else. Ullsaard clearly had the Blood, and as one of the Temple's interfaces in this world, the Grand Precincts resonated with the king on a level he probably did not understand.

  "Many thousands of years older," said Lakhyri.

  He sensed that Ullsaard already knew this. He was probing, questioning Lakhyri in a manner more subtle than his questions suggested, trying to get a measure of the priest, judging his honesty. Lakhyri was happy to be open for the moment. The more Ullsaard understood about what he faced, the better the chance that he would accede to Lakhyri's demands when they were made. Already the high priest was reconsidering his schemes, intrigued by the possibility that Ullsaard might be prepared to take up where Askhos-as-Lutaar had failed, without the need for too much subterfuge.

  They reached a junction in the passageway and Lakhyri noticed that Ullsaard was turning to the right, towards the chamber, before the priest had indicated the path they needed to follow. It was a small thing, but it raised fresh suspicions in Lakhyri's mind; Ullsaard already knew this place. It was impossible. No mortal save for the members of the Brotherhood had stepped foot inside this building, and even the most gruesome torture would not make them reveal their secrets. For all that, Ullsaard's existence had meant to be impossible, yet here he was, literally as large as life, towering over the wizened priest as they reached the study chamber.

  Lakhyri held aside the curtain of beads across the door, dipping his head to indicate to Ullsaard that he should enter. As the king passed, the priest's golden eyes bore into Ullsaard, looking past the flesh and bones, trying to see the web of energy within. The Blood glittered in Lakhyri's altered vision, and there was an odd haze about the king's head that he had not seen before. It was another clue, but the meaning and importance Lakhyri could not yet divine.