The Dead God's Due (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 1) (11 page)

Kariana Tasinal, or more
formerly Tasinalta, Empress of Nihlos, was not accustomed to being
awakened at odd hours. She got little enough sleep as it was, and it
was difficult to be ‘empressey’ when she was barely able
to see, much less strike a decent pose. She eyed the empty bottle on
the floor beside her canopied bed.
Mei, why did I drink the whole
thing?

She was even less pleased that
Caelwen should see her in such disrepair.
At least I didn’t
throw up in my sleep.
Not t
hat
she fancied him, at least not any more than she would fancy any
other attractive man. It was that he thought himself perfect, and
him seeing her in this state felt decidedly icky. Her Chief of
Police loomed over the foot of her bed, armored, helmet under his
left arm, his close cropped, blonde hair darkened with sweat. “What
is it, Stone? Did someone spit on the sidewalk again?”

Caelwen’s face hardened
at this.
He’s cute when he’s angry.
She
looked him up and down, appreciating his bulk. Most of her toys were
thin and reedy, with round heads and soft features, but Caelwen was
fairly bursting with lovely, muscled bits, and sported a strong,
square jaw, to boot.
He’s a bit swarthy, though. I
bet he doesn’t even shave his chest!
She imagined running her hand over his face, feeling the point of
his cheekbones and the rough scratch of late day stubble.
I
most certainly could get used to the idea.

His
eyes, however, were cold like winter wind on wet skin.
Perhaps
‘angry’ was a bit of an understatement. ‘Murderous
rage’ might be more appropriate.
“Is war reason enough?” he growled through
clenched teeth.

Kariana adjusted her shift to
cover hear breasts as she rose. “That’s not even a
little funny.”

“Have you ever known me
to joke with you?”

Kariana felt a chill down her
spine at this, and her frivolous manner fell away with her lewd
thoughts. “Why are you here, Caelwen?”

Caelwen nodded, his jaw working
as he struggled for words. “This will sound mad,” he
began, and then trailed off.

He
is actually speechless!
She was torn between shouting for
joy at his unprecedented display of humanity, and collapsing in
panic at whatever could shake him like this. She settled for
prodding at him. “Since when has the Stone had trouble
expressing himself? Out with it!”

Caelwen shot her a glare, then
squared his shoulders and said bluntly, “I believe that I have
captured a scouting party of Southlanders.”

Kariana rubbed at her throbbing
eyes, trying to understand. Southlanders were some ancient thing,
evil men from...the South, somewhere. “What?” she
groaned.
This must be a dream.

“What part did you not
understand, Empress?”

Kariana looked about her
chambers. They
seemed
real
enough, but then dreams often felt very real. She reached beneath
her sheet and surreptitiously pinched her nipple to make certain. It
was painful enough, but nothing changed. “The part about there
being Southlanders
here
.
Where are they from?”

Caelwen
looked a bit uncomfortable at this, and shrugged. “From the
South, I suppose.”
Oh, good! At least I am not the only
idiot!

Kariana
pinched herself again, for all the good it did. “Well, what
makes you think they are Southlanders, then?” she groused.

“Dark skinned men, fierce
warriors of iron will, thick men, almost misshapen. Fearsome
brutes.” He shrugged. “They certainly match what I
learned in school.”

“It cannot be true.”

Caelwen’s jaw bulged as
he ground his teeth. “I used to try that, as a child, just
deny bad things. My sorcery failed me, but perhaps yours is
stronger, eh?”

“Bastard!” Kariana
reached for an ash tray and hurled it at him. “It’s
insane! Why would they return after so long?”

“They say they are
exploring.”

“They are
not
Southlanders!”

“I say they are. I have
seen Talus’s paintings, read Amrath’s descriptions, as
have you. It is simple enough for you to have a look at them and
decide for yourself.”

Kariana simmered in silence for
a moment, absorbing the implications. Her mind was working slowly.
Too many drugs, too little sleep. “Let us say you are correct.
Why would you capture them? Why provoke an incident?”

Caelwen nodded, looking, to her
amazement, quite abashed. “Mistakes were made. They surprised
our patrol, actually introduced themselves. The sergeant in charge
sent back to the city for instructions and support. I was sleeping
at the time. My second sent the wrong man to handle it, and that man
turned a diplomatic situation into a battle. I chose the man who
gave the order. I accept full responsibility.”

Kariana could feel her eyes
bulging from their sockets fury and fear. “How could this
happen
?” she
shrieked. “What were they thinking?”

“They weren’t
thinking. They were reacting as they have been trained.” He
shrugged. “They are commoners, Empress. They are largely
idiots by design.”

“Mei! How many are dead?”

“Of them? None. They
crushed our people with brutal efficiency. They killed nine of ours
outright, and wounded another twenty three. If I don’t get my
men medical attention quickly, at least ten of those will be dead by
morning.”

“Why are you waiting?”

“Containment, Empress.
Everyone
involved
is under lockdown until you decide how to handle things.”
Caelwen clenched a hand into a fist and pounded at his leg. “And
I beg you decide quickly. Those are young men, many with families.”

Kariana breathed a sigh of
relief. Then it was not yet war. For once, she was profoundly
grateful for Caelwen’s rigidity. “They must have
ambushed our men? Or were they outnumbered?”

“Neither. There were
twenty of them. Our men outnumbered them five to one.”

“Mei!”

Caelwen nodded gravely. “Now,
perhaps you understand why I believe as I do.”

Kariana returned his nod, her
eyes darting back and forth as she tried to make sense of things, to
find a path out of this disaster. “Send to House Amrath for
Aiul. Have him tend to your men. Him and no one else, do you
understand? And tell him
nothing
!
I need time to think.”

Caelwen left quickly, concern
for his men spurring him onward, no doubt. The moment her chamber
door closed, she leapt from her bed and rushed to her bar. With
trembling hands, she drank straight from a bottle of brandy until
the burn overwhelmed her.

For a while, the panic owned
her.
Southlanders!
They had defeated even the
founders
.
What hope could she have against them? She could no more meet them
in war than a mouse could battle a lion. Nihlos would be crushed!

Before long, the brandy had the
desired effect. Her mind grew slower, calmer. She was not entirely
defenseless. The Spirit Shield would keep them out, or kill them if
they tried to enter the city. But it would only delay the
inevitable. How long could the city last without its outlying farms?

She allowed herself a small
hope. Perhaps they were not here for war? Perhaps it was true that
they were exploring. Perhaps they had forgotten their old enmity. A
millennium was a long time. If they had come for war, would they not
have brought more than twenty? Perhaps, perhaps not. It would make
sense to send an innocuous party to probe their defenses, spy upon
them. And such spies would report terrible weakness, a defenseless
city ripe for plucking.

She began to pace, a plan
forming slowly in her mind as she weighed the possibilities and
alternatives. One possibility was war with the Southlanders. This
was unthinkable. At the very least, she needed time to muster an
army, and even then, she doubted her chances at matching them. Under
no circumstances could she take any action that might lead to war.
Not yet.

Yet weakness itself might well
provoke an attack, if they were hostile. If they were truly
peaceful, then insult or injury could likewise trigger disaster.
There had
already
been a fight. Who knew what they thought, or what the repercussions
of that might be?

If they were truly here in
peace, then it would be very good for Nihlos, and for her
personally. And yet, how could she know? Asking would be useless.
Surely, they would lie if they intended harm?

Unless, of course, she ripped
the truth from them. That would solve the one problem. Their deaths
would solve the other. If they were peaceful, then so be it. No one
need ever know what had happened. No one in Nihlos had ever seen
them.

She took another drink, feeling
the pounding in her temples slowly subside. She could control this.
She could reset this.

It would be easy.

Aiul woke to the sound of
shouts. He was confused, sleep addled. What was going on? Lara was
just beginning to stir when Garas’s cry of pain sliced through
the fog in his head. Aiul leapt up and grabbed his robe, fear for
Garas dancing in his chest like cold flame, driving him forward.

Lara moaned softly as he
shrugged his way into the robe. “What’s going on?”
Aiul gave no answer. Instead, he took a heavy candle holder from
beside her and slipped out into the hallway.

“You have no right to be
here!” Garas cried out from the front door. “There are
other physicians.”

“I have orders to bring
this
physician,
and I follow my orders, slave. If you did the same, you should not
be bleeding.” Aiul’s felt his guts twist in fear and
confusion. He recognized that voice. What could Caelwen Luvox want
here in the middle of the night? Could this be some play by his
mother, having him arrested to split him from Lara?

“My master is resting!”

“Slave, you have three
choices: lead, get out of my way, or pain. Think of it this way, how
can he rest if he’s up all night repairing what I am about to
do to you, eh?”

Aiul had heard enough. If it
was his mother’s trap, so be it. He could not allow Garas to
take a beating from the police simply to save him. He cinched his
robe and strode into the foyer.

“What is going on here?”
he asked as he took in the scene. Caelwen stood in the open door, a
mailed fist raised to strike. Garas, blood running freely from his
nose and mouth, was doing his best to block Caelwen from entering.
“You dare strike my slave?”

“It is nothing, master,”
Garas assured him. “Go back to sleep.”

Caelwen lowered his fist and
turned to Aiul. “I did. I am here under orders, as I told
him.”

“Orders from whom?”

Caelwen shook his head in
exasperation. “Who do you think orders the Captain of the
Guard to your home at such an hour, fool?”

Aiul nodded, feeling a bit
staggered. This was not his mother, then. This was something
serious. “That still does not give you the right to strike my
slave.”

“Then sue me, House
Amrath. Isn’t that one of your family’s more
disreputable arts? But for now, you’ll come with me or you’ll
get the same.”

Aiul stared at him in shock.
“You threaten me?”

“It’s not a threat.
It’s a promise.” The look in Caelwen’s eyes was
undeniable. He was absolutely serious. “You do not know the
severity of the situation, and I am not at liberty to reveal it. Now
will you come, or must I drag you?”

Aiul stammered momentarily,
angry at such treatment, but knowing the only reason one summoned a
physician at such an hour was that people were dying. “Let me
gather my equipment.”

“
Quickly
,
doctor. As quickly as you possibly can!”

Aiul knew about triage, had
been trained in how to choose who lived and died, but he had never
needed to practice it before. It was difficult, far more than he had
imagined. This one might live, if he were the only one, if I had
time, if you had gotten him to me sooner, but now I inject him with
morphine to ease his passing and move on to the next. This one is
already dead. Next. This one is screaming loudest. His stomach is
penetrated and spilling into his bloodstream. Another for morphine.
Next. Mei! It’s bad, blood everywhere, but it’s still
pumping, so maybe there is a chance. If I can just find the source.
There, but Mei! I can’t mend that! Fine. Morphine, but this
time with purpose. Bring me a burning iron and a saw! Now!

On and on it went, too long and
too urgent. When it was done, he collapsed into a corner and covered
his face with bloody hands, trying not to sob. In truth, he had done
much better than he had imagined. Twenty three wounded, ten mortally
so. Of these, two were dead when he arrived, another died while he
was tending the others, and two were far away on clouds, awaiting
their time. He had saved five (four and three quarters counting the
leg he had sawn off, he reminded himself). No so bad for a hopeless
situation. Half was good, considering.

When he finally looked up from
his minor collapse, Caelwen was standing over him, impassive as
ever. “I owe you thanks, surgeon.”

“Eh? Oh, yes, of course.
I wish I could have done more. If I had been here sooner, I could
have saved at least two more.”

Caelwen shrugged. “The
situation is as it is. You did what you could, and I am grateful.”

Aiul cleared his throat
pointedly. “And exactly what is the ‘situation’?”

Caelwen stared down at Aiul
with emotionless, pale blue eyes and placid face. “That is a
matter of state security, on a need to know basis. You do not need
to know.”

“I know a sword wound
when I see one!”

“I recommend you not
speak of that knowledge, surgeon. I recommend it most highly.”