The Empire Stone (32 page)

Peirol leaned across a boulder, on a high hill overlooking Sennen. Behind him were three horses, one saddled, two with packs. Dawn was coming fast. The river was a bright silver way, leading to the sea, past the ruins of Thyone. He looked across Sennen to the dark finger that was Abbas’s tower.

He’d been in Sennen for just two weeks, living, somewhat uncomfortably, at the tower, although the old man, when he noticed Peirol, called him, abstractedly, “Son-in-law.” Thinking of a wizard as a father-in-law made him even more unsettled.

Kima had spent the time either enthusiastically telling Peirol what their future would be, or with equal enthusiasm in bed, eagerly learning the tricks of Reni, Ellena, Zaimis, showing him some others of her own. That at least was wonderful, better than anything he’d ever known. But still …

Three nights ago, Abbas gleefully announced the time was close when he would use the Empire Stone for the first time, three days distant, just at dawn. They’d all had a little too much wine at dinner, and Kima had pressed Abbas to tell Peirol what he planned. The wizard had been reluctant, then grew enthusiastic.

“First, of course,” he said, “is to deal with my enemies, those few I haven’t had the powers to already take care of. I’ve approached the rulers of the city at various times, and sounded them to see how they feel about some of my ideas on government. Some favor my ideas. Some, the more malleable or stupid, I think I can live with. But others must be removed, either for being set in their ways or too ambitious. Sennen as a whole, as a living entity, must change, will be growing beyond its present borders, and no one can stand in its way.

“There are those who think Sennen should move in other directions than the ones I know to be right, or worse, they want the city to be mired as it is for all time. They too must be removed. That shall be the first change I shall make. By the time you two waken, Sennen shall be as a new city.”

“Then what?” Peirol asked.

“Then I shall proclaim my majesty,” Abbas said. “For with the Stone, none can stand before me.”

“No,” Peirol agreed. “You’ll reign supreme.”

“Tell him, Grandsire, what other changes you’ll make, once you hold the throne.”

“I’ll need no throne, none of earth’s trappings of velvet and nonsense,” Abbas said. “What I have here is more than sufficient.”

“Not for me.”

“Then we’ll build the two of you a palace like the world’s never known,” Abbas said agreeably. He chortled, poured more wine. “Then I’ll rebuild Sennen. We’ll have no more crime, no more criminals. The Stone can scent them out, punish them as they deserve, without need for judges, trials, or prisons. The diseased, the cripples, the misshapen — not, Peirol, of course, the poor folk who’re like yourself — but the others, will no longer trouble our eyes. The poor — those that are willing to work, and work hard, to improve their lot — they’ll become one with the rest of Sennen. The slums, the tenements, the thieves’ district, they’ll all be razed, and new buildings, buildings that I’ve designed, will be erected.

“Sennen shall be a place where all work together, to my and their great glory. It shall be a city where all men, everywhere, shall envy us. I’ll go further. The gods themselves will be jealous!”

Kima was looking hard at Peirol. He avoided her eyes, came to his feet, glass raised. “To the new Sennen! And to you, Abbas!”

• • •

Peirol had, the next night, talked to Kima about one of his problems. He walked in his sleep, and was afraid he’d stumble into one of the traps or magical guards he knew Abbas had set within the tower. Kima told him he had nothing to fear — the wards were only set for intruders. The three of them were safe, no matter where they went, at what time. They could even go out of the tower and the grounds. Her grandfather was hardly foolish enough to build a trap he himself might step in.

“Besides,” she said, “I plan on keeping you so tired you’ll never have the energy to somnambulate.”

Laughing, they’d rolled onto the bed, clothes falling away.

The next day Peirol had visited Sennen, outfitting horses and packs, finding a stable on the outskirts of the city to keep them hidden. All that remained was buying one tiny tool, from a fellow jeweler who was most envious of Peirol’s new lot.

The final day had passed quietly, peacefully, and Kima and Peirol had eaten lightly. Abbas was fasting. He told them the next day, the day that would mark the beginning of real power, there would be a feast. In fact, that would be a good time to announce the wedding.

Kima squealed happily, Peirol pretended equal joy. “I think,” she announced, when they were alone, “we should stop our constant lovemaking until we’re married.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you — and myself as well — to be as fevered as we were that first time by the pool, when we go on our honeymoon.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Peirol said, and Kima had looked a bit surprised, then smiled happily. He doubted if he would have been able to perform at all that night.

“I’m going to
love
being your wife, Peirol. I can’t see why we’ll
ever
have an argument.”

When Kima’s breathing became regular, Peirol had dressed, except for his sword belt and shoes, which he carried and left beside the door.

He moved carefully, using all the skills he’d seen thieves use, past Abbas’s bedroom, up into his study at the top of the tower. Peirol looked for the Empire Stone, saw it not, panicked for a moment until he saw a crystal case on a table, a case he’d never seen before.

He opened the case and took out the Empire Stone, keeping his eyes turned away. Peirol took his tiny tool, a jeweler’s scribe, from his pouch, and gouged the Stone deeply along one facet. He felt the groove with his fingernail, chanced deepening it once again.

He saw, through the window, a lamp go on below him, quickly replaced the Empire Stone, put it back on the table. Peirol found a corner, crouched until the gleam from Abbas’s bedroom below went out.

Very silently, thinking as a mouse, he crept downstairs, taking his sword and shoes, to the main door. He unbarred it without a noise and went out, closing the door behind him. The gate clicked when he pressed the studs in sequence learned from Kima, and he closed it. He pulled on his shoes and sword belt and trotted off toward the distant stables.

Now he sat, waiting, beyond the city.

The sky grayed, lightened.

Peirol felt his guts tighten. Abbas would be awake. He hoped he was leaving Kima to her sleep, fearing to let any outsider near when he was working great magic. He hoped the magician couldn’t sense the unbarred door and gate, Peirol’s absence.

It grew lighter still.

Peirol, having nothing of the Gift, felt his skin crawl, thought it probably his imagination, but knew Abbas was casting his spell.

On the far horizon a beam of light lit the world, the sun’s first herald.

In that instant, a greater ball of flame exploded atop Abbas’s tower, grew like a sun aborning, blinding Peirol for an instant. No sound at all came.

When his sight came back, the morning was growing, and birds were singing. Far across the city — he could see it as clearly as if he were within a third of a league — Abbas’s tower still stood. But its upper works were blackened, ruined, torn away.

Peirol was almost positive the room he and Kima had shared was below the damage.

Yasin and his nameless mentor had been right. The Empire Stone had been full, full of man’s and maybe gods’ evil. Maybe that was what had brought on the earthquake, the sea waves at Restormel. Or maybe the disaster had further filled the Stone with death and grief.

Perhaps it would have exploded anyway when Abbas’s spell struck it.

Or perhaps not.

Perhaps the cut Peirol made had weakened the Stone’s crystal, as a cut against a diamond’s grain can make it shatter under the first, gentle strike of the cutting hammer.

Or perhaps not.

Peirol thought about things. He could go back into Sennen. There would certainly be a reward for what he’d done, if he chose to claim credit. He could find a wizard who’d testify to the truth of his tale. That would make him rich, honored.

Desirable, even as a dwarf.

As for Kima … Peirol realized he was the fool, for having created a person from a conversation lasting but a brief moment. She was hardly to blame for not fitting the mold of his dream. As for her ambitions, were they any worse than those of any nobleman’s daughter? In time, assuming she yet lived, she’d no doubt forgive him.

Or perhaps not.

He shuddered at
that
thought.

He didn’t think he was much of a brave hero, but as for journeying forth …

Thoughtfully, Peirol of the Moorlands mounted his horse. Somewhere out there, in the welcoming wilderness, full of brigands and rogues, would be the diamonds of Osh.

Or even greater marvels.

Peirol laughed, tapping reins on his horse’s neck, and it broke into an eager trot east.

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Text Copyright © 2000 by Chris Bunch
All rights reserved.

Published in association with Athans & Associates Creative Consulting

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Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

eISBN 10: 1-4405-5338-6
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5338-7