The False Martyr (47 page)

Jaret freed himself just
in time to see the knights close the final strides to where he laid
surrounded by men bracing to accept the unchecked charge of heavily
armored knights. This was the end, Jaret could see the very weapon
that would send him to the Order, could see the anonymous steel
shape that held it, that would bring it swinging around any second
into his head. And all he could do was sit on the ground, legs
draped with an idiot monk, and watch it come.

The knights split around
Jaret and his men. At the last possible moment, they flowed around
them like a wave around a rock. With only the slightest lean of
their weight, the horses responded, shifting to right or left to
leave Jaret and his men entirely untouched.

Jaret could not breathe.
He had been certain that was the end, and it was only with hazy
eyes and numb nerves that he managed to pivot his head and watch
the knights crash into the shields and spears before them. The
armored chargers crushed the line like a boulder striking a shack.
The soldiers had been entirely unprepared, had not set their spears
or braced their shields, and both proved worthless against the
avalanche that hit them. The horses took the first few lines. The
spearmen were smashed under broad, steel-clad chests and pounding
hooves. The maces did not even fly until the knights were among the
archers. The weapons fell unhindered into heads, chests, and arms,
broke bones as if they were pottery, splattering the precious
liquids inside like water.

It was all too much, but
it wasn’t enough. A roar from the north, reminded Jaret that even
the knights’ miraculous betrayal would not save them. He turned
expecting to see the spearmen charging in to finish them.
Dead is dead
, he told
himself again. But the men from the north were still at the other
side of the field. The roar had been the surprise of the waiting
regiment as they were betrayed for the second time. The charging
spearmen had hit them from the side and were, even now, pivoting to
complete a circle with the knights and forest.

With no hope of
understanding, Jaret fought his way to his feet just in time to see
the first wave of arrows fall among the already panicked center of
the waiting regiment. The men there fell in droves. Beyond
surprised, they were just turning to face knights to their south or
infantry to their north, when arrows came from behind, from the
forest where only phantasms were said to live. If the first two
surprises hadn’t been enough, the last finished them. The men
dropped their weapons en masse. The battle was over. Jaret was
alive, and he had not lost a single man. The Order was not finished
with him yet.

Chapter 28

The
25
^th
Day of Summer

“
Can we go to bed now?”
Eia whispered in Ipid’s ear from behind as her hands ran down to
his chest. Her head came to rest on his shoulder. “Everyone else is
away. There is nothing further you can do. And reading those papers
yet again won’t change any of the words on them.”

Ipid dropped the report he
was reading. Eia was right, the numbers weren’t changing. He
sighed, resigning himself to what he probably should have expected
all along. He had somehow hoped that every man in the city would
register today, that every one of them would be assigned to a work
crew, that they would report and work tomorrow without complaint.
It was a fantasy. He knew that, but it did not mean that he liked
seeing it so harshly dismissed by cold, hard facts – like a child
who finds his parents putting out the candies on Exile Day instead
of Valatarian.

“
What more could you
possibly get from those papers?” Eia asked as her hands rubbed his
chest then rose to his shoulders. “Can they possibly be worth
denying me of a joining night for a third time?”

Ipid knew that she was
right. Having spent the entire previous night with Jon completing
the work and rationing plans and the one before that sleeping on
top of the edicts spread across his desk, he was exhausted and not
helping himself in the slightest by fighting through his crushing
need for sleep. “You are right, my dear, though I do not know how
much good I will be to you. I can barely keep my eyelids up let
alone anything else.”

“
Let me worry about that.”
Eia moved around him to sit on his lap. His hands moved on the soft
satin of her dress, feeling her as if it were not there. Their lips
met.

The door to the private
study at the side of the room flew open with a crash.

Ipid looked up, shock
fighting with embarrassment at having been caught in such a
position. His first thought was assassins. Stammering to call his
guards back into the room, struggling to remove Eia from his lap,
he ended in an even more embarrassing position, pressing her bent
in half against his desk while he remained trapped between her and
the chair.

Only then did he see the
man striding from the door. If he meant to do Ipid harm, it would
have to be by sitting on him. Discounting the tallest conical hat
Ipid had ever seen, the man was decidedly short but easily twice
Ipid’s girth. He wore what looked to be embroidered silk pajamas.
On his feet were purple slippers that matched his shirt. His
fingers sparkled with jewels, but barely registered for the nearly
blinding emblem hanging from his neck. As big as a bread plate, it
showed a golden sun rising above an emerald and amethyst sea.
Diamond clouds marked the sky as platinum birds flew before the
golden rays. Every ray of lamplight in the dim room seemed drawn to
that pendant until it shone like a garish sun.

“
Ambassador an’ Pmalatir?”
Ipid asked in disbelief. He shook his head to see if the vision
might disappear like the dream it must be. How had the Imperial
Ambassador gotten into Allard Stully’s private study? Ipid had
spent most of the previous night in there with Jon. There was no
way into that room except through the office, and there were no
places for a man of Ambassador an’ Pmalatir’s girth to hide. Yet,
here he was striding from the room as if he owned it.

Beyond confusion, Ipid
looked down at the position he maintained with Eia. It earned a
smile from the ambassador and Eia alike. “Keep that in mind for
later,” Eia whispered as she wriggled free. She came to Ipid’s side
and whispered in his ear. “He is far more nervous than he shows but
holds no malice toward you. He is no immediate threat.”

Ipid nodded but kept his
eyes on the man waddling toward him.

“
It is good to see you
again, Lord Ronigan,” the ambassador said. He extended a short,
thick-fingered hand across the desk. Ipid reached to take it but
could barely squeeze the damp, squishy thing for the rings that
resisted. “Where are my manner?” he caught himself. “You are
Chancellor now.” He stepped back and bowed far lower than seemed
possible. “Most honorable Lord Chancellor, I have come at the
bequest of the Final Arbiter of the Order’s Will as ordained by Our
Savior, the Emperor of the Rising Sun, he most esteemed by the
Order, Nabim az’ Pmalatir.”

Ipid placed his hands on
the desk in front of him and tried not to stammer as he came to
terms with what he had heard. “
Nabim
az’ Pmalatir?” he asked. “Who?
I mean, has something happened to Kristor? And . . . I . . . I
thought the Emperor’s first son, Valmir, was next in
line.”

“
Dead,” the ambassador
sighed as if discussing the death of the family cat. “Along with
almost the entirety of Kristor’s line.”

Ipid was so shocked he
nearly forgot the method of the ambassador’s arrival. “What . . .
what happened?” He glanced to Eia but received no
reaction.

Ambassador an’ Pmalatir
followed his eyes to Eia. “First, I do not believe I have been
introduced to . . . .”

“
I am sorry,” Ipid
stammered. Somewhere, something told him that a chancellor was
supposed to be more dignified and unflappable, but it appeared that
tree had already been felled. “Ambassador an’ Pmalatir, this is my
new wife, Eialia Oie Alliera of the house Eieniette.” The
ambassador watched Eia for a heartbeat. His mouth quirked into a
smile, and he stepped nimbly around the desk to receive her. She
returned his gaze with a smile then pursed her lips. With only the
slightest hesitation, he kissed her, keeping his lips pressed to
hers for, what was to Ipid, an uncomfortably long time.

“
I am Ambassador Vontel
an’ Pmalatir, cousin, as it were, to the former
and current
Emperor of the Rising
Sun, and official representative to these Unified
Kingdoms.”

Eia seemed pleased. She
surveyed the stout man.

“
How did you . . .?” Ipid
began to ask.

“
Know to kiss her?” Vontel
finished. “Well, that is typically what girls want when they do
that with their lips. Besides, why would I ever pass up the
opportunity to kiss such a lovely creature?”

Ipid was not sure whether
to be complimented or insulted. In the end, he decided his best
course was a change of subject. “I am sorry, but this is all very
strange. Why . . . why,” Ipid caught himself and reordered his
thoughts. “You were explaining what happened to the former Emperor
and his family. Perhaps, we should start there.”

“
May I sit?” the
ambassador asked with a smile. “I have had a long day and am still
a bit shaky after my trip though that . . . vortex.”

“
Vortex?” Ipid’s words
seeming to come now independent of his thoughts.

Vontel looked at Eia, then
at the chair beside him. “I am sorry. I am going to sit before my
legs give out.” He plopped himself into the padded chair, seeming
to ignore Ipid’s questions. For a moment, he adjusted himself, then
removed his great hat and sat it on the chair to his side. He
produced a purple silk cloth from his pocket and wiped his
brow.

Ipid spared a look at Eia.
She matched the ambassador, sitting in the chair she had positioned
next to Ipid’s. She sat with her legs pulled to her chest as if she
were six. Her expression was one of considered amusement as if
unwinding an especially excellent joke to find all the layers of
humor hidden within. Ipid, the only one still standing, felt like
the only man in the room who didn’t understand the joke and was
lost as to whether he should ask for a retelling or just play along
to spare himself the humiliation.

“
I’m sorry,” the
ambassador started when he had himself situated. “As lovely as your
wife is, I need to speak with you alone, Lord Chancellor. I’m sure
you understand.” He looked meaningfully at Eia.

“
What?” Ipid looked at Eia
then back at the ambassador entirely bewildered. “We need not fear
her divulging secrets.”

Ambassador an’ Pmalatir
laughed, a dark snicker. “Either you are stupid or you think I am.
And for all of our sakes, I hope it is that later. She understands
every word we say, and neither of you is nearly a sufficient actor
to maintain the lie.” Again, he laughed. “See the way her eyes
moved when I said that? She looked to you for defense. Her mouth
turned at the insult and her eyebrow twitched. Even without that,
you did not complete our introduction in her language, and I doubt
that such a creature as this would stand for manners so poor as
that.”

Ipid looked toward Eia and
saw her expression go blank. It was just as Vontel had said, she
was responding with her face to every word he said. “Yes,” Ipid
admitted, growing exasperated. “She can understand us. She was sent
by the invaders to keep an eye on me. And she will remain with us
as we talk. Now, can we discuss the matters at hand?”

Still, the ambassador did
not answer. He stared at Eia for a long time. “You are, aren’t
you?” He looked at her again. “I can see it now, though I never
would have guessed that there were women with those
powers.”

Ipid stared at them,
wondering if he had somehow become invisible without realizing
it.

“
She is one of their
wizards, isn’t she?” the ambassador asked. Ipid opened his mouth to
protest. “No, it all makes sense now. Our new Emperor has one as
well. Though you certainly got the better end of the deal. His
wears the most awful black robes and sulks like an eel in a cave.
You would never doubt his position, and the Emperor does not try,
but to cover this one with robes and hood would be cruel. I can see
why you dress her in satin instead.”

“
Wait,” Ipid recovered
enough to interject. “You saw the new Emperor. You have been to Sal
Danar?” It was a thousand miles to the Imperial capital. There was
no way a man could travel there and back in the time since the
invasion. But then Ipid saw the truth inherent within his question.
“They transported you?”

The ambassador nodded.
“Right to your study. I see you have experienced it as well. It is
something, don’t you think? I can certainly understand now why the
Emperor has allied himself with these people.”

“
The Emperor has . . .
?”

“
Yes. In fact, that is why
I am here. As we are now allied, the Emperor has asked me to help
you in any way I can. So here I am to . . .
help
.”

Ipid had barely heard the
ambassador’s words. He was still struggling with the idea that the
San Chier Empire had somehow allied itself with the invaders.
Located on the opposite end of the continent, it made perfect
strategic sense. The Empire was a declining power that would not
likely stand long against Liandria or the Fells, but as a
distraction, as a means to draw off and divide those two nations,
the Empire was perfectly positioned. And its instability and
antiquated governance made it ripe for overthrow. The Darthur
needed only to find their man and see him installed. But how had
they managed to do that, to position themselves so perfectly in
only a matter of days?