04c Dreams of Fire and Gods: Gods (27 page)

Vek Worlen—Emperor Lüxen
dönz
Menaük—was dead.

“No!”

Sael rushed up the steps to the throne, while the idiotic Djalleh babbled on about the kingdom grieving with him and sharing in his loss. “Father!” he shouted, taking his father’s left hand in both of his and finding it cold and unresponsive. There was no acknowledgement of his presence in his father’s eyes.

Koreh was there beside him, touching Worlen’s right hand, and then placing a splayed hand against the man’s chest. A blue light appeared between his spread fingers. It grew brighter, expanding to cover Worlen’s chest, while Koreh closed his eyes in concentration. For a moment, Sael grew hopeful. Surely, if Koreh had been able to save the
tadu
with his heart ripped out of him, he could save someone who appeared completely undamaged!

But Sael’s hope faded when the light dissipated, and Koreh withdrew his hand. No change had come over Sael’s father. Koreh looked at Sael and said miserably, “I can’t do it. His body isn’t responding at all.”

“Why?” Sael asked, beginning to cry like a small child.

Koreh reached out to touch his face, his expression pained. “I think there has to be some… life… left. Something that can feed off the energy I give it.”

“Emperor Lüxen was wounded in the duel with Emperor Savön,” Djalleh said, sounding apologetic. “The wound was minor, but we believe the blade was poisoned. I’m sorry, Your Lordship. We did the best we could.”

“Which was nothing!” Donegh shouted from his place at the foot of the dais. “The
ömem
refused to help him!”

“Silence, boy!” Djalleh growled at him. “Unless you wish to forfeit your head.”

Donegh looked angry enough to challenge him, but Geilin put a gentle hand on his arm to restrain him. Sael had no doubt that Donegh’s accusation was true. But part of him—the part that was like his father—knew that mercy was so precious a thing in a time of war, specifically because it could never be counted upon.

Djalleh spoke to Sael again. “The emperor—your father—made two official edicts before he… left us. The second was to declare an end to hostilities between the east and west kingdoms. The
ömem
have been kind enough to relay the order to Commander Eivan, who leads the forces near Harleh Valley. Apparently there was a series of… explosions there that have put the troops in some disarray, but the retreat is to begin as soon as possible.

“However, His Imperial Majesty’s first edict was to declare you, Sael
dönz
Menaük, reigning
dekan
of Harleh, to be the new
vek
of Worlen and the east kingdom, and his heir to the imperial throne of Dasak. This has been witnessed and declared legal by me, in my position as High Chancellor. Which means that you are now the legal and rightful emperor of the Kingdom of Dasak.”

K
OREH
knew Sael had never wanted to be emperor, any more than he’d wanted to be
dekan
. But he also knew he would never shirk his duty—not to his family name, not to the kingdom, and perhaps most importantly, not to the father who had sacrificed himself for the family legacy. He watched Sael turn to face the nobles and soldiers assembled in the throne room, a bewildered look upon his face and tears still streaming down his cheeks, as Djalleh removed the crown from the head of Emperor Lüxen and placed it upon Sael’s head.

“I, Lord High Chancellor Kall
dönz
Djalleh, hereby proclaim Lord Sael
dönz
Menaük, the
dekan
of Harleh and reining
vek
of Worlen, to be the legal successor to the imperial throne. All hail Emperor Sael!”

“All hail Emperor Sael!”

As the cry echoed throughout the chamber, Koreh saw a change come over his
nimen
. Sael straightened his shoulders and schooled his expression into a mask of cool indifference—an expression that, for all his fair hair and delicate features, was disturbingly reminiscent of his father.

After a long while, Sael spoke and the others immediately fell silent. “Chancellor Djalleh?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“Perhaps word had gotten to you of my
nimen
, Lord Koreh?”

“Er… no, Your Majesty….” Koreh almost laughed aloud at Djalleh’s look of discomfort. The implications of the emperor having a male spouse were no doubt churning rapidly through his mind. “We have had very little news come from Harleh in recent weeks, as you know.”

“There was a certain bit of… propaganda… being passed around in Harleh that will likely find its way here, now that the conflict is over. It made a false claim that Lord Koreh had been killed in battle.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that—”

“A
false
claim, Chancellor. Lord Koreh is alive and well, as you can see for yourself.” Sael gestured to Koreh, who was still standing beside the throne.

Koreh suddenly became aware that he was in the middle of the emperor’s court, wearing… absolutely nothing.

Djalleh turned and looked suddenly flustered. “Oh my! I beg your pardon, Lord Koreh.” He bowed. “Perhaps His Lordship might… wish us to find him something suitable to wear?”

“Perhaps.” Koreh looked past him to give Sael a sour look, but the new emperor merely smiled back at him a bit cockily, as if to say,
If I’m stuck with this, so are you
.

Of course, Koreh had no intention of leaving him, no matter what happened. He’d searched for almost a century to find a way back to Sael’s side. Hopefully attending the royal court wouldn’t be much more tedious than that.

N
OW
that Worlen was dead, Donegh’s life was forfeit. He’d betrayed the Brotherhood, betrayed the emperor—Emperor Savön, that is—to his death, and attempted to assassinate the man who was
now
emperor. Perhaps, even if Worlen had lived, Donegh would have been executed anyway, but he thought not. In the short time he’d known him, Donegh had built up an impression of Worlen as a man of honor. He doubted Worlen would have turned on him, their earlier animosity notwithstanding.

But Emperor Sael might not honor the allegiance between Donegh and his father.

You can simply disappear
, Marik told him.
Come be my right arm! We would be unstoppable.

As outlaws.

There is no place for us in the emperor’s court,
Marik said.
I can no longer be an
ömem
, and you can never return to the Brotherhood.

It was true. Yet his honor balked at Marik’s solution. He’d been an assassin, and he knew most in the kingdom wouldn’t consider that “honorable.” But he had lived within the laws of the kingdom. He had been part of an organization that had served the kingdom for centuries. Marik and her outlaws served only themselves.

Knowing he was likely being foolish, Donegh stepped into the center of the space before the dais and knelt, his head bowed.

“Donegh,” Sael said. “Come forward.”

Donegh could feel all eyes upon him as he stood and took a few steps closer. Several of the soldiers rested hands on the hilts of their swords, as if he might suddenly pounce at the new emperor—understandable, given that this was their third since midday—and Koreh looked as if he might attack Donegh himself.

“Your Majesty,” Donegh said, “I have no right to ask for clemency—”

Sael held up a hand to silence him. “So much of what has happened here today is still a mystery to me. I gather my father formed some kind of an alliance with you to get past the palace guards and into the throne room.”

Murmurs broke out among those present. It was hardly news to them. They’d witnessed the
vek
bursting into the throne room, surrounded by armed men. Still it was disturbing to hear the emperor speak openly of it.

“I could hardly have protected him against the royal guard, Your Majesty.” There was some quiet laughter among the soldiers. “Which is why he engaged the services of Marik and her men.”

“Marik!” Djalleh gasped. When he realized that he’d spoke out of turn, he apologized to Sael and took a step back, but the name had caused a stir throughout the room. Marik’s story was well known.

Sael gave Donegh a suspicious look. “And what did my father promise in exchange for these ‘services’?”

Tell him we were promised pardons
, Marik said.

You weren’t promised pardons, and I won’t dishonor Worlen’s memory by lying.

He was taking an enormous risk by angering her when she appeared to be his only ally. But he told Sael, “The men were promised they could loot the royal living quarters.”

Chancellor Djalleh noticeably paled, but Sael burst out laughing. “Is that all? And what of you? Will you be content with a few jewels or gold goblets?”

Donegh shook his head. “I have no interest in wealth, Your Majesty. I am interested in honor. When I fought alongside your father, I found him to be an honorable man, and although my connection to the Brotherhood was severed, I was happy to serve him.” He knelt again and bowed his head. “Your Majesty, allow me to pledge myself to your service. I may not have long before the Brotherhood exacts justice for betraying them to your father, but what time I have left, I give to you—if you will take it.”

He couldn’t see Sael’s face, but he could hear the coldness in his voice. “I should trust you, after you tried to assassinate me?”

“If I can be of no use to you, Your Majesty,” Donegh replied, “then order me to fall on my blade.”

There was a long silence, and then an older man’s voice said, “Your Majesty, I suggest that might be the wisest course of action.”

Donegh couldn’t resist looking up to see who had so casually condemned him. It was the old sorcerer who’d accompanied them from the battlefield. The man was eyeing him carefully. When Donegh turned to look at the emperor, Sael had grown pale. He exchanged a look with the old man that Donegh couldn’t interpret, but then he said, “Very well.”

Donegh wasn’t afraid to kill himself. He’d been trained to do so if it was necessary or it was ordered by the Sisterhood. He had given his word, and he would not try to beg his way out of it. But it was a blow to find his service to Emperor Sael’s father was worth so little.

He drew his dagger from its sheath and held it before him, nodding at the emperor in silent salute. Then he turned the blade downward, gripped it firmly with both hands, and shoved it into his stomach with all his might.

One of the noblewomen screamed as the blade struck something hard, sending a powerful jolt up both of Donegh’s arms. Stunned, he probed his stomach with one hand. He felt nothing but soft cloth and flesh underneath his fingers. There was nothing there to block the blade. Grasping the blade again, he made another attempt, but again the knife seemed to strike something impenetrable.

Sael let out a breath and said, “Thank the gods! Geilin, what have you done? Donegh! Be still!” This last because the assassin was attempting to gouge his wrist with the tip of his blade, though it refused to cut.

Donegh froze at Sael’s command, the dagger still poised over his wrist.

The old man—Geilin—said, “Surely you didn’t believe I would allow him to harm himself, Your Majesty.”

“No,” Sael replied, “but that doesn’t make it pleasant to watch.” He looked directly at Donegh. “You’ve convinced me, Donegh. But do you still wish to serve me after that somewhat… cruel… test?”

Donegh’s heart was pounding, and he felt damp under his armpits, but he slowly sheathed the dagger and took a deep breath. He stood. Then he bowed again and said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then you shall.”

G
ONIM
didn’t become aware of the lady in green’s presence until he heard Imen say sarcastically, “So was this your great plan? To make me sentimental about the humans?”

He had been lying with his eyes closed, thinking he was alone. It was a surprise to discover that Imen had returned. He opened his eyes and saw the lady walking toward them across the field of ash.

“In part,” she said as she drew near. “I wanted you to see that we cannot be separated from them. And I wanted you to understand that they have value, even if they are weak and short-lived.”

“We have always believed they had value.”

“As obedient subjects. But they are more than that.”

Imen looked down at Gonim, and he thought he saw the hint of an affectionate smile on her lips. “Perhaps.” She glanced over to where the battle between the male gods still raged. “The king will see it differently. He has no use for sentimentality.”

“But you are his advisor,” the lady answered. “Imen, I implore you. You are wise, and your people respect logic and reason. Can you not see the reason in accepting what cannot be changed? We and the humans are one.”

“Granted. But it is not in the nature of the Stronni to surrender or withdraw.”

“We do not ask either. The Stronni have conferred great benefits upon the humans—mathematics, writing, logic, architecture, alchemy…. Humans were not completely devoid of these things before your arrival, but you have honed their skills and expanded their knowledge. We do not wish for you to leave.”

“That is wise,” Imen said curtly. “The king would lay waste to the kingdom if you did.” She looked down at Gonim again, and her tone softened. “But… perhaps it might be possible to negotiate acceptable terms….”

“There is a spot along the Pontu Wall,” the lady said, “where it crosses the chasm.”

“I know it.”

“If you wish to discuss this further, Your Majesty, we will be there at midday tomorrow.”

She bowed and disappeared into the ground. At the same time, the warrior who had been battling with King Caednu also disappeared, leaving the king seething in frustration as he searched the battlefield for his opponent. He growled and suddenly his body erupted in flame. He jumped into the air and flew in a great arc toward the mountains, trailing fire like the tail of a comet.

“This is going to be… challenging,” Imen muttered to herself. Then she knelt beside Gonim, as close as the barrier would allow. She looked into his eyes and said, “Tell me… if you have two goddesses to choose from….”