Dark Foundations (5 page)

He was about to agree to the demand when he was struck by three successive thoughts that came like hammer blows:
Do this and you cross a point of no return. Do this and you are Nezhuala's slave. Do this and you are beyond redemption.

He returned the lord-emperor's gaze, his throat tight. “Whatever you wish, my lord.”

He stepped toward the admiral, took a shaking elbow with one hand and with the other found the small of the man's rigid but quivering back.

“Oh, Admiral,” the lord-emperor said, with a smile like a knife blade. “I won't forget your family.”

Somehow—he had not intended it—Lezaroth found himself staring again at the admiral and seeing the desperate plea in the wide, panic-stricken eyes. He looked away and pushed.

A moment later, he looked back to see the admiral falling. He struck the curving wall with a heavy thud. Then, as rigid as a lump of wood, the heavy form slid smoothly down the concave surface toward the altar platform.

I feel dirty
.

He was aware of the lord-emperor's terrible eyes watching him.

“Margrave, you pass the test. But only just. You delayed.”

“My lord, I apologize for my delay.”

Nezhuala turned to the scene below and sighed. “Do you know that I really don't like doing it this way? Using criminals is a cheap way of fulfilling our obligations to the powers. That's why we use ordinary people. They really prefer children. Even if they come from the underclass.”

Lezaroth followed the lord-emperor's gaze and saw the great red ball of the setting sun was now just beginning to dip below a fiercely jagged horizon.

“Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, Margrave, I really ought to participate in the ceremonies. But there is more we have to discuss.”

As Lezaroth bowed his head, the lord-emperor raised his right hand high. Far below there was a bustle of activity among the priests. A new chant began.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lezaroth saw Nezhuala drop his hand. The chant became urgent and savage.

The knives descended.

After a minute or so the lord-emperor said in his confiding tone, “Do you know, Margrave that there are variations on the sacrificial ritual? As to which bits they cut, in what order, and how they display them?”

“I had heard stories, my lord, but I have never studied the details. I'm a professional soldier. Culture isn't my strong point.”

“I understand. But it's a fascinating subject.” The lord-emperor shook his head. “Poor admiral.”

There was silence and when the lord-emperor spoke again, it was in a sharper tone. “So, you have decided to serve me? Fully? Without questioning?”

“I have.”
It's too late now to change my mind.

“Then come here and bow before me.”

Careful, mindful of the fitful, gusting wind and the fatal drop just a pace away, Lezaroth bowed before Nezhuala.

He glimpsed the lord-emperor taking his glove off and soon felt a cold hand on his forehead.

“Do you willingly renew your oath of allegiance to me?”

“I do.”

Lezaroth felt an almost electric tingling in his forehead.

“Say it.”

“I, Margrave Sentius Lezaroth, hereby resolve to serve and worship His Highness, the Lord-Emperor Nezhuala, Ruler of the Freeborn and Master of All in the Realms of the Dominion, with all that I am, and all that I have, until my death.”

The lord-emperor murmured something in a strange language whose words seemed to coil and twist in the mind.

“Very good, Margrave,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “You are now mine. Stand up.”

Lezaroth stood.

“Now, let me give you more instructions.” Nezhuala's voice was urgent and factual now. “I appoint you to the rank and pay of fleet-commander. You will leave in eight days' time. Because of the urgency, you and the ambassadors will travel very deep and fast in the Nether-Realms.”

“My lord, isn't that dangerous?” There were horror stories of ships that went too deep.

There was a look of rebuke. “Oh, my margrave, don't dissent now. . . . But I am negotiating with the powers. You will have a cargo that will stop the ship from being molested.”

“A cargo, my lord?”

“All being well, a baziliarch will go with you.”

A terrible vision of vast yellow, iridescent eyes, blackness, wings, and claws filled Lezaroth's mind.

“On
my
ship? One of the seven?”

“Don't be alarmed, Margrave. It will be dormant for the trip. You'll be given an intermediary. Baziliarchs can be tricky, but they're wonderful weapons. As I found out on Tellzanur. They have that ability to tear information out of minds, which you may find useful. And nothing is going to tangle with a convoy with a baziliarch. Even in the deepest Nether-Realms.”

“My lord . . . I bow to your wisdom. And as for crew, may I choose my own?”

“Yes, with one exception. Your second-in-command will be Lucretor Hanax.”

Blank your expression. Hide your dismay.
“My lord, is that . . . ?”

“Is that
wise
you were going to say?”

Hanax is pushy and overconfident, and we hate each other. But how do I say that?

“Well, my lord, he has risen rather rapidly through the ranks. I had thought . . . that a period of consolidation might be appropriate. It is tradition.”

“My margrave, I know your background. You are of an old family and he comes from nowhere. I know the objections to Hanax—that he rises too fast and he hates the noble families. I know everything. But his record is excellent.”

“If it is your will, my lord . . .”

“But it
is
my will.” There was an irresistible force in the voice. “Work with him. The powers have told me that he will play a great role.”

That may be, but on
my ship, he will know his place.

“Very well, my lord.”

The chant changed as the last sliver of Sarata dipped below the horizon. Below in the congealing gloom, Lezaroth could see that the priests were leaving. Something soft, wet, and red—no, several things—were arranged on the plinth.

Apparently catching his gaze, Nezhuala pointed down. “Notice how swiftly they leave, Margrave. They summon The Master Exaltzoc, but they do not stay for his appearing.” Then, as if listening to his private voices, he shook his head and fell silent.

It came to Lezaroth that he needed to clarify his orders or he might end up like the admiral. “My lord, how much force may I use?”

Nezhuala smiled. “As much as is needed. But I would prefer some captives. The powers grow hungry at the base of the Blade and some fresh flesh would be very well received. Men and women and, especially, children from the Assembly would be welcome. And we need tissue samples at least of the best specimens. We may strip their genes of the best code and add it to ours. As for force: once you get me the Library data intact, the
Rahllman's Star,
and the DNA, you can kill them all as far as I am concerned.” Nezhuala smiled again. “Set an example. But spare the world itself. It would be a shame to wreck it. It looked rather . . . nice. . . . I might stop and inspect it on my way to Earth.”

“Whatever you will, my lord.”

“A few more things, Fleet-Commander.” Suddenly, for the first time, the lord-emperor seemed to be slightly ill at ease. “What do you know of the tale—the myth—of the great adversary?”

I need to be careful here
. “I heard of it from the captives at Tellzanur. It is the belief that the rise of the Dominion will be threatened by a man who will come close to defeating it.”

“Or?”

“Well, of course they saw him as actually defeating it. We treated it with scorn.”

“Quite so.” The lord-emperor was silent for some time, apparently gripped by thoughts. “But it is a far older belief,” he said at last. “The powers have mentioned it to me. They know of it. It is the idea that, in the last battles, there will be a single warrior who will stand in our way. Of course, we succeed; we cannot fail. But this being opposes us. Or so the myth says.” A slight spasm seemed to run through the lord-emperor's body. “They mention a name in connection with this great adversary.” His voice sounded strained. “Can you guess whose name it is?”

“In the accounts of the War of Separation, the blame for our loss is attributed to one man—Lucas Ringell.”

“Yes!” The word came out like a hiss. “It is a matter of history that, without him, the outcome of the War of Separation would have been very different.”

“He killed Jannafy.”

The lord-emperor stared at the ground. “Ah well, I remember that. But yes, it is Ringell's name that is whispered among the powers. There is babble of him ‘returning soon,' but what that means is unclear to me. And, I think, to them.” The lord-emperor looked up. “My guess—no more than that—is that they speak of another warrior. One who will be like Lucas Ringell and who will stand in the way of the final triumph of we who are the Freeborn.”

A new gust of wind whipped across the balcony. Lezaroth tried not to shiver. In the night sky, stars were appearing.

“I mention the matter, my margrave, for one reason: I want you to watch out for this man. He may be on Earth. But he may be on Farholme. And if he is there, I want him found.”

Lezaroth heard anger in Nezhuala's voice now, and perhaps also fear.

“I want him brought to me. Or at least destroyed. Whatever the cost. If you lose a thousand Krallen to kill him, then do it.”

Could the lord-emperor be afraid of a myth?

“My lord, if he is there, I will take him or slay him.”

The lord-emperor seemed to stare at the embers of the sunset. Through the dusty and contaminated atmosphere Lezaroth could make out the distant gleams of the domes on the slopes above Khetelak that gave the nobles and their families some protection from both the city's pollution and the planet's wildly fluctuating temperatures.

Suddenly, Lezaroth felt again the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck. He glanced down to the shadowy platform below and had to struggle to restrain a gasp. There around the plinth something prowled, something more solid than smoke and less solid than flesh, something indescribable, but with four legs and a head that bent to snuffle and lick.

“It's all due to topology, my margrave.”

Topology—the science of surfaces. But how?

“That being below us is, of course, The Master Exaltzoc. I am told that such sacrifices—rightly done—make a temporary and local adjustment in the topology of the boundary surface between the Nether-Realms and normal space. For a brief moment, the powers can appear in our world. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Of course, my lord.” Lezaroth knew his voice sounded numb and mechanical.
I have glimpsed such things in the gray shadows of the deep Nether-Realms. I have seen steersmen and caught sight of a baziliarch. But never, however briefly, have I seen a power walking around freely on our worlds.

“Ah, Margrave, they long to be liberated. To move unfettered through the worlds of men. That is their great wish. The powers will give anything to the one who aids them in this.”

“I'm sure, my lord.” Lezaroth knew that what the lord-emperor was saying must be of the greatest significance. But somehow the sight of a power prowling around a few hundred meters away was so astonishing, his words barely registered.

As the figure slowly faded away, the lord-emperor said, “Come, it is time for you to leave. You have preparations to make. Follow me.”

The door at the back of the balcony opened.

“Stay close to me, Margrave, through the hall. After sunset . . . with the blood . . .”

They walked back through the hall. It seemed darker now, as if the shadows had solidified, and the whisperings and murmurings seemed clearer and more audible.
This is my life from now on—protected from the powers by the lord-emperor
.

But as they left the hall and climbed the stairs another truth came to him.
Admiral Kalartha-Har is dead and I am alive. And isn't that, after all, all that counts?

As they emerged onto the topmost platform, Lezaroth saw that the stars were out.

“Stay,” the lord-emperor said. “Look up.”

Lezaroth followed his outstretched hand to where, above the dirty air, a tiny line of silver light cut the darkness.

The Blade of Night.

“You were wrong on that, my margrave,” Nezhuala said. “The Blade of Night is of greatest value. And it will be even more so. You have landed at the access station?”

“Twice, my lord. Once on exercise, once when delivering the condemned.”
And the entire crew breathed a sigh of relief when we blasted off. It's a haunted monstrosity. Enough extra-physical phenomena to drive the sanest man mad.

The lord-emperor continued to gaze upward. “It is a remarkable structure. I have journeyed down to the lower levels,” he said, in a voice that was so strangely detached that it sounded like it belonged to someone else. “The very lowest depths. There are things that you would not believe.”

Then suddenly he seemed to shake himself free of whatever extraordinary vision possessed him. Lezaroth found it hard to read his expression in the darkness, but felt certain of a strange, burning urgency in his eyes.
This man is driven by what happens there
.
I had assumed that these meetings with the powers were incidental to his life, but they are central.

“These are extraordinary times, Margrave. We are on the verge of great changes. I cannot explain now about the true uniting of the realms that we seek, but it is coming. Very soon. And I am glad that you are willing to serve me.”

The lord-emperor walked to the lander hatchway and stood by as Lezaroth opened it. “Tell them at the
Ravager
that I have detained the admiral on business.”