Sourcethief (Book 3) (2 page)

Of Lord Sunrise, there was no sign, but now Tarek
knew his true identity.

"Great blazes, Agga," Tarek said aloud.
"Even Death had to take on a disguise to come collect you."

Kyrus Hinterdale turned the stone over in his hands,
inspecting the facets. Among the more interesting observations he had made
since he had begun unraveling the makings of various magical constructs around
the imperial capitol was that the speaking stones were not precious stones at
all, as he had once thought. The glazier had just returned the new stone Kyrus
was working on. A new layer of glass had been added, providing Kyrus a fresh
palette upon which to carve the next set of runes.

Kyrus's workshop was his former office in the
Imperial Army Headquarters, overlooking Kalak Square in Kadris. The constant
demands of the palace, and the sorcerers and courtiers that swarmed about it,
had grown to be too much for him. At least when he ordered one of his officers
away, they stayed away.

At that moment, as if to contradict his thought,
there was a knocking at his door.

Kyrus rarely bothered to ward the door shut. When he
left it unprotected, his men took leave to enter. One of his junior officers, a
lieutenant named Shayl, slipped quietly into the room. The thin young man made
several adjustments to the tactical map on Kyrus's desk per a set of notes he
carried. As he finished, he looked Kyrus's way.

"That about does it, sir," Shayl said.
"Last of the Megrenn cities is garrisoned with our forces."

"Was that Relleth?" Kyrus asked.

"Yes sir, just received word. They surrendered
to General Crestvale on condition that the womenfolk be spared."

"Ahh, I gather that our esteemed warlock was
not present?" Kyrus asked. Warlock Rashan Solaran had spent half a season
inflicting chaos and ruin on the Megrenn people. Nearly half the Kadrin
Empire's victories had been won single-handedly by the ancient demon. It was
not his habit to take prisoners or to bargain in good faith over surrender
terms.

"Right you are, Sir Brannis," Shayl said,
using the name Kyrus was known by in Veydrus. The real Brannis Solaran was
living in Kyrus's own homeworld of Tellurak, after an egregious miscalculation
in magical transportation displaced Kyrus and his Veydran twin simultaneously.
"The regular army has gotten a lot of surrenders the last tenday, since
word spread that they accept 'em and the warlock don't."

"Sir Brannis," a new voice called out from
the doorway. Kyrus looked past to see a messenger in palace livery.
What
now? I set up here to avoid this nonsense.

"Yes, come in," Kyrus replied, a polite
reflex gaining the better of him despite a temptation to shoo the boy away.
Boy?
Kyrus thought with an internal chuckle.
He is probably about my own age, or
close enough. I will still only be twenty-three come the first of ...

Kyrus paused a moment. Kadrin's calendar was all
based on seasons, ninety days apiece, and was two seasons set apart from
Tellurak and their lunar calendar.
Well, I suppose I have the same age-day
as Brannis, First of Summer
.

"Sir Brannis, Emperor Sommick the First
requests your presence with all practical haste. He is waiting in the main
throne room of the palace." An uncomfortable silence lingered as Kyrus
waited for him to continue.

"Is that it? Why does he need to see me so
urgently?" Kyrus demanded. He had been looking forward to his work on the
new speaking stone, and the whims of Emperor Sommick did not interest him.

"The emperor offered no explanation. He merely
instructed me to have you to the palace at once."

Kyrus could tell the messenger was enjoying the
little thrill of power he was getting from ordering about the man who oversaw
most of Kadrin in the emperor's name.

"As fast as I can get there, is that the
idea?"

"Indeed it is, sir," the messenger
confirmed.

Kyrus pursed his lips. He glanced down at the
hemispherical crystal in his hands, set it down on his work bench, and walked
out toward the balcony.

"Would not want to disobey such an unambiguous
order," Kyrus called back. As he passed through the doorway, he began to
lift into the air, borne aloft by a bit of levitation magic. He used no word or
gesture, and though he still often muttered the words in the solitude of his
own head, he thought he was getting better at doing entirely without. For his
next spell, a mental recitation was in order.

Doxlo intuvae menep gahalixviu junumar tequalix
ferendak uzganmanni dekdardon vesvata eho.
Kyrus knew that the two aether-blind young men in
his office were oblivious to the amount of aether he had to draw in to enact
the transference spell. They had no idea the risks, the potential for disaster,
or the complexities of navigation. Kyrus suspected that their jaws gaped as he
was surrounded in mid-air by an opaque sphere. When it vanished, he was gone.

* * * * * * *
*

Several sorcerers were at court when Kyrus's magic
deposited him a few feet up in the air in the middle of Emperor Sommick's
throne room. In crossing the city of Kadris, Kyrus had caused a sizeable
disturbance in the aether. Some who were not normally sensitive to the aether
perceived it as well, much the way that it is said a deaf man can hear a
dragon's roar in the soles of his feet.

"Ah, Sir Brannis!" Emperor Sommick called
out, a delighted smile on his lips. If he was awed by the spectacle, he didn’t
show it. "My, but you are prompt."

"Your message instructed me to come with all
haste. This was as fast as I was able. What do you require of me?" Kyrus
asked. He found himself in the middle of open court as he settled gently onto
the floor of the throne room. All around the periphery of the room, gaudily
dressed courtiers loitered, vying for the emperor's attention. Aside from the
few conservatively dressed members of the Imperial Circle, they were largely of
the idle nobility, with a few well-connected merchants mixed in for flavor.
Kyrus, clad in a Solaran-crested tabard over practical military garb, a common
longsword dangling from his sword belt, might well have been a squire or a
messenger.

"Well, if you take a look at the board, Sir
Dorrin seems to have placed me at a decided disadvantage." Emperor Sommick
gestured to the side of the dais where someone had fashioned a large chessboard
from aether for the emperor's amusement. It was all solid and opaque, as usable
as any real board with knee-high pieces, but Kyrus's aether-vision saw that they
were simple constructs. A crowd was gathered about the base of the dais to
watch emperor and knight contest a battle of imaginary warriors. "I seem
to have taken too long for his liking, and he has suggested that I resign, as
my position is untenable."

"Oh ..."

"I was hoping that, as a noted devotee of the
game, you could arbitrate and tell me whether I ought to be allowed to continue
pondering my next move in peace, or whether Sir Dorrin is
not
full of
wind and I ought to give up."

"Of course, Your Highness," Kyrus said,
proud of himself for neither sighing aloud nor transferring himself right back
to his workshop. As Kyrus ascended the dais, one of the halberd-toting guards
behind the emperor edged back.

"Sir Dorrin certainly has the upper hand, but no,
it is not certain that he would be victorious," Kyrus concluded after a
moment's inspection. The board was a garbled mess of pieces, with even
exchanges to be had in a number of places, though none were taken. Kyrus saw
the influence of the Academy of Arms in the conservative style of play, with
only a single pawn for each side having been captured. For all that though,
there was nothing resembling a competent defense.

"You see, Sir Dorrin? You have yet to best me.
I will fight you to the bitter end!" Emperor Sommick stated with
flourishing hands. "Now, if you all will clear the audience chamber, I
have matters I wish to discuss with Sir Brannis." With that, the two
guards thumped the hafts of their halberds against the stone dais and began herding
the courtiers from the throne room. It made for a colorful pageant; the human
peacocks strutted even as they were being evicted from the emperor's presence.

"I hope this means you have something more
substantial to discuss now that the room is cleared," Kyrus said, dropping
the formal, polite tone he took with the emperor when others were around.

"Yes, and for more than to congratulate you on
the conquest of Megrenn. I heard the news of Relleth's fall after I had already
dispatched the messenger. The conquest was all a result of Warlock Rashan's
efforts, even if that particular victory was not personally his doing. It does
pose the interesting question of the possible elevation of noble families by
the granting of holdings in the former Megrenn lands, but that is something to
mull over for now and discuss later." The emperor's tone changed from
frivolous to scheming. He was neither the fool the Inner Circle had taken him
for, nor the great conqueror the commoners saw him as. Unleashing Rashan
immediately after his coronation, he had caused such misconceptions to spread
like a plague among peasants.

"What then?" Kyrus asked.

"I had an epiphany. I find myself buffeted
along by sorcerers on all sides. Rashan and Caladris would have me believe that
there is a rival faction among the Inner Circle that opposes me; they dictate
my actions in the name of solidifying my standing and keeping that faction in
check. My daily responsibilities have been handed to you,  and you act in my
name whether I agree with your decisions or not. General Chadreisson commands
my army—one thing I am thankful for, since sixteen white soldiers vex me enough
as it stands. Sorcerer Dolvaen oversees the affairs of the Imperial Circle. And
yet, when Warlock Rashan is not out burning cities and obliterating armies, he
takes up each of those mantles and hangs them about his own shoulders. Does
that not sum up my current predicament?"

"I suppose it does. I am glad you understand
the circumstance."

"And yet, my one and only duty is to find an
empress and father an heir. Any nobleman with an eligible girl among their
brood parades them in front of me, from spinster crones to girls three winters
shy of their moonflow. I will admit that I am in no hurry to choose one, as the
attentions of the flowering beauties between those two extremes has been quite
diverting, but to what end?" Emperor Sommick asked.

"Re-establishing a healthy imperial line,"
Kyrus answered. "That alone is worth all the combined efforts of the rest
of us. Had Rashan not been the one to expose the puppet emperor, there would
have been a civil war. Two factions or more would have fought for control.
Continuous, stable succession is what the empire needs now."

"All well and good for when I die. What of now?
What of ten summers from now, or thirty? Am I to watch my heirs groomed into
docile lackeys of the Inner Circle? The other nobles seek to curry favor, to
ally themselves with me, because this is where they see their paths to power
and influence," Emperor Sommick reasoned.

"Close ties to the imperial royal family have
always been a benefit to any house. You have more to consider in your decision
than merely the charms of a potential empress," Kryus said. He hoped he
was making his impression on the emperor, for the consequences of his decision
might play out over generations.

"Aha! And that was the very seed of my
epiphany. You see, I wondered that it might perhaps work both ways. Perhaps I
can glean some benefit by marriage that might last past my own
generation."

"You are thinking to choose a bride based on
what her house can bring the imperial family?"

"Yes. I intend to find my empress from the
sorcerous bloodlines," Emperor Sommick said, his face spreading in a
dragon's grin. Kyrus's eyes widened.

"No."

"Why not? I will have aether-strong heirs, and
in a few generations my line will not be subject to the whim of the
Circle," Sommick reasoned.

"It may sound nice for a hundred summers from
now, but in the meantime you have a great many people with those powers you
propose to take on, and they will not give up their monopoly on magic lightly.
Beyond
that
had you decided who you would seek as your empress?"
Kyrus asked the last as a growing knot in his stomach warned him of one name
that Sommick was best to keep off his lips.

"Well, you see, you and I find ourselves in
similar predicaments. The Imperial Circle wants you married off to sprout a new
generation of little Brannises with freakish Sources. They want me breeding out
a litter of heirs so that, if the dagger-in-the-back faction gets their way, at
least they will have the next emperor sorted out ahead of time."

"I can see the similarity in circumstance. Go
on ..." Kyrus allowed.

"But you see, there are only a certain number
of available sorceresses. The blood scholars do an efficient job of pairing
them off young. The best of them are promised by thirteen or fourteen summers,
and much as I was told I could choose whomever I liked, I think I would prefer
not to anger the Circle more than this plan will already," Sommick
explained. He hesitated a moment when he noticed Kyrus's unblinking stare
boring into him. "Of course, there is one girl, Zoula Gardarus, who the
blood scholars hinted is being kept aside for your uncle Caladris as his next
wife. She is only fifteen springtimes old, but seeming more a girl than a
woman, if you catch my meaning."