Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams (47 page)

On the bridge, the emperor commanded. “Run!”

Three fireballs launched toward Pagaose at once. Ember spun them around her center as soon as they left the staves.
Good job!
Komiko thought
. I told you that you were a natural at magic.

An enemy spearman rose from the surf on the exposed side. He was at extreme range but threw his weapon at the concubine. One of her two guards dove in front of the spear while the other pulled Ember rudely from behind. Komiko could see the combination break Ember’s concentration at the critical moment. The three fireballs converged on her location.

Everyone, including the mages, stared in horror as the magical blue flames consumed the pregnant princess and the bodyguard touching her.

Her other bodyguard removed the spear from his side, roared, and hurled the weapon into one of the stunned mages. This broke the silence and the two mages left burned the bodyguard down.

Screaming in rage, Komiko charged the final pair and plunged her dagger manually into the throat of an assassin. The final mage pointed his staff at her. Surprisingly, she wasn’t afraid. The best thing in her life had just vanished in flames, and he was the cause. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “I’m wet enough that the fire will take a while to kill me. I bet I can stab you through the heart before I die.”

Pagaose shouted, “I have the right to challenge!”

The mage smirked. “Can you cast the holy fire?”

“No, but I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

The fire mage laughed out loud. “Done. Everyone but you and your second clear out.”

“I’m his second,” Komiko insisted. The mage doubled over with mirth.

The Brotherhood of Executioners spearman who’d risen from the water announced, “I’m Lengrot’s second. Everyone else take the swim. We’ll start as soon as everyone else is out of the way.”

The emperor knelt by Ember and put out the flames with his fur-trimmed cloak. Komiko climbed to the emperor’s side. When Pagaose tried to take Ember’s hand to check for a pulse, it snapped off. Her chest was a smoking coal. In the middle of the battlefield, he fought to hold back tears.

Komiko was beyond crying. “Highness, let me distract them while you escape.”

“Lengrot must die,” he said menacingly.

She could feel the air crackle with magical potential. Clouds churned overhead. “I agree. Lightning?”

“Draw your new ward, and I’ll do the rest.”

Komiko grinned like a wolf. She obeyed, chalking the mana trap while the innocents escaped. When the Brotherhood mercenary asked, “What are you doing?”

“Standard Imperial dueling rules. If you want to draw a circle for your man, be my guest.”

“Naw. It’ll be over too soon.”

Komiko nodded.

The actual duel was anticlimactic. When Anna announced the start, Komiko put every ounce of rage, pain, and hatred she had into the stylized picture of a tornado. Lengrot, the fire mage looked shocked when the blue flame on his staff flickered out. The light in the arena got dimmer and Pagaose strode unhurriedly toward the man.

When the mage swung the staff at the emperor’s head, he ducked and grabbed the man’s arm. With a deft twist, he opened Lengrot’s hand, and the staff dropped to the ground. Pagaose kicked the staff away.

“Break his arms!” Komiko shouted with relish.

And Pagaose did.

The mage didn’t stand a chance, but she cheered every blow that hammered down on his face. When the man tried to run, she said, “Break his knees like they did hers.”

And the emperor did, methodically. Stone wasn’t his preferred form, but he knew enough to rain horrendous, weight-enhanced blows onto the culprit. At the center of the vortex, even the blood droplets seemed to circle in the air. So much blood splattered on his tunic and face that observers were certain the mage was long dead. Anna turned her back on the spectacle. When Pagaose paused to wipe the red mist from his eyes, both seconds ran up to check.

Shocked, the mercenary said, “He still breathes.”

Pagaose huffed, “Not for long. I need him to take a message to his god Intaglios for me. Who planned this attack on my family?” He grabbed the mage’s staff, flickering faintly again now that Komiko’s concentration had lapsed.

“Urgot, sire,” said the mercenary, more than a little terrified by the towering cloud of rage.

“Komiko, give this man a gold to carry the same word to Urgot for me.” After she obeyed, the emperor said, “Hear me. You have slain Unity. Now I declare anathema on the entire sect of fire mages. The people of Intaglios are my subjects, but the priests of the Burning One will be wiped from the face of the earth forever.”

Pagaose punctuated the last word by thrusting the staff tip through the mage’s heart and quenching the fire.

Komiko had never been prouder of her emperor. “Come, sire, I’ll clean you in our bedroom.”

****

Majah had been first off the island, leading a small contingent of girls to the rocks. As soon as she reached safety, she saw why. Ember was single-handedly protecting the Dancers and Pagaose from repeated magic assaults. She regretted ever saying a harsh word about the princess. Next time they met, she vowed to kneel to the girl. When the awful moment occurred and news of Ember’s immolation filtered back to her, she knew she had to act. Anyone associated with the villainy would be eliminated. Panicked, Majah located her Uncle Ashford in the crowd. “Get me to the new lighthouse immediately!”

Lord Ashford’s face brightened. “With his favorite whore eliminated, the emperor has finally conceded to our terms?”

If her father didn’t surrender soon, there would be no deals. “Yes,” the girl lied.

The military leader signaled for one of the rescue yachts outside the harbor to attend him. “Good girl. Did you visit him in the bathhouse as I suggested?”

“No, Lady Corrie gave orders to the guards to prevent me.”

“We’ll have to fix that meddling vixen.”

Majah shook her head. “It’s better this way. Because I’m not a pure-blood, he must wait till the Dance.”

They raced to the Scar and the new lighthouse there. Majah ran up the steps and removed her dress sandals. Climbing the spire as she had their garden trees as a child, she tied her burgundy cloak to the lightning rod at the top. The winds had picked up, and two soldiers had to hold her legs, lest she plummet to her death. From this height, she could see that one of the Pretender’s ships had landed. With effort, she made out the name—the
Dominion
. That was her father’s ship!

Heedless of her bare feet or the threat of invasion, she ran to meet the invaders, with Lord Ashford and his men trailing. She passed Ashford on the stairs, and he muttered, “This whole dynasty runs too much for my taste.”

The invaders had only seized two signal posts and a constable’s shack when word reached them. Lord Vinspar, the ship’s commander, gathered them on the beach. “The fire mages sent to murder Pagaose against my counsel have killed women and children instead, including the pregnant Princess Ember, whom Sandarac swore to take as his own wife after Pagaose’s death. Sandarac has no honor and does not deserve our fealty. My own daughter says that the true emperor saved her from the carnage and killed the fire mages with his bare hands. My brother assures me that even now, the navies of Archanos are on their way to smash our armada. Pagaose offers us amnesty, land, and brides. Only Intaglios stands against Center, and they have no honor. Who then shall we serve?”

“Long live Emperor Pagaose,” chanted the men Vinspar had planted in the crowd.

Satisfied, Vinspar temporarily handed his Honor over to his older brother and followed him to the military academy. Ashford told him, “Send your ship, the
Dominion
, to the Great Library in Bablios before the Pretender realizes you’ve surrendered. Otherwise, he’ll just use the warship to bring in more young men. We’ll erect tents for your men here and make the cadets watch over you. However, come the Dance, your daughter is the only real contender.”

Vinspar placed a proud arm around Majah. “Just be sure to include some brandy in the rations so we can toast her. I’ve missed home.”

Ashford bit his lip, reluctant to play interrogator. “To make your defection convincing, we’ll need information about the other ships and all the temples of Intaglios.”

Vinspar grunted. “Gladly. I’ve already slapped irons on my three. If I know Sandarac, he’ll pull every other mage he has into the conflict now. Humi is sending something called a Roseate Lens. I don’t know what it is, but he plans to burn down most of Center with it.”

Majah was horrified. “What will he rule, then?”

“Haven’t you heard?” her father said sarcastically. “The College is outmoded and obsolete. Sandarac’s regime will plow under the old and rebuild with his model. Being one of the old, I objected.”

****

On paper, Pagaose welcomed the moral Imperial troops back into the fold, but he did not attend the ceremonies. Through Anna, he proclaimed a national day of mourning for Ember and Unity. They left her remains on the island and stacked aromatic woods and incense around her.

Komiko posted the new bounty on fire-mage staffs. The witch tried to comfort Pagaose in the bedroom, but he wouldn’t consider sex. “In her honor, I will remain celibate till the Dance.”

“That’s weeks away,” Komiko objected.

He stared at her. “I abstained for almost forty years in my previous lives, woman. I can honor Ember for that long.”

Pagaose stared at the bed. “Get rid of it. I never want to see this furniture again.”

“How, sire?”

“Add it to her pyre. We’ll light it at sundown.”

Komiko bowed and then hastened to tell Corrie what had happened.

It would be a bleak month for everyone.

After the funeral ceremony, everyone left. Pagaose, Anna, and Komiko were the last ones present. When Komiko collapsed from grief, he had Anna accompany her back to the palace. At midnight, the fires went down enough for him to draw closer. The dragon landed behind him. “I felt the black in you from a mile away. I wanted you to know that I had no hand in this foul deed.”

“I know. Truce for an hour?”

“Certainly, but why? I can’t drain this grief from you; it would give me indigestion if I tried.” Serog rested her chin beside him, watching the fire with him.

“I wouldn’t ask. To forget my child would be to deny she ever existed. Besides, you’ve borne enough sorrow of your own, woman.”

She almost challenged his label, but Serog recalled that she’d left human form because of her own pain. When he put his arm around her neck, it felt natural, not threatening in the least.

“Now that I’m crowned, I wish they’d free Abbot Small Voice. I need someone wise to talk to.”

Serog sighed and then whispered, “Navarra starved him for a month, but your friend refused to sign anything for Sandarac. When they tortured his monks, the abbot first demanded expensive ink used for religious decrees and then the quill of a dove. While they searched for the quill, he drank the ink. It was poisonous. I had to deliver this message to Humi myself because no human messenger dared.”

It was considerably more than an hour later when he asked, “How do you survive the loss of so many innocent loved ones?”

“Eat the guilty,” she answered quickly.

“It doesn’t help.”

“No,” she admitted.

Several minutes later, he said, “My friends don’t understand what needs to be done. They try, but they’re all so fragile and limited.”

“I warned you.”

“You did.” He sighed, burying his face in her scales. The smell was comforting, almost medicinal. After a long silence, Pagose said, “I never even got to see or hold my daughter, Serog. It’s not fair.”

“No,” the dragoness repeated.

When she had to leave to complete her rounds, she breathed on the emperor and said, “Sleep.”

A mortal without the protection of his famous magic sword, he slumbered. In that moment, the goddess of vengeance realized two things: she finally held the embodiment of the hated Osos in her claws, and she couldn’t bring herself to kill him in his present state.

“It would be too merciful,” Serog said, not believing the excuse even as she uttered it. She flew off into the darkness, searching for criminals to punish.

“Those lizards were huge,” Murali the gamekeeper said. “Where’s that onion potion?”

“We used the last of that a month ago and all the salve last week,” Pinetto noted, taking the last bundle of their clean bandages from storage. The crew of
Nothing Sacred
resembled the ship’s hold—ragged and hollow. They collected new alchemy components in a haphazard manner to pay for the trip. “Gods, has it been six weeks already?”

Tashi pulled off Murali’s boots while Hindaloo split the pants leg with a sharp dagger. They used the captain’s cabin for the operation so the other men wouldn’t hear the screams.

“Time flies when you’re running for your life. What are those creatures on the beach?” asked the gamekeeper.

Pinetto shrugged, “They look like little dragons without the wings and they move fast.”

Tashi scratched his beard. He’d stopped shaving when Sarajah mentioned how distinguished Baba Nesu’s beard had looked. Unfortunately, Tashi’s had bare patches and itched like mad. “I think I saw ghosts like them guarding the Kragen Palace. They attack in packs, knock a man down, and kill in short order.”

Murali took a swig from his flask and looked away while the smuggler stitched him up with a curved, bone needle. “We only survived because we landed at night and explored when it was still relatively cool out. Lizards like it warm to hunt.”

“I don’t think we want any of those in the royal zoo,” Pinetto said.

Murali snorted. “Better than those butterflies.”

Pinetto nodded. “Big, pale, and cute till they suck the blood out of a man.”

“Like my first wife,” the gamekeeper joked.

“The tailor ran slower than you did; now I’m the best we have at stitching,” said the plague-lander, wiping his hands clean of the blood. “This is going to scar you permanently.”

“Just like my second . . . ouch!” The flesh around the puncture wound on his calf was an evil red, and he winced when Pinetto wrapped it.