Realm of Light (43 page)

She opened her
eyes and found the
jinja
crouched at her feet, its face against the
floor. It was trembling. Concerned, Elandra bent over and stroked its bare back
gently.

“Are you still
afraid?” she asked it. “I’m sorry.” This wasn’t going to work. The creature
would have to be set free, discreetly so no one else would catch it. “I’ll tell
Alti to let you go.”

The
jinja
jumped up fiercely, eyes flashing. “No go! No go! You promise good eats, pretty
eats! You promise.”

Elandra laughed.
“All right. If you’re going to stay with me—” “Bonded now. No leave.”

“Oh,” Elandra said
in surprise. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

The
jinja
scampered away and kicked at the torn bits of cushion. “I punished?”

“Not this time.
Only if it happens again.” The
jinja
shook itself rapidly and scratched
its ears. “Maybe.” Laughing again, Elandra rose to her feet. But before she
took two steps, the
jinja
darted over to her and clung to her hard.
“What is it?” Elandra asked, stroking its head. “Danger,” the
jinja
whispered. “Much danger.” “Here?” Elandra asked in alarm, glancing around.
“Soon. You go to it. You take
jinja
there?” “I’m afraid I have no
choice.”

The
jinja
shook its head and scowled. “Much sad to come. Much sad.”

The sun was
setting over the bay when Elandra and her escorts rode into Imperia. She could
see the huge, ruddy orb of the sun dropping to the horizon despite the veil of
gloom that shrouded the city. The black cloud covered the city completely,
keeping it in perpetual twilight. The air smelted of smoke and ashes, and the
cold wind of winter seemed especially sharp as her horse picked its way over
the rubble and debris filling the streets.

She rode with her
father, Lord Pier, Iaris, and a handful of frightened servants, surrounded on
all sides by calvary. The soldiers had their hands on their weapons and were
alert for trouble, their eyes shifting constantly, aware of every noise and
movement.

Elandra said
nothing, nor did her companions. The sight that stretched before her horrified
her. Imperia, a city once so magnificent, now lay in ruins. Charred beams and
timbers poked up here and there; sometimes a wall still stood, as though by
accident.

She was reminded
of the destroyed city
Vyrmai-hon
in the realm of shadow, and hastily
shoved that comparison away.

“Don’t ride too
close to any walls,” the officer in charge said. “Sometimes they fall.”

There had been
fire everywhere, decimating every house, every temple, every shop. There had
been earthquakes, leveling what remained. Nothing looked recognizable. She
searched for landmarks and could not find them. Even the hills stretching up
from the bay looked different, and she saw there had been a landslide that
scarred the slope and altered the curve of the bay itself. Crude tents and
makeshift shelters housed what few citizens remained. Scavengers poked through
the rubble, clutching shawls over their heads against the cinders and ash that
still blew in the air.

The air reeked of
death. She saw picked bones here and there in the rubble, although an effort
had clearly been made to clear the streets of corpses. Vultures perched on
walls, fat and unafraid even of the living. In the distance she thought she saw
something inhuman and swift leap a pile of rubble and disappear around a
corner, but she was not sure.

It was as though
Beloth had already risen, destroying Imperia with one flaming breath. Elandra
looked at the devastation numbly, too exhausted to weep for the grandeur of
this once-proud city. It had been beautiful and corrupt. It had been
magnificent. Now there was nothing.

If Tirhin expected
to remain here, he must be insane. She could not imagine living in this place,
beneath the cloud, breathing the evil miasma of death and decay.

A gang of men
darted out to block their path, bringing even the soldiers to a halt. The
ambush spot was well chosen. Half-fallen walls hemmed them in on both sides.
Little torchlight reached here.

Brandishing clubs
and crudely made spears, the men seemed unafraid of the soldiers, who were
already drawing their weapons.

“Give us your
horses!” the spokesman shouted. “Give us—”

“Shut up!” the
officer replied. “Get out of our way.”

“Just one horse.
We have to eat. Please, we need to eat!”

Elandra could not
bear their pleading. She glanced at the servants. “Throw them one of the food
bags—”

“No, Majesty!” the
officer said, turning in his saddle. “They’ll be on us like demons, hordes of
them. Give them nothing.”

It was narrow
here, and dark. Elandra could feel eyes watching her from all sides.

The brigands spoke
to each other with quick whispers. “Who is she?” the spokesman called.

“Damn,” the
officer said.

“Who is she?”

“Tell them,”
Elandra commanded.

Albain reached
over from his horse to grab her wrist in warning, but she pulled free.

“Tell them,” she
said again.

This had been her
city. These had been her people. She had escaped, but they had not. She could
not bear to witness this now, yet she forced herself not to flinch. She felt
responsible for all of them. She must find a way to help.

The officer rose
slightly in his stirrups. “You are blocking the path of her Majesty, the
Empress Elandra,” he said sternly. “Let her Majesty pass!”

The men fell back.
“The empress,” they said to each other, elbowing and pointing. “It’s the
empress.”

Someone appeared
at the top of the wall, holding a torch. It shone full on Elandra as they
kicked their horses forward, and more people appeared as if by magic.

“The empress!”

“It’s the
empress!”

“Thank the gods,
she has returned to us safely.”

Their feeble
cheers broke her heart. She waved to them, trotting past as the soldiers took
advantage of the chance to get free. Again she glanced back at the servants.

“Give them the
food,” she commanded. “All of it.”

“Majesty!” the
officer protested in horror. “No—”

But the servants
were already tossing out the food pouches. Five of them landed among the
townspeople, who leaped on them in sudden kicking, screaming, flailing
savagery, fighting like starving animals for scant reward.

“Move!” the
officer bellowed.

They galloped
away, bunched so tightly together that Elandra’s leg was crushed against her
father’s stirrup. Then at last they broke clear. The streets widened in a place
where fewer buildings were standing. Much of the rubble had been cleared away.

The horses slowed
down, their shod hooves clattering loud on the paving stones. Up ahead, Elandra
again saw something lurking in the shadows. Something that looked almost human,
yet was grotesquely bent at the shoulders. It did not run, but watched them
from the darkness as they hurried by.

“Blessed Gault,”
Albain breathed aloud. “We are surely at the end of the world.”

Shortly
thereafter, they arrived at a villa, its three stories miraculously intact
within its garden walls. The gardens were trampled and ruined, but only a
jagged diagonal crack across the front wall of the house showed any damage.
Welcoming squares of gold light shone from the windows. Torches burned at the
entrance. Elandra could hear sounds of music and laughter from inside.

She frowned. How
could anyone feast and make merry when the city was like this? She was so
appalled she could not comment on it.

A soldier’s strong
hands lifted her from the saddle and supported her a moment when her weary,
cramping legs could not quite hold her.

Albain came and
put his arm around her. “Can you walk, my dear?” he asked gently. “Try a few
steps and see if your muscles don’t loosen.”

The journey had
been long and brutal. They had spent hours in the saddle, riding at a hard pace
that spared neither horse nor rider. In camp at night, she had wept with
weariness, unable to eat, too frightened to care. Iaris had tried to care for
her, but Elandra did not want her mother. She wanted only Caelan, but he was
shackled and kept elsewhere where she could not see him. Every day she
struggled for a glimpse of him, if only to know he was still alive, but they
kept him hidden. He had been brought into the city by a different route from
hers. Now his whereabouts were a secret. She grieved for him already, knowing
Tirhin would grant him no mercy.

Elandra burned
with resentment. She had tried to enlist the aid of the Lord Commander, but he
refused to even grant her an audience.

Now she was here,
being delivered against her will and her prayers, and there wasn’t much she
could do about it.

Her
jinja
came darting over to cling to her skirts. Albain pushed it away and it snapped
at him, barely missing his fingers.

He swore, and
Elandra pulled the
jinja
around to her other side, away from him.

“Stop that,” she
scolded. “You must behave.”

“Danger,” the
jinja
insisted, tugging at her cloak. “Danger!”

“I know,” she said
wearily, and walked into the villa.

The hall was cramped
by Gialtan standards. Albain glanced around, his one eye bloodshot and glaring,
but Elandra had no curiosity for her surroundings.

Minions in
Tirhin’s blue livery scurried and bowed, offering them wine, taking dusty
cloaks and gloves.

The servants were courteous
and well trained. The furnishings were beautiful. A fire burned nearby,
providing warmth against the chill of the night.

Elandra was
oblivious to all of it. She stood in a fog, and cared not where she was.

“Welcome!” a
baritone voice rang out.

Tirhin stood at
the landing on the staircase, his arms outstretched in greeting. “My dear
friends, I give thanks for your safe arrival.”

He came down the
stairs slowly, favoring one leg, then limped over to them. His handsome face
beneath its jaunty velvet cap was beaming with delight. He made it seem as
though they hadn’t been brought here by force.

Pier bowed, but
Tirhin came straight to Elandra. Taking her cold hands in his, he kissed her
knuckles.

“My dear Elandra,
the sight of you fills my heart with joy. I am relieved at your safe return.
Welcome.”

Elandra focused on
his face. He looked flushed and sweaty, a little tipsy from wine. She saw
nothing but deceit and treachery in his eyes. Her own hardened with contempt.
Drawing her hand from his grasp, she said nothing at all.

Tirhin flushed,
frowning in quick anger. He glanced around self-consciously.

Albain cleared his
throat. “About the conditions in the city—”

“Terrible, are
they not?” Tirhin said, looking glad to change the subject. “That is why I had
you brought here to my residence. For safety—”

“Where is Lord
Sien?” Albain asked. “Where are the Vindicants? Why haven’t the temple fires
been lit and something attempted to lift this cloud?”

Tirhin glared at
him. “Is that a criticism, Lord Albain?”

Albain glared
right back. “When I see chaos in all directions, people starving, hardly any
organization or security to the place, and demons running amok as freely as
they please, I feel I may comment, sir.”

“We’re all very
tired,” Lord Pier interjected, trying to smooth over the sudden tension.
“Perhaps in the morning, everyone will be in better temper.”

“Yes, yes, of
course,” Tirhin said, turning to him with a smile. He snapped his fingers to
summon a servant. “We are cramped here, you understand. If the ladies will
consent to share her Majesty’s chamber, then I am sure we will be able to find
accommodations for these men.”

The servant bowed
low.

Albain and Pier
exchanged hostile glances.

Elandra turned her
gaze upon Tirhin, noticing as she did so that some of his guests had ventured
out onto the stairs and were gawking at her. She raised her chin very high.

“Your highness,”
she said loudly, using his old title to annoy him, “your men have dragged me
here against my will. Now I am to be kept your prisoner in our once proud city,
which you have ruined. I hold you to blame for everything which has befallen
Imperia, and I state now that I shall never marry you to preserve the throne
which you have seized by deceit. I love another man, and he alone shall possess
me, body and soul. As long as he lives, I am his. As for you, I would rather
die first. Good night.”

Without another
glance at Tirhin, who looked livid, she picked up her skirts and walked toward
the stairs, forcing the servant to run after her.

“Show me to the
quarters where I shall be imprisoned,” she said, and swept past the gawking
courtiers, who had heard every defiant word. In silence they bowed to her,
although she did not acknowledge their presence with even a glance.

Looking vexed,
Iaris hastened after her. Elandra smiled to herself. Tirhin was a drunkard and
a fool. He would make her pay for tonight’s humiliation, but right now she did
not care.

Her chamber was
luxurious and more spacious than she had expected. The opulent furnishings were
not to her taste, but she had to admit the bed looked comfortable. Food and
drink were waiting on a table, filling the air with their aromas. Flowers—if
scraggly and none too fresh—stood in a small vase.

The gesture
brought tears to her eyes. How pathetic to offer her flowers—and where had they
possibly been gleaned from?— as though that was all it took to soften her
heart. She sighed and stretched out her hands to the fire.

All she wanted now
was a dab of water to wash her face, and the oblivion of sleep. Every part of
her ached.