Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams (2 page)

Anna opened her large, brown eyes and smiled. “Need something, highness?”

He opened his mouth to explain, but one doesn’t open conversation with a lady about attempts on her life and eavesdropping. “I can’t trust the members of the college.”

“I could’ve told you
that
.”

“Precisely,” he said, seizing on the excuse. “I need your keen insights and someone I can talk to. If I could be so bold as to impose, would you stay at my side until I’m officially crowned?”

“It’s not like I could go anywhere if I wanted. As cells go, it’s the fanciest I’ve ever been in.”

Something made him want to impress her. He shrugged. “If I wanted to escape, I could.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How did you get in here?”

“A secret passage; the place is riddled with them. I might have jumped to your balcony from mine, but I’m still getting acclimated to this new body.”

“New . . . body? How many have you owned?” she asked sarcastically.

He paused for a moment to count. “Four. Technically, each time I pass through the Halls of Eternity, I get to pick another form. Except this time, the Traveler chose. It’s taller and heavier, but the face is still mine.”

She bowed, hiding her face.

“What are you doing that for?”

“You’re the emperor,” she quavered. “If I don’t bow, they can behead me.”

“I told you not to worry about that. As my herald, you’re pretty much exempt from those rules. What’s this really about?”

“Are you
human
?”

“Of course. I’ll rely on you to remind me of that from time to time. I just happen to know a little more celestial mechanics than the next fellow.”

Still afraid to look him in the eye, she asked, “And what else did you want from my bedchamber, highness?”

“Huh?”

“This is technically a harem chamber, sire. By law, I cannot refuse.”

“Stupid law, then, isn’t it,” he muttered.

She smiled and risked a peek.

“What I want from you now is the direct opposite. I need to put on clothes, real ones. This being one of Myron’s harem chambers, he might’ve left something behind, but I didn’t want to go rummaging through your room without permission.”

She laughed. “I’ll see what I can find.”

As they searched through the closets and cupboards, he made conversation to put her more at ease. “You came to my rescue, but you haven’t told me much about yourself.”

“I’m a brewer, sire. I used to be a slave, illegally, until my fiancé’s family rescued me.”

“You’re engaged?” he asked, disappointed. Without a chaperone, he could have ruined her reputation. Worse, she might need to leave the palace to visit her betrothed.

“He broke it off because he went off to war in the north. It was some secret mission with a special sword. Here, try these,” she said, handing him a silk robe and undergarments. The robe was pale gold with a red border.

His artificial smile faltered as he accepted the pile. “The Defender of the Realm?”

“Yes! He was a smith,” she said, excited. Then she furrowed her brow. “How did you know?”

“Was your betrothed Baran Togg, the Last Messenger of the Gods?”

“Yes, that’s why his family had the three blood jewels I gave you.” The red marks from absorbing those jewels were still evident on his forehead. “Can you tell what people are thinking?” she wondered, the fear creeping back into her voice.

“No. I met him recently; he was very brave. His best friend was a quality fellow as well: that wizard Pinetto.”

“Never met him. Of course, I haven’t seen much of him in the last year.”

“They both went on a mission for me this morning at the Final Temple near Kiateros.” He neglected to mention that the odds were stacked heavily against the pair. “I’ve sent them both invitations to Center to attend my coronation.”

“That’s what, four weeks of travel? How did you get here so quickly?”

“The Doors don’t recognize distance in the traditional sense, but using them has a price.”

“Are you sure you’re not a god?”

“Positive. Now, turn around, please.” He removed the shawl and draped it over her shoulder, causing her to blush.

Pagaose was still pulling on the real undergarments when the door burst open. Anna instinctively covered her cleavage and the tuning-fork necklace with her shawl and squeaked modestly. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

The guard bowed. “Pardon, sire. I didn’t know you were at sport.”

“The lady was helping me to dress appropriately for my interviews,” insisted Pagaose as he continued to put on the borrowed clothing. “This has never been worn,” he noted.

“Yes, sire,” the guard agreed. “Emperor Myron never wore the same clothing twice.”

“Hmph. Thank the gods. Who knows what he’d have left behind?”

The guard covered a smile. “I’m to escort you to your test with Abbot Small Voice.”

“The blind sage of Muro who foretold the coming of a new Emperor and brought me to Center after my shipwreck,” she explained.

“We’d be honored to attend,” said Pagaose, making the command sound like an invitation to tea.

“Um . . . her ladyship’s service is no longer required,” the guard said, trying to find the right words. “She’s free to return home.”

“She’s always been free,” stressed the emperor. “Anna is also free to remain as our valued guest.”

She shuffled, a little embarrassed. “The monks are all men and don’t feel comfortable around me.”

Pagaose feared for her safety. “Nonsense, they agreed you were the one who would adorn the next emperor, a holy vessel.”

“I should check in at the brewery and pack a bag,” she said, wanting to avoid confrontation.

“A compromise: I shall send a band of my bodyguards to bear witness to your employer and carry your belongings. The brewery is in a disreputable area and your fine dress might draw unwanted attention.”

“I suppose. I mean, thank you, sire,” she amended.

Flustered, the guard begged, “Sire, I’m supposed to take you to the council chambers.”

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Niftkin,” he replied. “My great grandsire was the famous admiral Nift.”

The emperor smiled. Before being an admiral, Nift had been a pirate and black-marketeer. “Soon you’re going to have to pick a side. Don’t panic; I won’t make you choose today. You don’t know enough yet. I’ll accompany you meekly to the meeting; in exchange, I expect you to see to my herald’s honor guard
personally
. Pretend there are assassins waiting at every turn.”

“Aye, but who will watch you, sire?”

“With all those wizards,” Anna added.

“Only four of the college deans are wizards, one for each major discipline,” Pagaose explained. “The other councilors are the church of Osos, the high court, a member of the first circle of aristocrats, and the military. They’re more of a political body than a school. Most of the day-to-day work gets decided by them and their committees.”

“But with half the votes and the support of Lord Pangborn, the wizards usually get their way,” Niftkin admitted.

“I’ll be safe with the religious arm of the college until my test is over,” the emperor insisted. “It should take a few hours, I think.”

The guard bowed and led them both out of the bedroom, to the right, past the emperor’s suite, and down the stairs to the luxurious council chamber. A general met them at the door. Niftkin introduced them. “General Lord Ashford, here’s the candidate you requested. I found him . . . relaxing with his herald.”

The general nodded and extended his hand. The emperor stared at it as if he’d been offered a fish. “I don’t touch other people unless I have to,” Pagaose explained. “Ashford isn’t an aromatic tree name.”

“The new fashion for Center is for our names to reflect the sufferings we’ve overcome since the Scattering. What does yours mean?”

“It means I’ve met the Traveler in his home and survived.” Pagaose walked past the general, and a few other dignitaries, toward the center of the conference table and an old man in a simple, brown robe. The man’s Imperial-blue eyes had been glazed white, rendering him blind. “Abbot Small Voice, it is an honor to finally meet you.” He inclined his head a quarter tilt to the sage out of respect.

“A bold claim,” said the sage.

“One I look forward to proving,” offered the new emperor. Rather than using the provided chair, the emperor pulled over a plump pillow to face the eight deans.

Ashford’s assistant waved Niftkin and the woman away as he closed and barred the heavy door. As he did so, Pagaose noted that the tail of the man’s shirt was untucked.
Why had a general’s assistant been conspiring with a wizard?
After the assistant took his seat, Small Voice recited, “A voice cried out from the throne room: flee Center and take your families with you, for the second Doom is upon you.”

After a dramatic pause, the sage asked, “Are you the one sent to guide us away from these dark days to the glory that was?”

“Not as it was. I hope to make things better for all.”

“Hubris?”

“No. That’s the pride of mortals against gods. The gods aren’t trying to repair anything here, are they?”

“No,” admitted the sage. He then proceeded to ask a series of obscure questions from every known holy book of the Traveler. Pagaose answered them all without hesitation. After an hour of trying to stump him, the sage paused.

The emperor interjected, “Do we move on to the
Book of Dominion
now?”

Cocking his head, the sage replied, “That is for the military testing tomorrow. Why would you classify it with today’s material?”

“Because the Traveler wrote that book as well.”

The sage nodded. “Yes, he was the only one permitted such things. That never occurred to me before now.” His manner shifted. For the next hour, he asked questions about the mysteries. “I’ve always wondered . . .”

Most of these Pagaose answered as succinctly as possible. From time to time, he would defer with vague responses like, “That’s dangerous information to share in public.”

The sage would not press in these cases. For the third hour, he asked questions that a student would ask his master. “What is the most profound thing you’ve ever heard?”

“The prayer of an innocent boy for an injured animal. It was answered.”

“What is the most amazing thing you ever saw?”

“Time stopping for my enemy while it flowed for me.”

“How did you know it moved normally for you?”

“It was snowing inside the north temple before I entered the final Door to Eternity,” explained the emperor.

The sage asked, “What would you do as head of the church of Osos?”

“I am a historian. My goal is to reveal past lessons to others in hopes that we will not repeat them. I shall do my best to guide our people through the turbulent days ahead. We have three generations free from the Council of Gods, and we need to make the most of them. Scholars will look back on this time as the Golden Age of Man.”

“How do you know this?” asked the sage in awe.

“The same way I know that the voice in the throne room you quoted belonged to the last Abbot of the Temple of the Unseen.”

“Which is how?”

“Because his last act was to rescue the One True Sword and deliver it, eventually, to me.”

“The sword that cuts stone?”

“Through the fabric of reality itself if need be. It represents the council vote of Osos.”

“How can a sword that cuts through all things be sheathed?”

“It must be propelled so by the will of the One True Bearer. The blade is only as penetrating as the determination of the wielder.”

“Could you be so kind as to demonstrate?”

Pagaose stood. “In the course of proving I am who I say I am, each of you will ask me for miracles of some kind. I will perform mutually agreed upon tasks as evidence—once. I will not repeat miracles, even if you beg. This is my decree. Do you all understand that you should choose your signs wisely?”

The sage nodded.

There was a statue of Myron the Seventh on the wall facing the council, with his right hand upheld in an obscene gesture. “This hand offends me.”

“It was a decree from Emperor Myron; we cannot remove or alter it,” explained Lord Ashford.

“
I
can,” announced Pagaose. Drawing the gleaming, sesterina-plated sword, he held the weapon above his head and concentrated, drawing upon the trance strength of a style known as Wrestling with Giants. With all his augmented might, he struck down at the hand. The blade flared red with heat as he pushed it through the stone like butter. Smoke rose from the stump as it singed the wood of the floor.

“You cannot counter the decree of another emperor,” protested the head of the high court.

Pagaose smiled. “We will debate this further on your day, sir.”

“Enough,” interrupted the sage. “I have heard enough of this man’s outlandish claims. I will cast my vote.” All eyes turned to the blind man. “As outrageous as he sounds, I’ll do nothing to stand in this man’s way. I do not claim to understand half what he says, but he’s more fit to lead the church of Osos than I.”

This admission from the old curmudgeon stunned the room into silence. The judge snapped the tip of the quill on his parchment, and it echoed louder than an arrow sunk into a target bale.

After taking a sip of his wine, the sage added, “I transfer rule of my church to him effective immediately. At sunset, in a ceremony with all clergy present on Center, we’ll ask him to choose his ceremonial rod of office.”

The emperor and the sage continued to chat in the palatial bedroom. “Leave the door open; I want to know when Anna gets back safely.”

“A lovely girl,” the sage commented.

“True, but I’m curious as to your criteria.”

“She’s devoted to the old ways, pure enough to handle the three ruby artifacts without being harmed, and compassionate enough to care for Kirak Togg until he died. Plus, she brews a fantastic ale. I’d recommend her as your first wife.”

“I won’t lie. Similar thoughts have occurred to me.”

“Yes, her smell on your robes was a clue.”

“She found the clothes for me. I had none,” explained the emperor candidate. When the sage snickered, he added, “It is her kindness and trustworthiness I pursue, not her virtue.”