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Authors: H. Jonas Rhynedahll

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BOOK: Warrior (The Key to Magic)
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Settling the civil unrest might be difficult.  He well understood the mentality of a Khalarii riot.  In order to find profit in bedlam, certain disreputable elements from the Lower City were always ready to inflame the most miniscule manufactured slight against the Forty-Nine into a public outrage.  Normally, these sorts of tumults faded as quickly as they had arisen.  In this case, however, it had been no mere overblown minor trespass that had enraged the faithful but an apparent murder of an acolyte sacred to the Gods that had been witnessed by thousands.  Those in the streets below were not simply the opportunistic thieves, beggars, and scoundrels but rather the common faithful -- shopkeepers, laborers, traders, metal workers, and craftsmen.

Hwraldek might be dead, but the problem that he had created would not automatically pass away with him.

Mar flew back to the Plaza of the Empire and landed on the elevated, granite-paved esplanade that ran around the outside of the half circle of bluestone columns that supported the portico of the Temple of Miyra.  Along with Legate Stromhaeldt, a quad of his armsmen, a shoulder to shoulder line of scantily-clad, young, physiologically blessed, and anxious women, Grand Commandant Erskh was present but seemed to have decided that his purpose in the operation was to stand to one side, look commanding, ogle the women, and leave the actual investigative functions to the legate.  Pretending to be questioning one of the Moon Dancers, the Khalarii official made no move to approach as Mar alighted next to Stromhaeldt.

The legate saluted smartly.  "We found no armsmen, my lord emperor, and no indication that any had been here but what we
also
did not find is troubling.  There is no evidence of the missing and presumed dead moon dancer."

"Explain."

"In accordance with the Codex of the Moon -- the goddess Miyra happens to be a patron of my House, my lord emperor, and I am conversant with her holy texts -- there are always exactly twenty-four odalisques in service to the Temple."  Stromhaeldt pointed at the line of young women hemmed in by the legionnaires.  "We double counted them."

"All alive and all accounted for?"

"
Yes
, my lord emperor."

"It must have been a glamour."

"Magic, my lord emperor?"

"Yes.  Where's High Priestess Seoralye?"

"Inside."

"Bring her."

Escorted -- or, perhaps more accurately herded -- by the legate and a quad of his legionnaires, Supreme High Priestess Seoralye arrived flustered and incensed, but not panicked.  Her robes of office, which Mar still thought revealed too much plump, unlovely, and wrinkled skin for a woman her age and girth, were immaculate and her coiffure perfect.  Not surprisingly, she did not at all present the image of a guilty conspirator.

"My lord emperor," she enthused immediately upon seeing him, "thank the Forty-Nine that you are here!  There has been a terrible tumult in the city!"

"Patriarch Hwraldek has paid for his treason," Mar told her, watching her face closely for some indication of guilt.  "I do not believe that he was alone in this plot."

"Oh! Who do you suspect, my lord emperor?"  The innocence and ignorance that the priestess projected was so thick that it almost stirred the ether.

"You know nothing of it?"

"Certainly not!  I am a true and faithful servant of the Gods and of the Empire!"

"Was one of the Moon Dancers killed yesterday?"

Seoralye assumed a look of incomprehension.  "No, my lord emperor.  All of the temple attendants are here, as you can plainly see."

"According to all reports, the murder of the moon dancer was witnessed by thousands."

"I cannot speak to that, my lord emperor.  At the time of the disturbance that led to the riots, I was within the holy sanctum, performing the special festival prayers to the goddess."

"That was convenient."

"I was simply attending to my customary duties, my lord emperor."

Mar contemplated the woman.  Clearly, she was too astute to inadvertently incriminate herself. 

It did not seem likely to him that Hwraldek would have attempted to take over the city on his own.  The patriarch might have been able to seize the government through assassination and the force of his armsmen alone, but he had been too cunning to think that he could rule in Khalar without the cooperation of the other power factions.  Mar's instincts told him that the entire Privy Council must have been involved.

While he had the authority, both magical and civil, to arrest all of the surviving members without proof, he did not believe it wise to do so.  Mar knew his history well enough to know that the common people of Khalar must have confidence that he -- the Emperor -- would adhere to the ancient traditions of imperial jurisprudence.  Otherwise, he would be condemned as a despot and any popular support that he had had in the city would fade away.

Still, something must be done to prevent this rot from Khalar once again raising rebellion.  After he went out to Mhevyr to do battle with the Brotherhood, he would not be able to return to deal with another ambitious traitor.

"High Priestess Seoralye, I'm going to restore order to Khalar and work diligently to discover the source of this perfidy.  To assist me with these endeavors, the Privy Council must come into immediate session."

"Of course, my lord emperor.  I will prepare straightaway to go to the Viceroy's Palace."

"The session will take place aboard my flagship here in the Plaza," Mar corrected, taking some pleasure in the uncertainty that flashed for just an instant through the priestess' eyes.

"As a security measure," Mar went on, "I'm going to assign guards to all the councilors.  Legate Stromhaeldt, have two of your men escort the priestess to Number One."

After a detectably less confident but still outwardly unconcerned Seoralye and her escorts moved off down the stairs, Mar called Erskh over and ordered him to personally present a summons to the each of the other members of the Privy Council.  They were to attend Mar without delay.

When the Grand Commandant was on his way, Mar swept across the plaza to Number One to give Ulor instructions, then, with the full intention to have the councilors cool their heels until his return, rose up and flew across the river again.

The air above the western bank was, as always, thick with soot, ash, and smoke, but clearly the haze had been added to in a significant way by the fires that continued to burn in some areas, particularly in the northern slums.

All of these elements, he determined in short order, would respond to ethereal ignition.  After a short period of experimentation, he used a mewling-pine lance with a corkscrew semblance to explode bright flashes of gold and blood red fire above every thoroughfare and borough of the Lower City, smiting the air with peals of reverberating thunder.  He continued this demonstration until he judged that he had gotten the shocked attention of every inhabitant.  Then, he cast the spell that would carry his voice over the entire city and spoke.

"People of Khalar, this is the Emperor.  The murder of the moon dancer that many saw yesterday was a false image projected by accursed sorcery.  No moon dancer has died.  No sacrilege has been committed.  Twenty-four dancers are alive and well at their temple.  This heinous deception was planned and promoted by Patriarch Hwraldek of the House of Korhthenr, who has perished as a consequence of his crimes and will soon hang from the obelisk at the center of the Plaza of the Empire.  Tomorrow, all who desire may go there to count the temple attendants and to look upon this cretin's remains.  Today, I declare peace across the city.  All of you will go to your homes and there remain through dawn tomorrow.  The streets will be cleared so that fire brigades and Imperial guardsmen may go about their proper business.  Be forewarned.  I will bring a storm of fire and whirlwind upon any who do not obey these orders."

He gathered his ethereal strength and then pressed forward across the Lower City, driving a stiff wind before him with a wave of gabbling-carnelian flux and stirring dust and wrack into the faces of the crowds.  He kept his altitude at only six manheight so that all could see and recognize him and crossed then entire Lower City, from north to south and east to west.

Within half an hour, the streets were empty and he returned to Number One.

As instructed, Ulor had moved the skyship to within fifty manheight of the ebony stone of the tapering cylindrical obelisk and the members of the council, who had all apparently reacted with alacrity to the summons, were standing -- Mar had told Ulor not to offer them chairs -- in a loose huddle on the main deck.  They were not speaking and hardly glanced at each other.  Erskh stood upon the steerage with Ulor and several marines, in a transparent attempt to avoid being contaminated with the others' possible guilt.

A file of legionnaires waited in the shadow of the skyship.  Near them on a litter lay a covered form.

Mar did not land upon the deck, but floated a manheight above it so that the four surviving members of the Privy Council would have to look up at him and toward the obelisk.

Though Mwyrlzhre appeared to have a nervous tremor, Lhyt was as unperturbed as Seoralye and Erhtrys looked decidedly pleased.  It was certain that the leader of the House of Rhesdin would gain influence in the Council of the Patriarchs as a consequence of Hwraldek's removal.

Gleaning his words and stentorian tone from the language of imperial texts that he had read long ago, Mar amplified his voice slightly and addressed the group before any of them could speak.

"Traitors have always been a curse of the Empire, but there has never before been an emperor who was also a
magician.
"

He caused leaping surge of red fire to flare along the surface of the obelisk.

"There has never been an emperor who could see into the hearts of men and see their guilt."

He had called down the lighting once before and, needing it again, he did so now without conscious effort or plan.  The bolt struck the top of the obelisk, making the councilors cringe back and shield their eyes from the sudden blare of light.

"There has never been an emperor who could smite down treason from afar."

He infused the clothing of each of the councilors and caused it to constrict painfully upon them for an extended moment, making them gasp for breath.  When he released them, none failed to look afraid.  Mwyrlzhre appeared to have wet himself.

Mar nodded at Ulor, who then leaned over the side to wave at the legionnaires.

Without ceremony, the file marched out to the base of the obelisk, bearing the litter, and cast a rope over an iron hook that protruded from the stone about three manheight up.

The hook, according to an obscure anecdote that Mar had once read in a volume entitled the
Annuls of the Viceroyalty
, had been fitted by the twelfth post-imperial viceroy, Pylbim III, to hang his own brother.

As the legionnaires mechanically attended the task of fitting a noose about the corpse's neck and began hoisting it up, Mar nudged Number One nearer to the obelisk.  He wanted each and every one of his guests to get a good look at the doom of any who raised rebellion against the Empire.

Mar might not be able to instill loyalty in them, but he certainly could instill fear.

 

FORTY

143rd Year of the Reign of the City

Fourthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire

Mhajhkaei

 

"Am I dead?" Rhavaelei quavered, staring aghast at the apparition that had opened the door of her cell.

Ghorn shook his head.  "No."

"The monks killed you."

"Obviously not."

Rhavaelei got up from her threadbare pallet, crossed the floor in her still bare feet, ignoring the discomfort of the rough stone on her tender soles and struggling somewhat against the dragging weight of her chains, and approached Ghorn with trepidation.  She wanted to touch him to make sure that he was really there but restrained herself.

"Am I to be executed?"

"No."

"It was not poison."

"If it had been poison that you placed in his cup, you would not still draw breath."

"Am I to be set free, then?"

"No.  The Queen has granted me the right to bestow clemency.  You will be released from the dungeon, but will be exiled."

Rhavaelei straightened a bit, disregarding as immaterial to her own situation this unexpected news of Queen's return.  Though anything at all would be better than this cesspit of a cell, she still wanted to know the particulars before she relinquished the constant dread that had gripped her.

"Where am I to go?"

"You will be taken under heavy guard to Pamplyea."

Suddenly motivated by an unabashed desire for simple human contact, Rhavaelei pressed nearer Ghorn, hovering at a distance intimate enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.   He was in armor and smelled as if he had worn it for days, but even this ox-like reek was a welcome change from the musty lichen smell of the frigid and unrelenting stone that had been her only companion since she had been left here.  Making her isolation complete, her jailors had never shown their faces, delivering her meals and removing her midden bucket through a hatch at the bottom of the door.  She had despaired of ever seeing another human being again.

For a fantastical moment, she had an irrational impulse to embrace him and only refrained from doing so because she feared that he would spurn and belittle her.

"I'll need money from my accounts and clothing and other personal items from my apartments," she said, achieving, despite the heavy chill in her bones and the filth of her sackcloth dress, a brash, almost haughty tone.

Ghorn's bland expression did not waver.  "You have been made destitute by Imperial decree.  The House of Trajhen has disinherited you and stripped you of all titles and property.  You have nothing to take."

A lesser woman would have been stunned.  She simply moved on.  "What will be the nature of my circumstance in Pamplyea?"

"You will be given use of a cottage on the estate.  You will be provided clothing and basic necessities.  You may occupy yourself as you please, but you will not have servants, so you will be responsible for your own cooking, cleaning, and other daily work."

BOOK: Warrior (The Key to Magic)
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