So if I am found out and captured, I shall not live long enough to reveal anything. Junel smiled. “I shall bear that in mind.” He almost added “Minister” to the comment, but being too wise would not be good. Intrigues such as this could not be undertaken without the complicity of the bureaucracy. And for a minister to dabble so directly meant the bureaucrats found Cyron a risk. Their support could make even the most haphazard plan succeed.
“I bid you a farewell, Junel Aerynnor. If things go well, I shall not greet you again until I have the honor of addressing you as ‘my Prince.’ ”
“Then peace to you until then.”
The lantern behind the screen went dark, and the tapestries on that wall shifted. But Junel did not get up, for even if he located the switch that operated the secret door, his patron would be long gone. Who he was did not matter, after all. What mattered was that Junel’s plan now had backing of a strong Naleni element. Success merely awaited implementation.
He stood, stretching, and felt the urge to hunt slowly come over him. No, not yet. Delay it. The gratification shall be so much more.
Besides, I have much to think on now, and much more to plan. To plan, as a prince would plan.
Chapter Eighteen
1st day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat
9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Kunjiqui, Anturasixan
The growing sense of dread within her surprised Nirati Anturasi, for she generally loved surprises. A lover’s surprise-making manifest the desire of another to please her-had always seemed a testament of love. This alien apprehension urged her to remain by her stream, but she defied it.
Bearing Takwee in her arms, she had begun the trek to the western reaches of Kunjiqui. She knew that the place to which she was headed was many miles distant-further, certainly, than from Moriande to Kelewan-yet her walk would take no more than minutes. Such was the nature of the paradise her grandfather had created that she never needed to be far from the heart of it and never had to tire herself while journeying away.
Not that she ever went far, or for long. Days melted one into another, to the point where their passage meant nothing. Night lasted as long as she wanted, and likewise day. If her desires shifted quickly enough, they could change with an eyeblink. She’d made time pass that way once, but she didn’t think it had been for long. Then again-as she had laughed at the time-how would she have known?
Such miracles were not uncommon in her grandfather’s world. He had raised mountains and sunk land to create an inland sea. He split the land with a wave of his hand and joined it again with a simple caress. He made places where years passed in heartbeats, and others where an hour would take nine years to be spent. All this he did with purpose, consulting with Nelesquin, who, in turn, sought counsel from his scrying stones.
And all for me.
As she walked west, it occurred to her that she had not seen Qiro Anturasi for a while. Instantly she regretted this, then composed her face in a smile. He loved it when she smiled. He had ever been tender in his care of her, and she owed him every possible kindness.
So with Nelesquin’s surprise and a chance to see her grandfather again, she had no idea why she felt such dread. This is paradise. What could go wrong? Of course, anything could go wrong-everything. As her brother Keles once told her, “Just because you have flipped a coin a dozen times and it always comes up sun, the thirteenth time it could come up moon.”
She heard his voice as if he were walking with her. Nirati turned and saw the washed-out, ghostly image of her twin matching her strides. “Keles, is that you?”
He looked at himself, then at her curiously. “Is it, or is it how you desire to remember me?”
His question caught her off guard. She let him move ahead of her and glanced at his back, but she saw no scars from Viruk claws. “It’s you, but not as you are. Where are you? Are you a dream, or are we communicating in the manner you do with Grandfather?”
“I must be a dream. Communication with Grandfather has never been this clear, nor have I ever been able to reach you, Nirati.”
She nodded, certain he was correct. Then Takwee grabbed for Keles’ nearly transparent arm. Can Takwee see my dreams? “Where shall I dream you are?”
“In Felarati, a guest of Prince Pyrust.”
Nirati laughed. “Is that possible? I’d rather dream you in Ixyll. But if you are there, don’t go to the Empress. She will only torture and deceive you.”
“The Sleeping Empress? Why would she do that? She waits for us to reach her so she can help reestablish the Empire.” Keles smiled at her and Takwee cooed delightedly. “As long as you are dreaming, will you tell me where you are?”
Nirati opened her arms-letting an alarmed Takwee dangle from her right wrist. “I am in Kunjiqui. Grandfather made it for me. He created it and he… he brought me here when I died.” Is that right? Did I die?
“You cannot be dead, Nirati. The dead do not dream.”
Oh, but I think they do. I think they dream of being alive again. She brought her arms in over her chest and shivered. “You’re right, Keles; I am certain of it. But dreams are never certain, are they?”
“No. What of Grandfather and Jorim and Mother?”
“I’ve no news of Jorim, but no worries for him. Were I to dream him in Felarati, he would dream himself away again. With Mother I have no contact. Grandfather is well and happily at work. Are you not in contact with him?”
“The situation here is complicated enough that I don’t need him interrogating me. I can’t risk being distracted by his ire. When I am done, he’ll have a complete map of the new Felarati. Maybe that will please him, though my failure to complete the Ixyll survey will not.”
“He loves you. He loves us all.” She reached out to caress his face, but her fingers just moved through the image. Still, his face turned to her hand, and he would have kissed her palm had his lips not passed through it.
“Nirati.” Nelesquin’s voice boomed from high atop a distant hill. “Quickly, darling!”
With the echoes of his voice, the image of her brother evaporated. Takwee mewed sadly-the first real sign of any discontent on her part. Nirati’s heart sank a bit, but she salvaged the memory of Keles’ smile. She created its twin on her face, then, in three long strides, reached Nelesquin’s side.
He rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her back around to face whence she had come. He kissed the back of her head, then settled his large hands over her eyes. “Who was that I saw you with, Nirati?”
“My twin, Keles. I dreamed him.”
“Ah, I look forward to meeting him.”
“I warned him of Cyrsa.”
“Better he should warn her of me.” He laughed easily. “Now, my love, the surprise I promised you. Let me just turn us about.”
Neither of them moved. Instead, the whole top of the hill spun slowly. With his hands over her eyes, he hooked his elbows in front of her shoulders and drew her tight against his broad chest. He held her there for a moment, then rested his chin on her head.
“Behold, beloved, what we have wrought.”
His hands fell away and she opened her eyes. She blinked, quickly, for so much sunlight glinted from thousands of pinpoints that she almost shifted day to night to protect her eyes. But they would shine just as brightly in the dark, I am certain.
Below her, the land had sunk between two mountain ranges. Vast plains isolated the foothills from the slender finger of deep blue water thrust deep into the land. On that narrow ocean bobbed dozens of ships-none as large as the Stormwolf, but each large enough to carry hundreds of soldiers. Other ships waited next to quays or in dry docks, ready to be launched.