The Grand Minister drank until his cup was all but empty, then swirled the last of the golden liquor around. Quickly he inverted it and clapped it down on the small table. He lifted it away from the small puddle and set it down again in a dry spot.
The object of Turcol’s visit had been obvious. The Prince’s order to gather troops had been the only pretense he needed to consider open rebellion. Pelut had expected him to demand the ministers throw open the gates of Moriande and deliver the Prince to him-which would have been a grand show, to be sure. The assassination attempt was not something he’d expected, and clearly not something Turcol had spent too much time thinking out. His willingness to adopt the blind of bandits showed a flexibility that could be useful, but his comments about succession revealed the difference between flexibility and malleability.
Were he malleable, he would be far more useful. Clearly he desired to be Prince, and considered himself the obvious choice. Pelut had no doubt that Turcol entertained dreams of being welcomed openly by his adoring people-merchants opening their coffers to him, and women opening their thighs. During his reign, the fantasies about the Keru being the Prince’s harem would come true, or a Cyrsa would arise from among the Keru, with Turcol’s blood on her hands.
Which might not be a bad choice. Marry her to Eiran and we could join two realms.
Still, while that would be an interesting expedient, like as not Eiran would die at the same time as Cyron. While he doubted Turcol had approached the Helosundian ministers, they would seek him out as soon as word got out that he was leading troops on the border. Their need to have Eiran dead would lead Turcol into further plots.
While the prospect of Turcol being prince did not excite Pelut, the idea that he could be rid of Cyron did. He would have preferred a method with more refinement, but dead was dead and a bludgeon worked as well as poison. Cyron posed more of a threat to Nalenyr than Turcol did, and certainly a more immediate one. He had to be dealt with.
Pelut turned his cup back over and read the leaves. Their positions and shapes communicated omens for the future. While they were not as clear as he might have liked, they were sufficient.
The fate of Turcol’s effort had been decided.
And with it the fate of Nalenyr itself.
Chapter Twenty-five
12th 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
Blackshark, Caxyan
Any hopes Jorim had harbored of keeping the changed nature of his relationship with Nauana secret died very quickly. Shimik had always been happy to spend time with Nauana, but now he doted on her and defended her. He growled at anyone who got too close to her-save Jorim-and sailors bored with life onshore had no trouble figuring out the reason behind the Fennych’s behavior.
The Amentzutl accepted this change readily, and Tzihua, the gigantic warrior who had been raised to the maicana caste because of his skills in combat, confessed that they’d all expected it to happen. While the interaction of the gods with mortals was not common in their mythology-or history, as Jorim reminded himself-it wasn’t unknown. For the most part, everyone had just hoped Tetcomchoa would find his time with the Amentzutl pleasurable.
And Jorim did find it pleasurable. Nauana had been beautiful and exotic, and he’d felt attracted to her when he first saw her. His interaction with her had strengthened that attraction, but he had not thought she had any interest in him. The care with which he undertook his training amplified his feelings for her, and yet he did not read into her actions any emotion.
But reaching out to touch her essence and her willingness to open herself in return revealed all. It was as if he had known her all his life, and the reverse. Curiously, their likes and dislikes, their experiences-though all shaped through cultures that knew nothing of each other-meshed effortlessly. It felt as if they were each half of a coin that had been divided and now had come together again.
Jorim had been in love before-at least a dozen times and sometimes even longer than a month. He had allowed himself to believe that many of his relationships foundered because his familial obligations demanded he travel for long periods of time. But the simple fact was that the relationships had already foundered, and the trips were just a convenient excuse to let things die.
He didn’t bear any animosity for the women he’d known. Initial attraction led to discovery, and the dissatisfaction became mutual over time. Everyone is on best behavior when they first meet, then they learn what the other person is truly like. By four months, one knew whether or not a relationship could last.
In six seconds he’d learned that about Nauana, and he knew he could spend the rest of his life with her. He would have hesitated to make that statement, save that he’d opened himself to her, too. She was no longer under the illusion that he was a god-made-man-though she had allowed as how his divinity might be manifesting in the same way a fledgling’s molting reveals its true plumage.
He would have rejected that idea, but every Naleni youth had been raised on the tale of Wentiko, the Dragon god, who believed himself an ugly worm until he blossomed into a dragon. Intellectually, Jorim recognized the story as one that taught people to value the person within over the external appearances, but the physical manifestation of the internal also resonated. Everywhere one looked, people grew and changed. In some, the growth was for the better. And, in others, it was a surrender to the outside world because they did not believe enough in what was inside.
Am I a god within? In the past he would have laughed outright at such a notion, but now he’d been given cause to wonder. Growing up, he and his siblings would joke about how Qiro thought he was a god-and indeed many people treated him with more reverence than they showed the gods. If being skilled at something allowed one to reach the state of jaedunto, wasn’t it possible that one could manifest as something greater? He would have once rejected that idea because everyone knew there were only nine gods and could be no more, but the whole idea of another god forcing his way into heaven opened up a plethora of possibilities.
Discussions like these occupied the time he spent with Nauana outside training, while his magical education continued unabated-and even accelerated. He could not communicate with her telepathically even as well as he could with his blood kin, but he understood her better. That, coupled with his understanding of essence and how to use it, allowed him to progress quickly. While he still was not as proficient as Nauana, there were indications he had the capacity to handle far more power than she did.
Still, plans had been for him to continue his studies, but then a runner came in from Micyan, a coastal village two days distant. He collapsed from exhaustion, having run all the way with no food, no sleep, and insufficient water. He reported that the Mozoyan had attacked his village.
The prospect of the Mozoyan’s return goaded the Amentzutl into action. The city of Nemehyan sat atop a mountain, which was reached by a long, switchback causeway that came up from the plains. Those plains had seen a savage battle against the Mozoyan just over a month before-or “earlier in the week,” if one was using the centenco calendar. In fact, a tall, pyramidal mountain of Mozoyan skulls marked the Amentzutl victory over their enemy. In that attack the Mozoyan had come in from the northeast, and the prospect of their arrival from the coast meant defenses would have to be shifted.
Captain Anaeda Gryst sent the Blackshark north along the coast to look for any signs of the advancing Mozoyan horde. Because the Amentzutl had no maritime tradition to speak of, Micyan had not been built on a harbor. But the ship would be able to land troops at the closest natural harbor for a scouting run and, toward that end, a company each of Sea Dragons and Amentzutl warriors boarded her.