Gold glinted in Kelarac’s smile. “You can’t steer the ship unless you turn the wheel. I need you where you are, doing exactly what you’re going to—”
The Great Elder was interrupted by a girl’s pale face, popping up and staring at him from an inch away. Bliss frowned into what, to her, should look like empty space.
“Dreams are like cobwebs,” she said. “I don’t like them in my hair.”
When the Guild Head waved her hand, the courtyard vanished, and Calder woke upright in bed. Sunlight leaked in from the edges of his window, and Kelarac’s dream was nothing but a memory.
Calder shivered as he dressed himself in the early morning light. These palace rooms were comfortable but drafty, and the autumn chill was starting to make itself known. But he shivered for more than just the cold.
Kelarac had come to him last night, either invading his dreams or dragging his mind away while he slept. He wasn’t sure which possibility unnerved him more. He was sure their conversation had been real, and equally sure that Bliss had noticed them. Or at least noticed something wrong.
How much did she know? If she had seen him standing next to a figure she recognized as a Great Elder, he would be in the dangerous position of trying to explain to the Head of the Blackwatch why he was on first-name basis with Kelarac. If that didn’t end with his body in the Aion Sea, it ended with seven spikes through him.
On top of the looming threat of death, an even greater fear loomed. Kelarac had spoken clearly last night. Too clearly. Before, the Soul Collector had doled out hints like a hunter baiting traps, careful not to give Calder too much information. Why had he changed?
Above all, why let Calder know he was being manipulated? It was one thing to know he was dancing to an Elder tune, and quite another to have Kelarac tell him to his face that he was nothing more than a piece on a gameboard.
Did Kelarac tell him because it wouldn’t matter? Because Calder would play his role regardless, and he couldn’t stop it? Or maybe Kelarac knew that Calder would resist, that he would do the exact opposite of whatever he thought the Elders wanted, which would itself play right into Kelarac’s hands…
“If you find yourself thinking in circles, stop thinking.” Not one of the great philosophers of history, obviously. Calder’s father, Rojric. Calder had always found the words surprisingly wise: when thinking wasn’t productive, he had to start acting.
Which was why he’d take the initiative. He’d go confront Bliss, find out what she knew, and try to enlist her help. If she killed him…well, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her, and maybe his death would thwart Kelarac’s plans.
Why do I even want to stop Kelarac? Calder had only interacted with two Great Elders in his life, and both of them had worked for Calder’s benefit. Sure, maybe Calder was being used as part of an eons-long plot to devour the world, but it was working out for him. It wasn’t his responsibility to protect the world from Elders.
The burning handprint on his forearm itched, and he absently scratched it. No one had carried his chest of clothes over from The Testament, so he was left with only a spare outfit that the palace servants had brought him: a set of shirt, pants, and jacket in red and gold. It looked suspiciously like a cross between the Imperial Guard uniform and a servant’s livery, but at least he wouldn’t be wandering the Emperor’s palace in his skin.
He had just started pulling on the pants when his door swung open and Andel walked in, his white suit as pristine as ever. “Good morning, August and Illustrious Emperor. I’m here to dress you.”
Calder looked from his servant clothes to the robes draped over Andel’s arm. Fabric spilled over his arm in a waterfall of sunlight colors: yellow, white, and a bright, shimmering gold. Clothes like the Emperor would have worn.
“You’re not really going to dress me, are you?”
Andel threw the bundle of cloth at him. “The palace staff seem to think I’m your manservant. They tried to get me to bring your tea.”
“I could use some tea right now, actually.”
“I’m sure Petal would brew it for you immediately.”
Calder held up a smooth white garment, like a loose sleeved robe, and an identical yellow one next to it. “Which of these am I supposed to put on first?”
Andel folded his arms and leaned with his back to the door. “Whichever you decide, do it quickly. The Guild Heads want to meet with you.”
Anxiety sparked in Calder’s stomach as he pulled the white robe over his head. Was this Bliss confronting him about last night? “What for, did they say?”
“What did you do wrong?”
Calder froze with the yellow robe halfway over the white one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Andel raised one eyebrow a fraction. “It’s obvious why they want to talk to you. Same reason they sent you those clothes. You should start acting like the Emperor now, and they’re going to guide you through it. You wouldn’t have asked unless you were afraid it was something else, which means you did something wrong.”
Calder relaxed, considering the gold robe that was probably his outer layer. Each layer was cut slightly differently, so that some of the previous colors would show through no matter how he wore them. “You have quite the imagination, Andel.”
“If you get us executed after only one night in the Imperial Palace, I swear I’ll make a deal with a Great Elder just to haunt you for eternity.”
“Where’s that tea?”
After looking over Calder’s Imperial clothing and carefully not laughing, Andel led him through the palace hallways, over rare imported carpets and decorations that would cost more than a Navigator’s entire journey. When they finally arrived at their destination, Calder was thoroughly lost.
Not only had they taken more turns that he felt were strictly necessary, this room looked exactly the same as fifty others they’d passed. It held a long, rectangular table in the center, chairs all around, and paintings on the wall. The only difference between this room and all the others in the palace was its inhabitants.
Servants stood around the perimeter, prepared to attend to any sudden requests. Jarelys Teach sat at one end of the table, holding her forehead in one gauntleted hand. Cheska Bennett had traded her hat for a bandana tying her hair back, and she was in the middle of an angry gesture with a rolled-up news-sheet. Mekendi Maxeus was the only one of them who looked somewhat calm, though that could have been the black mask that shrouded his features. His hands were laced together, his ash-gray staff leaning behind him.
A sudden disquiet rolled through Calder’s gut. This was all too familiar. Andel leading him through the door, into a meeting of Guild Heads…just like aboard The Eternal, not long ago. How much had changed since then?
He supposed he’d find out.
“…have to move now,” Cheska insisted, not bothering to acknowledge Calder. “The longer we wait, the better it is for them.”
Teach spoke without opening her eyes. “It sounds to me like we’ve already made our opening move.”
“The remaining Regents will respond,” Maxeus said confidently. “They will have to act, or else go back into hiding.”
Rather than go stand against the wall with the servants and attendants, as he’d done last time, Andel simply walked out of the room. Calder understood. If he kept acting like a servant, people would keep treating him like one. Best to abandon ship while there was still a chance of keeping his dignity.
But Calder didn’t like how alone he felt as Andel left.