Maxeus was the first to recognize his presence, giving Calder a shallow, seated bow. “The change of wardrobe suits you. Welcome. There’s been some recent excitement here at home, as you may have heard.”
“Did Bliss figure out how to get to the throne?” Surely there could be no more urgent cause than that.
“She’s still working on it,” Teach said. “Apparently the Elders sent something to spy on her last night, so she summoned a team of Watchmen to secure the courtyard. When she knows something, I’m sure she’ll…” The Guild Head hesitated.
“Delay until she feels like it, tell us eventually, and leave out crucial details,” Calder finished.
“I sometimes forget you used to work for her.”
Cheska slapped the news-sheet down on the table. “Enough about the Elders! Light and life, we have enough human problems to last us until Urg’naut devours the planet.”
At Calder’s curious look, she slid the sheet over to him.
IZYRIA IN CHAOS, IMPERIALISTS TO BLAME, the headline declared. The article went on to describe the riots in the east, food shortages, and Guild-on-Guild violence. All precipitated by the ‘Imperialists:’ those Guilds who wanted to raise up a second Emperor after the first, may his soul fly free, was lost to an Elder attack. The writer even managed to insinuate that it may have been the Imperialists who engineered the Emperor’s death in the first place.
The first thing Calder said when he’d finished was, “Imperialists?”
Maxeus inclined his masked head. “That’s the charming moniker the news-sheets have given to our alliance, represented here. The Magisters, the Blackwatch, the Imperial Guard, and the Navigators are Imperialists, while the Consultants, Alchemists, Greenwardens, and Luminians are the Independents.”
“The name isn’t the problem,” Cheska said. “The name is fine. If anything, calling us Imperialists reinforces that we’re on the side of the Empire. The problem is that the news-sheets are all over us. Which means the people don’t trust us. And if the people don’t trust us, they won’t trust whatever slack-jawed idiot we stick on the throne.”
If Calder were a less generous man, that might have offended him. “Thank you, Cheska. If you wouldn’t mind explaining something else to me, though, they claim that this was happening yesterday. Even the fastest Navigator couldn’t travel here from Izyria in less than two weeks.” Calder ought to know, as his ship was the fastest.
Cheska snorted. “Two weeks? With fantastic weather, clear sailing, an empty hold, and the Emperor’s own luck. Maybe.”
“That’s what hurts the worst,” Teach said, frustration bleeding into her voice. “There’s no way they could have known. It’s entirely fabricated.”
There had to be something here he was missing. They were too upset for what amounted to little more than a slanderous lie. “Then what’s the matter? We’ll get the Witnesses to investigate, and they’ll have to print a retraction. Instead of the villains, people will see us as the victims.”
Maxeus steepled his hands again. “Unfortunately, despite their obvious deception, they’re actually correct. Izyria is in chaos, their Regent is missing, and we are to blame. I received the news yesterday, through a method much faster than your ships.”
“So how did they know?” Calder asked.
“They didn’t,” Cheska said, slapping her palm down on the table. “They just guessed, but they’re right, and now we’re sunk if we don’t bail water.”
There was still something Calder didn’t know, some fact they were dancing around rather than addressing it directly. “It can’t be that much of a disaster. What did we do?”
It was Maxeus who answered with a distinct note of pride. “We successfully assassinated Alagaeus, Regent of the East.”
Calder stared at him, speechless.
“Possibly Jorin as well, though he was staying with the Consultants. As you know, the Gray Island is in somewhat of a mess right now, so news is scarce.”
Calder still couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. The Regents were the four most powerful people in the world, on a level even higher than the Guild Heads. Contemporaries of the Emperor, they had come out of hiding—or, as some said it, hibernation—after the Emperor’s death. They’d divided the world up between the four of them, and had prevented the Empire from falling to pieces.
If any one of them had been willing to accept the title of Emperor, Calder would never have gotten the job. Neither would Naberius, and likely the whole debacle surrounding the Heart of Nakothi would never have happened.
But they maintained that only the Emperor could rule the Empire. In a sense, they were the pillars on which the Independent Guilds rested.
And they were led by Estyr Six, the most terrifying woman in history. There were as many horror stories about her as myths, none of them comforting to her opponents.
“So you’re telling me we’re all going to die,” Calder said. His senses tightened as he entered the state he always did before a fight. He was ready to run out of here and straight down to the dock, where he and his crew could board The Testament and stay on the Aion for as long as possible. Years, if necessary.
He’d been promised a position as Emperor, and he had no doubt that he’d make it to the throne eventually. But he would prefer it if his first act as the ruler of the world wasn’t getting blasted to pieces.
Maxeus spread his hands. “Events have outpaced us, but this isn’t a disaster. If we act now, we can salvage this. We can even turn it into an advantage. But we must act.”
Calder realized he had half-risen from his seat, and slowly lowered himself back down. “What’s the plan?”
Bliss couldn’t wait for Alsa Grayweather to return. Well, she could wait, and she would, because there was no realistic alternative, but she didn’t want to. As she stared at this Elder wall, as she’d come to think of it, she had begun to grow irritated. And with her irritation she became unpredictable. That was Tharlos’ influence on her, and it couldn’t be helped, but Alsa was the only one who could bring her back to reason.
She had sent Alsa away only six days ago, and she had been proud of that decision. At the time. It had been an attempt to keep Alsa both safe and busy while Bliss took care of her son, and it had worked beautifully. Bliss was pleased at her own foresight, and her tact in handling the situation.
Sadly, Alsa’s absence left her alone with Tharlos.
What if those Watchmen behind you weren’t Watchmen at all? What if they were dogs, dogs standing on their hind legs, wearing black coats and carrying spikes like they were people? Wouldn’t that be hilarious? The thought from her Vessel didn’t come in words, precisely, but in feelings. Like Bliss would be in for the joke of a lifetime if only she would let a Great Elder turn her subordinates into two-legged dogs.
She slapped the Spear through her coat, a quick reprimand, even though its idea did sound funny. And she could use a laugh—it was supposed to be good for your mood. The wall of Elder flesh surrounding the Emperor’s quarters just would not cooperate, though she’d spent all night trying to expose its secrets.
After all this time, she’d learned only that there was someone trapped inside. But that knowledge came with its own problems.
Gray-green tendrils whipped out, suddenly aggressive, lashing her Watchmen and two of the Imperial Guards who were still cutting at the flesh with their weapons. A man scream, a woman pleaded, and all six of them backed off.