“There’s only so much coincidence I’m willing to accept,” he said. “First, the Independents find out about Alagaeus’ death weeks before they should have, and they publish it in the news-sheets. It forces us to hunt for an excuse to attack. Then, only a few days later, the perfect excuse drops out of the sky and lands in our laps.”
“If you’re suggesting the Consultants manipulated events to that degree…if they were capable of coordinated action on that scale, they’d rule the world.”
“I don’t think it was the Consultants that set the trap.”
The Elders had a plan. Their actions with the Optasia, the Emperor’s death, the steadily growing conflict between the Guilds…If the Great Elders weren’t pulling the strings, they were at least enjoying the show.
Teach stepped closer, lowering her voice even further. “It’s fine for you to express these doubts to me privately, but keep them away from the public. We need to make sure that people see you and the Imperialist Guilds as one and the same.”
“I understand, but the confidence of the people isn’t our biggest problem. The Elders are involved here.”
“The Great Elders have a plan. They always have a plan. We fight back by facing them head-on, and not hanging back in fear because they might—”
Teach snapped around, staring at the section of wall. Her hand was already on Tyrfang’s hilt, though Calder hadn’t seen it move. She seemed transformed, like a lion poised to pounce, her Intent sharp and focused.
With hardly a second’s hesitation, she lashed out with Tyrfang’s power.
A lash of dark power flickered out, like a whip-crack of shadow. It blasted the top half of the wall to rubble, striking the figure that had been crouched on the other side. Calder had managed to deaden his senses before the attack, because he’d seen it before: the corrosive Intent would have left him with nightmares for days.
Teach leaped, clearing the remaining wall in one bound, and slammed into the ground. She stood over the crouching figure with her blade ready to draw.
“Remain on the ground. If you attempt to stand, you will be executed. If you speak without permission, you will be executed. If you draw a weapon, you will be executed.”
The injured woman coughed and started to crawl out, so Calder caught a glimpse of blond hair and orange eyes. Meia.
“Stop!” he ordered, walking forward to make sure that Teach didn’t strike again, but one look at her face told him it wasn’t necessary. The Guild Head was even more shocked than he was, her face going pale.
“Meia?” Teach asked.
Meia raised her head and tried to speak, even as blue scales popped up irregularly over her skin. She finally hacked out a breath and collapsed, breathing heavily, her muscles squirming on their own beneath her black uniform.
“She’s been working with me,” Calder said hurriedly. “She protected me from the Champion, and I suspect she’ll soon join my crew. She’s on our side.”
Teach looked at Meia as though staring through a window into the past. “Could be she is. But the last time I saw her, she…”
The general let the thought trail off. When Imperial Guards came rushing over to tend to their Guild Head, she ordered them to load Meia back into a carriage and take her to the palace. “Full alchemical recovery,” Teach instructed. “The palace staff knows her, they should know how to deal with her enhancements. Three sets of eyes on her at all times. Any mistakes will be personally addressed by me.”
Teach and Calder rode back in the carriage behind Meia. They’d seen what they needed to see in Maxeus’ warehouse, and now they were faced with a decision.
Namely, whether to declare war on the oldest Imperial Guild.
General Teach was totally certain of her opinion. “Decisive action here could prevent a full-scale war. If we destroy the Consultants, we destroy the capacity of the Independent Guilds to organize. In the best-case scenario, we may even be able to get the Architects on our side.”
Cheska Bennett seemed to agree. “Once The Eternal is back in the water, I’ll lead the attack myself. This is what we needed.”
As for Bliss… “I have supervised the repair of the Optasia. As far as we are capable of determining, it has sustained no permanent damage. It’s in swib-swab shape, as you sea captains say.”
Calder exchanged a look with Cheska. “No one says that, Bliss.”
“I see the books have misled me. I will be rid of them.”
Bliss didn’t have much to contribute to the ongoing discussion, but her presence gave Calder an excuse to leave. While Cheska and Teach discussed the logistics involved in a coordinated assault on the Gray Island, with Bliss providing the occasional observation, Calder slipped away.
The Optasia was unharmed.
He hadn’t gone back to see Jerri again, but the last time he did, she had insisted that he needed to use the throne. Since the device was the only reason the Imperialist Guild Heads had allowed him to assume the role of Imperial Steward in the first place, he could reasonable assume that they wanted him to use it. So one way or another, he was going to end up using the Optasia. He might as well get a look at it first.
On the second day since the sky cracked, Calder changed back into his old clothes—pants, jacket, sword, pistol, and at last a hat—and met with Andel and Foster. Together, they would go test the Optasia for the first time.
“Why us?” Andel asked, as they moved toward the Emperor’s old quarters. Life in the Imperial Palace hadn’t changed him at alclass="underline" he was still wearing the pure white of a Luminian Pilgrim, the silver sun emblem hanging on his chest.
“I’ve asked myself that question every day for almost ten years, Andel,” Calder responded, adjusting his hat.
“You want to get killed messing around with Imperial relics, that’s your business,” Foster grumbled. “You can leave me out of it.” He didn’t actually leave, though. He wore his shooting glasses on the tip of his nose, his reading glasses hanging down against his broad beard. He carried guns everywhere that he could fit one, as though he felt the Capital was more dangerous than the depths of the Aion.
“I don’t have a reason in particular,” Calder said, finally answering Andel’s question. “I have to go inspect the Optasia, so I might as well feel like myself while I do it. None of the Emperor’s clothes, no one following me, no official escort.”
While he was still speaking, his official escort arrived.
She was the blond Guard captain with orange eyes, the one he’d seen before. She saluted as he passed, falling into step behind him. “Sir. With the number of recent attacks on the Imperial Palace, General Teach thought it would be wiser for you to have an attendant.”
“So long as you feel like yourself, sir,” Andel said.
The building that housed the Emperor’s chambers was looking somewhat worn, after the battle with the fleshy Elderspawn that had occurred in its courtyard. Several shutters had been ripped off, the walls were scarred, spots of dead flesh still lingered everywhere, and the stench of half-burned flesh hung in the air like smoke.
Calder pushed open the great bronze doors that led inside, following the red carpet. It had been torn almost to shreds. The paintings hung askew, and inside the Emperor’s chambers themselves, the destruction was worse. Here was where Teach and Jerri had clashed directly, with Bliss’ Spear of Tharlos thrown in for good measure. The floorboards were peeled up, the walls cracked, and palace workmen hadn’t had long to repair the damage. Tarps and bare plaster covered the worst of it.