“Be careful,” Wyatt told him. “And keep an eye on Gaunt.”
“Gaunt?”
“You’re too trusting,” Wyatt said. He nodded to where Gaunt sat near the dwarf on a large stone slab. “He spends a lot of time with Magnus and he was unusually friendly with me and Elden, like he was buddying up with the drafted members of the party, trying to form a group of dissenters. Remember what I told you on the Emerald Storm? There’s always one member of any crew who’s looking for a mutiny.”
“And he’s our only hope,” Hadrian replied with a lilt of irony in his voice. “You’d better be careful too. As you know, the Ghazel are no joke. Keep an eye out. Don’t sleep on the ship. Don’t light any fires.”
“Trust me, I remember the arena at the Palace of the Four Winds. I have no desire to cross swords with them a second time.”
“That’s good, because this isn’t an arena and there are no rules. Out here they’ll swarm over you like an army of ants.”
“Good luck.”
“Same to you and make sure this ship is ready to sail when we get back. I’ve been on enough jobs with Royce to know that while the going in may be slow, the coming out is usually a race.”
The ruins of the city began at the water’s edge, although this was not entirely evident until they left the sand and moved inland, where they had a wider perspective. The large stone blocks were part of the broken foundation of white marble columns that had once stood a hundred feet tall. They knew this by discovering three remaining columns still upright, yet how they had managed to remain this way was bewildering, as the blocks had shifted precariously.
They found the passage Alric and Mauvin had discovered, which began at the feet of two huge lions carved from stone. Each was easily two hundred feet tall, although one was missing its head, which had fallen away. The remaining lion showed a fierce face with teeth bared and a full and flowing mane.
“The Imperial Lions,” Myron muttered as they passed under their shadow and Royce paused to light his lantern.
“I’ve seen these before,” Arista whispered, her head back, looking up at the sculptures. “In my dreams.”
“What do you know of this place, Myron?” Royce asked, lifting his light and peering forward into a vast labyrinth of crumbled stone and silhouetted ruins.
“Which author would you like to hear from? Antun Bulard did a wonderful study of the ancient texts as well as-”
“Summarize, please.”
“Right, okay, well, legend has it that this was once a small agrarian village, the home of a farmer’s daughter named Persephone. They lived in fear of the elves, who had reportedly burned nearby villages and slaughtered the inhabitants right down to every man, woman, and child. Persephone’s village was next but a man called Novron appeared in the village. He fell in love with Persephone and vowed to save her. He begged her to leave the village but she refused, so he decided to stay and swore to protect her.
“He took charge and rallied the men. When the attack came, he defeated the forces of the elves, saving the village. He revealed himself to be Novron, the son of Maribor, sent to protect his children from the greed of the Children of Ferrol.
“Many battles later, Novron defeated the elves at the Battle of Avempartha and a time of peace with the elves began. Novron wished to build a capital for his great empire and a home for his wife. Although he ruled vast tracks of land, Persephone refused to live anywhere other than her village. So it was here that Novron built his capital, naming it Percepliquis- the city of Persephone.
“Over the years it became the largest and most sophisticated city in the world. It is chronicled as being five miles across and the seat of a famous university and library. Scholars came from across the empire to study. The Grand Imperial Palace was built here and it was a place of temples, gardens, and parks. Records report that the city had clean water fountains open to the public and baths where citizens lounged in heated pools.
“Percepliquis was also the home of the imperial bureaucracy, a vast system of offices that administered the empire, controlling its economy and social and political institutions. There were agents responsible for rooting out potential dissidents, suspected criminals, and corrupt officials. And of course, it was home to the Teshlor Guild and the Cenzar Council-the imperial knights and the college of wizards that advised and protected the emperor.
“Through his bureaucracy the emperor controlled everything, from the forests to mines, farms, granaries, shipyards, and cloth mills. Corruption was held in check by appointing more than one head of each department and by rotating them out frequently. They never appointed local men who might have ties to those they administered to. Even prostitution was regulated by the empire.
“Percepliquis was a place of great wealth. The center of the empire’s trade that spanned all of Apeladorn and reached even into the exotic Westerlins and north into Estrendor, it bustled with richly dressed merchants and the roads were legendary. They were huge, wide thoroughfares of well-laid stone, perfectly straight, that ran for miles in all directions. Trees were planted on either side of them to provide shade, and they were well maintained and marked with milestones. Wells and shelters were placed at regular intervals for the comfort of travelers.
“There was no famine, no crime, no disease or plague. No droughts were ever recorded, nor floods, nor even harsh frosts. Food was always plentiful, and no one was poor.”
“I can see why the Imperialists want to recapture that ideal,” Alric observed.
“Which just goes to show how foolish people can be,” Gaunt said. “No famine, no drought, no disease, no poor? There’s about as much chance of that happening as-”
“As you becoming emperor?” Royce asked.
Gaunt scowled.
“So what should we be looking for?” Royce asked.
Myron shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied, and glanced at Arista.
“The tomb of Novron,” the princess told them.
“Oh.” Myron brightened. “That would be under the palace in the center of the city.”
“Any way to identify it?”
“It’s a huge white building with a solid-gold dome,” Arista answered for him, gaining several surprised looks. She shrugged. “I’m guessing.”
Myron nodded. “Good guess.”
They moved on as before, with Royce in the lead, fleet of foot as always, investigating shadows and crevices, his light bobbing. Alric and Mauvin followed at a distance in a manner that reminded Hadrian of a fox hunt. Arista and Myron walked together, both staring up at their surroundings with great interest. Gaunt and Magnus followed them, occasionally speaking in whispers. Hadrian brought up the rear once more, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly. He already missed Wyatt and Elden.
They followed a passage that wove between collapsed rockfalls until they reached a street of neatly paved stones, each cut in a hexagon and fitted with stunning precision. Here, at last, the mounds of rubble gave way, allowing them to view the shattered remains of the once-magnificent city that rose around them.
Great buildings of rose or white stone, tarnished by age and curtained in debris, had lost none of their beauty. What immediately captured Hadrian’s attention was how tall they were. Pillars and arches soared hundreds of feet in the air, supporting marvelously decorated entablatures and pediments. Great domes of burnished bronze and stone-crowned buildings with diameters in excess of a hundred feet were far larger than anything he had ever seen before. Colonnades supporting a row of arches ran for hundreds of yards as mere decoration, standing out before load-bearing walls. Statues of unknown men were exquisitely sculpted such that they might move at any minute. They adorned silent fountains, pedestals, and building facades.
The grandeur of the city was stunning, as was its rattled state. Each building, each pillar, each stone appeared to have dropped from some great height. Blocks of stone lay askew and shifted out of place. Some teetered beyond imagination, loose, twisted, and misaligned so that it looked as if the weight of a sparrow would topple a structure of a thousand tons. The devastation was not even or predictable. Some buildings missed whole walls. Most no longer had roofs, while others revealed the shift of only a few stones. Despite the disarray, other aspects of the city were astonishingly preserved. A seller’s market stood untouched; brooms remained standing, stacked on display. A pot stall exhibited several perfect clay urns, their brilliant ceramic glazes of red and yellow dimmed only by a coat of fine dust. On the left side of the street, in front of a disheveled four-story residence, lay three skeletons, their clothes still on them but rotted nearly to dust.