Gallivan, Tudor and Anthem himself were also present. They were now the last of the fabled Lions of Cintar and,while they did not occupy seats on the Council (and declared they did not want to), their presence alone reflected the grim nature ofCintar’scurrent predicament.
Lomar, the dark-skinned magician from the Kabush marshlands and Samuel’s long-time friend, was seated, also looking far more grim than usual. Lomar had led the Order in those early days after their numbers had been decimated, but now Jacobs held the mantle of High Lord. In direct contrast to the normally light-hearted Lomar, Jacobs was a humourless and pragmatic man. He and Samuel had had their differences in the past, and the man was as stubborn and frustrating an Imperial as there could be, but he had done well since taking up the seat, considering the circumstances, and Samuel could easily think of worse choices.
Rubrick, Quimbus, Sandringham, Nottingsworth and Kalbak were the remaining Lords in the room. Normally, they numbered twelve, but the war had taken its toll and they could not even find time to elect more to their numbers from the dwindling stock of magicians in the city. These days, thankful of an extra opinion, they would allow anyone who was available into the discussions. Lastly, there was Master Celios, the great Seer of Cintar. His hair had grown thinner in recent times, now just a thin veil of reddish scrap fringing a bald scalp. He still made dismal efforts to cover his glistening pate by folding over the little dangling hair that still remained, but the effect was even less flattering than before. Adding to that, he seemed to have grown excited and irritable, with his eyes darting around the room as if tracking acrobatic horseflies.
‘Our situation is looking grim,’ Grand Master Anthem admitted, burying his face momentarily into his cupped hands, before resurfacing to scan the magicians around him with weary eyes. As always, his wispy white eyebrows hung down low, but the pure blue eyes that looked out from under them had never looked so troubled.
The Magicians’ Council sat assembled around the chamber, while pageboys and servants stood behind in the shadows, prepared to fetch food and drink, or run any errand that could spontaneously arise.
They had been deliberating the situation for hours now, and with little resolve. They had all hastily gathered the very moment that the three magicians had abandoned their little boat at the city docks and had come hurrying up to the palace, lifting up their ragged robe hems and ascending the many palace steps as fast as they could-and they had been locked in discussion ever since. It had been a long and arduous trip to the city and Samuel had been hoping for at least a good night’s rest before launching into any deliberation, but rest would have to wait. They had been granted the luxury of a basin to wash their faces and a change of robes and, for the time being, that would have to suffice.
Despite all the grim news, it had been an uplifting moment when Samuel saw Grand Master Anthem and Gallivan come striding into the chambers with haggard but determined faces. The two had obviously survived the battle at Rampeny unharmed and had even managed to flee overland and arrive back several days before them.
Old Tudor had revealed the details of their journey to the gathering, but it seemed much had been happening even in the few days since Anthem had returned and there was now little to report that was not already known. As soon as the palace officials had learned of the desert people’s invasion, Cintar had become a flurry of vexation and consternation. While the generals and officials of the palace worried and debated, the city folk had caught wind of the situation and chaos in the streets had ensued. The Royal Guard was kept busymovingthe people along,and the Empress gave daily announcements in an effort to calm their fears.
Since then, reports had been coming in almost hourly of other battles across outer territories-each of themculminating incolossal lossesfor the Turians. The invaders were summarily destroying what remained of the Empire and were working their way towards inner Turia and the capital day by day. At the rate they were progressing, and with the sorry state of the remaining Imperial forces, there seemed to be little that could be done to halt their march towards Cintar. At the very least, it seemed the outermost lands would need to be abandoned in favour of an intensified defence.
The Gartens seemed to have withdrawn back into the north out of concern for their own safety, but,with the chaos of the last week,it was difficult to confirm anything with complete confidence.
‘We must meet with the Empress immediately,’ Grand Master Tudor proclaimed in his tired old voice. ‘We need a coordinated and immediate response to this new threat.’
‘We’ve been in nothing elsebutmeetings,with the Empress and everyone!’ Lord Sandringham responded, slapping the table with both hands. ‘We need to actnowand stop these desert barbarians in one swift movement!’
‘Wouldthat we could, Lord Sandringham,’ Gallivan told the eagle-nosed magician, ‘but these invaders seem to be far from barbarians. Their attacks are expertly planned and precisely executed. They are far more numerous than we can hope to match. They seem to be well organised in the art of war and have obviously been amongst us for some time, gathering information and intelligence. I’m sure they have agents in the city even now; probably in the palace, also. They seem to have the greater advantage in every way.’
‘General Ruardin sent his best men into the streets yesterday,’ High Lord Jacobs stated, patting his short, square-cut hair into place, despite it already looking solidly plastered to his head, ‘gathering up anyone with dark skin or sand on his boots. They will not have spies amongst us for long.’
‘These are enemies that should not be underestimated in any way,’ Gallivan continued, ‘for they have managed to defeat three Lions in the space of one battle; each of us targeted according to our skills. They had sneaked a small, but powerful, ballista into place at the front of the battle and had assembled it-at great cost to their men-all with the purpose offellingme. My fondness for Leaping was evidently known and when the opportunity arose, they launched a great bolt skywards towards me, trailing a rope soaked in extract of Eldinswurt,so as to resist my spells. Itstruckme expertly and brought me to ground amongst them, nearly costing me my life. It was onlydue toluck that I escaped. It shows advanced preparation and a specific desire to remove each of us. Poor Grand Master Orien was asphyxiated with poisons that burned through his defensive vines-they knew his affinity for plants. Grand Master Jurien was stabbed by an assassin’s blade; the mancrept up close to him in disguise,bearing an exact replica ofJurian’s staff. How the firstonewas lost we shall perhaps never know, but it may even have been part of their designs. Grand Master Du perished in the mouth of one of their accursedbeasts-great lizards!Sadly,he was not physically capable of defending himself from such an agilecreature. And how they came to breed such monstrosities, I cannot guess.’
‘But where did they come from? How could we be taken by such surprise?’ Lord Kalbak, olive of skin, asked the room in his gruff voice. ‘Are we so blind to the state of the world?’
Anthem answered. ‘It’s true we have paid little attention to the Paatin wastes beyond the Eastern Reaches, but before this we have never had the need.’ He took a great breath and sighed. ‘From all indications, we thought those lands to be barren, inhabited onlybythe odd nomadic family or primitive settlement. It seems we’ve been proven unquestionably wrong. It seems that somewhere in the midst of those lands there lies a developed civilisation that we have overlooked entirely until now,a civilisationcapable of raising grand armies.’
‘TheEast has been examined on occasion, but was deemed unremarkable and unworthy of the Empire’s attention,’ Grand Master Gallivan said, setting his long,black moustache to waver. ‘The Emperor sent regular scouting parties in the old days, but they all came back with the same news: nothing to see except sand, wind and stone that went on for as far as they could bear. Many were lost attempting to breach those lands, and so the Paatin wastes were deemed unfit for human habitation.’