Chapter 5
5
K ANTHE FOUGHT TO keep his seat in the jolting carriage. He gripped the edge of the bench with one hand and pushed his princely arse more firmly into the pillowed cushion to hold himself in place. The coach was an open one. Winds from their swift passage through the streets of Kysalimri whipped his hair and buffeted his royal garb. He used his free hand to keep his gold cap in place.
Across the carriage, Rami bowed his head near one of his advisers. Though the elder’s features were presently cloaked by his byor-ga headwear, Kanthe knew the man. Within the palace grounds, the Chaaen were not required to cover their faces. The gaunt man’s name was Loryn. He served as Rami’s counsel in matters of the court. The rattle of wheels drowned their words, but the pair were undoubtedly discussing the explosive incursion to the north.
Kanthe turned away with a groan. Armed horsemen, a cadre of the royal guard, flanked the golden carriage. Ahead of them, another gilded coach rattled over the cobbles, carrying Aalia and her dozen Chaaen. Beyond them, the entourage was led by a war wagon, prickling with crossbows. Archers watched every shadow for dangers. More swordsmen in light armor crowded the middle of the wagon. Even the horses wore plates of metal. A second war wagon trailed the parade, guarding their rear.
Kanthe should have felt well protected, except he caught the glares from the nearest soldiers. Though their faces were half hidden by drapes of thin mail, their narrowed eyes glinted with accusation.
They blame me for the attack. Kanthe could not quell his own sense of guilt. I should not have come to these lands.
Still, Kanthe suspected the soldiers’ wrath was stoked by suspicions that he may have had a more direct involvement in the attack to the north. The nearest horseman bowed his chin so he could spit into the street near the wheel of the cart.
None but Kanthe noted this act. He lowered his hand from his cap and tightened his fingers into a fist.
I don’t even have a weapon to defend myself if I am attacked.
Gloved fingers touched his knee. “Do not be goaded,” the Chaaen seated next to him warned.
Kanthe glanced at the man. Violet eyes, framed by black brows, stared through the slit in the draped byor-ga coif. The man’s complexion was a few shades darker than his own. Kanthe forced his fingers to relax, reminding himself that he had an ally here.
Pratik had once been chaaen-bound to a royal merchant until half a year ago. While traveling abroad, Pratik had been pulled into the fold of those who sought to prevent moonfall. The Chaaen had escorted Kanthe to these shores. After the prince had been granted imri status by the emperor, Pratik had been assigned to Kanthe. Silver chains led from Kanthe’s boots up to the man’s collar, the iron of which signified his scholarship in alchymy.
Unfortunately, Kanthe had been gifted another Chaaen, too.
He glanced past Pratik to the figure sharing their bench. Brija sat stiffly, her usual posture. Kanthe swore the old woman’s spine had been fused into that position. Her collar was silver, marking her studies in religion and history. She served as Kanthe’s aide in matters of Klashean language and customs. Though he suspected her true role was to spy on him and report back to the emperor.
“King Toranth must be furious that you fled here,” Pratik said, drawing back Kanthe’s attention.
“That was made plain enough this morning. My father was always quick to anger and even swifter in his punishments.”
Pratik leaned back. “To drop such a fearsome bomb as a Hadyss Cauldron atop Ekau Watch, he is determined to make his claim on you clear, to demand the emperor hand you over.”
Kanthe exhaled heavily. “My father was never a subtle man.”
“No matter. The Imri-Ka will never relinquish such a prize as you.”
Kanthe glowered. “I don’t think anyone ever considered me a prize. ”
“You are sworn to the emperor’s only daughter. To give you up, the Imri-Ka would lose honor. Not just him, but his entire Haeshan clan.” Pratik nodded at Rami and waved toward Aalia in the next carriage. “His Illustriousness would never let that happen.”
“Then war is inevitable.”
“Not just inevitable. With that fiery act, it’s already started. For now, we must consider how it affects our plans.”
Kanthe frowned, reminded that he had not come to these shores just to get married. While Nyx and the others had flown off in search of a mysterious site deep in the Frozen Wastes, his group’s mission was twofold. They were assigned to search for further knowledge out of the ancient past, from the Forsaken Ages, an era that predated known history. Pratik claimed there were rumors of unspoken prophecies, portents from the past that spoke of a coming apocalypse. It was whispered that ancient tomes held in the royal librarie—the Abyssal Codex—offered insight into those prophecies. The collection was buried under the private gardens of the Imri-Ka and guarded over by the Dresh’ri, a mystical order of scholars.
Agreeing to this marriage had been one notch in the key that could open that forbidden door. From here, it would be up to Pratik and Frell—the alchymist who had accompanied Kanthe here, his former mentor from school—to gain entry to that librarie. Frell had already been in contact with an emissary of the Dresh’ri. Still, it had taken months to gain an audience with that sect. It had only been granted this morning. Pratik had wanted to be present, too, but the Chaaen could not refuse to escort the prince on the day’s sojourn across the Bay of the Blessed.
Still, it was not that aspect of their mission that concerned Pratik. “If war breaks out, it will be much harder for us to reach that buried Sleeper.”
That was this team’s other goal. Kanthe pictured the shining crystal globe resting in Shiya’s bronze palm. An emerald glow had marked the spot in the Frozen Wastes that Nyx and the others sought to find. But a blue dot had also shone on the globe, within the Crown itself. It lay south of Kysalimri, beyond the Hyrg Scarp mountains. It marked the possible location of another figure like Shiya, a living bronze construct, one of the Sleepers left by the ancients to help guide the world should doom threaten. Unfortunately, Shiya’s memories—stored in a repository beneath the Shrouds of Dalal ?e a—had been mostly shattered, leaving her with only dregs of knowledge from the past. The hope was that if they could wake this other Sleeper, its memory might still be intact.
Pratik sighed loudly. “I do not imagine Emperor Makar ka Haeshan will allow his newly wedded daughter to have her grand procession across the lands, celebrating the nuptials and introducing all to her new husband. Not with a war being fought.”
Kanthe knew that had been the original plan: to use that royal procession to reach the site of the blue blip. It lay outside the city of Qazen, a fortuitous location, as it was tradition for the newly wedded, especially among the imri, to seek the counsel of the Augury of Qazen to foretell the future of their union. But not everyone was pleased with the fortunes spoken by those oracles. It was said many a marriage ended there, well before it even started, with countless bodies buried in the neighboring salt marshes.
Maybe I’ll end up there, too.
“If we’re in the thick of war,” Pratik continued, “we may need to concoct another excuse to reach those lands.”
Kanthe glanced over. He noted Brija tilting in their direction. The old Chaaen was surely attempting to eavesdrop on them, likely stymied in her effort by the near-deafening rattle of wheels and the pound of hooves.
Kanthe leaned closer to Pratik with a slight nod to their curious neighbor. “Best we save such a discussion for another time. If we’re lucky, my father won’t disturb my nuptials any more than he already has. Time is running short. The winter solstice is almost upon us.”
“It’s still a full turn of the moon away,” Pratik reminded him. “But you’re right. If we could get ahead of your father’s plans, before war fully breaks out, then our original strategy could still hold. To that end, we must plead with the emperor to move up the date of your wedding.”
Kanthe swallowed hard, glancing across to the other carriage. “That’s not what I meant—”
Pratik ignored him, sitting straighter. “Maybe as soon as this week.”
Kanthe slumped back.
What have I done?