Chapter 7 #2
Emere shook his head. He stopped himself from mentioning the sword the assassin had dropped and the strange engravings on it. Only Rakel knew that detail.
Taking a deep breath, Ludvik continued, “I thought you would’ve informed the Ministry of Intelligence about the attack, but I do not see guards here.”
“They are busy hunting for rebels and keeping the prefects in line.” Emere waved him off. “The city patrollers are rather diligent in this neighborhood.”
Ludvik raised his eyebrows. He ate the last piece of peach before speaking.
“You think the patrollers who catch petty burglars are going to stop an assassin? No, I will tell Intelligence myself. A lazy cartel of ne’er-do-wells, even for the Imperial bureaucracy, but there are a few passable exemplars.”
Another man fussing over his well-being.
He eyed Difri, who was standing dutifully to the side, his face slightly more relaxed by Ludvik’s promise of protection.
The reception room suddenly felt smaller, but he reminded himself that the two men were just concerned.
Perhaps that was what he needed in this grand city that to him had simply been the enemy stronghold just a few years ago—people who were concerned for him.
“Never would I have imagined warranting such protection,” Emere joked.
Ludvik laughed, his cup rattling on his saucer.
“You are my friend, and all my friends warrant protection.”
Friend. Once, he had all of Gwaharad’s men and women by his side. In Arland, everyone at that captured Imperial fortress was a friend. Loran, most of all, was his friend. But she was missing now, and he was here at the Capital. He thought of the dream vision he’d had in the square.
Loran told him to reach for a star. Emere didn’t know what that meant, but he had a vague feeling that something was about to happen. Something that would miss him if he stayed still.
But hadn’t that been how he always felt?
When he was younger, he would chase every dream, trusting in the Tree Lords’ teachings.
In that forest clearing, when he finally met Loran, the woman from his dreams, he had felt vindicated for all his fruitless years.
But the grand destiny turned out to be not his, but Loran’s.
Emere played a part in her story, and then it was over.
Still, his instincts were telling him to follow this dream, that this time it would be different.
He knew, of course, it wouldn’t be. It never had been.
“And another thing,” Ludvik said. His eyes seemed to glint in a starker tone. Emere’s cup paused in midair as he felt a hint of danger in Ludvik’s face. The man was hunting for something, his senses suddenly sharp.
“What troubles you?” Emere asked.
“How much do you know of the Circuit of Destiny?”
Emere shrugged.
“I don’t know much about it. Something about connecting several Power generators together, which enables the user to look into the past and predict the future…”
Ludvik’s stare looked sharp enough to cut into Emere’s mind. But his stare faltered and moved toward empty space, as if he were gazing at someone who wasn’t there.
“Grand Inquisitor Lysandros once said the Circuit of Destiny was the true power of the Empire. A god-like power, made by man.” His expression turned wistful.
Emere tried not to show any emotion at the mention of Lysandros.
Lysandros had almost killed him and his fifty men on Finvera Pass, with nothing more than his presence.
He remembered the first breath he took after Arienne had cut the machine-man’s arms off and kicked him down the mountainside.
“Yes,” murmured Emere, “whoever knows the future could create their own destiny, I suppose.”
He had only made the comment to fill the silence, but Ludvik took it seriously.
“Councillor Emere, the Circuit of Destiny is no mere fortune-telling device. A single Class One or Two Power generator can move a gigatherion the size of a castle, but three hundred such generators linked together? The amount of Power involved is unimaginable. But it is only a machine in the end. It cannot decide to do anything by itself.”
Emere was relieved that the conversation had moved away from his assassination attempt, but the strange wistfulness of the Tythonian was unsettling. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rising, Emere said, “But why do you bring up the Circuit?”
“Well. If the Circuit of Destiny were to let you decide, what would you do?”
“Decide what?”
With his finger, Ludvik drew a large circle over his head. “Anything and everything. For the Empire, the provinces … the world.”
Emere forced a laugh. “I don’t know what you could be talking about. Did Difri put spirits in your tea? You might as well ask me what I would do with a Thiopsian wish-granting gavel.”
Ludvik lowered his arm. “Right, too right. But, Emere, what was it that your Tree Lords taught? Destiny places each of us somewhere. When it does, you must make a decision in that very place. And that choice is yours and yours alone. I’ve always found it poetic.”
Emere chuckled. “I didn’t know you were versed in Kamori philosophy.”
Ludvik laughed and said, “I am versed in many things, Emere. That is how I am ready for that moment, if it ever comes. How about you?”
Feeling awkward, Emere grinned and gestured to Difri for more peaches.