Chapter 19
EMERE
The Office of Truth was trying to take over the Empire. Ludvik was conspiring to become the Imperator. And a man named Cain, trapped in the Circuit of Destiny, wanted to meet Emere because somehow Emere could help stop that from happening.
Emere was having difficulty accepting any part of this situation, and neither Septima nor the other two seemed to know what Emere’s role in all of this would be.
The only thing he could hold on to was what Loran had said in his dream vision.
You must become king. That is your destiny.
Destiny passes by those who stand still.
Reach out and grasp that which awaits you, up there.
Emere thought of that afternoon he had drunk tea and eaten peaches with Ludvik.
A day when it would’ve been unimaginable that that man was trying to kill him.
Ludvik had asked Emere what he would do if the Circuit of Destiny had given him the power to decide …
Emere had thought this was an idle question at the time, but now he thought differently.
As Septima and her men erased any traces of their presence in the tavern, Emere sat in his chair and stared at the dead Ebrian on the table, and also at the tavern owner, Lukan, who had been tortured by the Office of Truth and become catatonic.
In his dream, Loran had told him he would meet the “Sleeping King.” Lukan could be said to be sleeping in a sense, but he did not seem like a king at all.
“And how did you become involved in all this? Do you know who Cain is?” he asked Lukan, not really expecting an answer.
But Lukan’s eyes turned toward Emere. In them, a glint of a landscape unfurled. A red, rough wasteland. Not completely unfamiliar. Where had he seen it before?
The wasteland in the man’s eyes absorbed everything in that dusty tavern: the old chairs and tables, the stink of broth and wine—Emere tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t listen to him. Deep inside his mind, something trembled.
When his body could move again, he found himself standing in that red wasteland.
He realized it resembled the Mersia he had visited in his youth, but here, the sky was a sunless violet twilight.
Far away, there was some kind of flock of birds, completely unmoving and floating in the sky.
A longing he couldn’t understand gripped his heart.
Maybe he had fallen asleep again while looking into Lukan’s eyes and was once again dreaming.
If this really was a dream, and the Tree Lords were right about dreams being the mirrors of destiny, he might be able to meet Loran here and ask her again about what she had said.
Not knowing which direction to go in, he set off toward the dark flock.
The flock was of course in the sky, and unable to fly, Emere had no way to reach it. Still, he went on. He felt an urge to get as close to it as possible.
Like eyes adjusting to the dark, he began to adjust to the red world around him. In the warmth he felt on his skin and the breath coming into his lungs, he noticed things he hadn’t at first. His heart trembled. He breathed deeply.
Memories of events he had never experienced rushed into his mind with the air he breathed.
Countless people, countless countries, and countless scenes, mixing up inside his mind, a great wave of noises and confusion.
He screamed. He wanted to collapse on the ground but managed to stay upright, trying to make sense of all the thoughts as they came.
It was no use. Resentment and rage as vast as this wasteland, death and loss and deprivation and humiliation that felt like his own, dug into his heart.
The suffocating feeling akin to what he had experienced in Mersia decades ago came back.
His skin froze from within. Then he realized—the darkness here was more than just absence of light.
The air, or perhaps the space itself, was tainted with palpable gloom, poisonous and corrosive.
This was a world of sorrow and rage. Emere was very familiar with both feelings. After Kamori surrendered, he said he left his country to fight the Empire, but in the corner of his mind, he always suspected that perhaps it was really just to run away from those two feelings.
He wanted to escape now. The thing that pooled and coiled here was not the kind of darkness that a man was meant to endure. There was nothing, nothing anyone could do about it.
“Councillor.”
The voice reminded him of Gildas’s. Someone had laid his hand on Emere’s shoulder, a gesture that was sending warmth down his back. The horrible thoughts in his mind melted away.
Emere turned and there a young man stood, looking worried. Was he in his late twenties? There was a strength in his features, and the eyes behind his spectacles shone. The tattoos around his neck told him he was an Arlander. Thinner and simpler, compared to Loran’s t’laran. Emere gathered his wits.
“You must be Cain.”
The young man nodded. “The first time entering is always overwhelming. I tried to get to you as quickly as possible, but time doesn’t flow in the usual way here.”
“And where is ‘here’?”
Cain gestured around them. “This wasteland is the world inside the mind of the Circuit of Destiny. A dream, in a sense.”
He hadn’t thought of the Circuit of Destiny as having a mind, but the magic sounded familiar.
“I met a sorcerer who could make a room inside her mind.”
“You mean Arienne?” Cain asked, beaming.
“Do you know each other?” Emere asked, surprised.
Cain shook his head. “We only met briefly. When she was running away from the Capital.”
Cain started to walk, and Emere walked next to him.
“If this is a dream, I must be asleep in Lukan’s tavern.”
“You are. The Circuit of Destiny has countless paths connecting itself to all parts of the world. They watch the world through them. I found one such that led directly to you. The Circuit must have created it to contact you.”
Emere frowned. “If something like the Circuit had contacted me, I think I would remember.”
Cain shrugged. “You would be surprised. Anyway, I used that path to bring you here. I thought I would need the help of our Ebrian friends, but you were as easy to get to as they were, thanks to the Circuit’s path, and the statue you hold now even in your sleep.”
“The wooden idol is magical?” Emere asked, incredulous.
“Yes and no. The item itself is just a wooden carving, but it contains residual power from the Ebrian’s prayers. That’s how I could contact him even from inside the Circuit.”
“Subdirector Septima told me you were trapped here.”
Cain didn’t pause in his pace. “I am. You are only visiting with your mind, but I’m trapped in the Circuit of Destiny, both body and mind.”
Emere followed Cain’s gaze toward the flock of birds in the sky. There were no signs of them getting closer.
“Where are we going?” he asked Cain.
Cain didn’t answer the question as he continued. “Two years ago, the Circuit of Destiny showed me the battle happening in Arland, showed me Loran and Arienne and told me to decide their destiny. I refused.”
“Why?”
“I came to the Capital alone as a child, with no money or family. I lived that way for a long time. I was captured by the Ministry of Intelligence and threatened by them. So I know all too well what it is to have your destiny held in someone else’s hands.”
Emere stopped walking. “We can only choose between the choices given to us. Who would call it destiny if we could make every choice about our lives? If it were me, I would have considered it my own destiny and helped Arland.”
“I see your point. But I’ve fought against people who think it is their right to do whatever they want with others’ lives.
They tried to trigger a Star of Mersia in the center of the Empire, and I knew I had to stop it.
That’s actually when I first encountered the Circuit of Destiny…
” Cain trailed off. “And something must’ve happened then because the Circuit kept in contact with me ever since. It was always taking Fienna’s form…”
His mention of the name “Fienna” was imbued with sorrow. Emere wondered who she was. Perhaps she was someone who was waiting for Cain to return to the outside world. He was reminded of Rakel, and he wondered if she was thinking of him.
“The Circuit of Destiny has the power to act,” continued Cain, “and a will of its own.”
Emere raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean? It’s just a machine, like all Power generators are.”
Cain shook his head. “No, Councillor. It’s an amalgamation of a few hundred sorcerers, the best the world had ever seen.
It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to call it a god, assembled by man.
” Cain sounded vaguely disgusted. “Think about it, Councillor. It would be stranger if it didn’t end up having a will of its own. ”
Emere didn’t know what to make of this revelation.
If the Circuit of Destiny had a will of its own, were all Power generators conscious?
Were they not just corpses, but people trapped between life and death?
Was the entire world being powered by undead sorcerer slaves?
His stomach turned. It was horrifying just to entertain the thought.
Still incredulous, Emere asked, “Yet the Senate and the ministries are unaware? If it is a god as you say, or even just some undead monster, the Office of Truth—”
“The Office of Truth made this monstrosity, did they not? Would they ever admit that they, of all people, created something that goes directly against their own dogma? When they believe it is so vital to the supremacy of the Empire?”
Emere was reminded of Ludvik’s words. Grand Inquisitor Lysandros once said the Circuit of Destiny was the true power of the Empire. A god-like power, made by man. Perhaps the Empire needed its own god, after killing off every such being it encountered.
Cain continued.
“But you are right. It is a machine in the end. It needs someone to give it a purpose. It can’t choose to do something without an order, which is why it kept coming to me.
I began to wonder what it was the Circuit of Destiny really wanted me to do, so I dug into it, trying to see what it hid from me.
I was successful for a time, but I was caught in the end.
Now, I can’t get out of the Circuit’s dream world. ”
“I wish I could help you,” said Emere.
Cain gave a reassuring smile. “It may look like I’m just whiling away the hours in here, but I’m working even in this moment to learn what I can about the Circuit from within. That’s how I managed to bring you here … and how I can show you this.”
They were suddenly atop a building. Beneath them was a derelict city, a fire burning through a slum. The sudden change in scenery elicited a gasp from Emere.
“Where is this?”
“The roof of the tavern you’re in right now. This will happen in two hours, give or take.”
The shadows of large men were darting through the scores of fires. They were soldiers wearing bulky white armor.
“Powered armor…?”
The last time Emere had seen them was two years ago in Dehan Forest, when Loran had destroyed an Imperial camp.
“The Zero Legion. Directly under the command of the Office of Truth. Much smaller than a regular legion, but they have weapons that make the other legions drool in envy. Ludvik seems to have caught wind of Septima’s movements.”
Emere looked down at the fire. He noticed the emblem on one of the helmets. It was the same as the one engraved on the sword his assassin had dropped on that rooftop. “What happens to all the people who live here?”
Cain’s face turned somber. “It’s not just the lives of those in the provinces to which the Empire gives little regard.
The Office of Truth is its worst organ in many ways.
They would stop at nothing, not even destroying the Empire itself, if it means protecting their fanatical beliefs of what the Empire should be. That is why they must be stopped.”
Staring into the fire, Emere still couldn’t get past his original question. “But why would Ludvik try to kill me? I’m nothing in the face of his ambition to become the Imperator.”
“Because the Circuit of Destiny chose you to give it purpose. And I think it chose Ludvik as well. I cannot say why, but the Circuit will likely ask one of you yet another question I refused to answer.”
Ludvik had wanted to get rid of his competitor, then. The very notion made Emere scoff.
“I wasn’t even aware that the Circuit of Destiny had chosen me. How would Ludvik know, when I do not even understand why the Circuit would choose the prince of a fallen kingdom?”
“The reasons are unknown to me as well. But you must’ve been given signs, even if you didn’t understand them at the time.”
Emere sighed and looked down again. The Powered soldiers were about to force themselves into the tavern.
“What was the question you refused to answer?” Emere asked.
“What?” Cain sounded confused by the shift in Emere’s thoughts.
“The question that the Circuit of Destiny wants to ask me or Ludvik.”
Cain’s gaze turned upward to the sky. Even though the scene before them had changed from a red wasteland to burning streets, the sky had remained violet. Beyond the boundaries of the Capital, against the bright full moon, the flock still floated in the sky.
“You asked me where we were going a moment ago.”
Emere nodded. Cain turned to him.
“What you see in the sky there are the three hundred and twenty-seven Power generators that comprise the Circuit of Destiny. I am trying to avoid drawing their attention. I do not wish to hear their question again.”
“Why not?”
Smiling bitterly, Cain replied, “Because I think it will be very difficult to say no again.”
Emere stared at the moon, thinking. “You said the soldiers will be barging in two hours from now?”
“That is what will happen.”
“Then we’d better leave.”
“Yes, you must leave this place with Septima and the others. Please tell them to take care of Lukan.”
“How will we talk to each other again?”
Cain shrugged. “We met here once, so it should be easier the next time. It’s also why I brought you here this time. But I will send you back now. You will soon wake.”
Reminded he was asleep, Emere bid Cain farewell. “It was good to meet you, Sleeping King.”
Cain whipped around, his face a mask of shock. “Why did you call me that?” he demanded.
Startled by his reaction, as Emere hadn’t meant too much by it, he hesitantly answered, “The … Her Majesty, Loran, the King of Arland called you that, in a dream of mine. Or I believe it was you she meant by it. Did I say something wrong?”
Cain swallowed. “Councillor Emere. That was likely not the real Loran. ‘The Sleeping King’ is what the Circuit of Destiny calls me.”