Rise of the Blood Royal dobas-3 Read online

  The bath walls were covered with colorful frescoes, separated every few meters by decorated pilasters reaching from floor to ceiling. Scented water burbled from a golden spout in the center of each wall to fall into another stone pool. Luxuriously upholstered sofas and chairs and ornately framed mirrors had been placed about the room, and a host of handmaidens stood by to serve every need of the Blood Royal and his wife. Two of the handmaidens provided lyre and flute music, and caged birds added a soft chorus as sunlight streamed down through the atrium to shimmer in the pool water. Vespasian’s personal masseur, a stout skeen who had served the emperor for two decades, stood ready to employ his strong hands and exotic oils.

  As Persephone gently rubbed his back, Vespasian flexed his naked body. He loved the royal bath, but his mind remained troubled. His recent night terror had shaken him and he feared that another might come. But even more worrisome was the thought that he might somehow be struck down by one of these terrifying visions during the day for everyone to see. He knew that he could not afford such an occurrence-especially with the advent of his new campaign.

  He turned to look at Persephone. Only she understands me, he thought. Not even Lucius knows me so well. Nor does he know about my secret weakness. How I need this woman…

  Reaching up, he removed the elegant diamond clasp that collected her long blond hair. Tossing it across the floor, he shook her tresses free, letting them slip into the warm water, and pulled her naked body to his. Persephone smiled knowingly as she playfully laid her wet forearms on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

  Smiling, she touched the tip of one index finger to the end of her husband’s nose. “You still haven’t told me what troubles you,” she said. “Arousing me won’t stop me from asking, you know.”

  Vespasian nodded. “Come,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

  Looking across the chamber, he snapped his fingers at the handmaidens and the masseur. At once they gathered up their things and left the room, bowing as they went.

  Vespasian led Persephone through the shoulder-deep water toward the pool steps. As they walked up he reached out to a nearby table and took up a heavy white robe, which he draped around her wet body. Smiling, she squeezed the water from her hair.

  Vespasian donned a matching robe, then led her to one of several lounging sofas and bade her lie down. After filling two wine goblets resting on a nearby table, he handed one to her. As he sat down beside her, the look in his eyes became searching.

  She reached out to touch his face. “It’s your night terrors, isn’t it?” she asked. “That’s what you need to talk about. I understand, my love. They would frighten anyone. But the two guards have been killed. Only I know your secret, and it will never leave my lips.”

  Looking down at his goblet, Vespasian shook his head. “It’s more than that,” he said. He took a deep breath. “There is something that I must ask you to do for me. It will be dangerous, but I hope that you will consent.”

  “I would do anything for you, you know that,” she answered softly.

  Vespasian put down his goblet. “I want you to accompany me on the new campaign,” he said simply. “We leave in one week.”

  Persephone was overjoyed. Her eyes widened and she took a quick breath.

  “You know that I will!” she said.

  Tears started welling up in her eyes. She had desperately feared watching him go to war, just as she had done all the times before. But this time was different. This was to be an all or nothing campaign, and the greater dangers involved had been driving her nearly mad with worry. As Vespasian brushed away her tears, a short laugh of relief escaped her. At least if he dies I will die with him, she thought.

  “But why this time?” she asked. “I have never accompanied you before.”

  As Vespasian sipped his wine his eyes took on a thoughtful, faraway look.

  “There are several reasons,” he answered. “First and foremost, I have not been convinced by thePon Q’tar that theJin’Sai won’t somehow find his way into our side of the world. He is amazingly resourceful, as are his mystics. If that happens you will be far safer afield with me and the legions than here in Ellistium, protected only by the Home Guard.”

  “What leads you to worry that he can cross over?” Persephone asked. “If it is impossible for us to do so, then surely theJin’Sai and his mystics cannot. After all, their powers in the craft pale when compared to ours.”

  “That’s true,” Vespasian answered. “But Tristan has surprised us before. And remember, we still cannot know the full extent of what he might have learned from the traitorous Crysenium Envoys. But there is something more…something tugging at my heart since experiencing my first night terror. It is almost as if he and I are connected somehow, despite the mountain range that separates us. I can almost see him trying to reach us.” Shaking his head, he gave Persephone a reassuring smile.

  “But do not worry, my love,” he said. “If he should come we will deal with him and his flying monstrosities.”

  “And your other reasons?” she asked.

  “I no longer trust Gracchus as I once did,” Vespasian answered. “I haven’t done so for some time. I do not brand him a traitor, but I sense that he has some personal mission that does not entirely match mine. Like my suspicions about theJin’Sai, these are feelings that I cannot justify. But my instincts are strong enough to tell me that should I be killed on this campaign, Gracchus might not continue it in the way that I have planned-and our victory is vital. Four days ago, his scheme to sacrifice so many skeens in the arena without my consent only added weight to my convictions. While it’s true that Lucius might protest a change in the battle plan that Gracchus engineered, even the First Tribune is outranked by the leadPon Q’tar cleric. But you outrank them both. With you in attendance, my wishes would be carried out. To override you, Gracchus would first have to kill you while deep among Lucius and the combined legions. Lucius would immediately become suspicious. Even thePon Q’tar ’s powers in the craft could not overcome their combined strength, and Gracchus knows it. He would have no choice but to honor your commands.”

  “I understand,” Persephone said. “But there is more to all this, isn’t there? I suspect that your need to have me near also has something to do with your recent night terror.”

  A grim look came over Vespasian’s face. “Yes, my love,” he answered. “I must admit that it does. You are the only person that I dare trust with my secret. I have considered confiding in Lucius, but even he needs to remain convinced that his emperor is totally fit and able to conduct this campaign. And I am fit, aside from these strange and terrifying episodes. But there remains something else about them that worries me even more.”

  Reaching out, she lifted his chin and turned his eyes toward hers. “And what is that?” she asked.

  “That someday one of these awful visions will overtake me while I am awake, for everyone to see,” he answered. “I have no proof that such a thing will occur. Again, it’s only a feeling. But should it happen I will need you by my side. You might be able to spirit me away before anyone realizes that I am in such terrible distress. Should I suffer such a daytime attack in public, Gracchus might well have me declared mad. According to Rustannican law, that is his right, but only if he has reliable witnesses of my supposed incompetence. A day terror would provide him with more evidence than he would ever need. With you by my side, should I fall ill, you can make the needed excuses. Such explanations will be far more commanding coming from the empress than from the First Tribune.”

  As she listened to Vespasian’s words, Persephone realized that her husband was right. She would gladly accompany him to the ends of the earth if it meant helping him win this new campaign-to say nothing of keeping him in power.

  “How will you explain this to thePon Q’tar?” she asked.

  Vespasian gave her a wry smile. “You need to stop thinking in those terms,” he said. “If something happens to me, you will become the new ruler of Rustannica. You must quic
kly put your personal grief aside, no matter how overwhelming it might be, and immediately take charge. Gracchus and the others will start appraising your performance from the first moment. Stop worrying about howyou will explain things tothem. Rather, it istheir task to worry about whatever ordersyou might give. To answer your question, I am the emperor. I will simply command that you come, and I will do so without giving my reasons. To be forced into explaining myself would be seen as a sign of weakness. That is something that we cannot afford-especially now.”

  “And what of Rustannica?” Persephone asked. “If the campaign fails and we die, who will oversee our beloved country?”

  “After I announce that you are joining the campaign, I will ask Lucius to recommend a tribune who commands his full trust,” Vespasian answered. “He will remain here and oversee the nation. It is the most that we can do.” Vespasian sighed and took another sip of wine.

  “But if the campaign fails, given the state of the treasury there will surely be a citywide riot,” he added. “It might not be immediate, but it would surely come eventually. As the news of the defeat and the treasury collapse spread, anarchy will devour the nation. With most of our forces destroyed, we will be wide open for attack. The Borderlands will become useless, and the Shashidans will be able to walk into our country unimpeded. The Vagaries will be destroyed and the Vigors will rule forever.”

  Persephone gave him a somber look, then lowered her face. “If I had been able to give you an heir, some of our troubles would be solved for us,” she said softly. “The child would be young, but at least someone of our bloodline would rule after we were gone. I’m so sorry, Vespasian. I wanted a child more than anything in the world. But it was not to be…”

  Vespasian put his hands on her cheeks and looked into the eyes that he so loved. “We haven’t failed,” he said with a smile. “We simply have yet to succeed. We are far from the day when there will be no more reason to try.” As he looked at her, his gaze suddenly became hungrier.

  “I suggest that we waste no more time talking,” he said. “Actions speak far louder than mere words.”

  Standing, he removed his robe. As he did, Persephone looked up to see his muscular body still wet and glistening with bathwater. She parted her robe, readying herself for him.

  As Vespasian took her, the empress trembled and cried out as never before…

  As another terrible scream reached his ears, Vespasian’s thoughts returned to the present. A Rustannican Heart Wolf freshly conjured from the arena walls was rooting about in the innards of a fallen skeen. For a moment the dreadful creature paused its feasting to look around the huge crowd. Fresh blood dripped from teeth and muzzle. As expected, the mob cheered and stamped, begging for more.

  Vespasian took a quick count to find that only five skeens remained standing. For the sake of moving on toward the next act, the last skeens would be dispatched quickly. Then would come a brief intermission while the fabricated mountain was dismantled and taken away. Another act of today’s games would soon follow, then more after that until nightfall. When Vespasian reached over to take Persephone’s hand, she turned and gave him a short smile.

  This morning the emperor had publicly issued his order regarding Persephone’s attendance on the impending campaign. As a precaution he had also handwritten the proclamation, then commanded that the heralds shout it from every tower in the city even before the news was made available to the Tribunes and thePon Q’tar.

  Vespasian had little doubt that the public would receive the news favorably. They loved their empress, and he rightly guessed that seeing her go to war alongside her beloved husband would only endear her to them more. He was quickly proved right when Persephone’s name was soon being joyfully shouted aloud both in the city streets and amid the mayhem that was the coliseum. But it had not been only for Persephone’s benefit that Vespasian had done this. Rather, if the public widely approved, thePon Q’tar would be harder pressed to accept his terms.

  So far Vespasian’s gambit was working. He had heard rumors of some minor grumbling among thePon Q’tar and of surprise among some of the Tribunes. Even so, no formal protest had been lodged. Vespasian knew that the longer the public rejoicing in this matter reigned, the better his council would come to accept his edict.

  Even so, despite the overwhelming agreement among the populace, Vespasian remained somewhat worried that thePon Q’tar had accepted his new order so gracefully. The surprising lack of discourse usually accompanying so unexpected an order had unnerved him, forcing him to again question the clerics’ motives.

  Turning around, he looked at Gracchus. The lead cleric was on his feet, waving his fists in the air as he cheered the deaths of the remaining Shashidan skeens. When at last he found Vespasian’s gaze upon him, he bowed and smiled broadly. It was a wry smile, forcing Vespasian to guess at what might lie behind it. Nodding in return, Vespasian again faced the arena, wondering.

  As the last of the skeens died, hundreds more centurions rushed through the Gates of Life to start disassembling the fabricated mountain and removing the debris. It would take some time, Vespasian realized, for much of the mountain was littered with blood and the bodies and body parts of skeens, centurions, and wild animals. Vespasian took another sip of wine and sat back in his ivory throne. He would never forget that moment, for in the space of an instant his life suddenly changed.

  First the dizziness took him. It did not come all at once, but gradually, like the onset of too much wine. Then the sweating started. As he tried to put down his goblet, he spilled a bit of wine. Soon his hand was trembling, and he knew.

  Desperately hoping that he could hide his condition from everyone but Persephone, he immediately leaned over as best he could and touched her hand. When she turned to look at him, she knew.

  “Can you walk on your own?” she urgently whispered.

  The best response that Vespasian could muster was to nod. Standing, he and Persephone started making for the rear entryway that led to their private hallway. The empress knew that if she and Vespasian could reach their private litter waiting just outside the coliseum walls, she could draw the litter blinds and tend to him.

  As they left the viewing box, everyone else stood and bowed. Luckily, most of them quickly returned their attention to the arena floor. After quietly telling a few of the clerics that she and Vespasian would return after the intermission, Persephone wasted no time following her husband out.

  Entering the relative safety of the hallway, she turned to look back. No one was following. Breathing a short sigh of relief, she considered taking one of Vespasian’s arms to support him, then thought better of it. If their charade was to go undetected, the emperor must be seen entering his litter under his own power.

  As they finally exited the coliseum, Vespasian was on his last legs. Summoning the craft, he used it as best he could to help himself. His head still held high, he entered the ornate blue and gold litter bearing his insignia. Persephone followed, then drew the curtains and called to the litter bearers and the accompanying squad of centurion bodyguards to proceed quickly back to the royal residence.

  Vespasian lost consciousness in Persephone’s arms, leaving her to wonder again what was happening to her husband’s mind and why. They were safe for the moment, she realized, but when would Vespasian return to her, and what would he be like when he did? Despite her many questions, one thing was certain.

  Vespasian’s day terrors had begun.

  Robert Newcomb

  Rise of the Blood Royal

  CHAPTER XIX

  Those new cradles had better hold up, adrian thought.

  Standing on the bow deck of theTammerland, she looked westward to where the strange structures lay beside the royal palace. I hope the other Conclave mystics know what they’re doing, she worried. If the cradles collapse, we’ll suffer troubles that I can’t begin to imagine.

  Turning to starboard, she watched the other three Black Ships dutifully soar through the sky alongside hers. Sometimes
they drifted so near that she could identify the acolytes who piloted them. Satisfied, she again cast her gaze westward. Soon the new cradles came into view.

  The cradle spars rose hauntingly up from the earth like the bare rib cages of some monstrous half-buried beasts. They were stunning things to see. Will they support the great weight of the ships? she wondered. And who among us would have guessed that the Minions could build such wondrous things? The warriors surely had some help from the craft, she guessed. It would have taken more than a smattering of magic to build them so quickly.

  As the wind ruffled her hair and robe, Adrian grabbed hold of some nearby rigging to better steady herself. She felt drained, just as she knew her three acolyte pilots also did. Even so, the trip from the Cavalon Delta to Tammerland had been short and uneventful.

  When Tyranny had finally sent word by Minion messenger that the cradles were ready, Adrian and the other sisters had been pleased. But when the messenger went on to inform them about the lost Night Witch group, their happiness vanished. The flight home became a somber rather than a happy affair.

  Nearly an entire Night Witch patrol has been lost to those horrible creatures, Adrian thought as the wind swirled about her. Twenty-nine brave and talented female warriors-many stripped naked and impaled. I can imagine no more humiliating death for Minion females.

  Two of the Night Witches had been mates of warriors serving aboard the Black Ships, and it had been all that Adrian could do to keep the grieving husbands from leaving then and there to seek vengeance. But in the end their Minion sense of duty prevailed and they stayed aboard. Adrian felt sure that Tristan would have ordered warrior parties to bring home the dead, and that thought had helped to calm the raging widowers.