The Empress of Beasts, page 39
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”
“What news? A [Message]?”
Flos called at the woman. The [Rider] drew up in front of Flos as Ulyse stepped forwards, shielding the two with his parasol. Some of Flos’ subjects were also wary, but the [Rider] was too panicked to care.
“We’re under attack! An army of twenty thousand to the west! They’ve crossed Reim’s borders!”
“What?”
Teres turned cold. She fumbled for her phone, staring at Flos. He looked up, his eyes full and alert. And then he paused.
“The west—”
Gazi appeared by his side. Flos turned to look at her.
“Gazi—”
“I heard, my lord. The west? Was it the message you desired?”
“No. No. Mine comes from further west still. And south. But the west—that can only mean one thing.”
Flos looked at Gazi. He and she chorused at the same time, along with Ulyse.
“Khelt.”
The [Mage] looked resigned as he lowered his parasol. Flos just frowned absently, Gazi smiled slightly. There was an uneasy murmur from the people around Flos.
“Where? I know the name, but where’s that?”
“It’s—the nation—west—of Reim. Exactly west.”
Trey clutched at a stitch in his side, panting. Gazi looked approving. Flos just sighed. He didn’t look alarmed. If anything, he seemed annoyed.
“King Fetohep is sending me a message, it seems. He had a knack for choosing the worst times. Normally I’d quite enjoy receiving it. But not now. Rider, how fast is the army moving?”
“At a sprint, sir! They’re moving fast—”
“Armored?”
“Yes—”
“Bows?”
Flos was stroking his chin. The [Rider] shook her head. The King of Destruction sighed.
“Typical, then.”
“What’s the message this King Fetohep wants to send, Flos?”
Teres’ question made the people around her stare at her. The King of Destruction turned his head.
“The army is the message, Teres. I should imagine he wishes to force me to speak with him about some issue. I can imagine…but I’m occupied. And I do not care for Fetohep. We do not get along.”
He folded his arms, frowning. The [Rider] looked from Ulyse to Gazi. The half-Gazer held up a hand and turned to Flos. Her eyes were moving, Trey saw. If you wanted to know what was happening next, all you had to do was watch Gazi’s eyes.
One of her eyes always looked at her [King] when he was nearby, but the other three usually roamed, looking for threats or focusing on other people. Now, two were pointed the other way. Through her skull. Trey shuddered, but he traced the path of her gaze and saw—
“My lord, another group of riders. Armed. Forty in number. The Quarass of Germina.”
“Now?”
Flos blinked at Gazi. But then he turned and saw them too. A group of mounted people were riding towards Reim. Trey saw that most of them were adults, but two were small. Child-sized. A boy and a girl, he knew, even if he couldn’t make them out. The King of Destruction nodded.
“It seems this new Quarass isn’t the type to waste time. And her arrival is fortuitous. Ill-timed, but—let us greet her.”
“Your Majesty, what about the army?”
The [Rider] panicked as Flos strode towards the north gate, leading the crowd with him. The [King] glanced back.
“I will deal with it. They are all on foot, aren’t they? Fetohep wouldn’t send twenty thousand riders.”
“No, Majesty—”
“Then they will wait while I greet the Quarass. Attend to me. What is your name, [Messenger]?”
“Finl Ulesey, Your Majesty! I was born in Hellios, but my father fought in your armies.”
The young woman’s eyes lit up. Flos smiled.
“Well met, Finl! Now, all of you, with me. Trey, Teres, don’t dawdle! Keep up!”
He strode forwards, and like a river, his subjects, Ulyse, Gazi, Finl, Trey, and Teres all followed. Flos spread his arms, smiling, as the Quarass of Germina and her escort entered the gates of his city.
“Quarass of Germina! What brings you to Reim? My greetings upon you!”
The booming voice made the forty-some people look up. They were all citizens of Germina. And months ago, they had been enemies of Flos. He had killed the last Quarass, and the burning gazes some of them gave him were proof of their lingering enmity. But—Trey had been to Germina. And if their hatred for Flos was a burning candle, it was nothing to their admiration for the Quarass.
The Quarass had died. But she had been found again. And the new Quarass was a young girl. No more than a child. She was dismounting from her horse with the help of two people—a young boy, practically a street tough, and a noblewoman. Two of her sacred protectors, sworn to guard her with their lives.
The third stood before her. The Quarass waited until she was on the ground. Then, her escort moved back, kneeling in the street. And the young girl walked forwards. She paused in front of Flos and inclined her head. Just so.
“King of Destruction. I thank you for your greetings. May the Shield Kingdoms ward you. Germina gives you its greetings, King Reimarch. As do I. I have come to speak with you of matters of state.”
The Quarass’ voice was pitched low, her words chosen with care. But that was not what made Trey and the others shudder. It was the nuance of her tone, the intelligence behind each word. It was as if an adult was speaking through a child’s voice.
And not just any adult. Trey looked at the Quarass’ eyes. He saw a child with eyes as old as forever. Generations of Quarasses before her made up the being in front of her. She had all the knowledge of the past. Centuries, possibly millennia of it. She regarded the crowd behind Flos, her eyes lingering on Teres and Trey’s faces, then Gazi’s, then flicking back to Flos.
The King of Destruction nodded, giving the Quarass the same level nod. They were hardly in a formal setting, but the two had a formality of their own.
“And I am pleased to offer you Reim’s water, Quarass. You are welcome guests. And it is fitting we should speak of such matters; I have been deciding how best to speak with you. I trust Germina is settled to your liking?”
“Yes. It has been some small task. But your [Steward] was most capable. Germina stands ready to aid Reim.”
The Quarass didn’t even blink. Flos nodded, as if it were only natural.
“Hellios is far less amenable than Germina. But that is a topic for a more sedate setting. Quarass, I confess that I cannot give you my fullest attention at this moment. I await a [Message]. And I am told just now that a force of twenty thousand has entered my lands from the west.”
The escort reacted to the news with clear alarm, looking up from their kneeling positions. The Quarass didn’t appear at all surprised. Her eyes flickered for just a moment before she nodded.
“Ah. Khelt.”
“Just so! King Fetohep is riled. It seems I needs must deal with him. Forgive me for the urgency of the task, but you know his nature.”
“Not at all.”
The Quarass inclined her head. Flos nodded once more, and turned. Briskly, he addressed the [Messenger] and his subjects.
“Ulyse, the Quarass’ guests. Find Mizzi; no, I’m sure she’s already seen our guests. Kindly escort them to her.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. If the honored guests of Germina will follow me?”
The [Mage] bowed. The Quarass’ escort hesitated, clearly uneasy about leaving them alone. One of them, the noblewoman, bent to whisper to the Quarass, but the girl replied softly. The escort looked at her and she nodded. They followed Ulyse without question. The Quarass stood alone—save for the young boy and six cloaked bodyguards. Flos paid them no mind. He was turning to the [Messenger].
“Now, Khelt. Finl Ulesey, ride to the southern border. Send word to Mars to return from the front at once, to intercept the army and then hold our western border with Khelt. Gazi, join Mars. Take as many [Soldiers] as you need and the Serpent Hunters and Parasol Stroll as well. No casualties.”
“By your leave, my lord.”
Gazi bowed, smiling. Flos waved a hand.
“Very good. I will answer Fetohep in my own time. Now, to the palace! Quarass, my apologies for the delay. Need you any refreshments from your trip? Allow me to introduce you to my aides. Trey and Teres. I believe you know Teres?”
“Yes.”
The Quarass’ eyes were unblinking as she stared at Teres. The King of Destruction swept back to the palace as the crowd dispersed, the [Messenger] disappearing in a flurry of hooves. Neither ruler seemed worried by the army. Trey was unnerved by the tiny Quarass, but Teres couldn’t help it.
“Can Gazi and Mars really hold back twenty thousand soldiers without casualties, Flos?”
The Quarass looked back at her sharply. The impropriety of addressing Flos by his name made the others stir, but the King of Destruction only smiled.
“It shouldn’t be difficult. They’ll have to employ potions and we may take some wounds, but we should hack apart the twenty thousand with minimal effort so long as they stay careful.”
“But won’t this King Fetohep be unhappy about that many deaths?”
Flos laughed at the chagrin on Teres and Trey’s face. Even the Quarass looked amused.
“That’s what you thought? Ah, Teres! I forgot you don’t know of Khelt. Fear not! The twenty thousand are fully expendable. They’re just zombies.”
“What?”
Flos waved the question away.
“Teres, I am sure someone can explain. Ulyse, perhaps. But I am entertaining a guest of state. Quarass, do forgive me. But I trust my two attendants, young though they may be. As much as you and your three.”
“So I see. I take no offense. You must speak to me of them. As well as other matters. Your awakening, for one. And Germina’s future and your ambitions.”
Flos’ gaze sharpened. He was wary of her, Trey realized. Just a bit. He looked up as they approached the palace. Ulyse was striding back to them, Trey saw. He’d been leading the escort, but the [Mage] had abruptly broken off, leaving them there.
Trey saw the [Mage]’s hand was raised. He was heading towards Flos. And the King of Destruction straightened. Premonition flickered in his gaze. And something—some instinct, a feeling in the air, in Flos’ face—told Trey this was what he had been waiting for. He held up a hand.
“Ulyse. What is it?”
He already knew. The leader of Parasol Stroll bowed slightly.
“Your Majesty. I have just been contacted. A communication spell is desired with all haste.”
He paused.
“It comes from Tiqr. The Empress of Beasts wishes to speak with you, Your Majesty.”
“Indeed. Ulyse, I will receive her. Prepare a mirror.”
Flos Reimarch straightened. Teres saw him square his shoulders, and then relax. And suddenly he looked like the same figure she’d seen at the window. And she realized that her phone, the pot with the Yellat, his returning subjects—even the Quarass and Khelt’s army—had been only a distraction. The King of Destruction looked at Ulyse. Then he turned to the small Quarass. She was looking up at him, her eyes knowing and gauging. Watchful.
“We must speak indeed, Quarass. But a more pressing matter calls me. My city is open to you. We shall speak this night, I think. But Nsiia and I have much to say.”
He waited for the Quarass to nod her assent, and then he turned. Trey saw him walk back to the castle. And the rain, which had stopped, began to fall again. The King of Destruction looked up.
“So much to say. And so little time.”
——
He smelled blood on the wind. Blood and death. And Orjin, Strongest of Pomle knew Tiqr’s end was near. The battle called him. Not for the lust of slaughter, but to see. To see how the Empress of Beasts met her end.
He stood in his little camp, balancing on his toes on a bit of gravel and broken stones. Working on his balance and strength of his toes. And Orjin was aware of everything around him. The sky, the ground. The distant conflict on the wind, the traces of armies, who had marched on Tiqr’s heart. He knew it all.
And he knew the Drake was approaching him from the side before he opened his eyes. Salii, the [Secretary], stopped and cleared her throat. Orjin opened his eyes.
“What is it, Salii?”
“The King of Destruction is communicating with the Empress of Beasts. On the eve of Tiqr’s fall. They have just begun speaking by communication spell.”
The Drake pronounced the words with all the seriousness he had ever heard in her voice. The Strongest of Pomle didn’t blink. He stared ahead, balancing without using his arms.
“How do you know this, Salii?”
Her tail lashed anxiously. She tapped her clipboard, watching his posture, his face.
“I’m a [Secretary], Orjin. It’s my job to know things. I have Skills and contacts.”
The [Martial Artist] frowned. That might be true, but even he was aware of the significance of what Salii was telling him.
“Even within Tiqr’s walls during a siege?”
The Drake paused.
“Let’s just say that there are concerned relatives of the refugees we took in. Pomle might not have fought during the war, but we have given succor to Tiqr’s citizens. And this news isn’t exactly covert. If I know, other nations know. And that conversation won’t be secret either.”
“How so?”
“The conversation. It’s going through Wistram. Tiqr doesn’t have a [Diviner] or [Seer] or anyone capable of sending a [Scrying] spell at the moment. So she has to request a third party to link her scrying mirror with Reim’s.”
“Hm.”
Magic. Orjin waited, thinking.
“…How does this reveal the contents of the conversation to other nations?”
Salii shook her head.
“Besides the fact that Wistram needs to maintain the spell? It’s been said that Wistram watches everything, Orjin. That’s the rumor, at least. They can watch you through your scrying orb, and the Mage’s Guilds send every [Message] to the academy. It’s never been proven, of course. If it was, it would be alarming.”
“I’ve never heard of this rumor.”
“You don’t work in the same circles I do. Orjin, this conversation is significant.”
“Reim is far away from Tiqr. Too far for even a Garuda to fly in a day. You told me Oliphant will be besieged by tomorrow morning. How can the King of Destruction aid Tiqr now? Is the Lord of the Skies nearby?”
The Drake shook her head.
“No. But the conversation is significant. Neither Empress Nsiia nor the King of Destruction have communicated once since Tiqr was attacked. I would have known, believe me. It was what everyone was waiting for. And now? Orjin, I think I might know what Nsiia is planning. Or perhaps the King of Destruction. It’s down to refugees.”
Orjin knew Salii wasn’t going to go away until he asked the question. He wished she’d just say things plainly. Pomle’s warriors didn’t waste time.
“What about them?”
“I’ve been running the numbers. You do know that Pomle has taken in over sixty thousand of Tiqr’s citizens during this war?”
“I know.”
Pomle was small, and the sudden influx of people couldn’t be missed. It had only one major oasis, and all the fleeing citizens had naturally settled around that spot. The training grounds felt overly crowded, for all Salii had done to organize the refugees into a single camp that wouldn’t spread out too far and interrupt Pomle’s warriors’ training. Orjin had moved his camp far away, but he still heard them sometimes on the wind.
“So we have sixty thousand citizens. What of it?”
Salii made an impatient sound.
“It may be a lot to Pomle, but Pomle is barely populated. Orjin, do you know how many people live within Tiqr?”
“No.”
Orjin’s voice was as disinterested as could be. The Drake sighed.
“Hundreds of thousands have fled towards the Kilalle Steppes. And more elsewhere. Many were captured, turned into slaves—many more fought and died. But Tiqr is a nation. If the coalition took all their people as slaves, they’d have their hands completely full just trying to manage that many people. So. If some were killed, joined the army, fled, or were taken captive, what happened to the rest?”
“You know the answer. Tell me.”
Salii flipped through her clipboard. She came to a little map and raised it. She had to walk around to show it to Orjin as he stared ahead, still balancing on the tiny rocks.
“They’re right here. In Oliphant. That’s an army, Orjin. One that outnumbers Nerrhavia’s forces, even with the hundred thousand reinforcements they received. It might even outnumber all the coalition’s armies combined.”
Now Orjin saw what she was getting at. He blinked; it was the best reaction she’d gotten from him so far. He considered the idea.
“A large force, yes. But untrained. They’ll be slaughtered even if they hold the high ground. Against trained [Soldiers]? Without Skills, they will die by the dozen for each [Soldier] that falls.”
“Yes. But they could still force back an army by sheer weight of numbers. It might not work against Illivere’s Golems or the chariots if they break the walls—but think, Orjin! The Empress of Beasts is communicating with the King of Destruction. Do you remember some of his Skills? His three Units? What about his Skill? [Army of the King]?”
She threw up her claws, excited, apprehensive. Orjin thought about that, and the legends of the King of Destruction. He took it all in, what she was suggesting. If Empress Nsiia was petitioning Flos Reimarch on the eve of Tiqr’s fall…
“Oh.”
He looked at her. Salii waited. Orjin paused.
Then he turned around and went back to balancing on his toes. Salii stared at his back. After a moment she threw her clipboard on the ground and stalked off to find someone else who would be sufficiently amazed.
——
And it was the end. It sounded of silence. The beating of her heart. She heard no lamentations in the street, no drums of war. They would come. But the sound of oblivion waiting was silence—and the sounds of her body. Her heart sounded too loud, echoing in her chest.
“What news? A [Message]?”
Flos called at the woman. The [Rider] drew up in front of Flos as Ulyse stepped forwards, shielding the two with his parasol. Some of Flos’ subjects were also wary, but the [Rider] was too panicked to care.
“We’re under attack! An army of twenty thousand to the west! They’ve crossed Reim’s borders!”
“What?”
Teres turned cold. She fumbled for her phone, staring at Flos. He looked up, his eyes full and alert. And then he paused.
“The west—”
Gazi appeared by his side. Flos turned to look at her.
“Gazi—”
“I heard, my lord. The west? Was it the message you desired?”
“No. No. Mine comes from further west still. And south. But the west—that can only mean one thing.”
Flos looked at Gazi. He and she chorused at the same time, along with Ulyse.
“Khelt.”
The [Mage] looked resigned as he lowered his parasol. Flos just frowned absently, Gazi smiled slightly. There was an uneasy murmur from the people around Flos.
“Where? I know the name, but where’s that?”
“It’s—the nation—west—of Reim. Exactly west.”
Trey clutched at a stitch in his side, panting. Gazi looked approving. Flos just sighed. He didn’t look alarmed. If anything, he seemed annoyed.
“King Fetohep is sending me a message, it seems. He had a knack for choosing the worst times. Normally I’d quite enjoy receiving it. But not now. Rider, how fast is the army moving?”
“At a sprint, sir! They’re moving fast—”
“Armored?”
“Yes—”
“Bows?”
Flos was stroking his chin. The [Rider] shook her head. The King of Destruction sighed.
“Typical, then.”
“What’s the message this King Fetohep wants to send, Flos?”
Teres’ question made the people around her stare at her. The King of Destruction turned his head.
“The army is the message, Teres. I should imagine he wishes to force me to speak with him about some issue. I can imagine…but I’m occupied. And I do not care for Fetohep. We do not get along.”
He folded his arms, frowning. The [Rider] looked from Ulyse to Gazi. The half-Gazer held up a hand and turned to Flos. Her eyes were moving, Trey saw. If you wanted to know what was happening next, all you had to do was watch Gazi’s eyes.
One of her eyes always looked at her [King] when he was nearby, but the other three usually roamed, looking for threats or focusing on other people. Now, two were pointed the other way. Through her skull. Trey shuddered, but he traced the path of her gaze and saw—
“My lord, another group of riders. Armed. Forty in number. The Quarass of Germina.”
“Now?”
Flos blinked at Gazi. But then he turned and saw them too. A group of mounted people were riding towards Reim. Trey saw that most of them were adults, but two were small. Child-sized. A boy and a girl, he knew, even if he couldn’t make them out. The King of Destruction nodded.
“It seems this new Quarass isn’t the type to waste time. And her arrival is fortuitous. Ill-timed, but—let us greet her.”
“Your Majesty, what about the army?”
The [Rider] panicked as Flos strode towards the north gate, leading the crowd with him. The [King] glanced back.
“I will deal with it. They are all on foot, aren’t they? Fetohep wouldn’t send twenty thousand riders.”
“No, Majesty—”
“Then they will wait while I greet the Quarass. Attend to me. What is your name, [Messenger]?”
“Finl Ulesey, Your Majesty! I was born in Hellios, but my father fought in your armies.”
The young woman’s eyes lit up. Flos smiled.
“Well met, Finl! Now, all of you, with me. Trey, Teres, don’t dawdle! Keep up!”
He strode forwards, and like a river, his subjects, Ulyse, Gazi, Finl, Trey, and Teres all followed. Flos spread his arms, smiling, as the Quarass of Germina and her escort entered the gates of his city.
“Quarass of Germina! What brings you to Reim? My greetings upon you!”
The booming voice made the forty-some people look up. They were all citizens of Germina. And months ago, they had been enemies of Flos. He had killed the last Quarass, and the burning gazes some of them gave him were proof of their lingering enmity. But—Trey had been to Germina. And if their hatred for Flos was a burning candle, it was nothing to their admiration for the Quarass.
The Quarass had died. But she had been found again. And the new Quarass was a young girl. No more than a child. She was dismounting from her horse with the help of two people—a young boy, practically a street tough, and a noblewoman. Two of her sacred protectors, sworn to guard her with their lives.
The third stood before her. The Quarass waited until she was on the ground. Then, her escort moved back, kneeling in the street. And the young girl walked forwards. She paused in front of Flos and inclined her head. Just so.
“King of Destruction. I thank you for your greetings. May the Shield Kingdoms ward you. Germina gives you its greetings, King Reimarch. As do I. I have come to speak with you of matters of state.”
The Quarass’ voice was pitched low, her words chosen with care. But that was not what made Trey and the others shudder. It was the nuance of her tone, the intelligence behind each word. It was as if an adult was speaking through a child’s voice.
And not just any adult. Trey looked at the Quarass’ eyes. He saw a child with eyes as old as forever. Generations of Quarasses before her made up the being in front of her. She had all the knowledge of the past. Centuries, possibly millennia of it. She regarded the crowd behind Flos, her eyes lingering on Teres and Trey’s faces, then Gazi’s, then flicking back to Flos.
The King of Destruction nodded, giving the Quarass the same level nod. They were hardly in a formal setting, but the two had a formality of their own.
“And I am pleased to offer you Reim’s water, Quarass. You are welcome guests. And it is fitting we should speak of such matters; I have been deciding how best to speak with you. I trust Germina is settled to your liking?”
“Yes. It has been some small task. But your [Steward] was most capable. Germina stands ready to aid Reim.”
The Quarass didn’t even blink. Flos nodded, as if it were only natural.
“Hellios is far less amenable than Germina. But that is a topic for a more sedate setting. Quarass, I confess that I cannot give you my fullest attention at this moment. I await a [Message]. And I am told just now that a force of twenty thousand has entered my lands from the west.”
The escort reacted to the news with clear alarm, looking up from their kneeling positions. The Quarass didn’t appear at all surprised. Her eyes flickered for just a moment before she nodded.
“Ah. Khelt.”
“Just so! King Fetohep is riled. It seems I needs must deal with him. Forgive me for the urgency of the task, but you know his nature.”
“Not at all.”
The Quarass inclined her head. Flos nodded once more, and turned. Briskly, he addressed the [Messenger] and his subjects.
“Ulyse, the Quarass’ guests. Find Mizzi; no, I’m sure she’s already seen our guests. Kindly escort them to her.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. If the honored guests of Germina will follow me?”
The [Mage] bowed. The Quarass’ escort hesitated, clearly uneasy about leaving them alone. One of them, the noblewoman, bent to whisper to the Quarass, but the girl replied softly. The escort looked at her and she nodded. They followed Ulyse without question. The Quarass stood alone—save for the young boy and six cloaked bodyguards. Flos paid them no mind. He was turning to the [Messenger].
“Now, Khelt. Finl Ulesey, ride to the southern border. Send word to Mars to return from the front at once, to intercept the army and then hold our western border with Khelt. Gazi, join Mars. Take as many [Soldiers] as you need and the Serpent Hunters and Parasol Stroll as well. No casualties.”
“By your leave, my lord.”
Gazi bowed, smiling. Flos waved a hand.
“Very good. I will answer Fetohep in my own time. Now, to the palace! Quarass, my apologies for the delay. Need you any refreshments from your trip? Allow me to introduce you to my aides. Trey and Teres. I believe you know Teres?”
“Yes.”
The Quarass’ eyes were unblinking as she stared at Teres. The King of Destruction swept back to the palace as the crowd dispersed, the [Messenger] disappearing in a flurry of hooves. Neither ruler seemed worried by the army. Trey was unnerved by the tiny Quarass, but Teres couldn’t help it.
“Can Gazi and Mars really hold back twenty thousand soldiers without casualties, Flos?”
The Quarass looked back at her sharply. The impropriety of addressing Flos by his name made the others stir, but the King of Destruction only smiled.
“It shouldn’t be difficult. They’ll have to employ potions and we may take some wounds, but we should hack apart the twenty thousand with minimal effort so long as they stay careful.”
“But won’t this King Fetohep be unhappy about that many deaths?”
Flos laughed at the chagrin on Teres and Trey’s face. Even the Quarass looked amused.
“That’s what you thought? Ah, Teres! I forgot you don’t know of Khelt. Fear not! The twenty thousand are fully expendable. They’re just zombies.”
“What?”
Flos waved the question away.
“Teres, I am sure someone can explain. Ulyse, perhaps. But I am entertaining a guest of state. Quarass, do forgive me. But I trust my two attendants, young though they may be. As much as you and your three.”
“So I see. I take no offense. You must speak to me of them. As well as other matters. Your awakening, for one. And Germina’s future and your ambitions.”
Flos’ gaze sharpened. He was wary of her, Trey realized. Just a bit. He looked up as they approached the palace. Ulyse was striding back to them, Trey saw. He’d been leading the escort, but the [Mage] had abruptly broken off, leaving them there.
Trey saw the [Mage]’s hand was raised. He was heading towards Flos. And the King of Destruction straightened. Premonition flickered in his gaze. And something—some instinct, a feeling in the air, in Flos’ face—told Trey this was what he had been waiting for. He held up a hand.
“Ulyse. What is it?”
He already knew. The leader of Parasol Stroll bowed slightly.
“Your Majesty. I have just been contacted. A communication spell is desired with all haste.”
He paused.
“It comes from Tiqr. The Empress of Beasts wishes to speak with you, Your Majesty.”
“Indeed. Ulyse, I will receive her. Prepare a mirror.”
Flos Reimarch straightened. Teres saw him square his shoulders, and then relax. And suddenly he looked like the same figure she’d seen at the window. And she realized that her phone, the pot with the Yellat, his returning subjects—even the Quarass and Khelt’s army—had been only a distraction. The King of Destruction looked at Ulyse. Then he turned to the small Quarass. She was looking up at him, her eyes knowing and gauging. Watchful.
“We must speak indeed, Quarass. But a more pressing matter calls me. My city is open to you. We shall speak this night, I think. But Nsiia and I have much to say.”
He waited for the Quarass to nod her assent, and then he turned. Trey saw him walk back to the castle. And the rain, which had stopped, began to fall again. The King of Destruction looked up.
“So much to say. And so little time.”
——
He smelled blood on the wind. Blood and death. And Orjin, Strongest of Pomle knew Tiqr’s end was near. The battle called him. Not for the lust of slaughter, but to see. To see how the Empress of Beasts met her end.
He stood in his little camp, balancing on his toes on a bit of gravel and broken stones. Working on his balance and strength of his toes. And Orjin was aware of everything around him. The sky, the ground. The distant conflict on the wind, the traces of armies, who had marched on Tiqr’s heart. He knew it all.
And he knew the Drake was approaching him from the side before he opened his eyes. Salii, the [Secretary], stopped and cleared her throat. Orjin opened his eyes.
“What is it, Salii?”
“The King of Destruction is communicating with the Empress of Beasts. On the eve of Tiqr’s fall. They have just begun speaking by communication spell.”
The Drake pronounced the words with all the seriousness he had ever heard in her voice. The Strongest of Pomle didn’t blink. He stared ahead, balancing without using his arms.
“How do you know this, Salii?”
Her tail lashed anxiously. She tapped her clipboard, watching his posture, his face.
“I’m a [Secretary], Orjin. It’s my job to know things. I have Skills and contacts.”
The [Martial Artist] frowned. That might be true, but even he was aware of the significance of what Salii was telling him.
“Even within Tiqr’s walls during a siege?”
The Drake paused.
“Let’s just say that there are concerned relatives of the refugees we took in. Pomle might not have fought during the war, but we have given succor to Tiqr’s citizens. And this news isn’t exactly covert. If I know, other nations know. And that conversation won’t be secret either.”
“How so?”
“The conversation. It’s going through Wistram. Tiqr doesn’t have a [Diviner] or [Seer] or anyone capable of sending a [Scrying] spell at the moment. So she has to request a third party to link her scrying mirror with Reim’s.”
“Hm.”
Magic. Orjin waited, thinking.
“…How does this reveal the contents of the conversation to other nations?”
Salii shook her head.
“Besides the fact that Wistram needs to maintain the spell? It’s been said that Wistram watches everything, Orjin. That’s the rumor, at least. They can watch you through your scrying orb, and the Mage’s Guilds send every [Message] to the academy. It’s never been proven, of course. If it was, it would be alarming.”
“I’ve never heard of this rumor.”
“You don’t work in the same circles I do. Orjin, this conversation is significant.”
“Reim is far away from Tiqr. Too far for even a Garuda to fly in a day. You told me Oliphant will be besieged by tomorrow morning. How can the King of Destruction aid Tiqr now? Is the Lord of the Skies nearby?”
The Drake shook her head.
“No. But the conversation is significant. Neither Empress Nsiia nor the King of Destruction have communicated once since Tiqr was attacked. I would have known, believe me. It was what everyone was waiting for. And now? Orjin, I think I might know what Nsiia is planning. Or perhaps the King of Destruction. It’s down to refugees.”
Orjin knew Salii wasn’t going to go away until he asked the question. He wished she’d just say things plainly. Pomle’s warriors didn’t waste time.
“What about them?”
“I’ve been running the numbers. You do know that Pomle has taken in over sixty thousand of Tiqr’s citizens during this war?”
“I know.”
Pomle was small, and the sudden influx of people couldn’t be missed. It had only one major oasis, and all the fleeing citizens had naturally settled around that spot. The training grounds felt overly crowded, for all Salii had done to organize the refugees into a single camp that wouldn’t spread out too far and interrupt Pomle’s warriors’ training. Orjin had moved his camp far away, but he still heard them sometimes on the wind.
“So we have sixty thousand citizens. What of it?”
Salii made an impatient sound.
“It may be a lot to Pomle, but Pomle is barely populated. Orjin, do you know how many people live within Tiqr?”
“No.”
Orjin’s voice was as disinterested as could be. The Drake sighed.
“Hundreds of thousands have fled towards the Kilalle Steppes. And more elsewhere. Many were captured, turned into slaves—many more fought and died. But Tiqr is a nation. If the coalition took all their people as slaves, they’d have their hands completely full just trying to manage that many people. So. If some were killed, joined the army, fled, or were taken captive, what happened to the rest?”
“You know the answer. Tell me.”
Salii flipped through her clipboard. She came to a little map and raised it. She had to walk around to show it to Orjin as he stared ahead, still balancing on the tiny rocks.
“They’re right here. In Oliphant. That’s an army, Orjin. One that outnumbers Nerrhavia’s forces, even with the hundred thousand reinforcements they received. It might even outnumber all the coalition’s armies combined.”
Now Orjin saw what she was getting at. He blinked; it was the best reaction she’d gotten from him so far. He considered the idea.
“A large force, yes. But untrained. They’ll be slaughtered even if they hold the high ground. Against trained [Soldiers]? Without Skills, they will die by the dozen for each [Soldier] that falls.”
“Yes. But they could still force back an army by sheer weight of numbers. It might not work against Illivere’s Golems or the chariots if they break the walls—but think, Orjin! The Empress of Beasts is communicating with the King of Destruction. Do you remember some of his Skills? His three Units? What about his Skill? [Army of the King]?”
She threw up her claws, excited, apprehensive. Orjin thought about that, and the legends of the King of Destruction. He took it all in, what she was suggesting. If Empress Nsiia was petitioning Flos Reimarch on the eve of Tiqr’s fall…
“Oh.”
He looked at her. Salii waited. Orjin paused.
Then he turned around and went back to balancing on his toes. Salii stared at his back. After a moment she threw her clipboard on the ground and stalked off to find someone else who would be sufficiently amazed.
——
And it was the end. It sounded of silence. The beating of her heart. She heard no lamentations in the street, no drums of war. They would come. But the sound of oblivion waiting was silence—and the sounds of her body. Her heart sounded too loud, echoing in her chest.
