Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

Mulldoos saw Soffjian as she passed and said, “Knew that bitch couldn’t be trusted. From the start.”

She ignored him, all of us in the Jackal Tower, and kept going.

Skeelana looked over at me though, and gave a wan smile, and I felt my stomach wrench. No one else seemed to notice, and then she was facing forward and following Soffjian to the track below.

Hewspear was helping Commander Darzaak regain his seat, and asked. “He has done this thing, hasn’t he? Not just here, but all of them?”

Commander Darzaak could only nod, the veins in his forehead thick and winding like gnarled roots, mouth clamped shut, face flushed.

Braylar looked at me and said, “Well. It seems he had a faster reader.”

I wanted to object that had he trusted me earlier, I could have made much more headway, or that perhaps he should have gathered his research in a more timely fashion. Or not killed the previous potential translator. But I held my tongue on all counts.

Though it wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t-the hippodrome erupted just then. The majority of the Syldoon attending stood and began shouting, cursing, shaking their fists and pointing at the Emperor. One even started to unwind the peace string on his sword, but before he got very far his Tower Commander ordered him to stop and two of his Tower brothers grabbed him to be sure he did.

But the Syldoon raged in near unison, all but the Commanders themselves, many of whom were still regaining their wits and sitting dumbly or with their heads in their hands.

Cynead had just accomplished something no emperor before had done-he seized control of all the Memoridons in Sunwrack. If the displays of power by Soffjian and Skeelana were any indication, Cynead’s scope was now unchecked. No amount of cursing would undo that, and anyone who dared draw steel would find themselves blasted into madness and death before they could take one step to use it. He had somehow managed to orchestrate the largest coup in Syldoon history without shedding a single drop of blood.

The Memoridons gathered around the dais, many looking confused or lost, glancing at each other uncertainly, back into the stands at their former Commanders, a few looking at the Emperor and looking away just as quickly. Soffjian, I noted, stared straight ahead, back rigid, eyes fixed on some section of stone directly in front of her.

With a nod from the Emperor, the hornblowers blasted out their notes, over and over until the Syldoon finally reined their rage in, quieting again, at least enough for Cynead to be heard. “I realize this comes as something of a shock. And I apologize for not delivering this news in easier fashion. But this is the way of things now. You lords assembled here command the entire might of the Syldoon armies. You are the body of the Empire. But I am its head. Someone said an Emperor commands only so long as strong enough to do so. True enough. And I assure you, I am now strong enough to command a very, very long time. Until dead, I’m afraid. Natural causes, of course.”

One of the braver Tower Commanders stood and said, “Thief. Coward. You stole what was ours by right, Cynead. But if you think that makes you safe, you’re mad.”

“Oh, Commander Caruvik,” Cynead said, smiling, “No one is truly safe. But some less so than others.” He raised and dropped his arm and one of his Memoridons stepped forward, pointing at Caruvik, fingers splayed.

Commander Caruvik dropped to his knees, covering his ears, swatting at some invisible things assaulting his head, slammed his face on the bench. Most stepped away, but two of his captains moved forward and tried to help him back to his feet. But Caruvik started wailing, swinging his arms at them, knocking them back, and the wailing grew shrill, pitch rising, “Enough,” Cynead commanded, and the Memoridon lowered her arm and stepped back into the fold.

Commander Caruvik stayed curled up like that, body jerking, but the spasms slowed down. Emperor Cynead called out, “Now then. You are the lords of the Empire. That hasn’t changed. I would have you with me, have your support. However, what I will not have is rebellion, in word or action. The Age of Coups is over. Together, we will achieve things our forefathers never dreamed possible; we will grow this Empire to heights and greatness they never dared attempt. Together. Work with me, and your rewards will be boundless, and you will be remembered in history and song. But make no mistake at all: work against me, and I will crush you. Without thought, without remorse.

“Tomorrow is a new day. We will walk into it together, and I will apprise you of the specifics of my plans. But for today, I trust you to lead. Speak to your Towers, tell them of the new state of things, and prepare to move forward. That is all. Dismissed.”

The Syldoon, angry, sullen, and teeth-gritting to a man, watched their Emperor climb down the dais and mount his horse, throwing the long cloak out of the way before it draped across the flanks of the beast. The hornblowers blew one final note, and then the imperial procession started making its way out of the stadium, Emperor first, leopard handlers second, the Memoridons a short distance after, and the soldiers, charioteers, and musicians lining up to take the rear.

Commander Darzaak looked at his captains, splotches of red around his prominent sideburns. “Well. That was unexpected. Come on. Got some planning of our own to do.”

He started down the stairs with us filing in when we heard a voice from behind us. Sibilant, slithery. Oddly suggestive and sexual. We all turned and looked. A woman was standing there, her close-cropped fair hair even lighter in the sun, a leopard pin on the breast of her ash-gray jacket, a scarlet sash visible around her tunic underneath.

Braylar said, “Rusejenna. Looking severely lovely as ever, I see.”

Rusejenna looked him up and down and replied, “Captain Killcoin. Looking… precisely as you always do. Your presence is required. Your men as well.”

Commander Darzaak said, “Busy itinerary today, our Emperor. Where does he expect us?”

Rusejenna smiled, cold, edged with what I couldn’t help suspecting was a hint of cruelty. “Oh, my mistake. I should have been more clear. Just you, Commander Darzaak, and your Captain Killcoin there and his cohorts. To the Circus. The rest of your captains and crew may go.” She returned her gaze to Braylar. “And do try not to be late. One thing to keep an Emperor waiting when he is leagues and leagues away. Quite another when he can hear you dawdling.”

“You and my sister have a great deal in common,” Braylar replied. “The two of you will conspire like cats.”

“So very droll. I am sure the Emperor will be endlessly amused.” Then Rusejenna turned and left without waiting for a response.

It was difficult to tell if the other Jackal Tower captains were more irritated by the exclusion, or relieved.

One with thick purple lips and a weak chin said, “That haughty bitch. Acts as if sucking the Emperor’s cock makes her special. Just makes her an expensive whore.”

“And a powerful one,” Braylar said. “And perceptive. Don’t forget to add that your list, Belvick. Whatever else you say about Imperial Mems, know that there is a very good chance they will eventually hear you.”

Belvick scowled at Braylar and managed a half-hearted harrumph. “I don’t need etiquette lessons from the likes of you.”

“No, just survival lessons. But suit yourself. Denigrate the Mems as much as you like. But wait until I am several streets over, yes?”

Belvick looked away and said something to another captain. But nothing else about Rusejenna, I noted. So perhaps he wasn’t as large a fool as he seemed. Perhaps.

The other Jackal captains looked eager to get back to their Tower as quickly as possible.