Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

Commander Darzaak might have been hiding his anger at being ordered about behind clenched teeth, but he always seemed to have them clamped tight, so it was difficult to tell for sure. “Guessing we’re all about to get fucked in the ass by a big angry horse. Nothing for it but to put a bit in your mouth and take it. You heard the snow snake. Best get moving.”

We walked away from the Imperial Hippodrome, continuing north while the rest of the small Jackal contingent walked south back toward their Tower. They didn’t look back at us, and we didn’t at them. Except for me, swiveling my head around looking at both like a simpleton.

Our small group moved down side streets away from the hippodrome and most of the traffic that clogged the main avenues in Sunwrack. Here and there we ran into some Thurvacians, and a few stray dogs, but otherwise the path we picked wasn’t congested at all.

Mulldoos said, “Got to hand it to the cagey bastard. Really got a flair for the dramatic, he does.”

“Indisputable,” Braylar replied, marching forward.

Commander Darzaak was in the lead, keeping a fast pace despite short legs and being bowlegged, heading toward this encounter with far more stoicism than I could muster. I’d never been within one hundred yards of a king, and now I was not only about to be in an audience with an Emperor, but one who likely had very bad things planned for us. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, voice lowered so not to arouse any anger from the Commander several steps ahead, “Do you think he, Cynead that is, suspects your affinity for Thumaar?”

Hewspear said, “Oh, you can be sure he is well aware of our affiliations. The Jackals supported Thumaar’s own coup, and were staunch supporters during his entire reign. And I’m sure Cynead knows we would gladly welcome him back, if such an opportunity presented itself. What he might or might not suspect is that we are actively plotting to make it so.”

“When Emperors seize power by force, don’t they, I mean, wouldn’t they-?”

“Destroy those factions supporting the previous ruler? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.” Hewspear took a few more steps and added, “More often, they simply keep a vigilant eye on them.”

“To prevent them from doing whatever it is you are doing to bring Thumaar back to power?”

He looked down at me, smiling, again a kindly grandfather. For the moment. “Just so, Arki.”

“So he probably knows, then? Or strongly suspects?”

Before Hewspear could respond, Mulldoos turned around and said, “Shut your yaps. We’re here.”

We had stepped onto a broad avenue, and a little further down was a domed building that was gigantic, easily the largest construction in this district, with multiple smaller domes flanking a massive dome in the middle that was hundreds of feet high and brilliant in color, with numerous panels of stained glass. Much of the outside of the building was covered in scaffolding, and workers were lying or standing on platforms at several spots, though it was hard to tell what they were doing exactly, they were so high up.

The marble colonnaded entrance was bracketed by statues of what I assumed were Emperors or other noteworthy Tower Commanders, looking suitably somber, forbidding, and stately.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Vendurro said, “Great Circus, they call it. Name like that usually sets up a place to be real disappointing like, but I been there a time or two, and it’s actually something to see.”

We passed into the interior of the front hall that led to the domed sections further in. The grey and pink marble walls were broken up by large windows with latticed screens of mahogany, and stone benches between matching copper urns, and as we walked down the broad hall, I couldn’t help but notice that the building was mostly empty, except for some dusty workers we passed.

I said, “I take it with the work being done, this place will be-”

“Deserted,” the captain replied. “I expect that was no accident.”

The hall ended and we entered what must have been one of the smaller domed rooms. The entirety of the inside of the domed ceiling was painted, and while some murals were cracked and badly in need of repair, they were still magnificent, and the apse at one end no less so, with spectacular mosaics and paintings, grottos with Syldoonian champions from ages past, mullioned windows with stained-glass depictions of battles, gardens, a profusion of animals, scholars, priests, merchant princes, and so much color it was dizzying. The entire room had an epic grandeur, speaking of conquest and artistry, rebellions and subtle line and contour, excess and so much exquisite detail it was stunning.

Another short hall and then we came to three wide arched openings. We stepped through, and even realizing we were entering the large central domed portion of the building, I still wasn’t prepared for the immensity of the space. We passed towering bleachers, and my eyes were immediately drawn up. While the hippodrome was colossal, it was open to the air, whereas the dome was not. Well, mostly. At its highest point, several hundreds of feet up, there was a sizable circular section open to the sky, and several portions of the dome had panels of stained glass with the scenes and characters writ large enough to make out from so far below, where the entirety of the space was flooded with alternating color and shadow.

The floor changed from marble to parquet, alternating squares of dark and light wood, and it was only then I noticed that the interior wasn’t completely deserted. A figure was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the floor, with three figures standing behind. I was also surprised to see that there were some acrobats practicing, two of them dangling in the air from what looked like two long ribbons suspended from some apparatus on the ceiling, though the acrobats were well out of earshot. And then I saw the Imperial Syldoon further back on all sides, in the shadows against the walls, backs to the endless murals and statues that rimmed the entire room.

Commander Darzaak slapped his meaty hands on his thighs. “Well, let’s get this over with.” He started for the center.

Braylar said, “I always enjoy a private audience. So very quaint and personal.”

We followed the Commander across the floor toward the group, and though hardly shocking, it became clear that seated figure was Emperor Cynead, and the three standing were the Memoridons Rusejenna, Soffjian, and Skeelana.

The Emperor was leaning back in his chair, and he had given up the white (and no doubt filthy) cloak, but otherwise was dressed the same as he had been a short time ago in the hippodrome, in rich cloth, but nothing ostentatious. Even his plaque belt of alternating sunbursts and leopard heads was fairly subdued. You might have thought we were meeting a rich merchant and not the leader of the greatest empire in the world.

“Welcome, men of Jackal Tower. I do appreciate you meeting me on such short notice and,” he gestured about the huge empty dome, “in such an unusual locale.”

Commander Darzaak bowed slightly, though not so much as I would have expected. “Begging your pardon, Your Imperial Majesty, but I don’t imagine we had much choice in the matter.”

Cynead laughed, rich, unforced, the sound of a man clothed in more power than any one person should possess. “I must say, Commander Darzaak, it is such a wonderfully ironic pleasure to see one of the most cunning and duplicitous Towers led by a man so extraordinarily direct.”

Darzaak bristled, his thick jaw clenched tight enough threaten his own teeth. “Again, begging your pardon, but surely you didn’t summon us here simply to dart insults at us. I mean, you could have done that anywhere, and probably enjoyed it more with a big audience in the Citadel. So, seeing as how you value directness, maybe you’d like to engage in some. Why are we here?”