Michael Sullivan - Percepliquis

“Good Founding!” they shouted to each other. “Good Founding to you! May Novron bless his home and people!”

She felt disturbed at this, although she did not know why. Something was wrong. She looked at the faces. They did not know.

Know what? she wondered. She had to hurry. Time was running out. Running out? What is going to happen?

She had to move, but not too quickly. It was important not to give them cause for suspicion. She must get to the rendezvous. She squeezed the necklaces in her hand. Working the spell had taken all night. There was not even time to say goodbye to Elinya and that broke her heart.

As she hurried along, she knew she would never see Elinya again. Turning onto the Grand Mar, she saw the imperial guards waiting in the eaves. Each group was led by a Teshlor knight. The three swords the knights carried marked them as surely as their imperial armor did. Heroes of the realm, the protectors of the emperor-assassins all.

She had to find Nevrik and Jerish.

Pausing at the Column of Destone, she turned. The palace was straight ahead, not more than another half mile. She could see the great golden dome. Emperor Nareion and his family were there. Her heart pounded, and her breath came in short gasps. She could go. She could face them. She could fight. They would not expect that and she could get the first incantation. She would blow the whole miserable palace apart and let the glass and stone rip through the bleeding bastards. But she knew it would not be enough. This would not stop them, but she would kill a few and hurt many others. Not Venlin, though, and not Yolric. They would kill her-maybe not Yolric, but Venlin certainly. Venlin would not hesitate. She would be dead, the imperial family would follow, and Nevrik and Jerish would be lost.

No, she needed to sacrifice the father for the son. It was the emperor’s wish, his order. The line must endure at all costs. The line must survive.

She turned and ran down Ebonydale, weaving her fingers, masking her movement. She had to get the necklaces to them. Then they could hide. The empire would be safe-at least one small piece. Once the amulets were safely around their necks and they were on their way, she would turn back. And Maribor help the traitors then, for she was done hiding. They would see the power of a Cenzar unleashed, unrestrained by edict. She would destroy the entire city if she needed to. Lay it all to waste. Bury it deep beneath the earth and let them spend eternity picking through the rubble.

For now, though, she had to hurry. It was time to go.

Time to go.

Time to-

Arista woke up.

It was dark, but as always, the robe was glowing faintly, revealing the small, sparse room. She felt as if she had fallen from one world to another. She was in a hurry to do something, but that was only a dream. Out the window, she could just make out the first hints of morning light. Slowly she remembered she was in The Laughing Gnome in Ratibor. She kicked off the blankets and reached out with her toes, looking for her boots. The fire was out and the room was cold. Touching the floorboards was like standing on ice.

In just a few moments, she was moving up the corridor, knocking on doors, hearing people groan from behind them. Downstairs, the crowd from the night before was gone; the common room looked like a storm had passed through. Bella was up and Arista smelled leftover lamb and onions. The rest staggered down groggily, wavering as they wiped their eyes. Mauvin’s hair was worse than ever, as several locks stood up on one side. Magnus could not stop yawning, and Alric kept dragging his hands over his face as if trying to remove a veil. Only Myron appeared alert, as if he had been up for some time.

While they ate, Ayers ordered Jimmy into the cold to saddle the animals. Hadrian and Mauvin took pity on the boy, and along with the other boys, they all went out to help him. By the time the sun breached the horizon, they were ready to leave.

“Arista?” Alric stopped her as she headed for the door. They were alone in the common room, standing beside the bar, where a dozen mugs reeked of stale beer. “I would appreciate it if you were a little less quick to give orders in my presence. I am king, after all.”

“What did I… Are you mad that I woke everyone up?”

“Well, yes-to be honest-I am. That and everything else you’ve done. You are constantly undermining my authority. You make me… well, you make me look weak and I want you to stop.”

“All I did was get people out of bed so we could get an early start. If you were up pounding on doors, I wouldn’t have to. I told you that staying up late wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t listen. Or would you rather we had waited until noon?”

“Of course not, and I’m glad you got everyone up, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s just that you are always doing that, always taking command.”

“Seems to me I wanted to ride on to Amberton Lee yesterday, but you ordered us here. Did I argue?”

“You started to. If I hadn’t ridden off, we’d still be debating it.”

Arista rolled her eyes. “What do you want me to do, Alric, not talk anymore? You want me to crawl in with the rest of the supplies in the sled and pretend I’m not here?”

“That’s just it. You-you insert yourself into everything. You shouldn’t be here at all. This is no place for a woman.”

“You may be king, but this is my mission. Modina didn’t assign this task to me. I went to her to explain where I was going. This was my idea-my responsibility. I would have gone even if no one else did, even if Modina forbade me. And let me remind you that unless we succeed, you won’t be king of anything.”

Alric’s face was red, his cheeks full, his eyes angry.

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Mauvin asked, walking in with a smile. When neither replied, he dropped the expression. “Okay-never mind. I just forgot my gloves-but, ah… the horses are ready.” He picked the gloves up off a table and quickly slipped back out.

“Listen,” Arista said in a quieter tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll try to be more of a lady if you want, and I’ll let you lead.” She gestured outside. “They would probably prefer taking orders from a man, anyway.”

There was a long pause and she said, “Still hate me?”

Alric wore a nasty look on his face, but the storm had passed. “Let’s go. People are waiting.”

He walked past her and Arista sighed and followed him.

By midmorning, they found the ancient road. Royce seemed better and rode with Hadrian at the head of the column, guiding them along narrow trails, paths, and even frozen rivers. Alric took his position right behind them. Arista stayed back. She rode with Myron once more, this time just behind the wagon. They left the farmlands and entered an unclaimed wilderness of fields and thickets. Not long after reaching the woods, they came upon a broad avenue. It did not look the same as when Arista had ridden on it with Etcher. The snow hid the paving stones and weeds. Arista stopped Princess broadside in the avenue and looked up and down its length. “Straight as a maypole,” she muttered.

The monk looked at her.

“This is it,” she told him. “The road to Percepliquis. Under this snow are stones laid thousands of years ago by order of Novron.”

Myron looked down. “It’s nice,” he replied politely.

They followed the tracks left by the sled ahead of them. There was silence as they rode through the trees. Here the snow was a soft powder and muffled everything, the sound of the horses and sled smothered to a whisper.

Once more, they traveled without much comment. Not long after they had started up the road, Magnus brought up the subject of lunch, and she was pleased to hear Alric say they would eat when they reached the Lee. The sun had passed overhead and shadows were forming on the other side of the trees when they began climbing a steep hill. As they cleared the gray fingers of the forest, Arista saw the snow-crowned summit ahead. On it were broken shapes of cut stone, ruins of a great city poking up through the surface. Ancient walls buried now in earth and snow caught the pale light of a late-winter afternoon.