Glen Cook - Reap The East Wind

Couldn't he?

Mist sighed and dragged herself out of the lethargic half-sleep that held her. Gently, she tugged her arm from beneath Aral, sat up, swung her feet to the floor. Dantice snorted, rolled onto his belly. She looked at him fondly.

It had been pleasant while it lasted. Now it had to end. For real. The moment she returned to Venerable Huang Tain she would come under the closest scrutiny, scrutiny unceasing. It would be a long time before she could do anything without first acquiring the approval of the Council of Tervola.

She had few illusions about how much power she had acquired in the coup. A great deal, to be sure, but nothing like what her father and uncle had commanded in the days of their Dual Principiate. She would rule, but would have to avoid giving offense. She would have to exercise the greatest care, and would be able to eliminate rivals only with the utmost caution. It would be a generation before she consolidated completely.

If she survived the first year. She didn't doubt that there were counterplots afoot already.

What had the empire come to? All this conspiracy, all this grasping after power—there hadn't been any of that in her father's time. He and his brother had ruled for four hundred years and had faced fewer plots than had formed over the two decades since their passing. Was it a sign that the empire was dying? That it was decaying even while it grew?

She left the bed and, without dressing, sat at her writing desk. She wrote a long missive to the King.

She repeated her apologies, telling him he had been a good friend throughput her exile. As a gesture, she was going to leave her children in Kavelin.

She smiled. Crafty witch. Who do you think you're fooling? He knows you. He knows Shinsan. He'll realize they'll be less hostages to fortune if they stay here. He'll know you're trying to shield them from the vicissitudes of Shinsan's politics.

"Aral? Come on. Wake up. It's time."

He sat up, avoided her eye. He had the look of a whipped puppy. He had asked to go with her, and hadn't understood when she explained why he couldn't.

"Up, soldier. Get yourself dressed." She began donning her own clothing. She decided to gather a new wardrobe first thing. She couldn't stroll the places of Venerable Huang Tain clad as Chatelaine of Maisak. Her sojourn in the west, and her having served the western cause during the Great Eastern Wars, would cause her trouble enough. "Here's a letter I want you to take to the King. Okay?"

Aral muttered something she didn't catch. For just a moment she relented. She kissed him. He tried to pull her into the bed. "No. No. Try to understand, dear." She disentangled herself. At the door, she said, "Good-bye, Aral."

It came out sounding more sad than she intended. She wasn't enjoying this parting.

Varthlokkur cradled his daughter with his right forearm. His left hand lay folded between his wife's fingers. He stared out the window at silvery cumulus galleons rushing eastward in ponderous battle array. "Looks like rain tomorrow."

"Something wrong?" Nepanthe asked. "You're pretty remote."

He shifted his attention to the baby's tiny red face. "You thought of a name yet?"

"Yes. I don't know if you'll like it. What about you?"

"No. I've been distracted."

"Distracted? You're always distracted. Lately you've been in another world. What's wrong?"

"Trouble."

"There's always trouble here. Vorgreberg breeds it the way other cities breed cockroaches."

"This is the King's trouble."

"He's always in trouble. How about naming her after your mother?"

"My mother? Smyrena?" That hadn't occurred to him. "Smyrena. It wasn't a lucky name." His mother had been burned at the stake for witchcraft. "I don't know." How much did the King suspect? You couldn't tell a man his wife was behind half his troubles. He might take a poke at you. And the poke Varthlokkur dreaded was a comment about Ethrian to Nepanthe.

And what of Mist? She couldn't ignore the eastern situation...

"There you go again. If you can't talk to Bragi, tell Derel Prataxis. Bragi will put up with anything from him."

"That might do." But he was thinking of telling Michael Trebilcock. He and Michael understood one another. And Michael had the power to do something...

"What about the name?" Nepanthe's eyes were heavy. She wanted an answer before sleep took her.

"Smyrena will be fine. Mother would be pleased." He considered the slow cloud castles. "Smyrena it is. Hello, little Smyrena."

The infant seemed to smile.

The Fates of Gods and Emperors

S HIH-KA'I LIMPED UP the last few steps to the top of Lioantung's wall. Pan ku remained half a step behind, ready to offer support. He avoided suggesting that his master might require it.

Lord Ssu-ma smiled as he leaned against the battlements. Pan ku need not have been concerned. He was, simply, tired and hobbling on an unexpected corn.

The countryside was alive with refugees. The city's civilians were joining them. The air quivered with panic. Shih-ka'i hoped it would not spread to the legions, yet could not banish its touch himself. The disaster on the Tusghus had been more than the loss of a line. It had introduced Shih-ka'i and his officers to real doubt about their ability to defeat the Deliverer.

"Did I make a wise decision, Pan ku?" He stared eastward. Somewhere in those forests Northern Army was on the attack.

"You had no choice, Lord. The men might have lost their confidence."

"And if it's another disaster?"

"Best to find out now. We have to know if it was an isolated incident."

Shih-ka'i did not understand what had happened on the Tusghus. That terrible sound had come thundering from the she-bear, shattering the minds and wills of his legionnaires... He'd never heard of anything like it. His secret heart filled with fear when he thought of facing it again. Armed with that weapon, the Deliverer was unstoppable.

It had to be the thing in the desert. Had to be.

"Lord," Pan ku said softly, "Lord Lun-yu."

Shih-ka'i watched Tasi-feng labor up the stair. Lord Lun-yu had less energy than he. "Catch your breath."

"Last civilians cleared out, Lord," Tasi-feng reported. "May have problems later. Some prisoners escaped in the confusion."

"That was to be expected, I suppose. It's the lesser risk. Any word from out there?"

"Still early, Lord, but they seem to be doing well."

"No sign of the problem we had on the Tusghus?"

"None, Lord." Tasi-feng did not conceal his relief. "Maybe they're saving it for Lioantung."

"Maybe." Shih-ka'i had some thoughts on the subject. He meant to pursue them... Well, it had to wait. He was needed here until the Deliverer's intentions became clear.

Nervous, unable to stand still, Shih-ka'i scanned the sky. "Nice day," he observed. It was.

"It's been nice all summer, Lord." Tasi-feng scanned the sky too. Flyers would presage the Deliverer's appearance. Their confidence had been shaken. They had begun to anticipate disaster.

One of Tasi-feng's officers appeared later. "Execution has been perfect, Lord. No sign of the doom of the Tusghus. We have a great tactical victory."

Shih-ka'i grinned into his mask, smacked a fist against the battlements. "Damn!" he said softly. "By damn! Lord Lun-yu, we'll stop him yet."

Northern Army double-timed through the gates. Their joy was contagious. "They're slipping discipline," Shih-ka'i muttered to Pan ku.

"Justifiable, wouldn't you say, Lord?"

"No doubt. No doubt." Shih-ka'i was elated himself. The battle had gone perfectly. The old confidence had returned. "We'll stop them here."

A messenger approached. "Lord Ssu-ma. Lord Lun-yu begs your presence in the command center."

"Did he say why?"