Chapter 24

“Wait here,” Radu commanded the two guardsmen. The guards were dressed normally: a long-sleeved burgundy surcoat and pants covered by fitted, studded-leather armor. The two carried no weapons but kept a short sword in a scabbard at their waist. As usual when accompanying the emperor, the swords were unknotted so they could be drawn quickly if the need arose. “Guard the door. Only Werten is to enter.” He reached for the door, paused and drew back. “Not even my Right Hand is allowed to enter, is that understood?”

The man and woman looked at each other, their faces troubled, but they nodded. Eventually.

Radu sighed. As his Right Hand, Vondi was Lady Praetor – commander of the entire military: army, navy and red guard. His guards – the Emperor’s Guards – were technically a part of the army but, while Vondi seemed content to allow the Praetors of the respective military branches to run their troops, she was far more ‘hands on’ with his Guard. Vondi could be a vindictive bitch when she wanted to be. Emperor or not, he couldn’t be certain the guards would follow his commands if Vondi showed up.

Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn’t be better for Vondi to take lessons from his Left Hand. Lina Velesta was in charge of the Kingdom’s finances – his Right Hand was his might and his Left Hand was his money. The woman was brilliant with numbers – but he was lucky if he saw her twice in a month. The empire was on very sound financial footing.

“Fine,” he capitulated. It was one of the things he’d learned in his years at Emperor: never give orders you are absolutely certain will not be followed. He finally knew what his father was talking about when the man suggested he not ‘command pigs to sprout wings and fly.’ “At least hold her off for a moment or two and give me some kind of advance notice before she just pops through the door. Can you two at least do that?”

The guards had the good grace to look abashed as they nodded.

Not that anyone besides he and Vondi – or Werten himself – would be able to open the heavy, thick oak door to Werten’s private quarters. Werten used some kind of spell to keep the door locked but the wizard had made sure Radu and Vondi had unfettered access. Anyone else, however, would find the door pretty much impenetrable.

Well, he supposed someone could take an axe to it but he didn’t put it past Werten to spell the entrance secure even from that.

He opened the door, the familiar tingle running over his hand, and stepped into the room. He closed it behind him and just leaned against it for a moment. This was one of the few places in the castle he felt truly secure. Even Vilka would have a hard time getting to him in here.

When he was much younger, he’d always thought being Emperor of the Empire would mean he would no longer have to listen to anyone. The emperor was, after all, called the most powerful man in the world – and originally, he’d believed it. It was only as he’d gotten older, once he’d actually become the emperor, when he was confronted with all the restrictions of his office. In some ways, he was less free than the subjects he governed.

Radu pushed off the door and looked around. The room was made with a bright, gray stone – brighter than the rest of the palace. Most rooms had a light layer of plaster over the stone walls but Werten opted to keep this room bare; he reserved the warmer layer of plaster to the walls in his private quarters. This room was his workshop and the frequency with which it was burned, blown up, or otherwise destroyed would have cost an extravagant amount had it been layered in plaster.

He liked the arch-wizard’s quarters. Of course, he should; he spent enough money rebuilding them every few months. The last time had been particularly difficult; the man had somehow created trees in his quarters. Not a tree – trees. With roots that had grown down two full stories and trunks which had grown up three. He’d had to basically remove all the stone from this whole section of the palace. It had cost a veritable fortune to have it rebuilt. The sad part was he’d gotten to the point where he never even bothered to ask why. Werten always had an answer and it always seemed to make sense – at the time.

The workshop wasn’t very homey. It had a single long table in the center and workbenches along every wall with shelving neatly above them. A door on his right led to a small library and a door on the far left wall led to his personal chambers. The room was part phylacterum, part alchemy lab and part wizard testing ground. It was filled with tubes and cups, metals and alloys, exotic animal flesh, strings and things he couldn’t even pronounce, all carefully labeled and stored on particular shelves in a specific, logical order based on a system so arcane it was almost magical itself; at least Radu had never managed to figure it out. The arch-wizard might be dangerous but he was certainly neat.

He moved to one of the workbenches along the far wall. He ran his fingers over the jars and tubes on a particular section of shelf; this was the one part of the room he actually understood. Werten used this particular shelf to hold all of the paraphernalia he’d recently purchased, which he had not yet had a chance to organize. These were the arch-wizard’s new prizes; new chemicals, compounds and the like. He picked up the first one, looking at it curiously.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” came a gravelly voice from behind him. It startled him so much, he almost dropped the glass container filled with some sort of black sand; he hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t heard the arch-wizard walk in. He clutched the canister tightly before it could slip free.

Werten rushed to the emperor, carefully taking the painstakingly stoppered glass container from him and replacing it gently back on the shelf. “Vitam Mortem. Very rare – and very deadly. A touch on your skin is enough to bring you an agonizing death.”

“Really?” Radu questioned, pulling his hand back and rubbing it. “Why do you need something so deadly? Is it for one of your spells?”

The older man sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes, my Emperor, I wonder if you listen to me at all.” He walked over to the middle table and pulled out a chair, sinking into it wearily. “Contrary to those stupid tales, most spells don’t require any component other than a focus, will power and eldritch energy. Rituals often require components – but usually just the thing you’re trying to ensorcel. Potions and alchemy are, generally, all that require esoteric components. Well, and wizardry – the summoning of demons.” He shuddered. “We won’t even discuss that.”

“Why not?” Radu asked, fighting a smile. He’d asked countless times before, but he enjoyed needling his old friend. “Aren’t you an arch-wizard, after all?”

“A colloquialism, I’m afraid,” Werten chuckled, shaking his head. It was a game the two played; a simplistic banter which laid the groundwork for further discussions. It had started when the emperor was little more than a boy, always questioning. Back then, Radu had asked the question over and over to needle him; now, it was more a sign of friendship and respect. “As you well know. Isolated, pretty much, to the Empire of Kortho. In most other places, I would just be called an arch-mage.”

“It seems I’ve heard that before,” Radu mused disingenuously, his grin getting away from him.

“Yes. You have,” the wizard sighed dramatically, completing the little play. “From me. Several times, honestly, in answer to one question or another. It’s one of your greatest failings, my emperor – and probably why it’s a good thing you have no magical affinity. You only seem to remember things you find relevant.”

“That’s why I have you, old friend,” Radu shrugged with a laugh. He pulled out a chair near his advisor. “So, how did the interrogation go?”

Werten winced. “Not as well as I’d hoped. Bishop Quarley insists he never penned the missive which instructed the priests to urge their flock to denounce you. Most Esteemed Emerson claims the message he received stated clearly he was to promote sedition. Holy Sister Marunis received her orders from Emerson.”

“Which one is lying?” Radu asked intently. He had no proof the Church of Tyln was moving on his empire, but he believed in the old adage ‘if you smell smoke, there’s probably a fire’.

“That’s the crux of the problem,” the old man sighed. “None of them are lying; at least, the truth spell can find no lie.”

“How is that possible?” Radu probed. He was positive one of the worshippers of Tyln was lying.

“It’s a limitation,” the arch-wizard shrugged. “Truth is subjective. What is true is what you believe to be true. Bishop Quarley believes in the truth which says he never penned a message for the Priests and Priestesses of Tyln to stir up the people. Emerson believes he received a letter from Bishop Quarley in which the man told him to do exactly that. Marunis was just following the orders of the Most Esteemed Emerson. All of these are true because each of them believes in their own truth.”

“So, we’re nowhere?”

“I didn’t say that,” Werten smiled. “The truth may be subjective but we can still use it. We just have to combine all the subjective truths piecemeal. With a little luck and some effort, all of the ‘subjective truths’ will direct us to the ‘objective truth’.”

Radu’s head dropped and he groaned. “I firmly believe you do that on purpose. I’m positive the words you’re speaking are in either the Korthan or common tongue. I’m positive there is no way to put those words together in the way you just did and make them have sense. I’m also damned sure you’re going to put the lie to that last and explain it to me so I eventually understand it. I also believe my head hurts.”

Werten chuckled. “Apologies, Radu.” He paused, his lips pursed. “I just said we can take what Quarley, Emerson and Marunis believe and, by combining their statements, come out with the truth.”

Radu’s eyes rose to his chief advisor. “Then why didn’t you just say it that way in the first place?”

The mage began to explain but Radu waved his hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. As I suspected, you proved your words make sense to someone who isn’t me; I’m good with it. What is the ‘objective truth’ you’ve derived from all of their ‘subjective truths’?”

The gray-haired man laughed. Radu was one of the most brilliant students he’d ever had the pleasure of teaching. In matters of history and tactics, the man was virtually without equal. He was, however, a bit unpredictable at times and his attention had a habit of wandering.

“I believe someone either changed Quarley’s words sometime after it left his hands,” Werten responded, “or had him sign something without reading it. I’m not certain which and I have no clue who was involved. It’s possible there were multiple conspirators, but I consider it unlikely.”

“So, we’re nowhere, then,” Radu re-iterated accusingly.

“Patience, my Emperor,” the wizard replied calmly. “I was able to successfully wring Quarley’s true agenda from him. Through carefully worded questions, I was also able to determine where the agenda originated. There’s also Quarley’s true agenda, however; an agenda provided him by Arch-bishop Durzi which likely ultimately came from Arch-bishop Romer.”

“What is the agenda?” Radu inquired, his eyes narrowed and his voice tight.

“Why, treason, of course,” the older man grunted. “It took me a while to get that out of him. I had to couch my words very carefully to overcome his ‘plausible deniability’. The agenda was provided by Arch-Bishop Durzi. I doubt it started with him, however. More than likely, the orders originated from Arch-Bishop Romer, the Prince of Tyln – but that is unfounded speculation, of course.”

“Of course,” Radu agreed wryly.

“It proves we were right,” Werten shrugged. “The Church of Tyln is working to destabilize the empire by stirring up the common people. It just hadn’t reached a point where they were comfortable trying open sedition. Everything at this point was supposed to be carefully worded to paint you in the worst possible light without overtly turning on you. Someone started before they were ready.”

“I don’t understand,” Radu grimaced. “What does it matter how they worded things? How were they subverting my rule without subverting my rule.”

“Very carefully,” the mage sighed. He paused for a moment, looking at nothing in particular. “Take, for example, your mandate denying the people the ability to leave land to the churches. If we just state it in that way – ‘Emperor Radu limits church grants’, then it paints the picture one way. However, if we state it as ‘Emperor Radu is grabbing land from churches’, it reads another. Both are true – or at least factual. However, one paints with a clear brush and the other tarnishes your standing.”

Radu groaned. “Wonderful. So now it is not enough to have my operatives listen to what the Church says but also how they say it? And even if they use the words vituperatively, there’s nothing I really can do because they’ve broken no laws?”

Werten sighed. “It will have to be enough to listen to how they’re saying things. If you condemn them for what is, on the face of things, a true statement, you’re basically attacking a church. Their speech is subjectively incriminating, not overt, so you really can’t limit it without abolishing one or more of the churches outright...”

“Which will lead to either a revolution or civil war,” Radu interjected.

“Which will lead to either a revolution or civil war,” the arch-wizard agreed. “But, by assessing the words, you’ll at least understand where they’re focusing their attacks. It will give you early warning on what they’re planning, if you listen.”

The two men sat for a moment, gathering their thoughts. Finally, Radu broke the silence. “Arlade Tinsto is dead.”

“Really?” The old man asked brightly. “That is good news.”

“Not really,” Radu grunted. “Arlade Tinsto has been dead.”

Werten’s bushy, white brows drew together, his face reflecting his confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Radu looked up and blew out a long breath. “When we found out Arlade left aboard the Sea Nymph – the merchantman he chartered – we started investigating. We didn’t limit the investigation to where he’s going or where he’s been, we also decided to dig through his past.” Radu paused, a pained look on his face. “Well, that’s not true. Vondi decided to dig through his past.”

“You’re lucky to have her,” the gray-haired man chimed in.

“I am,” Radu agreed. “I’m not sure we need to mention it to her, however. It’s always difficult to deflate her head when she gets too many compliments in too short a time.”

“She’s not that bad,” the arch-wizard chuckled.

“No, she’s not,” Radu nodded. “And I’m lucky she’s my Right Hand. I really am. I still think she needs a husband or wife – or maybe a few of each – but she claims to be fine as she is.” Radu shook his head. “Anyway, Arlade’s past is fairly straight-forward for the past decade or so. At least, it was until our operatives took a look at Shizo, where Arlade claimed to be from.”

“He’s not from Shizo?” Werten asked, his eyes wide.

“Oh, no,” the younger man shook his head, raising his hands dramatically. “Arlade Tinsto is from Shizo. As a matter of fact, he’s buried in their cemetery. Choked on a turnip or something. He was a third child, unmarried, so no one paid much attention. The Tinsto family still lives on two small farms down that way.”

Werten gasped and his eyes grew owlishly large. “So who is the man who claims to be Arlade Tinsto, then?”

“I have no idea,” Radu remarked, blowing out a deep breath. “Worse, no one does. Beyond twelve years or so ago, we cannot find a single person who’d ever seen our Arlade Tinsto.” The emperor rubbed his hands across his face wearily. “It’s one of the reasons I’m here, to ask if you know of any way to track down his past.”

The emperor’s advisor looked off in the distance, thinking hard. “Well, if we had something of his from before he came here – maybe something he’s had a long time – I could read it.”

Radu sighed. “We have nothing like that. He cleaned his rooms before he left our company. Actually, that’s an understatement. It’s almost as if he rebuilt his room with completely new furnishings before he left. It’s so pristine, we can’t even find an insect in the room. We’ve ransacked his quarters and there’s nothing there – not even a brush with his hair. His bed, bedclothes, bed table – they’re like new. It’s as if he never even inhabited the room.” Radu looked thoughtful. “And, given all the time he spent in The Pub of the Fair Maiden, that very well may be true.” He shook his head. “His rooms are immaculately clean – there’s not even a toothbrush or soap.”

Werten looked concerned, his left hand stroking over his long, white beard. “That’s troubling. I wouldn’t expect something so pristine from anyone – unless they knew enough about magic to understand its capabilities.” His eyebrows raised even as he shook his head. “There’s a reason we call some of our ranks ‘Mystery’, though. We don’t advertise magic’s capabilities or limits to the uninitiated – present company excepted, of course. However, there’s almost no other reason to leave a room as clean as you describe.”

“I don’t understand,” Radu frowned.

The wizard shrugged. “It’s not that difficult, really. Most spells affecting a specific person require an object the person has had in their possession for a while – or a part of them, like hair or fingernails.”

He dropped his hands to the table and began drumming his fingers. His face looked thoughtful. “If Arlade was aware of all that mages can do, we’re unlikely to get anything we can use. Though it’s speculation, of course, I can think of no other reason for him to be so meticulous.” The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Unless he’s made a mistake somewhere.”

“If he has, I can’t find it,” Radu groused. “I swear, it’s like we’re fighting in quicksand to find a ghost.”

The wizard looked at Radu sharply. “What was that? What did you just say?”

“I said I can find nothing he might’ve missed,” the emperor replied.

“No, after that,” Werten requested.

Radu thought for a moment and shrugged. “I was being facetious. I just said it was almost like we were looking for a ghost.”

“Not looking for a ghost. You said ‘fighting in quicksand to find a ghost’.” The wizard’s eyes lit and his face broke into a deep smile. “Exactly. Fighting. That’s it.” He jumped up, almost toppling the chair over, and ran to the small library. He came back in less than a minute, his hands flipping through a book that appeared to be very old. He continued flipping through for a minute before stopping, his finger running down the page. His smile turned beatific. “I think he’s finally made a mistake!”

“Are you sure, Werten?” Radu asked, concerned. “What mistake?”

“Was Arlade – our Arlade, whatever his name might be – was he still teaching Audette? Before he left?”

Radu shrugged. “Yes. He sparred with her about once a week. I wished I’d never agreed to it, but she doesn’t seem to be harmed at all.”

“No, be glad she did,” the old mage chortled, closing the book, his finger stuck in a section. He waved the book back and forth. “Transference. With transference, we can scry him!”

“I’m sorry?” The emperor inquired. “What is transference?”

“We all have – an aura surrounding us,” the older man shook his head. “It isn’t, honestly, but explaining it a different way would take all day – and you still might not understand. Anyway, when we’re close to someone or something for a long period of time or over a long period of time, part of our aura or essence or our life force or whatever you want to call it, rubs off on them - or it. Mages call it a ‘transference’ – a part of a person’s energy co-mingles with the other person or object. It is that aura or essence we require as a focus for spells targeting a particular person – the object is immaterial, only that it has been in the person’s possession long enough for their aura to have co-mingled.”

“Scrying,” the mage continued, “involves using an object to guide us to watch the owner of that object. The longer the person has had the object in their personal possession, the easier it is to scry. As I’ve said, the object really doesn’t matter – it’s the person’s energy which guides us, transferred to the object. Only it doesn’t have to be an object. Although it isn’t often done because it’s hard as chaos, it can be a person instead.”

“So... “ the emperor started.

“We should be able to use Audette to scry on Arlade!” Werten chuckled gleefully.

Radu smiled widely, a chuckle beginning before it faded away. The smile was quickly replaced with a look of concern. “Will it pose any danger to Audette?”

“Not at all,” the older man laughed. “It’s difficult because separating one person’s energy from another is so difficult – but the person we use shouldn’t feel a thing. Audette will be fine!”

“I don’t like this,” Vondi said yet again. She was standing next to her brother in a darkened room with her almost fourteen-year-old niece lying on a small mound of pillows atop a table in the middle of the chamber. Werten sat next to her, his eyes closed. For one of the few times Vondi could remember, the man was without his signature blue cap. His head was bald on top but with long, white hair in the back and on the sides. His nose was sharp and prominent amid a face lined with concentration. The old man and girl had been like this for over an hour, neither having moved in the slightest.

The room itself was non-descript. It had once been a sitting room – or maybe a storage room. Vondi couldn’t be certain. Until that day, it had remained unoccupied for years, judging by the amount of dust and the hideous, out-dated yellow drapes; maybe even decades. The walls were all soft blue plaster with a few squarish areas where the blue was slightly lighter; paintings or small banners had likely adorned the walls, though where they’d gone was anyone’s guess.

In a bit less than an hour, her brother’s commands had transformed the room. Chambermaids came in and thoroughly scrubbed the walls and floor. The old, tattered yellow drapes had been removed and new, modern burgundy drapes had been hung in their place. A sturdy, six-foot long, wooden table had been brought in and carefully set in the middle of the room, and dozens of pillows had been piled atop it.

At the arch-wizard’s request, a large, white marble pedestal had been brought from his quarters and set to one side, about five feet from the wall. A single, padded chair had been brought and set at the side of the table. A small step stool had been placed on the side opposite.

“To be honest, I’m not sure I like it myself,” her brother replied. His words were soft but filled with concern. “If I could think of any other way to determine what Arlade is up to, I’d not put Audette through this. Like it or not, this is our best chance at figuring out what is going on.” He glanced at his younger sister. “Werten assures me Audette is in no danger.”

“He also said he’d try not to destroy his rooms anymore,” Vondi replied evenly, rolling her eyes. “Not two weeks later, we had some kind of trees growing THROUGH the palace. Not in, through. It cost a small fortune to repair – and we’re still finding strange roots in odd places.”

“This is different...,” the emperor began but he was interrupted before he could finish.

“Please, my emperor,” the mage grunted. Both Radu and Vondi could see perspiration dripping down his forehead. “This is very difficult. I need quiet.”

“Sorry, Werten,” Radu replied, giving his sister an arch look. Vondi snorted and shook her head – but she stayed quiet.

It was almost forty minutes later before the wizard stirred. Radu and Vondi had remained silent throughout, though Radu could tell Vondi’s patience was wearing particularly thin; she’d already taken to nibbling on the ends of her hair, a sure sign of an impending explosion. Before she could, however, the arch-wizard shifted and rose, his eyes closed tightly. He was sweating profusely and even the collar of his robes were drenched with sweat.

“I have it,” he said softly. “Chaos help me, I have it. I’m getting far too old for this.”

The old man shook his head, breathing hard. “My Emperor, if you would be so kind as to guide me to the pedestal.”

“Get Joric,” Radu instructed his sister before turning and walking to the old man.

“Just don’t start without me,” Vondi insisted before opening the door and walking out.

The emperor reached his old friend and carefully placed his hand on his right forearm. He was surprised a bit when the mage leaned a bit.

“Sorry, my emperor,” the wizard gasped, his breathing uneven. “I knew it would be hard but – I never expected it to be quite this intensive.”

“You just seemed to be sitting there,” the emperor protested.

“I was,” the old man nodded. “What I was doing, though... “ The wizard’s voice drifted off for a moment before returning. “It was difficult. It was like taking water colored purple and trying to separate it back into its red and blue components. For a bit, I thought I might just go mad instead.”

The two shuffled across the floor, the wizard relying on the emperor for both direction and strength. Radu looked down and was surprised at how thin and old Werten’s hand looked. He’d always seen the man as something larger than life, a rock which would never grow old. Looking at him now, though, he saw a small, frail old man, his face lined in age and weariness, his hands trembling and weak. The emperor swallowed, suddenly realizing how much this task had cost his advisor. He silently promised the old wizard a long, restful vacation after they stopped whatever Arlade had started.

The mage had been quite clear with his instructions to Radu, making the emperor repeat them several times. When they reached the pedestal, he took the arch-wizard’s frail hands and placed them carefully on the sides of the marble bowl. He held the old man’s hands there for a moment before releasing them and taking a very slight step back.

Werten swayed for a moment even as his hands found purchase. Taking a deep breath, he caressed the sides of the bowl, from the point where the pedestal flared into the bowl all the way to the lip before cycling his hands down again. Taking another deep breath, the man brought his hands to the lip of the bowl, hands clenched and thumb extended. He pressed his thumbs down on the lip, one on each side. Then, he ran his right thumb around the lip of the bowl, all the way around until his right thumb touched his left. Then he lifted his right thumb and placed it back where it started before circling the bowl in the opposite direction with his left thumb. Three times he did this, taking three separate breaths, one before each cycle.

When he finished, he stood still for a moment, his hands returning to the sides to grip the bowl. Again, he took a deep even breath, then another. Finally, he spoke up. “I’m ready.”

Radu glanced at the door. “Can we wait for Joric and Vondi?”

“I-I can’t,” Werten swallowed, his voice weak and fresh perspiration breaking out on his brow. “A person’s essence is – ephemeral. Holding it is like trying to hold the blowing wind. It wants to be free and I have to wrap my will around it completely to contain it, to make sure there are no cracks through which it can escape. The concentration required is intense.” The old man swallowed, his teeth gritted tightly. “I need to release it. Once the scrying pool contains it, though, I can hold it there – at least, for awhile.”

“Alright,” Radu agreed.

“Take a deep breath, hold it, and then unstopper the vial I gave you earlier,” Werten instructed, his voice strained. “Don’t breathe until you’ve poured all of the liquid into the pool and re-stoppered the vial.”

Radu searched through the pockets of his pants, looking for the vial. In a panic, he tried them again – sure he’d had the vial not two hours earlier. His thoughts went back as he fruitlessly searched his pockets a third time. He clearly remembered coming into the room with Vondi, Werten and Audette. He remembered the arch-wizard giving Audette a sleep draught. As his daughter had laid down on the pillows, the mage had handed him a vial, explained he needed to be careful it not break or crack. He was to use it when the older man instructed. He remembered it, remembered holding it in his hands. He even remembered watching Audette nod off to sleep. He just couldn’t seem to remember what he’d done with it after.

“Now, please, my Emperor,” the arch-wizard said tightly.

Radu placed his hands into his pockets again, front pockets first and then in his back pockets. No vial. He looked around the room but he saw nothing at the table and it was the only surface in the room. Absently, he patted down his shirt – and felt the vial sitting in his shirt pocket.

With a deep breath of relief, he pulled the vial out of his pocket. He glanced at it, raising it to his eyes. The liquid was white, but a pure, unfiltered white. Brighter than clouds, brighter than parchment or linen, brighter than anything the emperor could remember. It was completely clean; completely unadulterated. It mesmerized him for the barest of moments and he found he was almost unable to break its grasp over him.