Chapter 8

Kyllos' footsteps echoed despite the softness of his shoes as he walked towards the dais in the throne room of the Imperial Palace. His tired eyes beheld the throne in another vain hope that the Emperor had come to his senses and taken his rightful place. Instead, the blood-stained sword still lay across its hand-rests, and dust covered the seat.

Kyllos folded his hands and stopped at the foot of the dais, allowing himself a rare sigh as his eyes swept the chamber. He had heard that one of the first things the Emperor had wanted to do was brighten the decor of the throne room. Apparently, such plans had fallen by the wayside with the coming of the Inonni Enlightenment.

He had glanced up at the high, smoky windows, trying to guess the time of day, when he heard hastened footfalls behind him and a swish of robe. He turned to see Yonlas jogging towards him from the hall.

"My sincere apologies for interrupting your audience, Master," said Yonlas, his voice breathy from exertion.

"It has yet to begin," Kyllos commented in a mild voice. "What is it?"

"Our agents have determined the nature of the message which was sent by the Guildmaster of the Oceanus Mages. It is not what we thought."

Kyllos stepped away from the dais. "Indeed? And just what is being communicated to the Urisi Mage Guild?"

"The Guildmaster is using them as a relay. The actual message contains the identity of the person from the rogue fleet who we wish returned to Oceanus."

"Ah. It is obvious now that the Guildmaster is working more closely with Tarras and his group than we had realized."

"We are tracking a courier towards the coast. In less than a day's time he will reach a sea merchant clan, and then we will not be able to stop it from reaching the Urisi if the message is sent overseas by Farview relay."

"Understood," said Kyllos. "To whom is it addressed?"

"Simply 'the Urisi Ambassador, ' Master. No specific name was given, but we are aware of only one: Lord Ambassador Norlan."

"It is unlikely they have only one, but it is equally unlikely they will assign anyone but their best to what they would consider to be a sensitive political situation."

"Agreed, Master."

Kyllos looked thoughtful.

"Master, shall I relay an order to intercept the courier?" Yonlas asked.

Kyllos looked at the Cohort. "Why?"

Yonlas paused, not having expected the question. "It is information we do not wish the Urisi to have. We wish to keep them in the dark about our intentions."

"Yet that is based on the idea that the Oceanus Mage Guild might somehow relay information to the Urisi Mages about what they know of our Portal technology. It is clear that the Oceanus Guildmaster has no intention of sending such information at the present time." Kyllos paused. "And I had considered having Jollis contact Lord Norlan and inform him of this information."

Yonlas looked surprised, but said nothing.

Kyllos smiled. "Now you are the one who wishes to ask 'why.'"

"It is not my place, Master."

"I disagree, so I will answer it anyway. Once they know we wish a specific person, they will do everything in their power to ensure he remains incarcerated until we arrive, even if to extract some sort of concession or platinum from us in exchange for extradition. That, as I understand it, is how such political games are played, as distasteful as they are."

"Then why did we not tell them before?" asked Yonlas.

"Once again, it is how the game is played. This was explained to me by those wiser than me."

"So do we stop this courier, and let Jollis communicate with Ambassador Norlan to convey the same information, or do we let the courier go and deliver the information that way?"

"Secrecy is still important in our overall plans," said Kyllos. "From what Jollis has told me, Lord Norlan is a highly intelligent and intuitive man and may already suspect there is more to the story. To hear such information directly from Jollis may send his curiosity down paths we do not wish him to tread. Or, if his direct communication to us is discovered and the Urisi government is sufficiently paranoid, it could place Lord Norlan in an untenable position."

"Then we let the message go," Yonlas said.

Kyllos nodded once. "So long as it does not convey the exact reasons why we wish Gedric."

Yonlas leaned to one side when he heard footsteps approaching from behind the throne. "It does not, Master," he said in a lower voice. "It states only that we wish to take him into custody."

"Then let the courier continue in his task. Lord Norlan will trust this information better, and it avoids any unfortunate implications."

"Yes, Master, I will inform our agents at once."

"Very good. You may leave now."

Yonlas nodded but paused until the Emperor had stepped into view. Yonlas dropped to one knee, bowed his head, then stood and left the chamber.

Kyllos turned and bowed his head, though he did not kneel. "Good day, my Emperor."

Duric folded his arms and watched Yonlas until he disappeared past the double doors. He cast a stony gaze upon Kyllos. "Not at all interested in how much I overheard?" said Duric in a cool voice.

"I was well aware you were standing outside the entry which leads to your private chambers. Thus I already know the extent of your knowledge of the conversation."

"Then perhaps you can explain to me why do you not simply order the Urisi to arrest this man and hold him for you?"

"And would you comply with a request to issue such an order over proper diplomatic channels, my Emperor?"

"Ah, so you finally concede that nothing can happen properly in your plans without at least my tacit agreement."

"This was always a given, I had thought."

"Nothing is a given, Kyllos, for that assumes that I know what in hellfire you and the Inonni are really up to." Duric turned towards the throne. "Every time I think I have it figured out, you throw me for another loop. I get contradicting orders from day to day."

Kyllos watched Duric, as if still in hopes that the man would claim his rightful place. When it was clear Duric would not move, Kyllos took a step towards him. "They should not be thought of as orders, my Emperor, but more like guidance in--"

Duric stamped his foot on the first step of the dais and spun around to face Kyllos. "First of all, stop calling me that. I will not hear you refer to me as 'your' Emperor. I am anything but. You have no allegiance to me, so do not pretend it."

Kyllos regarded Duric with a neutral expression, though his eyes betrayed a touch of sadness. "It was a sign of respect."

"Then stop giving me respect which I have no intention of returning!" Duric shouted. "Allow me the dignity of being treated like the defeated monarch that I am!"

Kyllos remained silent. He sensed that anything he could say to correct the Emperor, no matter how gentle and well-intentioned, would not be taken in the proper spirit.

Duric's face twisted into a grimace. He raced up the dais and grasped the hilt of the sword, then threw it down the steps until it clattered to the stones before Kyllos' feet. "Take it!" Duric bellowed. "Take the sword! Run me through with it. Take Oceanus properly, and leave me not in this damnable limbo state where I am maintained as a fantasy of a ruler of a nation!" He marched down the steps. Kyllos did not move, just as he had not even flinched at the movement of the sword. "Or imprison me. Or exile me. Anything, so long as it is very clear it is the Inonni who are in charge and not any man of Oceanus."

Kyllos set aside his standard teachings and tried to follow where Duric led. "You had stated from the beginning that your intent in deciding to stay as Emperor was to protect the people of Oceanus."

"And you have frustrated me on that matter as well. You do not move against them. You do not treat them any worse than the Noble Lords had. If there was a clear threat, I could justify my continued collusion by the lives that were spared. Instead, you force me into staying through the most despicable means possible: by catering to my own pride."

Kyllos gave Duric a puzzled look.

Duric's eyes widened in mock drama. "What's this? Did I actually conceive of something not in the Great Inonni Plan of Enlightenment? Oh, how horrible. The lowly savages of Oceanus have a spark of intelligence after--"

"Stop it!"

Duric fell silent. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Kyllos paused and closed his eyes. He remained still as a meditation prayer manifested in his thoughts. When the final words had passed through Kyllos' mind, he opened his eyes, his gaze like steel. "I can no longer tell whether you misunderstand the Inonni way because of a true lack of comprehension or simply out of spite."

"Well, that makes me feel better. I can confuse the Inonni. All right, allow me to enlighten you, if that phrase does not offend you coming from me. I could give up my title. I could abdicate. But that would feel like tacit approval from me. I would feel as if I were freely handing control of the nation to you. No, Kyllos. If you want to truly claim you have complete mastery over Oceanus, you will have to depose me. And I intend to give you all the reason in the world to do so."

Duric turned on his heel and marched back towards his private chambers.

"Emperor Z'garon!" Kyllos called out. "We had an appointment. This audience is not over!"

Duric exited the chamber as if he had not heard.

Kyllos let out a sigh and left the chamber. In the hall, he found Yonlas waiting for him. "You still linger?"

The harshness of his Master's voice gave Yonlas pause.

Kyllos drew himself straight and forced his breath to a slow, deep rhythm. "Ignore my tone, it does not reflect my feelings towards you. What is it?"

"I was merely curious as to whether the Emperor offered you any insights as to our difficulties with the peasants."

"I could not even engage him."

Yonlas folded his hands. "Then what you have feared has come to pass."

"Regrettably, yes."

"What do we do it he refuses to be the voice of Oceanus? How will we deal with the Urisi?"

"Things are already in motion with regards to the current crisis. When the missive from the Oceanus Mages reaches Ambassador Norlan, he will smooth the way towards resolving it. The Emperor is superfluous at that point."

Yonlas remained silent and lowered his eyes.

"I sense doubt," said Kyllos. "Speak it."

"This assumes everything goes smoothly from this point on, Master."

"Yes, it does. We can only hope the gods will smile upon us and help shepherd us along the proper path." He glanced towards the doors of the throne room. "We will deal with the final disposition of Emperor Z'garon later."

Tarras observed the Cohort from across the village square, which itself was little more than a patch of dried, dusty ground circling an old defunct well. The Cohort stood with hands folded before him, the wind whipping an edge of the hood across his face. Next to him stood a man whose attire was a step above the peasantry around him. As the man turned, Tarras eyed a patch on his tunic which was a lighter color than the surrounding fabric.

Tarras wondered whose Noble Clan symbol once graced his shoulder. He guessed the man was once the local magistrate or sheriff for a Minor Lord, someone directly entrusted with keeping the peace in the Lord's beholden towns and ensuring taxes were properly levied and collected.

Or perhaps still was. He carried himself with a haughty air as he spoke to the Cohort. He was the only person within Tarras' sight who could tolerate the Cohort's presence. Indeed, he seemed to revel in it.

The Cohort nodded and said something in return. The two parted, and the man swaggered through the square and down the street. The peasants gave him almost as wide a berth as they had the Cohort. Tarras understood at once. He wondered how many other sheriffs now found themselves possessing far more influence and power than was their due.

Distracted by his musings, Tarras discovered only now that the Cohort was approaching him. He did not bolt, remaining in his casual stance, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on his face. Only when the Cohort was almost upon him did he step out of the way.

The Cohort passed without looking in Tarras' direction and entered the inn behind him.

Tarras stared in curiosity at the door to the inn as it shut behind the Cohort. Did he not get a good look at Tarras? He had passed more than close enough to recognize the former Noble Lord if he knew what Tarras looked like. If he knew. Tarras was coming to the odd conclusion that the Cohorts themselves were making little or no effort to find him.

Nevertheless, Tarras checked for any further Inonni before he crossed the square and found the narrow, winding path into the forest which ran along the east edge of town.

He thought this a rather strange sort of shortsightedness among the Inonni. Were they so confident of their Portals that more ordinary means of search were beneath them? Or did they feel that using a Portal was the least violent means of capturing him?

Tarras came upon a small shack of rough-cut logs mortared with thick dirt and clay, nestled in a small clearing just off the path. It had not been far; he could still hear the bustle of morning activity in the village.

Tarras looked on further ahead, where the path curved sharply out of view around some large boulders. He raised his fist to knock upon the door of the shack, then remembered what he had seen twice before from his room at the inn and allowed himself inside.

The Village Elder was not what he had expected. The man who sat cross-legged upon the earthen floor looked younger than Tarras. His gray hair still retained wisps of brown around the ears and the sideburns. His full beard was still peppered with brown-black. His eyes were lowered, his hands joined in prayer.

Tarras endured the silence for only another moment. "Forgive me for having to ask, my good man, but are you the Elder?"

"If only to notice you come to give clear insult to our God."

The words were crisp and cool like an autumn wind. Tarras was at a loss, but could not convey this without words, as the Elder's gaze remained tilted downward. He was about to excuse himself and leave when he finally noticed the Elder was staring at Tarras' feet.

Or more specifically, his shoes.

Tarras remembered the Elder who gave the blessing after the planting, and how he had removed his sandals before traversing the field. He now noticed the heady smell of fresh soil which lay spread over the floor of the shack.

"Forgive my insult, Elder," said Tarras in as solemn a voice as he could muster. He shed his shoes and stepped upon the fresh earth. As he approached, his senses were assaulted by a stronger, less agreeable odor, the unmistakable musk of old perspiration and unwashed clothes.

"It is not my place to forgive." The Elder looked up. "Only One may do that. You must make your penance to Him in your own way."

"I will, Elder."

"Do not bide your time, not if you invite immediate and swift judgment from His avatars." He glanced past Tarras and frowned. "And you will not bring them upon me. I am not ready to be judged."

Tarras had little clue as to what any of it meant, but he decided he would gain no knowledge if he remained timid. "Cannot the same be said for all of us?"

The Elder's expression did not change, yet Tarras heard a small sigh escape his slightly parted lips. "We cannot know the appointed candlemark, nor the appointed method. We can only continue as we do."

"As I try to do myself, Elder."

"Then why are you here if you seek no guidance or counsel?"

Tarras' pause was for but a single heartbeat. "The operative word, Elder, is try."

"Ah." The Elder gestured before him. "Sit."

Tarras hesitated before he lowered himself to the floor, hoping the Elder would not require him to remove everything which might contact the earth. He managed to avoid wrinkling his nose at the foul air which was stirred at the least movements of the Elder. Tarras noticed the black dirt that caked the Elder's cracked fingernails.

"Now," said the Elder. "Under the auspices of the God of the Land, how may I serve you?"

Tarras realized he was right: the Village Elder was also the religious leader. The term "avatar" was unfamiliar to him but must have something to do with the peasants' faith. He searched for the right words, not having had a clear plan in mind when he had first entered the shack. "I do not wish to bring the avatars upon myself," Tarras finally said. "Or upon you or anyone else in this village."

"And do you think you have done something to warrant such attention? That the avatars are here because of you?"

"Elder, when exactly did the avatars arrive?"

The Elder frowned. "We should not speak of them directly."

"Please, Elder, this may be of importance to me and my, um, doubts."

The Elder scrutinized Tarras' face. "They have been here for five days," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Tarras finally understood. The "avatars" were the Cohorts. This explained a great deal despite his continued ignorance of what precisely the term meant.

"And what of you?" the Elder demanded.

"Only yesterday and today. Then perhaps I am not--"

"Unless your alleged sins were committed elsewhere. You will tell me what you think you have done wrong."

Tarras recognized the tone, as it was one he once used on underlings: obey my order without question. He feared what would happen if he refused to answer more than he feared answering the question. He was forced to hesitate as he scrambled for something to say.

"I ... ah ... have ... have been tempted."

The Elder remained expectant.

"Tempted," repeated Tarras. "By the sea."

The Elder closed his eyes and lowered his folded hands into his lap. He let out a single, slow sigh. "What woman is responsible for your temptation?"

"A woman not of this village." Tarras' eyes misted as Janna teased him from his memories. "Well over a season ago."

The Elder gave Tarras a tired look. "You are but a single voice in a multitude. You share the same stain upon your spirit as many others. Far too many others."

"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Elder," said Tarras.

"'Disappoint' is hardly the word I would use. 'Fearful' is more appropriate. I fear the great cleansing which will come upon us once the avatars of our God are convinced of our wickedness." His eyes narrowed. "But do not compound it."

"I have not sinned as such since then," Tarras said, careful to keep the disdain out of his voice. He struggled not to feel animosity towards this man and his simple ways despite how they declared his relationship with Janna to be unclean. He quelled the urge to substitute "barbaric" for "simple."

"That is not what I mean!" the Elder snapped. "Do not be so foolish as to attempt to curry favor with the other gods! They will not listen, and the God of the Land will see to your punishment in death regardless of them, or despite them if they do intervene. Do not believe you can couch it in tradition, or clothe it in false justifications that they are only small devotions, mere appeasements. They will not work, for the God of the Land will abhor such gestures."

Tarras thought back to the woman he had seen conducting her hidden ritual beside the lake. She had used seeds, just as the peasants had done to plant the crops. Was burning them some sort of homage to the God of the Air? Tossing them in the lake homage to the God of the Sea?

"I have done no devotions to other gods, Elder," said Tarras.

The Elder let out a more relieved sigh. "I can only hope more will do as you have done. I fear it is only a matter of time before our crops are blighted and our women are barren. Leave me, before the avatars decide judgment is nigh."

Tarras rose to his feet and bowed his head towards the Elder. He took his shoes in hand and backed out of the shack barefoot.

He peered towards the village as he put his shoes back on. The Cohort had left the inn and was standing just outside, looking towards the narrow path. By the time Tarras' feet were covered once more, the Cohort had turned away and was gone.

Tarras headed further down the path and around the turn. It descended towards the bank of a stream. The water was low, leaving behind a bed of undisturbed mud. Rennis rose from the boulder on which he sat near its edge. "I won't ask you what delayed you this time."

"Perhaps that is for the best," Tarras said in a soft voice. "Have the others had any luck in reestablishing their lordship over the peasants?"

"Some," said Rennis in a flat voice. "Scattered pockets here and there, and only where the Inonni Cohorts are not a constant presence. I swear, Tarras, it's like the peasants are scared of something, and it's not us."

Tarras nodded. "They fear the Inonni."

"That makes no sense. The Inonni don't mistreat them in any way, or even interfere with their day-to-day life. Unless you believe the Inonni are making covert threats to them."

"They are, and don't even realize it."

Rennis sighed. "Now you're making even less sense."

Tarras stepped forward and sat on the boulder, looking out towards the gurgling water as it surged past. "The peasants are very religious, and the Inonni Cohorts apparently represent something fearful from that faith."

"But what?"

"Avatars." Tarras turned his head towards Rennis. "Ever hear the word?"

Rennis picked up a small, water-smoothed stone and shook his head. "Never."

"Then I still have more research to do."

"I don't get this. Religion had never come up before when we dealt with the peasants. Did it ever come up with the Noble Lords?"

"My assumption is that fealty to a Lord -- or an Overlord -- did not tread on their beliefs. So they are free to do as they please in that regard. And we never went around in face-obscuring hoods and long robes. Thus I contend the Inonni are not infallible. For example..." Tarras described his recent encounters with the Cohorts.

"Gods dammit, Tarras, that's a dangerous game you're playing!" Rennis exploded.

Tarras smiled weakly. "Yes, I had debated whether to tell you or not. But it does illustrate a potential weakness of the Inonni. Did you not consider it strange that none of our group has been caught yet? I doubt many of the Minor Lords are any good at stealth, considering they came from a life where the goal is to be as visible as possible in order to climb the ranks. Old habits will not die so easily."