“Thank you, Lady Chancellor.”
“It’s tradition,” Lindet said, “to ask guests about the news from their homeland, but I’m afraid that might take a while. We are a hundred years behind.”
Ka-sedial tilted his head to one side, looking slightly bored. “Not at all. There was a civil war. Millions died to sword, famine, and sorcery. It has taken four generations, but the imperial family has retaken their rightful throne and brought peace to Dynize.”
“Ah. Peace. I’m glad to hear it.” Lindet did not sound at all glad to hear it.
“As are we.”
Vlora noted that Ka-sedial did not reciprocate the question of news. He wouldn’t, she decided. Not when the Dynize had been spying on Fatrasta for who knew how long. She wondered whether Lindet had sent her own spies into Dynize. The countries of the Nine had stopped bothering to approach the Empire over fifty years ago, but with access to Palo that would speak the Dynize language and look the part, Lindet might have actually gotten the chance to crack that nut.
It wasn’t a great time to ask.
“I’m afraid,” Lindet said, “that my next question might come off as rude, but it is the foremost on our minds and I would like to put my people at ease.”
Ka-sedial smiled. “Why, you’re wondering, is there a fleet of warships outside your harbor?”
“Precisely,” Lindet said with a sour smile.
“It’s an expedition,” Ka-sedial said simply. “The Empire hasn’t had a fleet to speak of since the last squadron was sunk off the Ebony Coast over seventy years ago. We’ve barred our borders to outsiders, kept ourselves and our problems isolated to our country. We’ve only been at peace with ourselves for about seven years now, and in that time we’ve had to rebuild so, so much—including our ships.”
“And now that you’ve rebuilt them, what do you intend to do with them?”
Ka-sedial drummed his fingers gently on the table. “That depends on you, Lady Chancellor.”
An audible gasp came from the assembly, and Vlora didn’t blame them. The words were innocuous, but the tone held an unmistakable threat. The last person to publicly threaten Lindet, as far as Vlora knew, was the Kez governor who’d tried to relieve her of her post at the beginning of the Fatrastan Revolution. At the end of the war, his tongue was cut out as part of the peace settlement.
Vlora cleared her throat. “Ambassador, every expedition has a goal. What is yours?”
Ka-sedial turned his attention slowly toward her, like a lizard who’s spied a particularly fat mealworm. She wondered if his spies had reported her to him.
“Lady Flint, I presume?”
That seemed to be a yes about the spies, she noted. “That is I.”
“We’ve only come looking for what is rightfully ours.”
The whole room hung on the sentence, tension thick enough to cut. “I’m curious,” Lindet said, “what exactly you think that is.” Her expression had not changed, but her voice had gone dangerously quiet. The assembly seemed to lean forward as one, straining to hear.
Ka-sedial didn’t seem to have a problem hearing. “These lands belonged to the Empire at one time,” he said, almost wistfully. “You’ve built your little nation atop the great ruins of our ancestors.”
“And you expect to take that back?” Vlora asked flatly.
“No, no,” Ka-sedial said. “It’s been a very long century. My people are weary of war, and I understand that this is a modern age. We have no intention of conquering. We are only here for our rightful property, and once we have it we will be gone.”
You’re using the word “rightful” quite a lot. I don’t think that means what it once did, not since Tamas beheaded the rightful king of Adro. Vlora glanced at Lindet, but the Lady Chancellor had sunk back in her seat, examining Ka-sedial through a hawk’s narrowed eyes. She did not respond.
The silence dragged on for ten seconds, then twenty, then thirty. Ka-sedial finally leaned forward, his expression impatient. “We want the godstones returned to us.”
There was a confused murmur from the gallery behind her, only cut off by Lindet’s voice ringing out loudly. “Everyone out!”
The room was clear within a minute, leaving only the fifteen or so people at the oval table remaining. Everyone’s eyes were glued on Lindet.
“What are the godstones?” Vlora asked. Ka-sedial stared at Lindet. Lindet stared back. Vlora leaned over to her and repeated her question quietly. Lindet ignored her, turning to whisper to the Privileged sorcerer sitting on her left. Vlora’s attention was on Ka-sedial, but she caught the quiet response.
“We’ll have it secured, ma’am.”
Whether Ka-sedial heard their whispers, Vlora couldn’t be sure. He looked from Lady Chancellor to Privileged and then back again. “We know you have them, and you know they belong to us. Hand them over and we’ll leave these shores immediately.”
“Or what?” Lindet said.
Vlora resisted the urge to glance back at Olem. This conversation had turned badly very quickly. “What are the godstones?” she asked again.
“Or we take them by force,” Ka-sedial said.
“I thought you said your people are weary of war?” Vlora asked sarcastically. She wanted an answer about these godstones, and it was clear that everyone here was ignoring her questions.
“Hm. They are, Lady Flint. But some things are more important than a much-needed respite. We are weary, but we are also ready. If you think us broken by so much war, think again. Our armies are hardened veterans, raised on the taste of blood. I will let them drink again if I must.”
Vlora looked at Lindet, but the Lady Chancellor still had not answered. Vlora wanted to reach over and shake her. “What,” she demanded, “is so important about these godstones?”
“Everything,” Lindet said. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Ka-sedial agreed. “Everything. The future of my very country depends upon their retrieval, and keeping them from us will be seen as an act of war.”
Lindet suddenly stood. “You will have my answer by tomorrow. Good day, Ambassador.” She left the table so quickly that the others scrambled to follow her, Vlora included. She glanced behind her as she left the room to find Ka-sedial still seated, with a determined expression that looked more like an avenging angel than a frail old man.
Vlora rushed to catch up to Lindet. “Are you going to explain to me what just happened?”
“Nothing that I had planned,” Lindet responded. “You have until tomorrow to prepare the garrison for war. Send out messengers. Recall all my armies from the frontier, and raise levies from every city in Fatrasta.”
Vlora’s stomach tightened, twisting over itself in knots. That was not the command of someone who expected a blockade. That was the command of someone who expected a full-blown war. “What,” she growled, “are these godstones?”
Lindet lifted her chin. “I believe you have work to do, General.” She strode off, leaving Vlora standing alone, openmouthed.
Olem found her a few moments later, after pushing his way through the crowd of confused dignitaries. “What happened after she kicked everyone out?” he asked.
“I’m still not entirely sure.” She looked at her hands, then up at Olem. “Have our men transitioned to Fort Nied?”
“Yes, but …”
“No buts. Send word that we have until morning to prepare for an invasion.”
CHAPTER 52
Vlora arrived at Fort Nied an hour after the Dynize ambassador’s visit came to a sudden end. The traffic had been almost impassable the entire way down the east slope of the Landfall Plateau, forcing her to walk the last quarter of a mile, listening to the gossip spread like wildfire among shopkeeps, pedestrians, and laborers. People wondered openly if the Dynize would invade, open trade routes, or simply resupply on a long journey toward the Nine. She could feel the city pulse with uncertain anticipation, and like a spring coiled too tightly the tension felt ready to snap.
Olem had g
one on ahead on horseback, and by the time Vlora reached the fort her artillery crews stood at the ready and riflemen manned the battlements. An ensign brought her up to speed as she came in through the front gate: Riflejacks manned the fort, while the rest of the brigade had been distributed in patrol lines all along the length of the bay and docks, and messengers flooded in with news that the entire Fatrastan garrison was mustering at wooden forts both north and south of the city. Vlora turned the messengers right around with orders to have full troop reports by nightfall, then stopped to take stock of her new command post.
Fort Nied was not, thankfully, an ancient palisade like Loel’s Fort. It was a modern star fortress directly on the bay, positioned to force all ships around it to reach the docks. It had open firing lanes on three points of the star to the ocean, and was protected by immense blocks of limestone enchanted by Lindet’s Privileged to shrug off both cannon fire and sorcery.
The fort had survived a withering bombardment by the Kez fleet during the Fatrastan Revolution. It would, she assured herself, hold up again.
A messenger touched her arm. “Lady Flint, Colonel Olem says to tell you that the Dynize ambassador has returned to his ship.”
“Right,” Vlora said, jogging up the steps to the easternmost star on the fortress and standing on her tiptoes to look out to sea. She took a hit of powder, relishing the brief rush of sorcery and adrenaline before focusing on the ships. Sailors and soldiers stood stoically at attention. She was able to pick out Ka-sedial up on the forecastle of the flagship, speaking to what looked to be the captain. “I’d give my left arm to know what that asshole is saying right now.”
“No,” a voice said over her shoulder. “Maybe a little finger. Never an arm.”
After everything that had happened, Vlora was still surprised to find Taniel standing behind her. Not Tampo the lawyer, but Taniel himself in the flesh. He wore a demure black coat and hat, his collar high. Just behind him stood a Palo woman, shorter even than Vlora and still as slight as she’d been ten years ago. She wore a black duster, her hands buried in the sleeves, and when Vlora locked eyes with her she winked.
“Hello, Ka-poel. Good to see you.” Which might have been a stretch. Vlora had discovered long ago that being warm to the woman who wound up with her ex-fiancé was decidedly difficult, even if she did save Adro from a mad god.
Ka-poel dipped her head, giving a little wave.
“Still haven’t figured out a way to talk with your sorcery?”
Ka-poel gave a tiny shrug, hands open, as if to say “what can I do?”
“She’s experimented,” Taniel said. “It’s not easy to do, and even harder to sustain.”
Vlora gave an involuntary shudder, wondering what “experimentation” entailed for a blood sorcerer, then looked around, suddenly alarmed. “You know, my men here were the core of the Seventh and Ninth, Tamas’s own. There’s a good bet plenty of them remember what you look like—and you’re not the most inconspicuous pair.”
“When people think that you’re dead,” Taniel said, “their eyes walk right past you. At least in my experience. Besides, Ka-poel’s too tired to give me a new face on such short notice and it’s worth the risk of being recognized. We have to talk.”
Vlora growled under her breath. “I thought we already did that.”
“Yeah, well, things have changed. I was hoping you’d reconsider my offer.”
“It’s a bit late,” Vlora said. “The moment the Dynize arrived Lindet offered me a king’s ransom to become defender of Landfall. I’m in command of the entire garrison.”
Taniel glanced out to sea nervously. “Yes, I saw that.”
“And I’m a bit busy.” She stopped, squinting at Ka-poel. “I met my second bone-eye today. Cold bastard by the name of Ka-sedial. Stared down Lindet like she was a common strumpet. Do you know anything about him? Does he have the same kind of power you do?”
A short, silent communication passed between Ka-poel and Taniel before her hands began to move, firing off a rapid series of gestures that Vlora couldn’t even hope to follow. Taniel watched them carefully before translating: “Ka-sedial isn’t nearly as powerful as she is, but he’s in Lindet’s class of cunning and ruthless. He’s not to be trusted.”
“I hadn’t planned on it.” Vlora wasn’t particularly surprised that Ka-poel already knew who Ka-sedial was, but she made a mental note to ask later exactly how she knew. Taniel and Ka-poel were just a whole box full of useful information. If they bothered to share it.
The hand gestures, and the translation, continued. “Ka-sedial knows there’s a bone-eye in the city. He’s been trying to suss her out since the moment he landed. He’s more experienced than she is, and it’s taking all of her power to hide.”
That, more than anything else, alarmed Vlora. Ka-poel was the strongest mortal sorcerer Vlora had ever encountered and she was hiding from Ka-sedial? Perhaps it was out of expedience more than anything else, but the fact that Ka-sedial was making it difficult on her did not reassure. “Is he going to cause problems?”
“Now?” Taniel said. “Bone-eyes are not Privileged. They don’t have access to fire and lightning. Their sorcery is a slow burn, a patient gathering of resources. If it’s a fight he wants, he won’t be any real threat today. If he remains in the city, he will be an immense pain in the ass.”
“So what you’re saying is that even if we avoid a fight, and have some peace talks with the Dynize, he could eventually do some serious damage without his army?”
“Pretty much.”
“Can you counter him?” she asked Ka-poel.
Ka-poel gave another one of those shrugs. “She’ll try,” Taniel said, “but she’s self-taught. Ka-sedial is a trained bone-eye with sixty years of experience in blood sorcery.”
Vlora rubbed her temples. None of this was information she wanted to hear. But, she reflected, important intelligence doesn’t always come in the form of good news. She opened her mouth, only to have Taniel cut her off. “We’re not just here about hiring you,” he said, “or to feed you bits about the Dynize. We need information. What happened with the delegation?”
Vlora was half-tempted not to tell him. He’d made it clear before that he had his own agenda, and it was directly opposed to Lindet—who was, once again, Vlora’s employer. “I should probably arrest you,” Vlora said.
Ka-poel pointed at her and waved her hands flat in front of her as if to say “no.”
“You’re not going to,” Taniel translated.
“Yeah, I picked up on that.” He was right. She saw what he did to those dragonmen. She should be trying to get him on her side, just like she did with Styke—the Dynize might be a problem for both Lindet and the Palo, and she needed assets against a possible invasion—but a stubborn part of her whispered that she didn’t need his help. She forced herself to look past her annoyance. “It didn’t go well. Ka-sedial came in alone and as much as told Lindet that he wanted Dynize property back or he was going to take it by force.”
“What kind of property?”
“Something called the godstones. Lindet wouldn’t tell me what they are, but they sound like some kind of sorcerous artifact.”
Taniel inhaled sharply, and Ka-poel pulled her top lip back. They exchanged a long look, before Taniel uttered one, drawn-out word. “Shit.”
Vlora turned her attention briefly to the soldiers scurrying around in the fort yard below them, and the gun crews bringing powder and cannonballs up to the fixed guns, before turning back to Taniel. “What do you mean, shit?”
“You remember those theories I told you about—why the Dynize are here?”
“Yeah, I remember you wouldn’t tell me about them,” Vlora snapped.
“This is one of those theories,” Taniel said with a grimace. “What did Lindet say?”
“She told him no, but that she’d think about it.”
Ka-poel tapped her temple with one finger, shook her head, then made an expansive gesture. Taniel translated: “She’s not go
ing to give them to Ka-sedial. She’s just buying time.”
“For what?” Vlora demanded.
“For you to prepare for the invasion.”
As much as Vlora had been fearing a Dynize landing, she didn’t honestly believe that they’d actually do it. There were a thousand reasons, foremost among them that Fatrasta was still closely tied with the Nine. The fortunes of entire royal families were tied up in Fatrastan businesses and any war would bring the Nine into it in short order. “If the Dynize invade, they’ll bring the Nine down on them. Surely their spies will have told them that.”
“They don’t care,” Taniel said. “They’re not interested in Fatrasta, just the godstones. The fact Lindet isn’t handing them over means she knows exactly what they do, and that’s almost as terrifying as the Dynize getting ahold of them.”
“So,” Vlora demanded, her patience wearing thin, “what do the bloody things do?”
Taniel tilted his head to the side. “What the pit does it sound like they do?”
“I don’t know! Make gods? If I knew I wouldn’t be … asking.” The final word slipped out in a whisper, and Vlora found her mouth suddenly dry. “No. You must be joking.”
“Have you ever wondered,” Taniel asked, “where the gods came from?”
“I thought Kresimir made them.”
“Where did Kresimir come from?” Taniel countered. “Where did the Gurlish gods that our cabals murdered during the occupation forty years ago come from? Gods are not born. They’re made. Dozens have come and gone in the history of our world. It’s not public knowledge, but the cabals know. They’ve been looking for the godstones for centuries, and it just happened to be Lindet and her Privileged who found them.”
Vlora didn’t know what to believe. This seemed far-fetched, even for all the things she’d seen in her life, but she was talking to two living, breathing godkillers and all she knew was that she didn’t want to believe them. She took a step backward involuntarily, sagging against a cannon. “So whoever has the godstones can create a god?”
“Do you think Lindet would trust anyone else to become a god?”