is a prophecy,’ said Macros. ‘A Dasati lord will rebel against the TeKarana, and prepare the way for the God Killer.’
Pug said, ‘You think Bek …’
‘Is the weapon,’ said Nakor. ‘It is almost certain.’
‘What I don’t know is if he is the weapon.’ Macros coughed, fighting back the impulse even as Pug saw his chest tighten and the spasm hit him. When he finished, he said, ‘Even the lowest of the low would attack me if they saw such an overt sign of weakness.’
A servant hurried in, and moments later a warrior in the garb of the Sadharin followed. ‘Master,’ said the servant. ‘Something—’
The soldier interrupted. ‘Word from Martuch. You must flee. Within the hour the announcement will come from the Palace. At sundown we shall begin a Great Culling.’
Macros drew himself up to his full height, his will overcoming his weakened body. ‘You know what to do,’ he said to the servant. ‘Take only what you must and get our people to the closest sanctuary.’
‘Master,’ said the servant, bowing his head and running off.
To the soldier he said, ‘Return to Martuch and tell him to meet me at the Grove of Delmat-Ama as soon as he is able. If possible, have him bring Valko and anyone else he thinks will serve. It is close to the time, I think.’
The young warrior nodded respectfully, then hurried off. Macros said to himself, ‘Please the gods they survive.’
Pug asked, ‘What is it?’
Macros said, ‘Get your things. We leave within minutes. The TeKarana has called the Great Culling, and at sundown everyone within the Dasati Empire will have licence to kill whomever they may. All truces are abated, all alliances put aside, murder is the will of His Darkness.’
‘What does it mean?’ asked Magnus.
Macros looked troubled. ‘It means the Dark God is hungry. It means the usual slaughter of his subjects is not enough to feed him. I fear it means he is ready to begin his invasion into the next realm.’
Pug, Nakor, and Magnus exchanged glances. Nakor said, ‘What about Bek?’
‘He’s fine with Martuch,’ answered Macros. ‘In some ways he is more Dasati than any Dasati Deathknight I’ve met. The next night and day will probably be the most fun he’s had in his life. I just hope he leaves Martuch alive.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ asked Pug.
‘There are no allies or friends, save those arrangements made in the moment. Martuch and the other Lords of the Langradin will have safe houses and provisions put by close to the Langradin Great House, by habit if nothing more. But for most common people tonight is a bloody game of chance, and the prize is survival. If one can survive from sunset tonight until sunset tomorrow, the usual order will return. They may be bloody rules, but they’re rules.
‘But for one day there will be no rules. Want something that belongs to your neighbour, take it. Want to settle an old grudge with someone who is too well protected for you to attack, now’s the time. Or if you’re just ambitious and the death of a few better placed individuals in your own faction, your own battle society, or even your own family would benefit you, sharpen your blades. Every death will be seen as a gift to His Darkness, and every murder a benediction.
‘Bands of Deathpriests and Hierophants will be on the streets in every town and city. Anyone is fair game. Bands of ravagers will roam the countryside. Anyone with resources will hole up and barricade every door and window, or find a hole to hide in. We, on the other hand will be on the road, trying to reach a bucolic hamlet a day’s ride south of the city, and it will take us most of the night and day to reach the boundary of the city.’ He looked from face to face. ‘I have little fear for our safety. Any one of us should have enough skill to defend ourselves from whoever we meet along the way.’
‘But you fear discovery,’ said Nakor.
‘Yes,’ said Macros. ‘For if word of our existence reaches those who know what I am, or who might guess who you are, then the entire weight of the Empire, every resource of the TeKarana and the Dark God will be turned to destroying us.’
Pug said, ‘Then let us go.’
Macros smiled. ‘Yes, let us go. And if you have a prayer left in you after all you’ve seen, now would be the time to use it.’
MIRANDA LOOKED DEFIANT.
Two members of the Assembly – Alenca and a magician named Delkama – had just finished conjuring a sphere of illusion, a translucent bubble scintillating with sheets of energy which arced across its surface, sizzling patches of bright gold light and brilliant steel blue. It had slowly expanded and caused more than one usually implacable Tsurani noble to flinch visibly. It was a ward, designed to ensure that no magical scrying could spy upon the proceedings about to commence. Moreover, should anyone be attempting to view the proceedings remotely, they would only see three magicians addressing the Emperor on matters unrelated to what was really being discussed. This elaborate charade was for the benefit of Leso Varen, should he be close by and able to use his considerable power to eavesdrop on the Council.
The other members of the Assembly of Magicians who accompanied Miranda looked alarmed. Despite being among those of highest rank in the Empire, even they were tradition bound to show respect bordering on awe to the Emperor. Yet Miranda stood before the Light of Heaven with her shoulders back, her eyes fixed on the young man, and her expression one of expectation. She had just instructed – no, almost ordered – the leader of the Empire of Tsuranuanni to say nothing until the protective measure was in place.
Rarely in the history of the Empire had an outlander stood before the Emperor. The chamber of the Imperial High Council was sacrosanct, as was the entirety of Kentosani, the Holy City, and those who had been there were either ambassadors or captive leaders. Even then it was unusual for the Emperor to attend in person, for he was the divine presence, the embodiment of Heaven’s bounty and a grace to the Tsurani people. Yet so terrible was the message from the Assembly to the Imperial Throne, that Sezu, First of that Name, Ruler of the Nations of Tsuranuanni, took it upon himself to grace the audience and listen in person to the alien woman’s warning.
The vast hall of the High Council was filled to capacity as every ranking noble – every man and the few women who were ruling lords and ladies of the hundreds of Houses of Rank in the Empire – had attended to hear Miranda’s warning. Dressed in a riot of hues, they wore robes of house colours – here one of yellow with crimson trim, there another of black trimmed with pale blue – each bedecked with beading and braids and adorned with precious stones and clasps of precious metal. They were arrayed according to Tsurani tradition in groups that constituted clans, but many who sat silently, waiting for the Emperor’s reply, stole glances at confederates in other parts of the hall, at members of their own political parties. Tsurani politics were not only deadly but convoluted and intricate, an ever-shifting balancing act on the part of each ruler, weighing blood loyalty on one side against expediency and opportunity on the other.
Miranda spoke. ‘Majesty, lords and ladies of the High Council, we come today with a warning, for as dire a threat as can be imagined now bears down on this world.’
Miranda had rehearsed all she would say as she and the Great Ones had awaited the gathering of the Council, and she moved quickly from the discovery of the Talnoy on her world by Kaspar of Olasko to the recent incursion of the Dasati into this world. She glossed over nothing, and she had no temptation to embellish. The unvarnished truth was frightening enough. When she had finished, she saw the Emperor sitting quietly and realized he did not look surprised by anything she had said.