Chartomancy

Chapter Twenty-three

7th day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat

9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th year since the Cataclysm

Thyrenkun, Felarati

Deseirion

Prince Pyrust sat in the very chair Keles Anturasi had used as he listened to the Mother of Shadows report. The fire blazed at his left hand, snapping and popping. He stretched his legs out, forcibly ignoring the heat.

“This report is difficult for me to hear, Delasonsa. From here, I can see the great work Anturasi has accomplished. Returning this much land to cultivation will not solve our food shortage, but it will help. He’s guaranteed Felarati can continue to grow beyond my lifetime. His value to me is considerable.”

The crone bowed her head. “This I understand, Highness. But his conduct with your wife is unacceptable.”

“To whom?”

Her head came up. “To me-for one, and it should be to you. She carries your child.”

Pyrust’s eyes half lidded. “Her child will be born as my heir. She knows this. We all do, and there is nothing she can do to make things otherwise. Even rumors of the child having been fathered by Anturasi will not matter. Besides, you tell me they have not slept together yet.”

The old woman’s grey cloak closed and shrouded her form, making her seem smaller than before. “It is not for your wife’s lack of trying, Highness.”

“Then the fault is hers.”

“But she cannot be slain. Anturasi can. Our people found him in Ixyll, very ill. They did all they could for him, but he succumbed to some illness. We can return his body, or burn him and return his ashes. We could even send Prince Cyron the heads of the fools who did not get him here quickly enough.”

“Those are plans that shall be held against the future.” Pyrust rose and turned his back to the fire. “My ambitions aside, my purpose is to make my nation stronger. Anturasi aids that. As for my wife… he is never leaving Deseirion. He may have her all he wants as long as she gives me another child or three. I know this is a matter of honor for you, and I appreciate your devotion to my family. But recall that the children are my blood, and to them goes your allegiance.”

Delasonsa’s head came up, her eyes hot. “Beware her frustration, Highness. You may see her as a broodmare, but she sees herself differently. She could do you harm.”

“And this is why you will continue to watch her. You will also find someone else to seduce Anturasi.”

“Done and done.” The old woman held his stare as a web holds a fly. “And if they seek to escape, do I kill them?”

“Her, certainly. Anturasi is too valuable to let go so easily.”

“As you desire, Highness.”

“Thank you.” Pyrust clasped his hands behind his back. “Now, my Grand Minister reported to me on the state of international affairs, and I have noted a curious lack of information about Erumvirine. He suggested couriers have been delayed by bandits in Helosunde. I’ve heard no other reports about bandits. You would have told me of them, wouldn’t you?”

“If they existed in more than your minister’s imagination, of course, Highness.” The Mother of Shadows shook her head slowly. “Something is happening in the south. Cyron is moving Helosundian mercenaries and Naleni Dragon Guards south to the Virine border. He’s raising troops from the inland counties to hold the north. This works well for us as our agent has been fomenting revolution among the same, and Cyron has just given them reason to draw closer to the capital while fully armed.”

Pyrust arched an eyebrow at her. “ ‘Something is happening in the south’? That is hardly your usual precision in reporting, Delasonsa.”

“True, Highness, but it is also the truth. My Virine assets are unusually quiet. There is enough limited communication that I know they still exist, but they have no credible information to offer.”

The fire roared for a moment, then a log exploded into a shower of sparks and embers that scattered well past the Prince’s vacated chair. The two of them jumped back, then stepped further back as the sparks began to spin, sweeping the embers into their tight embrace. Fire whirled into a column, then congealed into a humanoid form with the head of a wolf. The fiery creature appropriated the chair, dragging it closer to the hearth as it sat.

Pyrust stared for a heartbeat at the creature, then dropped to a knee and bowed deeply. “Greetings, Grija, Lord of Death. You honor me.”

“I do no such thing, Pyrust. I give you an opportunity. You are bound to my realm-all mortals are-and the only question is how many of your fellows you have sent to me. Your dead shall be your slaves in my realm.”

Delasonsa, who had remained standing, snorted. “The Prince is too wise to be seduced by your lies. Thousands may slave under him, but he will slave beneath the one who slays him. What is the benefit of a few or many?”

Grija laughed lightly, jaws agape. “I shall enjoy continuing this discussion in my realm, Mother of Shadows. You shall not.” A fiery hand flicked in her direction and Pyrust’s assassin collapsed.

“You do right to value her, Pyrust, for she defends you as a hawk would defend her own young. Yet she thinks she could defend you from me, which is foolishness. She would prolong a discussion that is best brief.”

The Prince nodded. “When you spoke to me before, you said I would drive many through the gates of your realm.”

“That was true then, and will be more so now. I have seen great things from you but the circumstances have shifted. Two who were meant for my realm have eluded me. They have died, yet they live in defiance of all that which is ordered in the heavens. This is an omen that heralds the arrival of a tenth god.”

Pyrust, who had never given too much thought to the gods, found that prospect surprising. “Can there be a tenth god?”

“You might as well ask if there can be ten more or ten fewer. There have been countless gods. The Viruk had their gods, and the Soth the same. Even men have different gods. We warp mortals, and they change us. It is all the stuff of endless and tedious discussions among priests-and I restrict it to the Sixth Hell.”

The flaming god leaned forward. “It is also immaterial to you, Pyrust. All that matters is this: two people meant for my realm have eluded me. They have accomplished this because the tenth god is invading heaven. And, as go the heavens, so goes the earth-for the tenth god’s terrestrial forces are invading Erumvirine.”

The Desei Prince slowly stood. “And this is why no news flows north.”

“And why the Son of the Dragon Throne throws his troops south. His intent may be good, but his means and timing are not.” A flaming tongue licked flickering fangs. “The initial invasion sent many to my realm, and perhaps was meant to distract me from those who are missing. Now a second wave has come, and Virine defenses cannot hold it.”

Pyrust’s jade eyes narrowed. “Where are they attacking? Show me.”

“Show you?”

“Yes, damn you. You’re a god. You conjured a body; conjure me a map.”

Grija lunged up, then reached an oversized hand back into the hearth. He scooped up fire as if it were sand and let it pour over the floor, where it puddled inches away from Delasonsa’s limp form. The flames became incandescent fluid, then dark lines ran through them marking the rivers and borders. Flames danced up for mountains, then, on Erumvirine’s eastern edge, the flames died completely.

Pyrust’s stomach began to knot. A quarter of the nation is gone. The invaders are driving straight for Kelewan. A momentary flash of jealousy ran through him. His dreams of marching triumphantly into Kelewan died, for he knew the city he might take now would never match the city he had lusted after for so long.

“How long since they invaded?”

“A month.”

“And they’ve come that far? I am impressed.”

“You should be afraid.”

“Fear avails me nothing. Respect for my enemy is vital.”

The death god squatted and peered down at him. “Do not be disdainful of me, Pyrust.”

He met Grija’s gaze without fear. “If I am to be your scythe, do not complain that I am sharp.”

The god sat back and chuckled. “You are not the only scythe.”

Pyrust nodded. “I shall consider well what you have told me.”

“And act on it?”

“You will know one way or the other.”

Grija stared at him for a moment, then nodded curtly. “Make your decision wisely, Pyrust. If there is a tenth god, there will be a Tenth Hell, and I shall reserve it especially for you.”

Before the Prince could reply, the fiery avatar imploded and flowed back into the hearth. Aside from Delasonsa’s body and the little flames licking at his chair, no sign existed of the god’s visit. Pyrust waited, thinking he might awaken, but he did not.

The Desei Prince frowned. When Grija had first spoken to him months ago, it seemed that his dreams of becoming Emperor would come true. Certainly, any campaign would have resulted in many deaths. Succeed or fail, his effort would swell the population of the death god’s realm.

This manifestation, however, betokened something entirely different. If the god of Death was powerful enough to intervene in the affairs of men, he could have simply slain the tenth god’s troops. But the fact that people had escaped death meant his power was waning. War was being waged on the earth as it was in heaven, and Grija clearly needed a terrestrial ally. Or allies. After all, I am not the only scythe.

Divine politics aside, the information he’d been given was useful. He’d known Cyron was moving troops, and now he knew why. The troops on Nalenyr’s northern border were unreliable, and perhaps even rebellious. Punching through Helosunde and into Nalenyr would hardly be bloodless, but it now seemed possible.

It is also necessary.

Grija had said it, but Pyrust knew it even before the death god had provided the details. Cyron might well be a genius in organizing his nation and accumulating wealth, but he was not the military leader any of the other Komyr princes had been. If he were, he would not be sending troops south to his border with Erumvirine; he would be sending them straight into Erumvirine. It would be far better to fight any wars on someone else’s territory-whether you intended to keep it or cede it back later.

Pyrust had choices. He had Helosunde between his nation and Nalenyr. Even if the invaders chose to turn north and come up the coast, their supply lines would be stretched beyond all imagining by the time they reached Deseirion, and Pyrust could guarantee they’d find not a single morsel to eat in his realm. His troops, though not as numerous as other nations’, were well trained and would fight hard. He could hold the enemy in Helosunde and keep his realm safe.

Or I can fight them further south. While part of him still dreamed of taking Moriande and Kelewan, a greater part of him now contemplated their defense. If we are divided, we shall fall.

But no one would agree to be united beneath the Hawk banner. Even if Cyron realized this was the only chance for his realm to survive, he’d not agree. Surrendering command of his troops to his Desei counterpart would spell the end of his dynasty.

“But I shall need his troops and his nation to defend us all.” Pyrust frowned. If the tenth god’s invasion had inspired fear in the death god, there was no way to see that as anything but a disaster for mankind.

Pyrust sank to a knee beside the Mother of Shadows and shook her shoulder. She jerked, then rolled away. He felt certain she’d come up with a dagger in hand, but she kept it hidden beneath her cloak.

“Highness, I have failed you.”

“No, Delasonsa, you have not. We have much work to do.”

“What, my Prince?”

Pyrust stood. “You will send word to your agents in Nalenyr. They will encourage an open break between the inland lords and Moriande. I want the former armed and ready to join me. I will also need you to slay the leaders of Helosunde’s dissident factions though you will spare my wife’s brother. In her name, a message will be sent to the Council of Ministers offering an alliance and peace between Deseirion and Helosunde.”

“They will not believe it.”

“You will tell them I will grant Helosunde full autonomy when my heir is born.”

She looked at him closely. “Are you well, Highness?”

“My next order will answer your concern, Mother of Shadows. I want every unit possible to head south. This includes the training cadres and the garrisons on the Turasynd borders. Any man or woman fifteen to thirty will report to a unit unless their occupation is vital to the war effort. Find me some cowards of whom I can make examples and crucify them at crossroads.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Within a month, Mother of Shadows, we march south.” Pyrust pointed in that direction. “It’s not empire we seek, but if we repel the invaders, it is empire we shall have.”