Of Dawn and Darkness

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“As your first official address as Imperial Steward,” Teach said, “you’ll be explaining to the upper crust of the Capital why there’s a crack in the sky. Here are your notes.”

Somewhat numb, Calder took the sheet of paper from Teach even as a flurry of servants draped layers of shimmering green cloth around him. Like this, he looked more like the Emperor than ever; they’d even found a thick silver chain to loop around his neck, a reminder of the jewelry that the original Emperor had always worn.

For the first time, he wished the Emperor was still around. Calder could use some advice, or at least some more information.

Looking up, he could see the crack. It was a jagged line in the center of the clear sky, like a black lightning bolt, making it look like they were all underneath a great sky-blue eggshell.

“You know, ancient scholars believed that the sky was a dome,” Calder said, staring upward and ignoring the speech in his hands. “They determined that it spun around the earth, with the sun on one side and the stars on the other. Now, we know it’s a layer of gas around our planet…and then it cracks.”

Teach crashed her gauntleted hands together, glaring at him with ice-blue eyes. “Focus. These people are highly educated and influential, but they’re as panicked as anyone else. It’s your job to reassure them.”

“I’m starting to wonder if the ancient superstitions were right. Would they find that reassuring, do you think?”

Mekendi Maxeus, Head of the Magisters, burst in the dressing-room, his gray staff in one hand. He turned from Teach to Calder. “They’ve gathered, sir Steward.” No one was actually clear on the appropriate form of address for Calder, but Maxeus had apparently settled on ‘sir Steward.’

Teach looked to the clock on a nearby mantle. “They’re early.”

“They’re frightened. If there was just something sitting in the sky, we could pass it off as a rare astronomical phenomenon, but the entire city shook when it appeared. Perhaps more than just the city. They know it’s Elders, and this is our opportunity to show them that we are the ones defending them, not the Regents.”

Calder had never heard the man so animated. He was striding around the room, making broad, sweeping gestures with his staff, orating as though to an audience.

He glanced over his speech. It seemed heavy on reassurance, and light on any actual content. “The problem is, it seems like we caused the crack. Fighting near the Optasia. But I don’t know what it is or how to fix it, so anything else I say is going to sound empty.”

On its own, he didn’t mind empty speeches. That was what people most often wanted: someone to feed them delicious lies. But today, Calder would be somewhat more reassured if he had any idea what was happening.

Maxeus gestured to the speech in Calder’s hands. “We’ve written out everything you need to say. Stick to your notes, stay calm, and we’ll be able to say we were the first to handle this crisis.”

“I don’t remember the Emperor ever holding any notes,” Calder said.

Teach shrugged, which in her layers of armor sounded like an avalanche of steel. “More than you would think. He wrote the words himself, usually, but he managed to hide notes in his sleeves or on a desk.”

It was Maxeus’ turn to look at the clock. “And we have a podium for you, don’t worry, but you should get to it. It’s less about what you say, and more that you said something.”

“But stick to the script,” Teach added.

Cheska Bennett poked her head in, red hair tied back behind her. Unlike Calder, she hadn’t been forced to dress up for the occasion, so she wore a patched-up jacket and pants that would have been at home on the deck of a ship. “Or don’t. Scripts are more trouble than they’re worth. Tell them not to worry, that we’re handling it, then drop the curtain.”

Teach started pushing Calder toward the door, Maxeus following along. “This isn’t the time to make trouble, Captain Bennett,” Teach said. “People are scared.”

Cheska laughed, following Calder as he allowed the human tide to take him out into the hallway. “I noticed you didn’t let me write him a speech.”

“You weren’t even invited to this event,” Maxeus noted.

“Harbor’s right next door, and so is my ship. Thought I’d pop in and give our new Steward some advice.” She made sure she had his attention before continuing.

“Lose the script. Look confident, tell them you’ll solve it.”

Teach shouldered her out of the way as she herded Calder into the next room. “Thank you, Captain Bennett, please take your seat.”

Never had Calder felt more like a sheep.

The building was a former opera house turned into a banquet hall. The seats had been removed, the floor leveled, and round tables filled the space. Around those tables now sat the great and powerful of the Capital; nobles, bankers, favorites of the Emperor, high-ranking Guild members—even a few from currently disgraced Guilds, like at least one Greenwarden—and people Calder didn’t recognize but who were obviously rich. Their small talk was deafening, but as soon as Calder entered the room, silence followed him. Every eye took him in: his clothes, his bearing, the papers he had half-hidden in his sleeves, his two Guild Head companions.

And Calder recognized an opportunity when he saw one.

“Thank you, General Teach,” he said, stepping out from her shadow. “Guild Head Maxeus.” He walked on his own, unescorted, to the center of the former stage. The curved walls and the Intent of the building should carry every word he spoke to the farthest corners.

Cheska raised her fist to him, a gesture of support, and then leaned back in her newfound chair and propped her heels up on the table. A pair of Witnesses looked scandalized, but they couldn’t say anything to the Head of the Navigators. From her grin, she’d been counting on it.

Calder glanced down at the script for a prompt. Briefly, he’d even considered actually reading it. He was acutely aware of everything—and everyone—that he didn’t know, and a misstep here could haunt him for the rest of his life. The people in this room were frightened, no less than the average person on the street, and they needed answers for their own peace of mind. The script would give it to them.

Or he could do it himself.

Most of them would never know the difference, but he would. And he felt more comfortable improvising anyway.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, crumpling his prepared speech. “You may have noticed a new addition to the beautiful Capital skyline.”

No one laughed. In the back of the room, Maxeus leaned more heavily on his staff. Teach put her head in her hands.

“I can promise you that the full resources of the Imperial Palace are currently dedicated to addressing this event and ensuring that it does not pose a threat to Capital citizens.” That line was almost word-for-word from his speech, but the next wasn’t. “It’s no secret that the Guilds have not been fully cooperating with one another these last few years. But we have the absolute backing of the Blackwatch and the Magisters, both of whom are working tirelessly to protect you.”

“So it is a threat?” someone shouted.

“Not to you,” Calder said immediately. That didn’t sound like something the Emperor would have said, but he was falling into a rhythm, so he forged ahead. “Let me tell you something about my history. I’ve spent the last ten years in the Navigators, crossing the deadliest parts of the Aion Sea hundreds of times, but I started in the Blackwatch. Whatever you know or think you know about the Blackwatch, you should remember that each and every Watchman is sworn to protect you from things that you would not believe. Things that you will never see. Are they a threat? Yes, they are. But not to you. To the people standing in front of you.”

Calder scanned the audience, making eye contact with as many people as he could. “My address to you will be brief tonight, but I assure you that I’m not trying to replace the Emperor.” Yet, he added silently. “A steward is a caretaker, a protector, and as Imperial Steward, I am trying to do one thing: to take care of you. To make sure that, when the Great Elders move, they’re moving against me. Not you.”

That was the job the Emperor should have done, before he lost sight of the value of a human life. Not that he could say that now. “So when I tell you not to worry, I’m not telling you there’s nothing to be worried about. I’m telling you that there are people handling it. We, the loyal Guilds of the Empire, will protect you. That, you can rely on.”

Then, amidst a growing wave of quiet whispers, he left the stage.

Calder heard all the opinions on his speech for the rest of the day, through the night, and into the next morning.

“It wasn’t a disaster,” Teach was saying. “You reassured them, you emphasized that it was the remaining Guilds who were protecting them and not the Independents. But you should have just read the script.”

He took another bite of his fruit sandwich. It was a Vandenyas-style breakfast, which tended to be heavy on bread and fruit, but he’d been up most of the night fielding visitors. Apparently the highest levels of the Capital didn’t feel like he was worth visiting until after he’d made his first public appearance.

In mid-sentence, Teach cut herself off and turned to face the door. Calder hadn’t heard anything, but he still reached beneath his absurdly oversized robes for the hilt of his cutlass. Just in case. Teach had her hand on Tyrfang, so there must be at least some kind of threat.

An old man in an Imperial Guard uniform burst through the door an instant later, gills flapping on the sides of his throat. He didn’t wheeze or pant with exhaustion, though he leaned his hands on bent knees. “Guild Head. We’ve just confirmed the report. Mekendi Maxeus is dead, and one of his properties has been burned to the ground.”

Calder dropped his breakfast, his drowsiness and Teach’s lectures forgotten. He’d thought the most important thing he had to deal with today was the aftermath of his speech, but this news would completely overshadow his performance.

Which was good; he thought he could have done better, given another chance.

As soon as he recognized the direction of his own thoughts, he was disgusted with himself. What’s wrong with me? A man is dead. A man who had supported him, though they certainly hadn’t been friends.

He wasn’t exactly grieving, any more than he would cry for the death of a stranger. But he had known Maxeus, had seen him just last night at the banquet hall, and now the man was gone. It was a heavy weight, and the loss of any life should deserve mourning.

But he let himself move on after only an instant. Someone had killed the Head of an Imperialist Guild, and there was work to be done.

“Did we capture anyone?” Teach asked, already walking for the door. Calder followed her.

“All enemies withdrew,” the old man said, falling into step with them. “So far, eight Magisters have made witness statements. They all agree that it was a pair of Consultants, one of whom looked like she may have had Kameira modifications, and one Soulbound.”

Teach slammed the door open one-handed without pausing her stride. “Do we have any former Guards who defected to the Consultants?”

“None that I’m aware of, but we’re still looking into it. The statements conflict, and there are Witnesses looking over the scene now, but a few points are very clear. The Guild Head offered the Consultants a chance to leave in peace, but they responded by attacking him. This is clearly an act of aggression on the part of the Consultant’s Guild.”

Calder thought back to his own experiences with the Consultants, from Shera fighting him on the deck of his ship to Meia coming out of nowhere to defend him. Aggressively confronting a Guild Head was well in character for them. Doing it openly, where there were witnesses around and Readers could investigate…

That didn’t sound like an official action of the Consultant’s Guild.

Mekendi Maxeus’ mansion was on the fringes of the Capital, with just enough space between it and the surrounding houses that it didn’t feel like it was on a busy street. Rather than one building, it looked like a complex of simple, square houses all stacked like blocks around and on top of one another, as though the mansion had grown from a small township all fused together. The grounds made the word “mansion” appropriate: they were immaculately tailored, with rows of shrubberies giving way to a pair of massive tiger statues by the main entrance.

Across from the mansion was the still-smoldering skeleton of a building. It sat in a pile of ash, its burnt and cracked innards exposed, a tower of smoke reaching to the clouds.

When Calder’s carriage rolled up to the wreckage, a crowd awaited him. Teach dismounted first, scanned the crowd, and forced everyone three steps back before she would allow Calder to exit the carriage.

He left with as much dignity and solemnity as he could muster, considering that he felt like tripping over his voluminous robes. Everyone bowed to him, but they were speaking to Teach: giving her their rendition of events, asking for support, demanding justice, simply trying to get her attention. Judging by the staves they carried, they were all Magisters.

The mighty Emperor descends, and no one notices, Calder thought. He considered doing something to capture their attention, but it would no doubt seem like the petty action of a boy. He didn’t need to do anything to make him seem even younger.

So, instead, he slipped off to examine the burned building. It seemed to be a warehouse, considering the large open space and the remnants of crates and barrels, which led him to immediately wonder why the Head of the Magister’s Guild needed a warehouse across from his home. Did he expect to need eighteen pounds of salted tuna in the middle of the night?

Calder tried to get a sense of the Intent, but it was far too weak and muddled to give him any useful picture. That was normal. A building wasn’t like a small tool; it gained Intent only slowly, over years of use. No one focused on a warehouse as they used it, no one noticed it, and as a result its investment was weak. The fire hadn’t done it any favors either. The destruction of its form would also lose much of its Intent, leaving very little for Calder to see.

As he moved around one still-standing patch of wall, he came face-to-face with Meia. She was dressed all in black, as usual, and had knelt to inspect something she’d found on the floor. A needle.

“This wasn’t a Consultant assignment,” she said, without looking up.

“Were you riding in the carriage with me? I know you’re good, but if I didn’t see you from six inches away, I’ll be really impressed.”

“A Consultant is always where the job requires her.”

He hadn’t expected an explanation. “You’re sure that your Architects didn’t authorize this?”

“I checked at the chapter house. According to the official story, the team was only approved for Shepherd work. Reconnaissance, tracking, observation. No direct aggressive action.”

Calder looked around at the smoking ruins of the Magisters’ building. “Well, someone took some aggressive action. And the Magisters say it was you.”

When Meia didn’t respond, he looked over to her, only to see that she’d vanished. Seconds later, he found out why: Jarelys Teach was marching up to him, trailing men and women in robes and staves.

“It’s not appropriate for you to be alone out here, sir,” she said. She didn’t look straight at him, keeping her eyes on the crowd, but he heard the rebuke for what it was.

Calder didn’t acknowledge it. “The Consultant’s Guild didn’t officially sanction this.”

“The Guild also doesn’t openly recognize that they employ assassins,” Teach responded. “But that doesn’t stop them from doing so.” She didn’t ask where his information came from.

“We have to respond to this.” He wanted her opinion, but he couldn’t be seen asking for it. Not with all these strangers around.

“Yes sir, we do.” She gestured with one hand, and a handful of nearby Imperial Guards began moving Magisters back. When they were out of earshot, she continued, her voice low. “Our course of action is obvious, and I’m sure my fellow Guild Heads would agree with me. We have full justification for an attack on the Gray Island. The Consultants attacked and killed an allied leader without provocation, and the Witnesses will corroborate that. It’s exactly what we wanted: an excuse to attack them as soon as possible, but keep the public opinion on our side.”

Calder nodded absently as he thought. There was still something strange about all this.

“I’ve already sent a messenger to Captain Bennett. The hour The Eternal is seaworthy, I want to load up the entire Navigator’s Guild with as many soldiers and Guards as we can and head straight for the Gray Island. The longer we delay, the more likely that Estyr Six herself will get involved.”

Still, Calder didn’t speak.

“If we act immediately, we can remove one of our strongest enemies before the Regents even know we’re moving. The situation is very clear.”

“Except that it’s a trap,” Calder said, finally.

Teach’s hand twitched up toward her shoulder at the mention of a trap, seemingly on reflex. “All our information suggests that it was a mistake on the part of the Consultants. A botched mission combined with a Soulbound who lost control.”

“There’s only so much coincidence I’m willing to accept,” he said. “First, the Independents find out about Alagaeus’ death weeks before they should have, and they publish it in the news-sheets. It forces us to hunt for an excuse to attack. Then, only a few days later, the perfect excuse drops out of the sky and lands in our laps.”

“If you’re suggesting the Consultants manipulated events to that degree…if they were capable of coordinated action on that scale, they’d rule the world.”

“I don’t think it was the Consultants that set the trap.”

The Elders had a plan. Their actions with the Optasia, the Emperor’s death, the steadily growing conflict between the Guilds…If the Great Elders weren’t pulling the strings, they were at least enjoying the show.

Teach stepped closer, lowering her voice even further. “It’s fine for you to express these doubts to me privately, but keep them away from the public. We need to make sure that people see you and the Imperialist Guilds as one and the same.”

“I understand, but the confidence of the people isn’t our biggest problem. The Elders are involved here.”

“The Great Elders have a plan. They always have a plan. We fight back by facing them head-on, and not hanging back in fear because they might—”

Teach snapped around, staring at the section of wall. Her hand was already on Tyrfang’s hilt, though Calder hadn’t seen it move. She seemed transformed, like a lion poised to pounce, her Intent sharp and focused.

With hardly a second’s hesitation, she lashed out with Tyrfang’s power.

A lash of dark power flickered out, like a whip-crack of shadow. It blasted the top half of the wall to rubble, striking the figure that had been crouched on the other side. Calder had managed to deaden his senses before the attack, because he’d seen it before: the corrosive Intent would have left him with nightmares for days.

Teach leaped, clearing the remaining wall in one bound, and slammed into the ground. She stood over the crouching figure with her blade ready to draw.

“Remain on the ground. If you attempt to stand, you will be executed. If you speak without permission, you will be executed. If you draw a weapon, you will be executed.”

The injured woman coughed and started to crawl out, so Calder caught a glimpse of blond hair and orange eyes. Meia.

“Stop!” he ordered, walking forward to make sure that Teach didn’t strike again, but one look at her face told him it wasn’t necessary. The Guild Head was even more shocked than he was, her face going pale.

“Meia?” Teach asked.

Meia raised her head and tried to speak, even as blue scales popped up irregularly over her skin. She finally hacked out a breath and collapsed, breathing heavily, her muscles squirming on their own beneath her black uniform.

“She’s been working with me,” Calder said hurriedly. “She protected me from the Champion, and I suspect she’ll soon join my crew. She’s on our side.”

Teach looked at Meia as though staring through a window into the past. “Could be she is. But the last time I saw her, she…”

The general let the thought trail off. When Imperial Guards came rushing over to tend to their Guild Head, she ordered them to load Meia back into a carriage and take her to the palace. “Full alchemical recovery,” Teach instructed. “The palace staff knows her, they should know how to deal with her enhancements. Three sets of eyes on her at all times. Any mistakes will be personally addressed by me.”

Teach and Calder rode back in the carriage behind Meia. They’d seen what they needed to see in Maxeus’ warehouse, and now they were faced with a decision.

Namely, whether to declare war on the oldest Imperial Guild.

General Teach was totally certain of her opinion. “Decisive action here could prevent a full-scale war. If we destroy the Consultants, we destroy the capacity of the Independent Guilds to organize. In the best-case scenario, we may even be able to get the Architects on our side.”

Cheska Bennett seemed to agree. “Once The Eternal is back in the water, I’ll lead the attack myself. This is what we needed.”

As for Bliss… “I have supervised the repair of the Optasia. As far as we are capable of determining, it has sustained no permanent damage. It’s in swib-swab shape, as you sea captains say.”

Calder exchanged a look with Cheska. “No one says that, Bliss.”

“I see the books have misled me. I will be rid of them.”

Bliss didn’t have much to contribute to the ongoing discussion, but her presence gave Calder an excuse to leave. While Cheska and Teach discussed the logistics involved in a coordinated assault on the Gray Island, with Bliss providing the occasional observation, Calder slipped away.

The Optasia was unharmed.

He hadn’t gone back to see Jerri again, but the last time he did, she had insisted that he needed to use the throne. Since the device was the only reason the Imperialist Guild Heads had allowed him to assume the role of Imperial Steward in the first place, he could reasonable assume that they wanted him to use it. So one way or another, he was going to end up using the Optasia. He might as well get a look at it first.

On the second day since the sky cracked, Calder changed back into his old clothes—pants, jacket, sword, pistol, and at last a hat—and met with Andel and Foster. Together, they would go test the Optasia for the first time.

“Why us?” Andel asked, as they moved toward the Emperor’s old quarters. Life in the Imperial Palace hadn’t changed him at all: he was still wearing the pure white of a Luminian Pilgrim, the silver sun emblem hanging on his chest.

“I’ve asked myself that question every day for almost ten years, Andel,” Calder responded, adjusting his hat.

“You want to get killed messing around with Imperial relics, that’s your business,” Foster grumbled. “You can leave me out of it.” He didn’t actually leave, though. He wore his shooting glasses on the tip of his nose, his reading glasses hanging down against his broad beard. He carried guns everywhere that he could fit one, as though he felt the Capital was more dangerous than the depths of the Aion.

“I don’t have a reason in particular,” Calder said, finally answering Andel’s question. “I have to go inspect the Optasia, so I might as well feel like myself while I do it. None of the Emperor’s clothes, no one following me, no official escort.”

While he was still speaking, his official escort arrived.

She was the blond Guard captain with orange eyes, the one he’d seen before. She saluted as he passed, falling into step behind him. “Sir. With the number of recent attacks on the Imperial Palace, General Teach thought it would be wiser for you to have an attendant.”

“So long as you feel like yourself, sir,” Andel said.

The building that housed the Emperor’s chambers was looking somewhat worn, after the battle with the fleshy Elderspawn that had occurred in its courtyard. Several shutters had been ripped off, the walls were scarred, spots of dead flesh still lingered everywhere, and the stench of half-burned flesh hung in the air like smoke.

Calder pushed open the great bronze doors that led inside, following the red carpet. It had been torn almost to shreds. The paintings hung askew, and inside the Emperor’s chambers themselves, the destruction was worse. Here was where Teach and Jerri had clashed directly, with Bliss’ Spear of Tharlos thrown in for good measure. The floorboards were peeled up, the walls cracked, and palace workmen hadn’t had long to repair the damage. Tarps and bare plaster covered the worst of it.

The Optasia stood exposed, a cage of steel bars like the skeleton of a great chair.

Foster moved forward, and Calder grabbed his arm. “Don’t Read it,” he warned.

“How else are you going to check it for anything?”

Calder didn’t really have an answer for that. “If you Read it, you activate it. And if there is still a problem, it would pass to you.”

Foster grumbled something into his beard, but didn’t keep moving forward.

If he was honest with himself, Calder was here for a break more than anything else. There was nothing he could do with the Optasia unless he was willing to use it fully, which still frightened him. Anything the Great Elders wanted him to do deserved serious consideration first.

All in all, they stood staring at the throne for a full ten minutes before Andel politely suggested they stop wasting their time and leave.

On their way out, they passed a goat-legged Imperial Guard shuffling a sheaf of papers in his hands. He didn’t even know to bow when Calder passed, muttering to himself and scribbling on the topmost page.

“What’s the worst that could happen to you?” Foster asked Calder.

“I could go insane and die.”

“Besides that.”

“It works perfectly, but I don’t know how to use it, so I end up cursing an Erinin orphanage and everyone inside it dies.”

Andel held the great bronze door of the building open so everyone could pass. While they did, he asked a question of his own. “How likely is that, do you think? The Guild Heads all verified that the Optasia should be in working condition.”

Calder relaxed, letting his Intent drift back through the building to the Emperor’s chambers. He wouldn’t be able to Read anything properly at this distance, but he was surprised by a flicker of something strange.

He paused as the door slid shut, trying to figure out the wisp of unusual Intent he’d just picked up. He couldn’t quite place it, but it felt like something…hidden.

After a minute or two of quiet Reading, he finally placed the feeling.

“Someone’s in there,” he said.