The final sacrifice, p.10
The Final Sacrifice, page 10
The tunic was slightly too long, but the leggings fit well enough. She tied her hair back in a knot, then knocked on the door to the emperor's room.
“I've taken the room to your right. It has a table and chairs for us all,” she said. “Dinner is being fetched. Join me when you're ready.”
She returned to her room. The first knock was the servingwoman, this time accompanied by a young boy, who between them brought three trenchers of sausage and stuffed grape leaves swimming in sauce. A pitcher of heavily watered wine and three battered cups completed the service.
It looked heavenly. She forced herself to wait until there was a second knock, and Lucius entered, followed by Burrell.
Mindful for the first time of protocol, she waited for Lucius to sit first, but instead he stood there, watching her.
Burrell eyed the two of them, then, with a sigh, he pulled out the chair in the middle and sat down. The stalemate broken, she and Lucius took their own places.
The food was plain, but hot and filling, reminding her that her last meal had been the pressed barley cakes offered by their rescuers. The wine was sour, but it chased away the taste of salt water that had lingered throughout the day.
Lucius was the first to finish. Pushing away the trencher, he drained his cup, then turned it over.
At the imperial palace, this was the signal that the feast was over, and all guests were required to stop eating. But since he was apparently not standing on protocol, neither would she. Ysobel took her time finishing the last bites of her own dinner.
“Whom have you told of my presence?” Lucius asked.
“No one.”
“And why should I believe you?”
Ysobel shrugged. “You were so sick when we arrived that I feared you might die, and suspicion would fall on me.”
“So now that you know I will live, what happens next? Did you plan to kill me? Or hold me for ransom?”
In truth she didn't know. Her goal had been to find Lucius and ensure that he wasn't preparing to break the truce between their countries. Having found him, she didn't know what to do.
Emperor Lucius was valuable to her—he was the one who had agreed to the truce between their countries, and he would be the one to decide if the peace held or if there would be war. But an emperor-in-exile, potentially fleeing his homeland, was a different matter.
“I could take you to the federation, to see what you are worth,” she said, just to test his reaction.
“I would advise against it.”
Lucius was remarkably calm for a man who was at their mercy. This was not the diffidence of the monk nor the arrogance of the man that she had negotiated with, but rather some strange blend of the two.
Was this yet another mask that she was seeing? Or was this, finally, the true face of the emperor?
“Why? Because no one will pay your ransom?” Burrell asked. He spoke the truth, but phrased more cruelly than his wont. She wondered if the two had exchanged words in her absence.
“How do you intend to take me back to the federation? By sea?” Lucius bared his teeth in the grimace of a predator. “Tell me, are you willing to match your command of your ship against my command of the waves? Or perhaps I will merely call upon the lightning to strike you down.”
She jumped as she heard the low rumble of thunder, then realized it was merely someone dragging a heavy chest down the corridor.
Still, Lucius had made his point. His magic made him too dangerous to hold for long.
“What would you propose?”
“Leave me here,” he said. “Go on your way and tell no one that you have seen me.”
“And where will you go?” she asked.
“Xandropol, perhaps?” Burrell asked.
Lucius glared at Burrell, then turned back to face her. “It is no concern of yours. I am no use to you. Go back to Karystos and play your games with Zuberi if he has a mind.”
Zuberi would not treat with her. For all his devotion to the late Empress Nerissa, Zuberi could not countenance any other woman who held power. Even if she returned to Karystos, she could do nothing to help her countrymen. They'd be better served by their ambassador.
“Why must you go to Xandropol?” she asked. Burrell must have discovered something earlier, or he would not have mentioned it otherwise.
“I have my reasons,” Lucius said.
Interesting. Xandropol was neutral, and it held nothing of note except the great library of the Learned Brethren. Which explained why he was traveling as a monk but not what drew him there. Was he hoping simply to disappear? But if so, why not pick somewhere else? A monk would be welcomed in any civilized realm. So why this insistence on Xandropol?
There was more here than met the eye. And having found Lucius once, she was not willing to let him disappear. Not until she knew for certain what he intended.
“In good conscience, I cannot allow you to travel alone. I can offer our protection, and access to swift ships that will cut your journey time in half,” she said.
“And what if I do not want your help?”
“Then I will tell everyone that Emperor Lucius was seen in Skalla, on his way to Xandropol.”
“If you come with me, you will swear to silence, agreed?”
“Agreed,” she said. “As long as you are under my protection.”
They exchanged the polite smiles of the court. Both would honor their agreements, but the truce between them was as fragile as the truce between their countries. She fully expected Lucius to try to lose them at the first opportunity.
As for herself, she had promised not to reveal Lucius's destination. But she could still tell her people what they needed to know without breaking her bargain. Namely that the emperor was no longer in Ikaria, and while he did not appear to be plotting war against the federation, there was no telling what his advisors might do in his absence.
Thus warned, her people would be vigilant. As would she.
Chapter 8
The city of Skalla was a study in contrasts. The official buildings were constructed of stone in the imperial style, but the rest of the city was constructed of yellow brick or even timbers, as she'd heard was common in the interior of the northern provinces. The blended architecture reflected the diversity of the inhabitants. As the northernmost imperial port, Skalla was a frequent stopping point for traders from the northern countries, as well as Ikarian merchants who came to meet them.
In winter, with the shipping lanes closed, three strangers would stand out. But in high summer no one paid any attention to them.
Ysobel had used her credit to acquire more suitable lodgings for their party, as well as new clothes. Lucius continued to exhibit a strange blend of arrogance and modesty. He assumed that she would make all the necessary purchases, then insisted that he would dress neither as noble nor merchant, but rather in clothes fitting for a scholar.
At last she'd found clothing suitable for him, as well as richer garb for herself and Burrell. She dressed as befit a Master Trader—discarding tunic and leggings for embroidered shirts and linen pants—some with wide legs, others cropped short for ease of movement when on ship. Burrell, too, found clothes in a similar style, though he preferred more sober fabrics.
Lucius would have been happy enough if she'd found another monk's robe for him, but allowed himself to be convinced that it would raise fewer questions if he dressed as a clerk, in plain tunics of cotton or linen, depending on the occasion.
She'd also found the city baths, and spent a luxurious morning soaking away the accumulated grime of their voyage. Lucius and Burrell had spent equally long in the men's bath—and when Lucius emerged she saw that he'd had his hair cropped short.
Clearly at some point he intended once again to disguise himself as a monk, most likely so he could make his own way, without their aid. But he was not as clever as he supposed. If he did manage to elude them, it would be far easier to track the progress of someone with the distinctive look of a monk than it would if he merely blended into the general populace.
Though how much he would blend in was a question. Blond hair and light eyes were not common in this part of the empire, and once he left the empire he would be immediately spotted as a foreigner. Whether traveler, trader, or monk, he would be noticed.
Though perhaps not recognized. As he walked the streets of Skalla—in carefully supervised excursions—no one gave him a second glance. Few, if any, of the citizens here had ever been south to the great capital Karystos, and of those who had made the journey, if they'd seen the emperor at all, it would have been at a distance.
Even if he stood in the central market and shouted his name, it was doubtful that any would do more than stare at him in pity.
She, at least, could prove her identity. But as a master trader, with five ships sailing under her banner, it was expected that she would travel throughout the Great Basin. The federation traders' guild had outposts to serve its traders at every major port and was expected to handle anything from routine inquiries to the arrival of a master trader who'd lost everything at sea.
If the local factor had heard that Lady Ysobel was serving as envoy in Karystos, she must have assumed that the assignment had come to an end. Trade ruled all in the federation, and even the prestige of being named an envoy would be seen as of lesser status than the prestige of managing the affairs of one's house. Naturally the factor would send word back to the trade guild that Lady Ysobel had been in Skalla, but by then it would not matter.
Lady Ysobel had already sent letters to the ambassador in Karystos and to Lady Felicia, head of the king's council, who had named Ysobel as envoy to the Ikarian Empire. To each she had explained Lucius was not at either of the two imperial retreats, and she was attempting to determine his ultimate destination. She did not believe that he was personally intending to attack the federation, but prudence dictated that precautions should be observed.
She suggested the ambassador could continue to handle the negotiations related to the truce until Lucius returned—or circumstances changed.
Her readers would understand that she meant a change in government. If Lucius were overthrown, there would be no need for Ysobel to return to the capital.
She'd been chosen as envoy not because Lucius trusted her but rather because she'd worked closely with him during his ill-fated rebellion against Empress Nerissa. The king's council had assumed that her knowledge of Lucius would give her an advantage in any negotiations.
She'd thought so as well, but in their first meeting she'd realized how wrong she was. They'd been able to hammer out a truce that both countries could live with, but it had been as if she was negotiating with a stranger who wore Lucius's face.
From the first he'd confounded her. He'd led a bloody rebellion against the empress, then, inexplicably, he'd surrendered, betraying all those who had once professed their allegiance to him.
Confined to Nerissa's palace as a royal prisoner, he'd somehow turned circumstances to his advantage, vaulting from obscurity to become the most unlikely of emperors. Now, at presumably the height of his power, he appeared to be abandoning the throne he had fought so hard to take.
It was a puzzle, but one whose answers lay not in Skalla, but rather in Lucius's ultimate destination—wherever that might lie.
She found Burrell and Lucius in the common room, the remnants of a plate of olives and bread lying between them. Hooking her foot around a nearby stool, she dragged it over to their table and sat down.
She waved to beckon over the server. “I'll have the same, and we'll have whatever is planned for dinner.”
The server frowned at her. “The lamb won't be ready for at least two hours. There's fish from lunch—”
“We'll have fish. And a pitcher of yellow wine, if you have any,” she said.
“You found a ship,” Burrell said
Ysobel nodded. “There's a merchantman that will suit our needs. I've already been aboard—she's clean, in good repair, and carrying a consignment of cloth bound for Tarsus.”
Their other alternative had been a ship of similar size, but that ship was carrying clay jugs of olive oil—a heavier cargo that would result in a slower journey.
“Will we be sharing deck space with caged fowl?” Lucius asked.
The server returned, setting down the wine and a plate of dark olives and fresh bread. Ysobel ate a handful of the small, nutty-tasting olives before tearing off a chunk of bread.
“No ducks,” Ysobel said. “They have cabins set aside for use by traders, which they make available to passengers when there are no family members aboard.”
The bread was still warm, and she chewed it slowly, knowing it would be some time before she savored fresh bread again.
“We need to eat, then make our way to the docks. The captain plans to sail at dawn and wants us on board before sunset,” she informed them.
They'd spent three days here already, waiting for a suitable ship. After their recent experiences she'd been understandably reluctant to take just any ship. She'd passed on those that were too old, too slow, or whose reputation was tarnished in any way.
It would have been easier if Lucius had allowed her to book passage on a federation vessel; she knew all of the trading houses and their reputations by heart. But Lucius, fearing to find himself completely in her power, had insisted that he would only sail on an Ikarian ship or one from a neutral country.
Their dinner arrived—fillets of a plain fish that had been seasoned with spices, then baked with cheese and raisins. It was a bit dry, but better fare than they could expect aboard ship. After they ate, Ysobel refilled the emperor's wine cup and made a show of topping off her own and Burrell's, though neither had drunk more than was needed to slake their thirst.
“Griselda is a good ship, but she's Taresian,” Ysobel observed. “We'd make faster time if we had a federation ship.”
Sea trade was the lifeblood of the Seddonian Federation, and for generations their captains had jealously guarded their sailing routes—and the secrets of navigation that allowed them to reliably find the swiftest currents, sailing across the breadth of the Great Basin without depending upon landmarks.
“And we'd be swifter still if I could hire a vessel to take us directly to Xandropol,” she added.
Chartering such a ship would take all her available credit and a talent for persuasion. But it could be done—and there was a chance that either the ministry or the Ikarian Empire would ultimately see fit to repay her generosity.
Lucius drained his cup. By her count it was at least his fourth, and who knew how many he had consumed before she had arrived. But his eyes were clear and his voice steady as he replied, “If speed were my sole concern, I could navigate for the captain myself.”
Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. Rumors claimed Emperor Lucius had been the one who'd discovered the secrets the federation had guarded for so long, then taught them to his own navy. Perhaps she'd been hasty in dismissing those rumors.
“What, you think me unable to perform simple math? Even an emperor can reckon his sums,” he added.
“If he wanted the Taresians to share his hard-won knowledge,” Burrell said.
Lucius shrugged. “True, there is that to consider. I think it best for all of us if we let the captain of Griselda chart his own course.”
“As you wish,” she said.
Burrell paced the deck, taking advantage of the fair weather to stretch his legs—and to keep his eye upon the emperor, who sat leaning against the capstan, his back cushioned by the coiled ropes. Ostensibly the emperor was their clerk, but he avoided their company whenever he could, and they paid him the courtesy of allowing him his solitude. None of the crew had seen fit to question why he and Ysobel shared one cabin, while their clerk had the other to himself.
The emperor was in the habit of spending most of each day on deck, observing their passage or simply enjoying the fresh air. While in Skalla he'd acquired several books to replace the one he'd lost, and they consumed his attention.
They'd been at sea for four days, and the weather had been near perfect. Burrell carefully avoided thinking about whether such weather was due to good luck or some other influence.
At noon there'd been a faint shadow on the horizon, and as the day wore on it grew clearer until even a landsman could tell that they approached the shores of Tarsus. Griselda was bound for the city of Rauma, where they would have to find another ship to take them the rest of the way to Xandropol.
He noticed that the sun had shifted so that it shone full on the emperor's face, which would make it difficult to read. Usually the emperor would change his position throughout the day, so that he was always in the shade, but he hadn't moved for the past hour.
Burrell made a circuit of the deck, pausing to speak to the helmsman, who confirmed that they would arrive in Rauma sometime tomorrow. Then he made another circuit.
The emperor still had not moved.
Before he'd even realized that he'd made up his mind, Burrell crossed the deck. The emperor blinked as Burrell's shadow fell across him, his face flushed from the sun's rays.
Burrell crouched down next to him, putting one arm on the capstan for balance.
“You can see Tarsus on the horizon,” he said. “We'll be in Rauma tomorrow if the weather holds.”
The emperor nodded, closing the book that he held open on his lap. “I've never seen Tarsus,” he said. “When I sailed before, we took the southern route.”
Burrell kept his face carefully blank. The emperor's whereabouts during his years of exile was a matter of much speculation. Was it possible that he had spent that time in Xandropol? Was this the reason why he was so anxious to return—because he'd found safety there once before?
Lady Ysobel swore she had encountered Lucius on Txomin's island, which was part of the empire, at a time when he was calling himself Brother Josan and living as a lighthouse keeper. But that did not mean he couldn't have first journeyed to Xandropol.
