“Ayula.”
The woman stepped aside. A long dagger hung from her belt. Emere stepped through, on Rakel’s signal.
Several candles on tables and against walls lit up the room, which was about the size of Emere’s living room. It could comfortably fit about ten people, but thirty assorted men and women were crammed inside. Most of them stood, as there wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit. Someone took down a book from a wall-mounted shelf, and another was carefully polishing a statue of the Ebrian god. A group was in a heated debate in Ebrian.
But in the next moment, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Emere.
An older man with a long gray beard and wearing black clothes stood up from the desk in the corner and called out, “Prince Emere, we welcome you to our holy gathering.”
Following Rakel’s lead, Emere bowed at the waist.
“I’m afraid I’m not a prince anymore.”
“Then shall we call you Councillor? Not the most welcome honorific in this setting…” He chuckled. “My name is Ahmus. I administer to the Ebrian souls in the Capital.”
“You are a priest.”
Emere remembered Rakel telling him that Ebrians were led by priests. Even their kings had been elected by a council of priests, until the Empire arrived.
“We do not often admit unbelievers into our sanctum, but we find ourselves in extraordinary circumstances, and Elder Rakel vouches for you.” Ahmus gestured toward Rakel before he continued. “Councillor Emere, I hear you fought alongside King Loran in the Arlander rebellion.”
A murmur rose from the congregation.
“That is so,” Emere answered, with some pride.
“As we speak, our brothers are bringing here the one claiming to be King Loran. They will arrive shortly. No one here has ever met King Loran of Arland in person. Her name, however, has spread throughout the Empire, even as Imperial powers still try to cover up what truly happened in Arland. But all who fight the Empire know the truth. That King Loran, with the help of a dragon, raised her people against an Imperial legion and defeated it. A defeat the likes of which the Empire had never seen in its two hundred years. We would be honored to form an alliance with such a leader.”
Emere waited for the “however.”
“However,” Ahmus went on, “the people of Ebria do not have dragons or mysterious powers. The task our god has given us is to conserve our people and maintain our faith. This is our holy mandate that was given in the Age of Oracles, well before the Empire existed. Even if King Loran can fell a gigatherion on her own, I do not know if she can protect our—”
“Arland was protected thus,” Emere interjected. He glanced at Rakel, who nodded. He pressed on. “Freedom and independenceare never handed to us just because we ask for them. What Her Majesty did for Arland is an example for us all, and one does not need dragons and gods and demons to fight the Empire. When King Loran rose, Arland’s neighbors—Ledon, and my own beloved Kamori—rose from our torpor with her. You can as well—anyone can. If we all keep rising, Arland’s victory can be the whole world’s victory.”
“Is that so?” mused Ahmus. “Was that truly a victory for Arland? We are not in agreement.” A shadow flickered over his candlelit face.
“What do you mean?”
“Arland’s ‘victory’ in that battle,” said Ahmus in a low voice, “made it a target of the Empire, like Mersia before it. The Office of Truth is restless for revenge, and the most powerful senators are falling in line with them.”
Emere looked at Rakel again. She was biting her lip. Had she known this as well? Had Loran’s victory paved the way for Ludvik’s conspiracy as much as Lysandros’s death did?
Ahmus continued. “King Loran is holding out her hand to not only us Ebrians but also to resistances around the world. She realizes, in truth, that Arland is in danger.Thatis why she seeks an alliance.”
As Emere tried to think of a response to this, a rapping on iron echoed through the room. All eyes turned toward the door opposite the one Emere had entered.
Ahmus spoke. “It seems King Loran has arrived.”
The people standing by the door moved aside.
Emere took a deep breath and prepared himself for the king’s arrival.
29
ARIENNE
Aron, despite the donkey’s long occupancy in Arienne’s mind, seemed not in the least surprised by the dramatic change in scenery as he stepped outside for the first time in a long while. He simply brayed once and clomped about Arienne for a bit.
The sky was as gray and the earth as red as when Arienne had first arrived in Danras. With Fractica now unmoving, the wind was the only thing that could be heard. To her, this was no longer a field of warped ruins where a monster roamed. With the poor Power generator laid to rest, the ruins in Arienne’s eyes settled into what they truly were—a devastated landscape where many people had once lived. A desiccated leather sign for a shop swayed in the wind, its letters long rotted away. She imagined what it must’ve been like before, now that she could give herself a moment to do so.
