“Chief Herder, I am fine. But Fractica—”
Yuma threw off his helmet and covered his lips with hers. When she finally detached herself, he spoke again.
“Chief Herder chooses this moment to steal a kiss, when I can’t move.” He laughed weakly. “Fractica needs to be taken care of if I’m to regain the use of my body.”
Yuma smiled and nodded, wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of her hand, and got up. Fractica was not moving. Under the sunlight that wasn’t, she saw that a long box had popped out of Fractica’s chassis, and a heavy-looking sack had half fallen out of it.
The box inside the chassis was made of a dull gray metal, and it was wrapped in black chains. A sudden foreboding, a feeling that she shouldnotapproach the box, came over her, but she ignored it. Garamund’s mace must’ve broken the chassis, loosened the chains,and cracked the seal around the gray box. Vapors of violet wafted out from the inner container.
Yuma bent down to get a closer look. She wondered why this sack was wrapped in something like long bandages that had writing on them—and when she realized what she was looking at, she jumped back in shock.
For she now knew she was looking at a carefully wrapped human corpse.
31
EMERE
The iron door to the underground room of worship opened. Two figures, both wearing hooded cloaks like Rakel’s and Emere’s, stood on the other side. One was an unfamiliar tall man, and the smaller figure beside him…
She lowered her hood and revealed her familiar face, her left eye covered by a red eyepatch. But whether it was the candlelight or the weight of the moment, her countenance seemed darker than he remembered. He wanted to run to her, but there were too many people between them.
Ahmus bowed. “The congregation welcomes you, Your Majesty. Your friend is also here.”
She looked around the room at that, and when her eyes found him, she immediately strode toward him. The Ebrians made way before her. Emere didn’t know what to say or how to act as he waited for her to close the distance.
Loran held her arms open, and the front of her cloak openedto reveal her familiar leather armor. The darkness in her face lifted with a glad smile. Emere had barely taken a step forward when he found himself enfolded in her arms.
“Prince Emere! How long has it been? I’ve long wanted to see you again, but how unexpected the circumstances!”
“Your Majesty. Have you been well…” His throat closed and he could not continue. Emere released one of his hands from Loran’s firm grasp and wiped a tear from his face, coughing embarrassedly. He noticed Rakel looking closely at them, before he realized the whole room was scrutinizing their exchange.
Ahmus smiled. “Well, now we can rest assured we have the true King of Arland with us. Make way for Her Majesty.”
The Ebrians murmured as they shifted, and a small table that had been covered by the crowd appeared. There were two chairs. Ahmus sat down in one and bade Loran to take the other. Seeing Rakel and two others stand by Ahmus on his side, Emere went to Loran’s and stood by her.
Ahmus made introductions. “These three are the elders who represent us Ebrians here in the Capital. Ordinarily, we forbid all three of them to ever gather in one place, but the proposal Your Majesty has set before us is of such importance that we have summoned them here together.”
Loran nodded at each of them and sat down. Rakel politely returned the nod, as did the other two. Emere examined the two elders he didn’t know but who had familiar looks in their eyes. He was reminded of his compatriots in his brother Gwaharad’s underground palace.
The meeting began with Loran expressing gratitude for their welcome. And so it began, a talk between two nations that neverwould’ve found reason to talk to each other if not for the Empire, taking place in the very bowels of said Empire’s capital city.
Emere’s eyes barely left Loran as the talk progressed. Each word and phrase of hers was laden with desperate and serious meaning.
“… Ebria nowadays suffers…”
“As for our people scattered across the world, the Empire…”
“The Capital now is in a very different situation from two years ago…”
Loran made no demands, mostly listened, answered every question put to her, and made an occasional inquiry herself. She had always been like this, even two years ago when the Arlander rebels had conquered the Imperial fort. Loran had always listened more than she spoke. Because, she would explain with a smile, she had nothing but the modest knowledge of a teacher of swordsmanship.
The continuing oppression of Ebrians, their prefect who was nothing more than an attack dog for the Empire even though he himself was an Ebrian, the rescue of Office of Truth prisoners being persecuted for worshipping their god… Their stories reminded Emere of how he had lived before coming to the Capital.
Rakel’s role was to ask Loran questions. What Loran could do for them, whether she had talked to any other countries, if Arland had an army they could call on… Loran’s answers were short but respectful, and Rakel did not look satisfied with them.
When the Ebrian elders ran out of words, Loran’s voice, low but clear, made itself heard to every person in the room.
“I have listened to your concerns. I understand how difficult it would be to trust an outsider from a faraway land, and a nonbelieverat that. In the spirit of good faith, if there is one request you wish me to fulfill first, then I shall do it.”
