37
EMERE
“Remember when I told you about Tythonia? The story of the people killing their king and opening the gates of the city to the invading legion? Do you remember what I said about why that was the correct choice?”
Emere, tied to the wooden pole, had no choice but to listen to Ludvik talk. Cain had said he must not give Ludvik what he wanted, but the inquisitor of the Office of Truth who had come with Ludvik only whipped Emere’s already aching body without either of them asking any questions or making any demands. Ludvik had instead slipped into a loquacious mood.
“You mustn’t regard the Empire as just another country. Perhaps it was so at one time, but as long as the world belongs to the Empire, no one who lives within it is a foreigner anymore because the Empire is the world itself. Do you understand what I’m saying? The Empire is the destiny of the world.”
Destiny.That word again, which had followed Emere for hiswhole life. He had wandered the world searching for it. He had thought he had found it in Loran. He had thought perhaps he might be a tiny part of her greatness. But despite his long struggles, he’d accomplished nothing. Instead, he was tied up, having to listen to this tedious drivel. Emere looked Ludvik in the eye. What an earnest and guileless face the man had. He even looked concerned for Emere.
“What are you going to do to Arland?” Emere asked.
Ludvik looked saddened. “If you know enough to ask that, then you already know the answer. That is both a blessing and a curse to you. You won’t have to listen to me go on and on, but it’ll make convincing you to answer my question much more difficult.”
“I would think it’s simply a blessing for me, because I don’t particularly want to answer any of your questions.” Emere spat blood on the ground.
“It is a curse to you because if you don’t answer, you will be killed.” Ludvik’s tone was one of firmness tinged with regret. “One hundred years ago, the Star of Mersia wiped out countless people in the blink of an eye. The venerable Mersian civilization is now nothing but ruins. But those very ruins have become a symbol of the strength of the Empire. There may be those who doubt the Star’s existence, but there are none who don’t fear it. That is how we have maintained one hundred years of peace.”
“Even when hundreds of thousands died for that peace?”
Ludvik sighed. “These people you speak of—if they hadn’t died back then, what do you think they would be doing now, one hundred years later? Do you think a single one of them would still be alive?”
Emere didn’t think this was a question even worth answering.
Ludvik continued. “Mersia’s extinction made submission to the Empire more a matter of course for many provinces. This saved far more people than those who perished back then. Which is why I can’t let Arland get away with what it’s done to us.”
“They hurt your pride that much, huh?”
Ludvik rolled his eyes. “You say that as if it were a trivial thing. But if you had ever overseen an Imperial office as I have, you would know exactly what the cost of hurt pride is. Rebels all over the world have been stirred up. Some rumors even say that rebels of different provinces are working together. It’s incomparable to before. What do you think would happen if former great powers like Cassia or Thiops decided to topple their prefects and fight the Empire, hand in hand?”
“So you’re going to make an example out of Arland?”
“Arland is a small country in the grand scheme of things, much like Mersia was. Should we let rebellions run rampant everywhere when we can stop them withminimalsacrifice? Now,thatwould be tantamount to a massacre.”
Emere found himself breathing hard. Only someone with a fanatical devotion to the Empire would say that tens of thousands of lives were worth sacrificing for the sake of some Imperial ideal.
Ludvik said, “That is why I am going to set off a Star of Mersia on Arland.”
“Ridiculous!” shouted Emere.
“My dear Emere. I’m going to let you in on a little secret: The Star of Mersia was actually a simple accident.”
The first thing that came to Emere’s mind was the question of how a weapon of annihilation could be an accident. The second was the realization that, if Ludvik was telling the truth, the Starof Mersia had never been a weapon at all. He could only blink in response. It was preposterous. But it also explained so many things…
“An accident!” Ludvik chuckled. “Not the will of mortals, or the rage of gods, but a simple mechanical malfunction that turned a perfectly serviceable province into a wasteland. Well, the Office of Truth decided to make the best out of the situation. We couldn’t let the extinguishing of all those lives be in vain… and we didn’t. We bought a hundred years of peace with them.” His voice took on a serious tone. “And now I know how to make the Star of Mersia shine again. I was shown a vision.”
A vision, like the one Emere himself received. Emere could imagine it. Councillor Ludvik of Tythonia, reading over the Office of Truth reports of rebel uprisings all over the world with a furrowed brow, his mind on the Star of Mersia. And on one quiet night, the Circuit of Destiny, whispering in his ear how to save the Empire. Ludvik was merely the latest in a long line of history’s villains who sold their souls to the devil for the sake of solving an intractable problem.
Emere suddenly lunged at Ludvik, the ropes holding him back just an inch away from the other man. Ludvik jumped back in surprise.
“You think it’s as easy as turning a lamp on and off,” growled Emere, “but you’re wrong. You’re being fooled by the Circuit, Ludvik. That connivingthingsaid to me—”
“The Circuit of Destiny? Some machine that spits out portents didn’t tell me how to punish Arland. No, it was the one who knew more than anyone else about the fall of Mersia, the one who grieved more than anyone else when it met its fate.”
“Who?”
“Grand Inquisitor Lysandros.”
