An Empire of Law

Big Announcement!

2008-08-17T21:41:00.000-07:00

I am once again following the esteemable Gavin Williams' lead and have taken a new home over at DigitalNovelists.com.

Starting Monday (today), all new updates for both AEOL and Superstition (as well as archives) can be found at http://allantmichaels.digitalnovelists.com.

I hope to see you there!

Chapter 38

2008-08-16T21:56:00.000-07:00

Kilthanis was brought up short by Lucas’s question. His righteous anger had no outlet against this simple admission. It suddenly evaporated in the face of concern for a man he had known for over a decade. His voice was almost as soft as Lucas’s when he continued.

“Then why?” he asked plaintively.

Lucas stared down at his desk, refusing to look his friend in the eye. “Because I hate them, Kilthanis. They’re simpletons and they can’t be trusted.”

Kilthanis just gaped at Lucas. He was at a loss for words.

“I come from the riverlands, Kilthanis. You know this. We don’t see many of the desert people there. And those we do get are looked at with distrust.”

“Lucas, you’re a smart man. You know better than—“

“It has nothing to do with intelligence, Kilthanis. I was raised not to trust them. Sure, individual members of the race might be good people. But as a whole? They use their monopoly on magic to wring concessions from the Empire no other people get. So why should they get all the benefits of Imperial citizenship, if they don’t bear all the costs?”

Kilthanis fought to keep the revulsion from his face as he listened to a man he thought he knew spew the most ignorant hatred from the hinterlands of the Empire. “They provide a valuable service to the Empire, Lucas.”

“Really? Their so-called magic? They can cloud men’s minds with their tricks. We all believe that they merely compel men to speak the truth. But what prevents them from fooling your mind as to what the truth really is? Nothing, that’s what! So what’s to say they can’t be bought off?”

“Do you really think Bokiyem would allow them to corrupt the legal process?”

Lucas snorted. “Now who’s being ignorant, Kilthanis? Do you really think Bokiyem exists? I’m a priest of his order, and he’s never given me guidance in my decisions. My intelligence does that. If he really influenced us, there would never be a disagreement about the law. And yet this Court regularly splits its opinions. Bokiyem is a fairy tale.”

Kilthanis’s eyes grew wide. “That’s heresy!”

“It’s truth! And if it isn’t, then that means my opinion was given me by Bokiyem. What say you to that?”

Kilthanis hesitated. Lucas had a point. If Bokiyem truly guided the High Court, then his case was lost. But he couldn’t believe that the God of Law would countenance such a result. But if He didn’t….then it undercut the basis for the power of law. That was even more troubling. Kilthanis shook his head, trying to clear it.

“That’s not necessarily true, Lucas. Bokiyem guides your decision. He doesn’t dictate it. And in this case, you’ve clearly let your personal biases corrupt your opinion in this matter. Duty demands that you recuse yourself from the case.”

“Well, counselor, it’s too late for that. The Opinion of the Court has been rendered.”

“Then I’ll file a motion for rehearing.”

“That’s unprecedented. The Court never rehears an issue once its been decided, unless new facts come to light or circumstances change.”

“I would say both are true, here,” Kilthanis said pointedly.

Lucas looked like he was about to snap a retort, then sighed heavily. “You’re right. I will inform the Lord Chief Justice that my opinion was in error, and that I should not have been involved in the case. I will urge him to grant your request for the Court to reconsider its decision. Without my influence, you should have no trouble convincing the Court to change its mind. The Chief Justice will be a hard sell, but if anyone can do it….”

“Thank you, Lucas. For the vote of confidence and for agreeing to this.”

Lucas sighed again. “It’s not easy to admit you’re flawed, Kilthanis.”

“You’re not flawed. Just human.”

Lucas nodded, his eyes tracing the books of law lining the shelves of his office. Kilthanis could only guess at what he was thinking. Probably trying to seek solace in the law, as he always had. Maybe seeking absolution from the silent tomes. Kilthanis turned to go. When he reached the door, Lucas called his name. He turned back.

“Yes?”

“Forgive me?”

“I do Lucas. I only hope you can forgive yourself.”

Chapter 37

2008-08-04T21:56:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis’s steps were heavy and slow as he made his way through the halls of the Court building. He barely acknowledged the Clerk of the Court as he shuffled past his desk. Yet despite his slow pace he found himself in front of a large door far too soon for comfort.

He hesitated briefly, then raised his hand, striking the door forcefully. A large part of him hoped that Lucas wasn’t in, but that hope was quickly dashed as he heard a familiar voice beckoning him inside.

With a final pause, he pushed open the great doors and entered the spacious chambers of a Lord Justice of the Imperial High Court. The room was large and well furnished. Clear glass windows looked out over the buildings to the West. They provided a great deal of light, which bounced warmly off the wood paneled walls.

“Hello Kilthanis,” Lucas said. His voice was light, but the usual warmth that Kilthanis had come to expect over the last several years was absent.

“Hello Lucas,” Kilthanis replied, his voice carefully neutral. The use of the familiar names was somewhat comforting. Lucas had to have some idea as to why Kilthanis was there. By not referring to him as “Lord D’Endray” Lucas was subtly signaling that this conversation would not be in their official capacities, but rather in their role as old friends.

“What can I do for you, old friend? Come to debate the latest treatise on inheritance in the Empire?” Lucas’s tone was artificially light.

The casual question caused something to snap in Kilthanis. “No, Lucas. I come on a much more serious and pressing matter.”

Lucas sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I figured as much. You wish to discuss my opinion with me. Well, I’ve said everything I need to say. It’s clearly spelled out in the opinion I announced. You can get a copy—“

“I know damn well where I can get a copy!” Kilthanis burst out. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some lawyer fresh out of school!”

Lucas’s eyes hardened. “I’d watch your tone. You’re addressing a Lord Justice. And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve come to discuss a matter this Court has ruled on. Given the improper nature of such a discussion, I’d say you’re acting like someone fresh out of school. Now, I’ll ask you again, counselor, what can I do for you?” All pretense of a friendly meeting was gone.

“What can you do for me?” Kilthanis tried, and failed, to keep control of himself. “You can explain that disgrace you call a legal opinion!”

“I already told you. I’ve said all I need to say.”

“No, Lucas. You haven’t. Not by a long way. I don’t know who came up with that ridiculous doctrine you announced yesterday, but it wasn’t the man I went to school with. Not the man who railed against injustice. Certainly not the man I’ve known for the last fifteen years.” By now, Kilthanis’s anger had vented itself.

As he spoke, Lucas seemed to shrink in upon himself. Now, he stood there, with his head bowed, shoulders hunched. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. Kilthanis had to lean forward a bit to hear him.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Next>

Chapter 36

2008-08-01T23:55:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to the large marble edifice. His eyes had slight bags under them. It had been a hard night. To keep from waking Kelsey, he had eventually moved into a guest bedroom, where he tossed and turned. The Court’s decision just didn’t sit well with him, but neither did the promise he had made his lady.

He didn’t like what he was about to do. Lucas was his friend, for Gods’ sake. They had known each other for over fifteen years. But Kelsey was right. Based on those fifteen years, Kilthanis knew that Lucas’s decision could not be explained by a rational application of the law. Something more was at work.

But what could it be? Lucas was too upstanding to take a bribe. Not only was he respected for his legal mind, but he was also widely regarded as one of the most honest jurists in the Empire.

Kilthanis remembered when they had studied legal history together and had read about the days when justice in the outer edges of the Empire had been for sale. How angry Lucas had gotten. He felt it was a deep betrayal, not just to the God who all judges dedicated themselves to serve, but to the people who came before them seeking justice.

The Courts, Lucas had said, were the one thing that made the civilized people of the Empire better than the barbarians to the far north. Any person, no matter his or her wealth, was equal before the law. And the lowliest peasant could call the richest man in the Empire to account, thanks to the Law.

He supposed it was possible that the Emperor or his agents had tried to pressure Lucas into making the decision. Kilthanis knew the Emperor almost as well as he knew Lucas, and he didn’t think that was possible. But then, from all reports, the Emperor wasn’t himself since the death of his wife.

But even if the Emperor were to be so bold as to try and influence the Court, he doubted Lucas would stand for it. He’d sooner resign from the bench than cave in to pressure from the Emperor.

It was also possible, he reflected, that Lucas had merely given in to the same concerns that had likely swayed Lord D’Orne – the fear that the Emperor would ignore the Court. But Lucas was young enough, and enough of a firebrand, to welcome the challenge. He’d dare the Emperor to defy his order, betting that even he was not bold enough to risk the people’s wrath.

That didn’t leave many options, at least not any that appealed to Kilthanis. He’d rather it was the Emperor’s hand that caused this. Because the alternative was too terrible to contemplate.

And so here he was, about to march into the High Court and accuse its most respected member of improper behavior or undue influence. If he was wrong, it would most likely mean the end of his career.

If he was right, he would just wish it did.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes momentarily.

He opened them and began to walk up the marble steps.

Next>

Chapter 35

2008-07-30T23:07:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis sat in stunned silence for several minutes following the decision of the Court. He could not believe what he just heard. Well, he could believe it, but not from his friend Lucas. He tried to wrap his head around the decision, but it just made no sense. The doctrine that Lucas had spelled out was almost completely novel.

Yes, he reflected, one couldn’t apply the full set of laws to the field of battle. But that wasn’t the case here. As Lucas himself had acknowledged, many of those taken were far from the deserts and they certainly weren’t being held near the site of any hostilities.

And what was that business about being part of the Empire, “in a foreign sense”? While that might be a justification for ignoring the Kiyem-merethil, a fact which Kilthanis seriously doubted, how would that affect the Kiyem-bo? It was the laws as decreed by the Gods. How could that fail to apply to any person, citizen or not?

Kilthanis shook himself and looked around the empty courtroom. He had to do something. But what? The Court had made its ruling. He could wait for the evidence to arrive from Osh’riyo, but he feared that the Court would use the same rationale to ignore any claims, even if the accusations were true.

As he left the courtroom, Kilthanis found himself profoundly shaken. He had devoted his life to the pursuit of the law. He had trusted that personal qualms and beliefs had no place within these hallowed halls. As he reached the door, he looked back at the bench through eyes that were having trouble focusing, to the words written there: ‘Alu Utos-Merethil tur alu Kiyem-Tethos.’ Today, they carried no meaning for him.

He wandered aimlessly through the city and finally returned home after several hours. Kelsey was sitting in the parlor, needlepointing. “Good evening, my love. Where have you been this day?”

Kilthanis shambled over to the couch and collapsed on it, not answering. Kelsey put down her canvas and needle and walked over, sitting down on the couch and pulling his head into her lap. “I take it the Court did not grant your petition.”

Kilthanis snorted. “It’s much worse than that, Kelsey. They denied the desert folk have citizenship. They ruled that there was not enough evidence to support the charges and that there was no right to enforce for the one charge they acknowledged was ripe for review.”

“Not citizens? But how can this be so? The desert folk have been treated as full members of the Empire for almost four hundred years. They are an integral part of our judicial system! How can the Court deny them the rights they help enforce on a regular basis? How could Lucas allow them to?”

“Allow them to?!” Kilthanis burst out. “He authored the opinion!”

Kelsey’s brow furrowed. “What? But Lucas has been almost as big a force for the rights of citizens against Imperial power as you. How could he now author an opinion giving the Emperor carte blanche to behave as he wishes?”

“That’s what I’d like to know! It came out of nowhere. Of course I suspected the Lord Chief Justice and Lord D’Orne to side with the Emperor. The Chief Justice has always been of a more conservative bent, and Lord D’Orne would fear the implications of the Emperor defying the Court. But I figured Lucas could sway the others to form a majority. And Lord Juroch didn’t sound like he needed much swaying.”

Kelsey ran her hand gently through Kilthanis’s hair. “Why don’t you ask him, dear?

“That wouldn’t be proper. I was an attorney in the case. And it’s possible I’ll be returning on the same matter, once the dispatches from Osh’riyo arrive.”

“Damn proper, Kilthanis!” she burst out. “This is out of character for Lucas. If you’re to have any hope of succeeding in your follow up petition, you must find out what prompted this aberration!”

Kilthanis closed his eyes, relaxing under his betrothed’s gentle ministrations. “Perhaps you’re right, my love.”

“Of course I’m right, Kilthanis. I keep telling you, if you just start from that assumption, your life will go much easier.”

He opened one eye and looked up at her, a chuckle escaping involuntarily. “Very well, Lady D’Ember. I shall see the Lord Justice on the morrow.”

She smiled down at him and tousled his hair. “See that you do, Lord D’Endray.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Now come, let us see about dinner.”

Next>

Chapter 34

2008-07-30T00:50:00.000-07:00

The Court was packed again on the day the Court issued its ruling. It was an unusually swift decision, coming just a week after the Court heard arguments. Decisions typically took weeks to render and sometimes a span of months would elapse before the Court announced a decision.

But given the weighty issues that the Court was being asked to consider and the urgency of the need for a decision, the Justices had burned the midnight oil putting together their opinion. In fact, the decision itself had been reached fairly quickly. Lucas had walked into their conference with a draft opinion already written.

He waited to hear what his other colleagues thought before voicing his own opinion, but after making his case the decision was rapidly agreed to. All the justices had agreed on the need for a unanimous decision and that was initially a source of contention. But Lucas’s calm explanation of his rationale had quickly achieved a consensus.

“We are seated today to announce our decision in the case brought by Lord D’Endray against the Emperor,” the Lord Chief Justice announced. “The decision is unanimous as to all issues. The Court’s decision has been authored by Lord Justice Aldon.”

So saying, the Chief Justice turned to Lucas. “Thank you, Lord Chief Justice.” He looked out at the gathered crowd, his eyes locking with Kilthanis.

“We are called upon to issue a ruling of great importance today. The possibility of crisis rests heavily on our minds. Were the Emperor to defy this Court, chaos would erupt. Additionally, the implication that the Emperor and his cousin are complicit in the violation of the Kiyem-merethil and the Kiyem-bo must not be arrived at lightly.

“Given the lack of evidence in this case, it is the opinion of this Court that there is no basis to issue the orders asked by Lord D’Endray in this matter. Therefore, the charge that Imperial citizens are being held without being presented with the charges must be dismissed until such time as competent evidence can be taken on the issue.”

Kilthanis looked striken.

“The same fate must befall the claim that Laris Rychart is violating the prohibition against cruel torture. However, as the Imperial Solicitor acknowledges, this flaw does not affect the claim that the men and women of the desert are being held without due suspicion.

“The holding of an Imperial Citizen without due suspicion is without a doubt a violation of the law, as handed down by Bokiyem himself.” Here, Kilthanis felt a spark of hope. But this hope turned to confusion at Lucas’s next words. “The question remains, however, whether the people of the desert are Imperial Citizens. And this brings us to the last charge, the violation of the Pact of Dhereshu.

“This Pact creates a special relationship with Yometh Robak and Kolam Robak unseen elsewhere in the Empire. It grants a level of autonomy not experienced by any other realm within our Imperium. Given this special status, it is the ruling of this Court that the desert lands of Yometh Robak and Kolam Robak are Imperial territory, but in a foreign sense, and thus the citizens of these territories stand outside the Empire.

“This matter is further complicated by the accusations on both sides that the Pact of Dhereshu has been violated. We find it unnecessary to determine by whom the Pact was broken. Without a doubt, it is no longer in force. If broken by the desert people, they cannot now claim its protections before this Court.

“If broken by the Emperor, it still affords no protections. For the desert lands are now in a state of war. While the Kiyem-bo applies in territory occupied by military forces, this application has always depended on a state of occupation, rather than open hostilities. To require otherwise would hamper the ability of Imperial forces to successfully prosecute a war. And this step we will not take.

“The fact that some of these people were taken far from the field of battle is immaterial. Given our ruling that they are not Imperial Citizens, the locus of their capture is not relevant.” So saying, Lucas ceased his recitation of his opinion.

“There being no other business before us today, this Court is now adjourned,” said the Chief Justice.

Next>

Chapter 33

2008-07-28T23:32:00.001-07:00

The Court adjourned, the five justices retiring to their chambers to contemplate the arguments made by counsel. The issues were weighty and the potential outcome could rock the Empire. All of the Justices were burdened by their great duty. But none was more burdened than Lucas Aldon.

He sat in his chambers in the large Court building in Dekiyem, pondering the charges his good friend Kilthanis had laid before the Court. Spread before him were treatises on Imperial Law and the Law of the Gods, some of them written by Lucas himself, despite his relatively young age.

Lucas had taken quite well to the law and to the priesthood. All judges, from the lowest to the highest, were priests in the Church of Bokiyem. Because they were called upon to interpret the law as laid down by both men and Gods, they needed to be learned in both sources of law.

He had come further than his father could ever have imagined, he reflected. As the second son of a noble in Ethsheya, he would never be a ruling lord like his older brother. That gave him the freedom to pursue his true love – the law. But he had expected to be appointed as a judge in his home nation. To be sitting on the High Court, and at such a young age, was a great honor and did his family and his nation proud.

The fact that his opinion carried great weight with his colleagues was a source of personal pride. It was one reason this case weighed so heavily on him. He could count votes and he could read the law. He knew from the oral argument that the Chief was likely to rule in favor of the Emperor and it seemed just as clear that Justice Juroch was leaning in favor of Kilthanis’s position. Justice Kilrean was a question mark, as was Lord Justice D’Orne. He hadn’t asked a single question, as was his custom. That made him very hard to read. But he was a conservative at heart. He could probably be counted on to rule in favor of the Emperor’s power.

Given the nature of the accusations in this case, a unanimous bench would be almost essential to ensure that the Court’s opinion was followed. The Court had the advantage that since it was made up of members of the clergy, its decisions on the Law as handed down by Bokiyem were unimpeachable. But they could claim no special wisdom in interpreting the law of men, other than their experience in doing so.

All of these thoughts laid heavily on the mind of the most brilliant legal scholar of his generation. And overlaying them was one more thought – these desert people could not be allowed to win. It had nothing to do with a potential crisis if the Emperor ignored the ruling of the Court. Those sand snakes thought they could partake of the benefits of the Empire while maintaining their right to be apart. What made them so special? Just because they alone could do magic? No. Just as the Solicitor had argued that you couldn’t vitiate the Pact and then seek protection under it, they shouldn’t be allowed to claim the spoils of Imperial Citizenship, while insisting on their right to remain autonomous.

And with that thought, Lucas realized what he had to argue, in order to sway his colleagues. He took up a griffin quill and some parchment, dipped the tip of the quill in his inkpot and he began to write.

Next>

Chapter 32

2008-07-26T01:10:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis noted that the large hourglass which kept time for arguments was almost empty and he therefore saluted the Court and resumed his seat at the table reserved for petitioning counsel. The Imperial Solicitor stood and strode to the well before the bench.

“My Lord Chief Justice and members of the Court, I am here today, as always, to represent the Empire. I would like to begin with the last charge leveled by Lord D’Endray. As this Court has properly noted, there is no evidence on which to base the charge of cruel torture. To insinuate otherwise, on the mere basis of rumor, may itself be a crime.”

“Is it your position that Lord D’Endray should be charged with falsely accusing Laris Rychart?” Lady Justice Ilyena Kelrean, asked.

“No, my Lady Justice. It is merely my intent to show that the charge is so baseless, that even though this Court has the authority to issue an advisory opinion on the matter, there is no basis to do so.”

“And would it not serve for this Court to make such an order, to ensure that such rumors do not become fact?” the Chief Justice interjected.

“My Lord Chief Justice, the implication of such an order would be seen only one of two ways. Either this Court believes these foul rumors, or it fears that Prince Laris and the Emperor were considering violating the right against cruel torture. Such an implication from this Court is quite damaging, especially in these troubled times.”

“A fair point,” the Chief Justice noted.

“Thank you, my Lord,” he replied. “As for the other charges leveled by Lord D’Endray, it is the Empire’s position that they are equally baseless.”

“My Lord Solicitor, forgive me if my memory is faulty, but the Pact of Dhereshu forbids the presence of the military in either Yometh Robak or Kolam Robak, which we currently have, isn’t that correct?” Lucas asked.

“That is correct my Lord Justice. However, the Emperor only ordered troops into the deserts following the attack on the Imperial family, which we maintain voided the Pact. Therefore, there is no basis in Law to lay a claim on that basis. The Pact was vitiated by the desert men. They cannot now seek refuge behind it.”

“So if a desert man, any desert man, violates the tenets of the Pact of Dhereshu, all lose their protection under it?” This question came from Lord Justice Juroch.

“No, my Lord. It is our belief that this was a greater conspiracy, which explains the Emperor’s actions in this matter. If correct, it justifies the broad sweep of the investigation that has been undertaken.”

“And what evidence do you have that the conspiracy was so vast?”

“Lord Justice Jurach, we know there were at least three conspirators – the apothecary, the desert man who bought the poison, and a member of the kitchen staff. Given the unprecedented nature of an attack upon the person of the Emperor, it is our position that a wide-ranging investigation is called for and should be allowed by this Court.”

“Even at the expense of the rights of Imperial citizens?”

“Lord Justice Jurach, there is no evidence that rights have been violated. We have only the accusations made by Lord D’Endray. His petition was filed so quickly, we have been unable to secure information from Osh’riyo to answer his charges. A ship was dispatched almost immediately upon receipt of the petition, but these things take time. Because the Court is exercising its jurisdiction in the first instance, we do not have prior testimony or determinations to rely upon.”

“Another fair point,” the Chief Justice said.

“Thank you, my Lord Chief Justice. It is the position of the Empire that the Court should wait to rule on almost all of these claims until more information can be collected. The only charge leveled by Lord D’Endray that can be substantiated at this time is the charge that desert men and women are being rounded up without due suspicion.

“As to that charge, the Empire finds itself in a position almost unprecedented for the last two centuries. We are under attack. The life of the Emperor has been directly threatened and the Empress is dead. Imperial troops have been called to arms on a scale not seen since the Third War for Et’Alash. The Emperor believes that given the circumstances, facing a threat of unknown scope, he has the power to fully investigate this matter to prevent another attempt on his life.

“Finally, it must be noted that the magicians have fled. Given that they are all members of the desert race, and that they have vanished en masse across the Empire, it speaks of a vast conspiracy. This justifies both the Emperor’s position that the Pact of Dhereshu has been rendered null and that there is a broader plot under way against both his person and the Empire.”

The Imperial Solicitor made eye contact with all the justices, and seeing no further questions, resumed his seat.

Next>

Chapter 31

2008-07-14T23:45:00.001-07:00

Lucas Aldon was one of the most respected jurists of his era. He had the finest legal mind of his generation and one of the most gifted minds in Imperial history. He was capable of detecting fine nuances that his colleagues often missed and they gave his opinion great deference because of it.

Lucas was not the Chief Justice of the Imperial High Court, but only because the position wasn’t available when he was appointed. He was still regarded as the most powerful jurist in the Empire, a fact which he relished. Despite this, he was a humble man, who made friends easily.

Kilthanis D’Endray recalled the first time he’d met Lucas, when they were studying law together. They had maintained their friendship throughout the intervening years and Kilthanis sincerely hoped it would not cause his friend to recuse himself in the case he had brought before the Court. He was counting on his friend’s sharp legal mind to sway the Court to stand up to the Emperor.

“My Lord Chief Justice and members of the Court,” Kilthanis began. “I come here today to ask your intercession on behalf of the people of the deserts. The Emperor has contravened the laws of Gods and men by ordering their capture, transport to Osh’riyo and interrogation. He does this on only the thinnest of bases, asserting it is in the service of the Empire.”

“Lord D’Endray,” the Chief Justice interrupted, “What remedy do you seek from this Court?”

“My Lord Chief Justice, I am asking this Court to instruct the Emperor and Laris Rychart to release all those being held, and to prevent the future capture and interrogation of others.”

“What laws do you allege have been violated?”

“Of the Kiyem-merethil, the Emperor has violated the Pact of Dhereshu, which recognizes the deserts as autonomous zones. Additionally, the Declaration of the Rights of Citizens demands that no man be held without notice of the charges leveled against him.

“Of the Kiyem-bo, the Emperor has violated the rights of citizens as handed down by Bokiyem, God of Law, which guarantee to all the citizens of the Empire the right to be free from confinement without due suspicion and upon such seizure to be brought before a committee of citizens to ascertain their guilt.

“Finally, Lord Justices, if rumors are to be believed, the prohibition against cruel torture and interrogation is being violated by the Emperor’s cousin, Lord Laris Rychart of Osh’Riyo.”

There was some muttering from the crowd that had come to watch the Court hear the case. There were always several students from the school of law in attendance at Court and that number usually increased when word got out that Kilthanis was arguing a case. Considering he was asking for the Court to chastise the Emperor, the gallery was packed.

“Lord D’Endray,” Lucas interjected, “you admit that your last charge is supported only by rumor?”

Kilthanis nodded. “Yes, Lord Justice Aldon. Because these citizens have been transported to a land far distant from their arrest, information is sketchy at best. There are reports of torture and denial of access to counsel. Therefore, I cannot attest in open court to the tactics being used during interrogations.”

“And yet, you ask us to rule on these matters?”

“My Lord Justices, an order protecting the right to be free from cruel torture cannot possibly go awry, even if such behavior is not occurring. It is within this Court’s power to make an advisory ruling, counseling those who hold the people of the deserts to behave in a manner consistent with the law.”

Lord Justice Yurin Juroch leaned forward. “You said there was no suspicion on which to arrest these people. On what do you base that claim?”

“Lord Justice, I represent the apothecary who mixed the fatal potion that killed the Empress. While it is true that a desert man was implicated in the plot on the Emperor and his family, there is no evidence that the plot was more widespread than that.

“These citizens are being summarily rounded up merely because they happen to be of the desert people. At best, based on testimony given under Oath, there would be due suspicion of all desert men with green eyes. But the Emperor’s order sweeps much more broadly than that. It is for this reason this suit was filed. To ask this Court, consistent with the right of all citizens to seek redress from the Law, to order their immediate release.

“And by what right does this Court issue such an order?” the Chief Justice asked.

“No man is above the law,” Kilthanis replied. “Even if that man is born an Emperor.”

Next>

Chapter 30

2008-07-12T00:50:00.001-07:00

Lysander reacted quickly. His sword cleared its scabbard before Faisal had taken three steps. He hadn’t really expected the desert people to need an hour to choose a champion, but he was surprised it was a woman.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind as he readied his sword to parry her charge. She was a tall woman, but still several inches shorter than Lysander. That gave her a shorter reach, but this was countered by her spear. Lysander stood his ground as she rushed him, stepping to his left at the last moment and raising his sword diagonally across his body, absorbing the spear’s thrust and letting it slide along his blade.

He followed through, sweeping his blade low aiming for the tendon in her heel, but she jumped just a bit and narrowly avoided the stroke. Lysander allowed the momentum to spin him lightly on his right heel and came to rest facing her still retreating back, his sword held in front of him in a guard position.

Faisal came to a stop and spun around quickly, crouching low, spear held out in front of her. Lysander was confident she wouldn’t throw it. Not when there was close fighting afoot. Still, it was a dangerous weapon, capable of both piercing and slashing.

On the other hand, the blade was only two feet long. The rest of the haft was made of a springy wood. His sword, on the other hand, was all blade. Still, the spear would be able to absorb overhand chops and slashes with ease. Lysander tested this by approaching and trying a two handed blow down on top of Faisal’s head. She deflected it easily and he used the rebound to try a slash at her left hip.

She dropped her left hand and blocked the second blow with the lower end of the spear. She began to circle Lysander and he matched her moves, considering. The flexibility of the spear’s handle was a double edged sword, he realized. Yes, it made the weapon more resilient to sword attacks, but it also helped quicken the rebound, which meant Lysander could rain blows upon his foe more quickly.

Faisal suddenly swung the blade at his head. He raised his sword, catching the blade on the crossguard and she twisted her whole body, snapping the butt end of the spear into Lysander’s knee.

He grimaced in pain, dropping to one knee. As he did so, the point of his sword dipped beneath her guard and he suddenly thrust upward with all his strength. She jumped back, but the sword was caught between her body and her spear. The sword sliced along her stomach and chest, drawing a thin red line.

She let go of the spear with her right hand, near the head, drawing her left hand quickly to the left. The blade flashed out toward Lysander’s head and sliced along his face, just over his right eye and down toward his ear.

Lysander grunted and jerked his head back as Faisal spun away. He flung out his right arm, holding the sword in one hand, and the blade bit deep into Faisal’s unprotected and exposed back.

She gave a brief cry of pain, but muffled it. Shouts rang out from the defenses as Lysander yanked his sword out in a spray of blood. Faisal stumbled and fell to her knees, but managed to hang on to her spear.

Lysander used his sword to help him rise to his feet. He wiped the blood from his eye with the back of his left hand and limped toward Faisal. She shifted her tenuous grip on the spear, moving her left hand closer to the blade. When Lysander’s shadow fell over her, she wrenched her arm up and back over her head.

Lysander swept the blade contemptuously aside and clubbed the back of her head with the pommel of his sword. She fell to the ground before her. Lysander reversed his grip on the sword, holding it in both hands, point toward the ground.

“No!” Liam shouted from the Imperial end of the square.

Lysander had his hands raised up and his eyes caught his reflection on the blade. His left eye widened as he saw what would one day become a hideous scar bleeding into his right eye. He gritted his teeth, looked down at Faisal splayed before him and with a savage growl, buried his blade between her ribs.

Next>

Chapter 29

2008-07-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

Lysander slept well that night. He slept the sleep of the righteous, for so he thought himself. He was never plagued by nerves before a duel, no matter how high the stakes.

Liam’s rest was more troubled. First of all, every time he rolled onto his left side, a shooting pain would erupt in his arm, starting him from sleep. But even after he had wedged himself into a corner of the bed, he still had trouble sleeping well. He was worried about what would happen should Lysander lose. Worse, what would happen should he win.

As the first light of dawn crested the eastern horizon, Liam again reflected that the desert men may not take up Lysander’s mad challenge. At this point, they really had little reason to do so. Especially if Lysander’s reputation preceded him. But the more Liam thought about it, the more he was sure what ever man lead these people would accept the challenge, and gladly.

He had set half his city to the torch to give warning to his brethren out in the desert and to help his people escape. The entire defense of Debobat had been designed to prevent as much loss of life on the part of the desert people as possible. No, Liam was sure the head of the defenders was a man like himself. He would do what it took to preserve the lives of his people. And that meant this duel was inevitable.

Liam wasn’t sure how he felt about the outcome. He had already failed the Emperor once, and while that shame burned within him, he knew that he could survive it. And this time, he would have Lysander’s brash act as the reason, rather than apparent incompetence on his part. Except for allowing a man under his command to make such a foolish offer to a people that were clearly doomed to fall to Imperial forces.

Liam sighed deeply. Whatever the outcome of this day's events, he knew he would feel regret.

*******

“Ho the defenses!” Lysander called, stepping out into the open, his helm tucked under one arm, his head bared, a water bag held in his other hand. “I wish to speak with your leader!”

Lysander had read up on the enemy and he knew that one seeking shelter approached with their head uncovered. He also knew that a guest was required to offer a host water to drink. He had no idea if the normal rules applied in a war-like situation. But as he was seeking parlay, he felt it was best to approach as a guest.

“And why should our leader speak to you?” Lysander raised an eyebrow. It was a strong female voice that shouted back the reply. That was unexpected. From what he had read, he had thought men ruled this society.

“I wish to discuss terms of ending this battle without further bloodshed!”

“You wish to withdraw?” There was a mocking note in the feminine voice and hoots of laughter exploded from the wattle and plaster buildings. Lysander began to fume.

“We wish to negotiate a settlement that will require only one more of your people to die,” he roared back.

There was a flurry of activity near the center of the defenses and a woman stepped forward. Lysander sized her up immediately. She was wearing the costume of a warrior and held a short spear in her left hand. It had a large, leaf shaped blade. The sun glinted off its sharpened edges. She also had a sling on her right hip.

“And which one is that?”

“I am Lysander Hammersong and I come to challenge the leader of this band to honorable combat. Should your leader win, my men will withdraw from the field. Should I win, I expect your people to surrender.”

“And why should we trust the word of an Imperial sandsnake, you who have violated the Pact of Dhereshu?!”

“You have my word, sworn by my place in the Empire,” Liam said, stepping forward. He didn’t shout, but his voice carried forward across the open square that marked the dividing line between the forces.

The eyes of the woman with the spear widened a bit. “And who are you to give this oath?”

“Liam Donal, Commander of the Imperial Griffin Cavalry.”

“Sand and sun!” someone cried from the defenses. Lysander’s reputation may not have reached the desert people, but there were few in the Empire who had not heard of Liam. And he had just sworn the highest oath an Imperial citizen could.

The desert spokeswoman considered this. “Very well. We acknowledge your oath and accept your challenge.”

Lysander heaved the water bag across the intervening distance. “Take this water, as is your right.”

The woman bent, picking up the bag. She opened the top and then upended the bag, spilling the precious fluid upon the ground. Silence reigned across the square. Lysander knew enough to know he’d been dealt a deadly insult. His back stiffened.

“You have one hour to send out your champion! He shall face me, here in this square!”

“The time will not be needed. You will face me, Faisal of the Grey Rocks!”

“A woman?” Lysander laughed. “I issued a challenge to fight, not to bedsport!”

Color rose in Faisal’s cheeks. “Come let us dance the blades and see who sleeps with Borobakil tonight!”

So saying, she raised her spear and charged.

Next>

Chapter 28

2008-07-07T21:07:00.001-07:00

Night had fallen. Lysander stood in the inn his men had commandeered for his command center. He had planned to be celebrating in city hall by this point. But these damned desert men had put up more of a fight than he had expected. Pitched battles were still occurring in the northern quarter of the city. He had sent messengers out for his men to pull back. It didn’t matter at this point if those fighting in the north slipped out of the city.

Liam Donal sat in a chair across from where Lysander stood over a map of the city, put together hastily from various scouts’ reports. He was nursing his left arm. One of those damn guerillas had managed to attack Liam as he was being escorted to the inn. It had been a suicide mission, but had he succeeded, it would have dealt a blow to the whole campaign. He had been quickly killed, but not before coming far too close to success.

Three men had died defending Liam and the desert man had still scored a hit with his dying breath. These people were very serious. Lysander didn’t like the idea of giving them the night to hunker down, but they had had most of the day. He honestly wasn’t sure what more they could do to secure the center of town. Besides, any time they spent on improving their defenses was time they weren’t sleeping.

And that was fine as far as Lysander was concerned. He had more men, the ability to call in even more reserves, and he could ship in supplies from Kandara if that became necessary. The thought led to another curse from Lysander. He didn’t have the patience for a long siege.

“Calm down, Lysander.”

Lysander looked over to Liam. He hated being told to calm down. If anything, it just stoked his temper more.

“Calm? How can you be calm? You were assaulted and nearly killed!”

“But I survived. And that’s because I kept my wits about me. Getting angry only leads to mistakes.” Like this whole campaign, Liam thought to himself. But that was a thought he dared not express.

“I’m well aware of that, Commander. I’ve survived many a duel in my day.”

“And I’m aware of that,” Liam responded. “But this isn’t a duel. It’s a war. And sometimes, those take time. Which we can afford.”

“Can we? The orders I received made it seem the Emperor wanted swift action. And every day we delay is more time for the rest of the desert men to fortify. That pillar of smoke must be visible for miles!”

“It is,” Liam nodded. His outriders had reported being able to see the column of smoke twenty miles out, even from the ground. He was quite sure it was visible even farther, but that was as far as he had sent his men to patrol. “But from the reports I’ve read of

Dhetheru and Dhe-emok, they are walled cities. And something tells me the ‘City of Stone’ earned its name.”

Lysander grunted at this. He really wished there had been more intercourse between the Empire and the desert realms. Then, he would have decent intelligence. But Debobat was the only city that men of the Empire regularly visited. Men would pay for that oversight with their lives.

At least, with no need for surprise, he could rely on the griffins to scout the other cities, which would provide some intelligence. Assuming they ever got there. He slammed his fist onto the table. Duels were so much faster. If only….

A thought sprung into Lysander’s mind. “I know how we can end this tomorrow.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. But there was a note of concern just barely peeking through. “And how’s that?”

“I will challenge their leader to single combat tomorrow. If he wins, we leave the city. If I win, they surrender.”

“And get shipped to Osh’riyo for Laris’s questioning? I doubt they’ll agree to that.” Rumors had circulated throughout the ships that Lysander and his men had ridden from Kandara as to what was happening in Laris’s dungeons. Those rumors had passed to the griffin riders and to Liam’s ears.

“And why not? It will save their lives and they may think they can best me. After all, they’ve done this well.”

Liam was unconvinced. But it would end things with a minimum of bloodshed. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to try in the morning. Just remember, if you do fall in battle, it’ll be me who has to explain to the Emperor why the campaign failed.”

Lysander chuckled. “Don’t worry, Liam. The only thing you’ll have to explain is why I don’t deserve to be named Commander myself.”

Next>

Chapter 27

2008-07-04T23:04:00.003-07:00

Liam cursed as he paced in his tent. The smoke was interfering with the ability of his griffins to contain the city. It wasn’t walled to begin with, which gave far too many exits and entrances. But the breeze from the ocean was blowing the smoke right into the faces of his griffins and riders.

They were circling further out, but the desert men and women blended into the surroundings. They had much more experience in this harsh landscape than he and his men did. He knew many of them were escaping, which would only make future pacification more difficult. And those cities were hardened already.

True, he had advocated coming here first. But he hadn’t anticipated any troubles in securing the city. At least, not this many. He figured they’d take the city the first day and the griffins could outfly any people who escaped, thus making any warnings they might give moot.

He looked to the West. The sun was setting. Soon, even more of the desert folk would make their way out. Griffins had sharp eyes, even in the dark. It came from both their leonine and avian heritage. But even they could not see through smoke.

The more he considered it, the more certain Liam became that the desert men had set their own city ablaze. It was just too convenient. And that spoke of either very quick thinking on the part of the desert men, or long term plans for this kind of confrontation.

Neither was a very comforting thought. Although the latter was the more disturbing of the two.

He needed more information. He wanted to speak with Lysander to see what was going on inside the city. He was not used to playing the secondary role in any encounter. He didn’t like it. But it wasn’t that he had some compulsive need to be in charge. He didn’t like it because he didn’t know what the men inside the city were doing.

He had read history. He knew that in any battle, certain atrocities occurred. He had always vowed that if he found himself in this situation, he would do his best to keep those atrocities to a minimum. He wasn’t sure he could say the same for Lysander Hammersong.

He made a decision. He called out to his valet to have his griffin saddled. He would circle the city and land near the docks, then ask for an escort to the command center.

He grabbed his riding gloves and stepped out of the tent.

Next>

Chapter 26

2008-07-02T20:53:00.000-07:00

Smoke filled the air. Lysander coughed. He gritted his teeth in a smile. This was more like it. He was crouched in the doorway of a dry goods store near the center of the city. His men were around him, some groaning in agony, others coughing and spluttering. These desert men were putting up a fight.

And not just the men. He had a six inch gash in his side from some fishwife who had darted out of a darkened doorway with a kitchen knife. It was the first time anyone had scored a hit on him in ages. She had died honorably, looking into his eyes and cursing him.

It had been rough going for him and his men. After the first roadblocks went up, they’d had to work on clearing out pockets of men and women with superior reach, at least until the pikemen had unloaded from the later boats. They had been brought up in the rear on purpose, the idea being to overrun the city quickly, before defenses could be organized. In those circumstances, the bulky pikes would be more hindrance than help.

But the defenses had crystallized more quickly than Lysander had expected. At first, it appeared they’d just blocked the streets with whatever was handy, and left a small force to hold the intersections, giving the center of the city time to organize and to help as many evacuate west as possible.

The griffins had made the latter impossible. Oh sure, some probably slipped through the lines, and more would after dark. But for now, the populace was penned in the center of the city.

Lysander was still amazed at how well organized the resistance was. They’d been in the town less than three hours, yet the city center looked like an armed camp. It had taken time to clear obstructions and get men organized enough to move inward.

He didn’t know who started the first fires, his men or theirs. But the entire southern half of the city had to be in flames. Smoke billowed upwards in great fountains, the off-shore breeze blowing it west. Lysander squinted his eyes and poked his head quickly out the door, scanning the skies. It was very hazy and hard to see. He wondered how the griffins were dealing with the smoke.

No matter. Even grounded they could hold the western edge of the city. He jerked his head back in and heard a loud crack as a rock ricocheted off the doorjamb. Someone out there had a sling and was pretty handy with it. Probably some hunter who had come into Debobat to sell his catch.

His men would be setting up a command post for him in some anonymous inn a few blocks back. He would retreat to meet up with his commanders and discuss strategy. For now, he wanted to see the front lines, to give himself a better idea of what his men were up against.

Scouts’ reports were all well and good, but sometimes you needed to assess a situation with your own eyes.

Scattered reports had come in from across the city. He knew the southern quarter was on fire. He and his men mostly controlled the East, although there were still mysterious losses from guerilla actions. There was a pitched battle in the northern quarter. The desert men there hadn’t been so quick to retreat. It was a house to house fight.

And he had no idea what was happening on the western side of town. He had to trust that Liam had the situation well in hand. That left the center of town, where the majority of the enemy had decided to make their stand. Lysander would have to give some thought to how to take them.

For now, he had what he came for. A breeze blew some smoke into the street. He took a deep breath, held his shield up over his head and ran quickly down the block, back toward the east and the bulk of his forces.

Next>

Chapter 25

2008-06-30T21:23:00.001-07:00

Derruk breathed heavily as he leaned against the corner of a building. He had been among the first waves off the ships when they docked in Debobat. He had charged down the gangplank, pulling his sword as soon as his feet hit the solid wood of the pier. It seemed he had been running and fighting ever since.

He was a young man. This was his first taste of battle. Only the constant movement had kept him from throwing up. Battle was not like anything he had ever imagined. In all those tales of valor and victory in wars past, the bards never said anything about the way a man’s intestines boiled out of his stomach when the gut was sliced open. They didn’t talk about how slippery the ground became beneath your feet. And they didn’t mention the horrible screams of women as they were cut down.

The first three blocks had gone quickly. He had sliced men down as they ran for cover. It didn’t seem very noble, but he was told to kill anyone not wearing Imperial arms. He had heard the cry of griffins circling to the west, penning in the mass of humanity in the city.

It was at the fourth block, past the ale houses and brothels that were typical of all port cities, when they met the first organized resistance. Carts had been overturned in the streets, spilling goods out across the cobbles. Men hid behind them, brandishing weapons – swords or pitchforks, which had a surprising reach. Derruk had seen a friend, Edmind take one to the leg.

Edmind had screamed and dropped his sword. His fellows helped carry him back to the field surgeons for healing. Derruk was worried. The pitchfork had looked none too clean.

He had no idea how the others were doing. When he started off, he had been somewhere behind the company commander, Colonel Hammersong, who insisted on leading the charge himself. But he had turned up a side street at some point and his superior officer was no longer in sight.

The acrid tang of smoke filled the air. Somewhere, a fire was burning unchecked. He had seen a fire in the close quarters of a city once. It jumped from house to house more quickly than could be believed. With the docks so nearby, water could be brought and the blaze quenched under normal circumstances. But today, the fire was left to burn.

He was so tired. He thought training had been hard, but it was nothing compared to the real deal. It was funny, during the initial rush, he had felt nothing. He ran and fought and killed and dodged and seemed like he could go forever. It was only now, that things had slowed down, that the aches and pains were catching up with him.

Frankly, he was glad the others had moved ahead. It allowed him time to catch his breath and it spared him from having to kill any more. When he had signed up with the infantry, he never imagined it would come to this. Sure, there were skirmishes now and then, and bandits often plagued deserted stretches of countryside. But this was more akin to war.

He never realized how loud a battle was either. As he leaned against the corner of some shop, he realized how quiet it had gotten around him. His breathing was unnaturally loud. It seemed to be all he could hear.

Suddenly, he felt a pain lancing through his lower back. He tried to cry out, but something prevented him. He looked down at this chest and saw the point of a sword sticking out between his ribs, six inches under his chin.

He watched in a kind of quiet wonder as the tip of the blade twisted ninety degrees and then vanished. He felt a backwards jerk, and a pressure in the small of his back, as someone put a boot against it.

His knees gave out and then his cheek was pressed against the rough stone of the street. The last thing he saw as his eyes glazed over was the form of a desert man holding a sword, long black braids swinging as he peered around the corner of the building Derruk had just been using for support.

Next>

Chapter 24

2008-06-27T22:08:00.001-07:00

A spray of salt water broke over the bow and washed over Lysander and his men. He shook the water from his hair and turned away from the broad sweep of the sea. He cast his eyes over the crowded deck, watching the hustle of activity among the ship’s crew and the uneasy shifting of his men.

They were anxious. Three days at sea had them going a bit stir-crazy, which was why so many of them were up on deck in the first place. They gave the crew space to work, but just barely. The more senior men were asleep in hammocks below decks. They knew what was coming and like all hardened soldiers, grabbed sleep when they could.

Lysander would be down with them, but he was the senior officer. It was best for him to be visible to those men who couldn’t sleep. So he paced the deck, looking off toward the horizon every now and again, looking for he knew not what.

At heart, Lysander was a landlubber. He respected the men who plied their trade on the seas. But he wasn’t one of them. The deck left his footing unsure and as a man who liked to fight, he preferred ground that was stable beneath him.

Still, this crew definitely knew what they were about. They were out of Osh’riyo and were probably breastfed on salt water. They all walked along the decks, or more amazingly, swung through the rigging, like they belonged there. Lysander had heard tales of animals from the northern jungles that could swing from vine to vine as easy as a man walked. He wondered if the men in the ropes above him weren’t distantly related to these creatures.

Looking to his left, port the sailors insisted on calling it, he could see small specks in the distance. Those would be the griffins. He had taken a harrowing flight the night before to meet with Liam. The flight itself hadn’t been that harrowing, but landing on a pitching deck was not an experience he wished to repeat. The griffin seemed even less happy about being on ship than Lysander was.

Together, he and Liam had decided on a plan of action. The griffins would track the ships until they first sighted the outskirts of the trading outpost. Then, they would land and hold position until the first ships had landed. At that point, they would launch and circle to the west, cutting off escape, while Lysander and his men would attack from the docks on the eastern edge of the city.

With any luck, the surprise and ferocity of the attack would mean a quick victory. Then again, Lysander wouldn’t be too upset if he had to fight his way to the center of town. He’d always wanted to test some of the desert men. Perhaps they’d provide a challenge.

He looked up as he heard some commotion in the rigging high above his head. One of the men in the crow’s nest appeared to be pointing toward the northwest. He turned to look out over the port bow just as he heard the lookout shout down.

“Land ho!”

He grinned as his hand dropped to the hilt of its sword, loosening it in the scabbard.

Next>

Chapter 23

2008-06-25T21:38:00.001-07:00

“I disagree Commander,” Lysander said as he studied the map laid out on the table between himself and Liam. “We should strike due north to Dhetheru. It’s the closest population center to our current location.”

“I know, Lysander. But that puts us between two of the enemy’s cities. And there is no guarantee that we will be able to take the city quickly.” Lysander looked about to object. “I am well aware of the prowess of you and your men, Lysander. But these people have some warning and it is their city. Plus, there’s the environment. I don’t relish a long siege in a desert, with no handy supply of water.

“Taking Debobat first is smart for three reasons. First, we know its exact location and can ship in supplies from the sea, if necessary. Second, it doesn’t put us between two hostile forces. And third, the Emperor specifically mentioned Debobat when I left him a week ago.”

Lysander considered this. He chafed at the idea of putting off battle, but he was too good a tactician to ignore Liam’s advice. “Very well Commander. Debobat it is. Now, may I make a suggestion?”

Liam nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, as you’ve pointed out, Debobat is on the ocean. And Kandara is a port city. It might make more sense to load my men on ships and attack from the sea. It will be quicker, which I know you griffin riders like. And it may add an element of surprise, since ships are expected to stop there, while my men would raise a cloud of dust visible for miles if we tramp overland.”

Liam traced his finger over the map, nodding. “That makes a lot of sense. Additionally, my griffins can fly along the coast, tracking the ships. We can arrive together and take the city quickly.”

“Then we’re agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Very well, Commander. I’ll send messengers to Kandara to arrange transport. We’ll strike camp in the morning and with any luck, leave on the evening tide.”

Next>

Chapter 22

2008-06-23T22:29:00.001-07:00

Liam Donal looked somewhat ragged as he stepped down off the back of his griffin. He had pushed his men hard to get them to the rendezvous with Lysander Hammersong and the infantry. Add to that the fact that he had had trouble sleeping since his meeting with the Emperor and you had a recipe for a man not at the top of his form.

It wasn’t worry for himself that kept him awake. He had achieved the highest rank attainable in the Empire and he would willingly sacrifice it if he were ordered to. No, he was worried for his Emperor. Kilthane was not acting like himself. His behavior ever since the attack had been rash.

Liam could understand. The Emperor had doted on his young bride since the day they first met. He had a love for her that was matched only by his love for the Empire. Which is why Liam felt so disturbed. The love he felt for her had been twisted into something dark. And with it, his sense of responsibility.

Kilthane was widely regarded as an excellent Emperor. Liam had no doubt that history was to remember his rule as a golden age. At least, until this latest tragedy struck. Now, he feared his liege was in a spiral down into chaos and despair. And he risked taking Liam with him.

For example, this latest set of orders. Yes, a desert man had been involved in the plot against the Empire. But did that justify the oppression of an entire people? Coren Vishod was from Mareth’totam, and yet he hadn’t been ordered to go and further pacify it.

The fear that gnawed at Liam’s heart, that kept him awake at night, was that one day, one day soon, the Emperor would give him an order, and he would be forced to make a choice. A choice between his duty to his liege and his duty to the Empire. Some men under Liam’s command didn’t make that distinction. Liam himself hadn’t always made it.

But in his time as a Commander, he had learned that duty could pull a man in multiple directions at once, and that men of any rank were just men, and could make mistakes. Even Emperors. And therefore, a man had to remember that the oath he swore upon taking service was to no individual, but to the people of the Empire.

And here he was, about to engage in a battle against those people.

He didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but he had breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanks to the Gods when he had been unable to locate Dhereshu. A cold bolt of fear had shot through him when that young rider had called out he’d spotted something. It wasn’t that he was afraid of battle. Liam was no coward. He was afraid of the implications – of the Empire tearing itself apart.

Unfortunately, it seemed he was destined to start the rip that could lead to the unraveling of all he was sworn to protect and defend. His orders from the Emperor had not yet pushed him far enough that he felt a duty to ignore them. But he feared that day was coming close.

He pushed such dark thoughts aside as he climbed the hill to the command tent and prepared to meet with Lysander Hammersong, to plan the assault on Yometh Robak.

Next>

Chapter 21

2008-06-23T21:09:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis walked up the broad marble steps of the judicial palace in Dekiyem. He paused halfway up the steps to read the large words carved upon the face of the massive edifice. “Alu Utos-Merethil tur alu Kiyem-Tethos.” Stated at the beginning of all judicial proceedings and before any judgment was rendered, this simple phrase spelled out the basic precept of justice for all Imperial citizens.

Kilthanis fervently prayed that this golden rule would be observed on his petition. He was taking a risk, he knew, challenging the power of the Emperor. Yet that was why they had law – to prevent the excesses of power that were all too common throughout history. Enough of the kingdoms that formed the Empire had suffered under despotism. The Empire had brought freedom from oppression in the form of the rule of law. Those words were why Kilthanis had pursued his career choice. Because under the law, all men, even the Emperor, were equal.

The will of the people is the law of the Empire. He mouthed these words as he always did when entering this building. He continued his climb up the steps and walked through the massive, gold-bound doors.

He approached the Clerk of the Court, reaching into the bag he always carried with him to Court. He pulled out several copies of a document he had spent the morning putting together. He handed it to the Clerk.

“How may I help you today, Lord D’Endray?” the Clerk asked, as he took the documents and briefly glanced at them. He knew Kilthanis well and he knew they would be in proper format. All that was left to be seen was where Kilthanis wished to file them.

“I come here, on behalf of the Citizens of the Empire, to request a hearing before the High Court,” Kilthanis responded, intoning an ancient request.

The Clerk’s eyes widened slightly, and straightened up. “And what is the nature of your suit that the High Court’s attention is necessary?”

“I challenge the power of the Emperor to deny rights to citizens of the Empire. His exercise of power contravenes the laws of both men and Gods.” That last phrase virtually guaranteed the High Court would at least examine his petition.

Lower courts were designed to hear infractions of Kiyem-merethil, the Laws of Men. But only the High Court was empowered to rule on violations of Kiyem-bo, the Laws of the Gods. Together, they created Kiyem-tethos, the Law of the Empire.

Kilthanis had just accused the Emperor of violating the laws handed down by the Gods. A suit involving the Emperor was enough to justify High Court review, as was the charge of a violation of Kiyem-bo. But combining both made review an almost foregone conclusion.

The Clerk paused for only a moment. “The High Court will hear your request. Deliver a copy of your complaint upon the Imperial Solicitor and the Court will grant you audience in two week’s time.”

Kilthanis bowed to the Clerk. “I thank the Court for its indulgence.” Kilthanis turned and headed in the direction of the Solicitor’s office.

Next>

Chapter 20

2008-06-21T23:48:00.001-07:00

Friends of Emperor Kilthane Rychart would not have recognized the man who sat draped over the throne in the Great Hall of the Imperial Palace. He had a haunted look in his eye. He had ordered his throne to be brought here from the room where he usually held audiences.

His gaze during the audiences he granted was locked on the spot where the Imperial table had been during the anniversary celebration, the spot where his bride had died. He had ordered that a griffin feather be laid there. Some muttered at this breach of protocol. Griffin feathers were buried with the body, to help speed the soul into the afterlife. Seeing that she was a member of the Imperial family, several such feathers had been buried with her, to ensure an even swifter flight. But the grim reminder, in the new audience chamber, served to discomfit some who came to speak with the Emperor.

He barely listened to those who came before him. He failed to properly acknowledge the President of the Senate when he came to present bills for signature, a grave breach of etiquette. The Emperor was expected to give proper respect to even the lowest citizen of the Empire. Kilthane had always observed this formality. Failing to acknowledge the second most powerful man in the Empire properly spoke of a deep change in his character.

Liam Donal was taken aback by what he saw when he returned from his failed campaign in Kolam Robak. He waited his turn in line to speak. He didn’t chafe at this for two reasons. First, all citizens were equal, regardless of rank, thus they were seen on a first come, first seen basis. Second, he did not relish what he had to report.

The Emperor took one of his now rare glances up the line of supplicants and spotted Liam. “Commander Donal,” he called, interrupting the woman who was speaking to him. “Come forward and report.”

Murmuring swept the hall and a variety of concerned glances were exchanged. Liam was momentarily frozen, unsure what to do. But then his sense of duty asserted himself and he stepped out of line with an apologetic look to those who were before him. He hurried forward and took the unprecedented step of dropping to one knee before Kilthane.

“Your Majesty, I am yours to command.”

“How did the campaign go, Commander? Have you crushed those desert scum beneath your bootheel?”

Liam looked pained at his Emperor’s words. The image conjured up by the question didn’t sit well with him. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I have failed you.”

“What!?” the Emperor roared. “You were defeated? How is this possible?”

Liam looked up into his lord’s now blazing eyes. If reports among the servants were to be believed, this was the most life he’d shown in over a week. “No, Your Majesty. There was no defeat. You see, there was no battle.”

“No battle?! I know you dislike violence, Donal, but I never figured you to back down from a fight where it was necessary.”

Liam’s spine stiffened at the implied insult, but he did nothing. He merely responded. “There was no fight to back down from, Your Majesty. We were unable to locate the City of Magic. Our maps are outdated and I believe the magicians used some trick—“

“I won’t hear of your excuses, Donal!” the Emperor snapped. “You should have beaten any message by a good four days! If you’re too incompetent to do the job, perhaps I shall have you replaced!”

If Liam’s spine had been stiff before it was now made of iron. His jaw clenched and he fought to retain his cool. The Emperor has been through a lot, he repeated in his mind. He is not himself. “If that is Your Majesty’s wish. I serve at your pleasure.”

“Bah! My pleasure is to have these vermin punished! Well, there should be no magicians in Yometh Robak! We know where Debobat is! Men trade there constantly! If you can successfully prosecute a war there, you can keep your command! Now be gone!”

Liam rose stiffly and bowed low, his hand sweeping across the tiled floor. “As Your Majesty commands.” He turned and, standing rigidly erect, he stepped out of the hall with as much dignity as he could muster.

The woman who had been interrupted continued her plea and the Emperor’s eyes returned to the feather in the middle of the floor as if nothing had happened.

Next>

Chapter 19

2008-06-18T18:54:00.001-07:00

“Report!” Laris demanded of the head of his personal guard.

“Sir, there is nothing to report. The prisoners all insist that they have no knowledge of a plot against the Empire.” Captain Ethane had served under Laris for the last twelve years and knew that his report would not be well received.

“Nothing? How can there be nothing?” Laris demanded. “That poison peddler testified under Oath that he was hired by a desert man!”

“Yes sir. But certainly, you understand, not everyone in Osh’riyo knows the details of your various plans for the realm. And in my experience, the fewer people who know of this sort of plot, the better.”

“Of course, I know that! You think I’m some sort of fool Ethane?”

“Of course not, sire. I would never think that.”

“These desert people operate differently than you and I. Some say that one knows what the others know. Tell me, do we have any magicians in the holding cells?”

“None that I know of sir. However, I do believe we captured several that were on their way to the City of Magic when they were apprehended. So they have the spark.”

“Excellent! Focus your attention on them. They will have access to the inner secrets of their people. Those with the skill at magic are revered above all others in their culture.”

“Sir, I’m not sure—“

“I am not asking you to think! Do whatever it takes to wring the truth out of these prisoners! They must be made to speak!”

Ethane could see that there was no reasoning with Laris at this point. He occasionally got into these moods. Laris could be reasoned with, but one had to approach him at the right time and in the right way. This was not the time.

“Yes, my liege.” Ethane bowed and turned to leave the throne room. He was not pleased with the task set before him. But he had his orders. He really didn’t think anyone in the cells had any knowledge of the plot against the Emperor. But he might get lucky.

As he left the room, he bumped into Yokir, the seneschal. “Lord Yokir,” he bowed.

“Captain Ethane. Off to continue the interrogations?”

“Yes, my lord. Do you have any advice on how I can get to the bottom of this?” Ethane, along with many others, respected Yokir for his keen grasp of strategy and his ability to see to the heart of the problem.

“As I recall, Captain, the apothecary mentioned that the desert man who hired him had green eyes. He remembered it because it is a rare enough trait among their kind. Focus your search there. Perhaps you’ll get lucky.”

“Thank you, my lord. As always, your insight is tremendously helpful.” Ethane bowed again and hurried toward the cells.

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Chapter 18

2008-06-16T22:08:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis walked into the dining room of his large home in Dekiyem, the City of Law. He stopped and kissed Kelsey, his betrothed, before taking a seat and ordering some breakfast from the steward. Kelsey was a D’Ember, the second most powerful family in Reth’methil. That also made her a cousin to Laris Rychart and therefore a distant member of the Imperial family.

She looked up from the scroll she was reading as he finished his breakfast order. “Good morning, my love. And just what do you plan to do about this?” She indicated the document she held in her hand.

“Good morning, dear. And I’m quite sure I don’t know, since I have no idea what you’re reading.” He sipped his coffee, quite certain this argument was already lost.

“I’m talking about your Emperor’s latest crusade against the desert folk.”

“Well, darling, I’d remind you he’s your Emperor too. And I am already defending one man accused of plotting against the Empire. And based on our defense, I don’t think I could ethically take on the case of his co-conspirator.”

“Kilthanis, you know that’s not who I’m talking about!” she snapped. “These people are citizens of the Empire, the same as you and I and that means they are entitled to the same rights! Yet here he is, ordering them shipped off to a far-distant port without any basis in suspicion!”

“Well, Kelsey, you can always write to Laris and ask him to go easy on these poor souls. I understand he’s been placed in charge of the investigation personally.”

“That’s just the point! He’s been ordered to investigate by the Emperor. And he himself is of the blood Imperial. He has every incentive to track down the perpetrators. But even if he wasn’t inclined to investigate, he’d need the cover of a court decision before he could think about defying the Emperor.”

“A fair point. But I’m not sure how the courts would rule on this petition. The Empire’s been attacked. This investigation has been authorized by the Emperor himself.”

“These depredations are a violation of the law!”

“And he speaks with the voice of Borean. The law is both man and God-made, and you well know that God-made law trumps the laws of men.”

“He speaks for Borean because he happens to be from the right family! And not even the elder branch. The Empire grew from a democratic society and deserves a democratic leader! Or at least the proper heir to the throne. But even were I to grant your point, Bokiyem is the God of Law, not Borean. And no man, even the Emperor, should be above the law.

“And what’s more, you agree with me.”

During her tirade, the servants had brought Kilthanis his breakfast. He ate in thoughtful silence for several moments after Kelsey finished speaking.

Finally, he set down his fork and sighed. “You’re right, of course, love. I’ll head down to the Court and file a petition as soon as we’re done here.”

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Chapter 17

2008-06-13T20:50:00.000-07:00

Lysander walked among the staked out tents. It was early yet, but men were out front, stoking up cooking fires and preparing breakfast as best they could. He found a group of young soldiers, some of them looking like they still didn’t need to shave every day, huddled around a small fire.

“Good morning men,” Lysander looked down with a smile. “May I join you?”

The boys scrambled to stand and offer salutes. “Of course, Colonel,” one of them said. “Please.” He indicated an empty chair.

“Relax men. No need to be so formal. I’m just here to talk about the upcoming engagement. Have any of you men ever seen any action?” He knew the answer, but wanted to ask the question anyway.

“No sir,” another of the soldiers said. “But we’ve been drilling hard with the older men in preparation.” Other soldiers from neighboring tents began to gather around as word of Lysander’s impromptu visit spread.

“Good man, good man. I wanted to talk to you about what it’s like in battle. It’s a scary prospect, men, I’m not going to lie. Veterans of many campaigns have been known to feel fear before a fight.”

The men looked surprised at this. “Surely not you, sir,” a third one asked.

Lysander nodded. “Yes, even me.” He could see they didn’t believe him. “Look, I’ll let you in on a secret.” The men all leaned forward eager, to hear any wisdom their commanding officer chose to impart. “You all think I’m brave right?” They nodded. Lysander had a reputation among the men as someone who never backed down from a fight, regardless of the odds.

“Well you’re right. I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel fear. Bravery is not the absence of fear. Bravery is doing what you must in spite of the fear you feel.” The older men gathered around nodded, while the younger ones looked thoughtful.

“Any man who doesn’t feel fear going into a battle is a danger and a fool. Any battle you enter could be your last. Fear is your body’s way of making sure that isn’t the case. The key is to make sure the fear doesn’t take over and stop you from doing what you must.

“Now, as soon as the cavalry shows up, we’re going to be marching into battle. We’ll be part of the biggest exercise of military might the Empire has shown in over two hundred years. We will be victorious. But I want to make sure that each and every one of you is around to tell your grandkids about the desert campaign you took part in.

“So remember – don’t run from your fear. Acknowledge it and deal with it. And trust in the other men in your unit. You’re brothers. Take care of each other.”

With that, Lysander rose from the stool he had borrowed, nodding to the large crowd that had gathered. Some saluted and others called out cheers Overall, the mood of the camp seemed much improved, in spite of the early hour. Lysander congratulated himself on a job well done.

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Chapter 16

2008-06-11T22:51:00.001-07:00

Giggles erupted from the command tent. The men on watch shared a smile. Their commander was at it again. Rumor had it half the women in the city of Kandara had surrendered their virtue to him and that countless others in the kingdom of Thasash were lining up to do so.

The giggling stopped and a few minutes later Lysander Hammersong, head of the First Imperial Infantry unit stepped out, strapping on his armor. He winked at the two men standing guard outside.

“Good morning, men. How stands the camp?”

“It’s well, sir,” the guard on the right replied. “Slept well?”

Lysander laughed. “Not so well as I might have.” He swaggered off to inspect the troops. He was excited. The prospect of action on the field of battle had his blood pumping. Lysander was widely respected as one of the greatest fighters in the Empire. Many a man had found this out the hard way by insulting Lysander.

He wandered up and down the lines of tents pitched here on the northern border of Thasash. Just a day’s march to the north lay the great western desert, Yometh Robak. He was waiting for the griffin cavalry to join him from their conquest of Kolam Robak before launching the invasion.

Lysander disliked the idea that he was incapable of handling this on his own. Yes, griffins had been the driving force behind Imperial expansion, but they were only so useful. You still needed men on the ground to mop up. Hadn’t it been the Imperial Infantry that had conquered Et’alash? For jungle warfare griffins were nearly useless.

Still, he had to admit, for open field warfare, the griffins were useful to have around. They had a habit of breaking the spirit of the enemy. Still, Lysander liked a spirited enemy. They gave a greater challenge. Slaughtering people who were running scared held no appeal for him.

He paced up and down the lines, not really seeing them. He wanted to start north now. Who knew how long it would take to pacify the eastern desert? His hand made its way to his sword hilt and squeezed it in frustration.

He stopped walking and took a deep breath. Losing his temper wasn’t going to do him any good. His time would come. He would earn much glory for himself and his men.

For now, he would just have to content himself with drilling his men, to make sure they were ready. He had never fought any of the desert men. He didn’t know much of their tactics. He wasn’t concerned about his own abilities, but his men had never seen real battle. The Empire was a mostly peaceful place. He knew some of them, the younger ones, were nervous.

He set off to find some of those younger men and put their minds at ease.

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Chapter 15

2008-06-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

Liam heard a cry from behind him and guided his griffin around in a tight circle. He urged the beast on to top speed as he approached the soldier who had cried out, his eyes scanning the ground.

*******

As the young magician collapsed, another stepped forward, forming the illusion in her mind as she did so. She was concerned for the young man who was now passed out in the middle of the street, but other matters were more pressing. She felt a cold knot of fear in her stomach as she saw a griffin begin to circle overhead and heard its triumphant cry.

*******

“Soldier, report!” Liam called across the intervening air to the soldier who had signaled.

“Commander, I thought I saw something on the ground below! It looked like houses sir!”

Liam scanned the ground below, but saw nothing but more sand and rock. He had heard tales that too much time in the hot sun could cook men’s minds, making them see things that weren’t there. Perhaps this was happening to his troops.

Everyone was on edge. They did not relish returning to the Emperor and reporting a failure. While it would be Liam who made the actual report, all of the men felt responsible and didn’t want to let their beloved Commander down.

“Do the griffins scent anything?” Liam asked.

The young soldier shook his head. “No sir. They haven’t given any indication that they’ve spotted anything.”

Liam nodded and made a command decision. “Very well soldier. I trust your eyes, but a man’s eyes can play tricks on him out here in these deserts. If the griffins haven’t spotted anything, I can’t fault any of you for failing to. We’re going back.”

He signaled to his officers and they formed up around him. “Men, this is pointless. If the magicians are down there, they have found a way to confound us. For now, we’re going to return home. Once the griffins are rested, we’ll deploy to the west and join up with the infantry for the assault on Yometh Robak.”

There were disappointed looks among the officers. None of them were eager to go to war, but they all felt the sting of failure. To a man they felt they had disappointed the Commander.

With a final signal and some shouted commands, the amassed griffins turned to the west and winged their way home.

Next>

Chapter 14

2008-06-06T20:43:00.001-07:00

Liam Donal scanned the desert sands below him. The hot wind blew across his face, scouring it in a way that the cold mountain winds did not. His view was clear for miles, yet nothing seemed to disturb the unbroken dunes of sand that stretched as far as he could see.

If the old map in his pack was accurate, he should be able to see the spires of the city he was ordered to attack rising from the horizon ahead of him. Yet he saw nothing. A quick glance to his left and right showed that the officers under his command were just as baffled.

No one had seen any sign of human habitation, or they would have called out and circled to signal the attack. He didn’t understand it. Even if the map had been only approximate, he still should have seen some sign of the City of Magic. Roads to and from. Smoke rising from cooking fires. Something. But instead, he saw nothing but sand.

*******

Iliar the Solitary scanned the skies from the parapet outside his tower. He had seen griffins flying back and forth overhead for the last half hour. Clearly, the commander of the Empire’s forces had some idea of where his city should be. And yet, he could find no signs of it.

Iliar dared feel a glimmer of hope.

Down on the ground, ranks of magicians circled the city or stood on parapets similar to his own. Most were engaged in the casting of a great illusion, designed to cloud the minds of the men and beasts soaring overhead. The illusion was too great for any one magician to maintain, so each was given a small piece. While some were projecting an image of sand dunes, others were working to suppress the scents of so many humans living in close proximity to each other.

They hadn’t known when the griffins would arrive and they all knew that the avian eyes of the great beasts were keener than any man’s. Coupled with the altitude at which the beasts flew, they would see the city long before anyone there would spy them. Therefore, Iliar had ordered the illusion to be cast as quickly as possible. Now, hours later, men and women were beginning to tire.

Iliar had no idea how long the commander of the Empire’s forces would keep up the search. He only had to hope that it wasn’t much longer. Because if it was….

*******

On the outskirts of town, a young magician was maintaining the illusion of sand over three square blocks. He had been concentrating steadily for the last three hours, straining for the last hour. The hot sun beat down overhead. He felt the stress of the situation. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground.

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Chapter 13

2008-06-04T20:22:00.000-07:00

Iliar the Solitary sat alone in his room atop a high tower in Dhereshu. He was the Lord Keeper of the City of Magic, the most senior magician in all the realms. He was in charge of the education of those who were found to contain the spark within them. Desert folk from both East and West came here to learn. Some were assigned to work for the Empire, in accordance with the Pact signed by one of Iliar’s predecessors.

Today, he was glad that the Pact left the discretion of whom to send up to the Lord Keeper. While those outside the family of magicians knew some of the powers available, no one who wasn’t trained in Dhereshu knew them all. One carefully kept secret was that some of the most powerful magicians could communicate with each other with nothing other than the power of their minds. This communication was accurate and instantaneous.

For that reason, powerful mages were always assigned to serve the royal families of the realm and several were dispatched to serve the Emperor directly. It was one of these who had contacted Iliar the day before, to let him know of the attack on the Imperial family and the Emperor’s subsequent reaction.

Word had quickly spread across the realms and magicians had started to make their way home to the deserts, collecting as many of their kind as they could on the way. Now, Iliar was preparing to do what hadn’t been done in over two hundred years – take a stand against the Empire.

He knew that in a direct fight, his people were no match for the combined forces the Empire could bring to bear. It was only their usefulness that had allowed the desert folk to retain their autonomy this long.

He was disturbed by the reports that the attempt on the Emperor had been orchestrated by one of his kind. He knew that no one within the hierarchies of either Kolam Robak or Yometh Robak had been behind it. That was one of the first things he had ascertained. But if he didn’t act quickly, he would not be able to get to the bottom of this mystery.

He stood and walked out onto the stone and wattle parapet that looked out over his city. The white of the adobe reflected the bright sun into his eyes. He raised them and looked to the west, toward danger. Then, he turned his attention to the men and women standing in the courtyard below.

“My fellows,” he said, not needing to raise his voice to be heard. “After nearly four hundred years of peace, danger has come to us at last. We have strived to serve the Empire well and true and now the Empire has turned against us.” He paused, letting this sink in. There were few in the city who didn’t know this already, but it still needed to be absorbed.

“Right now, they send their griffins against us. Against this host, we cannot stand. But fear not. We need not give in to despair. For I have a plan. Imperial troops have not set foot on our sands in centuries, and no griffin has spied our city in that time.

“That does not change today.”

He looked out over the faces of his people and saw only grim determination and trust.

“Although rarely used, we have the power to cloud men’s minds. Today we will do that to wipe our city from the face of the earth. Let the griffins come. And let them think we have been swallowed by the sands.”

With that, the men and women below gave a great cry and moved to positions around the city. It would not be easy. There were many minds to fool, both human and not. The griffins would not depend on their eyes alone, but on their superior sense of smell to root out the location of Dhereshu. By the end of this day, the men and women under Iliar’s command would be exhausted. But if successful, the men of the Imperium would be leaving unsatisfied.

Iliar only hoped it would work.

Next>

Chapter 12

2008-06-02T19:59:00.001-07:00

Hot wind stung Liam Donal’s eyes as he sat on the back of a large griffin at the edge of Kolam Robak. The transition from the cold mountains of Marubean was shocking. Liam was leading the griffin cavalry on this portion of the raid. Half a world away, the Imperial Legions would be massing on the southern border of Yometh Robak, the Western Desert, preparing to invade. As soon as he was done here, he would fly west to join them.

The overland passage from Maruth to the Eastern Desert was treacherous and would have taken many months for infantry units. Given that the ‘enemy’ in this case were a bunch of desert men, Liam didn’t anticipate needing them. So far as he knew, there was only one major city in Kolam Robak, Dhereshu, the City of Magic.

That thought gave Liam pause. No one really knew the full extent of the magicians’ power. He wasn’t sure what sorts of defensive magic they could bring into play. So far as he had seen, magic could only be used to affect men’s minds. He didn’t fear any direct attacks. But who knew what the magicians could do when they set their mind to it.

Still, he had his orders, and he would follow them. So far as he knew, no one from the Empire had visited the City of Magic since the Pact of Dhereshu was signed in 614, and the desert people had agreed to provide their magical skills to the Empire in exchange for autonomy.

Little was known about the city, except its general location, marked on an ancient map, a copy of which Liam kept in his pack. He had intended to ask some of the magicians in the palace for information, even though he didn’t expect to get a lot of cooperation. It had proved moot, however, since all of the Imperial magicians seem to have vanished. Whether rounded up and shipped off to Osh’riyo, or on the move towards their desert homelands to give warning, Liam didn’t know.

What he did know was that no magic under the sun could move a man faster than a griffin. Therefore, he felt confident that this attack would come as a complete surprise to the residents of Dhereshu. He was counting on that surprise to help save lives. A quick, decisive strike should convince the people of the Eastern Desert to surrender without unnecessary loss of life.

No armed force had ever stood before the might of the Griffin Cavalry. The only reason there were three wars with Et’alash instead of one was that no one had found a way to get griffins overseas. They couldn’t fly the distances, and for whatever reason, they refused to be housed on ships.

Liam surveyed the vast expanse of sand before him. If his map was correct, Dhereshu should be directly to the east, about an hour’s flight. He turned in his saddle to check on the ranks of griffins arrayed behind him. It was an impressive sight to see. Although not nearly as impressive as the sight of rank after rank of griffins in flight.

Hopefully, that sight alone would be enough to end this war. If not, today could be bloody indeed.

With that grim thought, Liam raised his hand and his griffin leapt into the air. He brought his arm down and five hundred griffins arose with a thunderous flap of wings. His mount wheeled in the air as Liam made one last survey of his lines. Then, turning once again, he led his mounted men to the East, and to battle.

Next>

Chapter 11

2008-05-30T18:25:00.001-07:00

Laris Rychart, Prince of Osh’riyo, third in line to the Imperial Throne, scanned the parchment for the third time. His cousin, the Emperor had drafted a proclamation declaring that it was high time the desert folk be brought to heel. To that end, all of the desert folk found in the main body of the Empire were to be shipped to Osh’riyo for what the proclamation colorfully called “interrogation.” Since these men and women couldn’t be placed under Oath, Laris was ordered to be creative in his methods for securing accurate information.

“So, my cousin has taken it into his head that there’s a conspiracy against him, and that it took root among the desert people,” Laris said, speaking to Yokir, his seneschal.

“And what does he tend to do about it, your Highness?” Yokir asked. He was an old man. He had served Laris’s father and grandfather, although he was just a young man when he first started service for the Rychart family.

“Apparently, he is sending them to me to get to the bottom of this.” Liam looked at the date of the proclamation and cursed. “And it appears that the first boatload of suspects will be arriving within the week. Curse the griffin’s inability to fly over the seas!”

Yokir took this in stride. He had long heard his master complain about the limitations of the vaunted griffin cavalry his cousin and their ancestors put so much stock in. “Of course, your Highness, it is that same inability that makes you so powerful in the northern seas.”

Laris spat. “It’s that inability that makes me third in line for the throne instead of first. If those lice-ridden beasts could fly over the seas, my ancestor would not have been sent here to secure this rock, while his younger brother and his line ascended to the throne!”

Yokir bowed his head, properly admonished. Of course, he knew this story. He had grown up listening to the same complaints from three generations of Osh’riyo Rycharts. Laris was right. But then, so was Yokir. The griffin’s inability to fly over vast stretches of oceans is what allowed his master so much freedom. As much as Laris chaffed at not being Emperor, in a very real way, he was Emperor of the northern seas and Et’alash.

“Your Highness, we will have to hurry if we are to prepare the dungeons for the sheer numbers of prisoners they will be expected to hold.”

“What’s to prepare? Throw these desert dogs into the cells as they are now. Perhaps the cold and wet will convince them to speak more freely.”

“Be that as it may, your Highness, the cells we have now can only hold four comfortably. That means we can house a total of 250 prisoners. From the sounds of things, we’ll be expected to hold many more. We need to expand the cells.”

“Bah! Who cares for their comfort? They are prisoners!”

“That may be, your Highness,” Yokir replied with patience. “But they still receive the protection of the law. They will petition the courts for relief if you treat them badly.”

“And how are they going to do that, Yokir? They won’t have access to counsel. The Emperor’s orders are very clear. I am to take all necessary steps to get the information he demands. He said nothing about the legal niceties. He wants results.”

Yokir bowed. “As you command, your Highness. I will go speak with the jailor, to be sure things are ready.” He had concerns about the Emperor’s orders, but he had voiced them to his master. His duty was served. It did appear that Laris had approval from the highest authority to do what was necessary.

As Laris watched Yokir walk out of the throne room, he allowed a small smile to blossom on his face. Things were going very well.

Next>

Chapter 10

2008-05-28T18:49:00.001-07:00

Emperor Kilthane Rychart called Commander Liam Donal before him. In his hand, he held a scroll from the Imperial Prosecutor. The seal was broken and the parchment was gripped tightly in a fist that was nearly white. The Emperor’s eyes flashed fire. Liam Donal had never seen that look in his Emperor’s eyes, but he could guess at its meaning.

“You summoned me, Your Majesty?” He bowed low.

“Yes, Liam. I need you to do me a favor.” His voice was low and hard, as if he was struggling to keep it firmly in check.

“You have but to command, Your Majesty, and if it is within my power, it shall be done.” Liam fervently hoped that whatever he was about to be ordered to do was within his power. And that he could comply with the order with the minimum loss of life.

Liam was a lifelong soldier. In his time he had found there were two schools of thought about a soldier’s duty. Some held it was a soldier’s duty to die for his Empire or Kingdom. Others believed that it was a soldier’s duty to live for it. He was firmly in the latter camp. If ordered, he would send men to kill and men to die. But he preferred to rely on the threat of force, rather than its application. He had a strong sense that his preferences were to be damned in this instance.

“I have been informed,” the Emperor replied, “that the vicious attack on me and my family was orchestrated by the desert folk. I want you to find out who did it and why. I want answers. And I don’t care what you have to do to get them.”

Liam nodded. “Very well, sir. I will order the local constabulary here in Maruth to round up the desert people for questioning. I’ll have them interviewed under Oath here at the palace.”

“Under Oath?” the Emperor scoffed. “Liam, the magicians who administer the Oath are desert men themselves!”

“I am aware of this, Your Majesty. Certainly you’re not suggesting that they might be derelict in their duty—“

“I am suggesting,” the Emperor spat, cutting him off, “that the desert people hold more to their own kind than in their loyalty to the Empire. They have no need to pay heed to us, because their kind are autonomous from the Empire. No, Commander Donal. I believe there is more to this than the actions of one desert man. I will not trust in the interrogations of their own kind. No, I think something else is in order.”

“And what would that be, Your Majesty?” Liam asked.

“Send them to my cousin, Laris, on his island of Osh’riyo. I’ll draft a proclamation placing him in charge of the interrogation. I know I can trust him to get to the bottom of this. After all, he is of the blood Imperial. He could be next.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Liam said. He wasn’t sure about the legal niceties, but it wasn’t his job to be concerned with those. He had an order from his Emperor and he would carry it out. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, Liam, there is. Once you’ve finished rounding up the desert men in the 11 kingdoms that make up the Empire, I think it’s time we expanded a bit. We need to finish what my ancestors started. I want you to take the army and your griffins and invade Yometh Robak and Kolam Robak.”

Next>

Chapter 9

2008-05-26T18:39:00.001-07:00

Coren sat in his chair, facing the man in the traditional uniform of an Imperial mage. The man looked tall. He had the same dark skin of all his kind. His hair was that shiny black and it was braided, with feathers and beads hanging off of each braid, near his elbows. Coren wondered why it was that only the desert people seemed to possess the talent for magic.

These thoughts fled as the magician looked down on him with his deep brown eyes. There was something mesmerizing about them. And Coren realized he was feeling the presence of the magician’s power.

The mage started to move his hands in a mystic pattern, softly speaking words in a language Coren had never heard before. He felt a subtle pressure on his mind, as if something was probing into his thoughts.

“Do not resist the feeling,” the magician spoke for the first time. “If you do, you could do permanent harm to your mind. If that happens, there is no help for you.”

Coren swallowed heavily and tried to relax. His eyes were locked on the magician’s as he continued to intone the mystic words. Slowly, the mage reached a hand out and placed it on top of Coren’s head. As he did, Coren felt his mind open.

Memories came flooding through him, in random patterns.

…a girl from his youth….

…the first taste of whiskey…

…a frantic run through a deep jungle, the sounds of pursuit hot on his heels…

…the last time a magician had placed him under Oath….

He also felt his ability to lie removed. He knew that he would answer whatever question was placed to him, and that he was incapable of speaking any deception. He could still, with careful control, give answers that weren’t the whole truth. But he could speak no deliberate falsehood.

“Now,” Kilthanis said. “Tell me about the desert man who purchased the poison from you.”

“He was dressed in traditional garb. The leggings and jerkin were the color of desert sand. He had a headband over his ears, keeping his hair from his eyes and shielding them from the sun. His skin was the dusky color of all desert men. His hair was long and braided.”

“What about his eyes? You said there was something about his eyes.”

“Yes. They weren’t right. They were green. In all my travels, I’ve never seen a desert man with green eyes.”

Kilthanis turned toward the mage, a questioning look on his face.

“It is rare,” the magician replied. “But there are some of our race who have eyes of that color. Most likely, an ancestor of his dallied with someone from elsewhere in the Empire. Still, it should make him easy to spot.”

“Can you think of anything else that distinguished him from other desert men?” Kilthanis asked.

Coren shook his head. “No. As I said, I try not to focus too much on my clients. I only noticed his eyes because he woke me and I was angry at the disturbance. I was yelling at him when I opened the door and looked him fully in the face. When he told me what he wanted, I stopped caring what he looked like.”

“You sold him poison?” Kilthanis asked.

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you who his intended target was?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you anything else?”

“Only that he wanted a slow-acting poison. He wanted his victim to suffer for at least three hours.”

Kilthanis flipped through the parchment spread on the table. “It says here that the poison worked very quickly. What happened?”

“I made a mistake. I added too much betosh to the mixture. I failed to inform him of my error.”

Kilthanis nodded. He turned to the magician. “Thank you for your aid. That will be all. You will tell no one of what you heard here.”

The magician nodded. He was aware of the scope of this particular investigation. And magicians were never called upon to testify in open court. It would jeopardize their role as vouchsafes of truth.

The magician turned and left the room.

“Well,” Kilthanis said, as Coren felt the spell lifting. “I think we have something we can work with.

Next>

Chapter 8

2008-05-23T19:42:00.001-07:00

Kilthanis looked at Coren. “Not necessarily. We might be able to trade information in exchange for your life.”

“What information?” Coren demanded. “I don’t know anything!”

“Well, you mentioned a desert man. If you can give an adequate description and they can find this man, then perhaps that information will be worth your life. They know you didn’t act alone, Coren. You’ve never been inside the Imperial Palace. You certainly don’t have access to the kitchens. Therefore, whoever bought the poison must have brought it in.

“As far as I know, the only desert men in the palace work as Imperial Magicians. That means there’s a conspiracy against the Emperor. If you can help root it out….yes, I think I can convince the Imperial Prosecutor and the judge to spare you.”

Desperate hope sang in Coren’s dark eyes. “I’ll tell them anything, ANYTHING, to avoid the executioner.”

“Well you can start by telling me about this desert man. And remember, Coren, they will put you under Oath to ensure you’re telling the truth.”

“Oh I am, I am….I just wish I could remember more about him. I wasn’t paying that much attention. I try to avoid noticing my clients and with those desert folk…well, I was more concerned with where his hands were than what he looked like. I wanted to make sure that my property didn’t walk off with him unless he paid for it.”

Kilthanis masked his disgust at the blatant racism that was spewing from his client’s mouth. These sorts of rumors had plagued the desert people for years. It didn’t help that they were so secretive, and only rarely ventured out of their home. Still, that was no excuse. “Still, I assume you don’t see desert men everyday. You must have noticed something about him.”

Coren sighed. “To be completely honest, I was drunk. Your little dossier mentioned that I crawled into a bottle. Well this morning was no exception.”

“Hmmm. Well, I can probably use that as part of your defense. Voluntary intoxication is no excuse, but it can mitigate your role in the conspiracy. Clearly, you weren’t in your right mind if you did give this man poison in a vial with your mark on it. That may help convince the judge not to sentence you to death.”

“Terrific. Drinking is actually good for something other than hiding out from life.”

“Indeed. Now concentrate, Coren. Is there anything else you can tell me about this desert man? I’ll need more if I’m going to convince the Prosecutor to let you live.”

Coren scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his face, then closed his eyes tight, in thought. “He was dressed in their traditional garb. Long, black hair. Braided. He looked like every other desert man I’ve ever seen!”

“Well, then I’m-“

“Wait!” Coren cried out. “His eyes! There was something about his eyes. They…weren’t right. Gods help me, I can’t remember what, though.”

Kilthanis thought for a second. “We might not need the Gods’ help, Coren. There is one other option I’d like to explore.” So saying, Kilthanis rose and walked over to the door, banging loudly. When a guard answered, Kilthanis spoke with him briefly. The guard returned a question, looking skeptical.

“Just do it,” Kilthanis said. “If you’re questioned, tell him I asked for it. If that’s not good enough, go ask the Emperor. I’m sure he’ll approve.”

The guard looked shocked at the suggestion, but hurried away.

“What did you ask for?” Coren inquired.

“I asked for the help of a magician.”

Next>

Chapter 7

2008-05-21T20:40:00.001-07:00

Coren knew the story. Anyone with an even passing knowledge of Imperial history knew the story. Taylor D’Endray, a colonel in the infantry, had been assigned to clear out the jungles of Et’alash of those who would resist rightful Imperial rule. After a career of loyal service, he and three units of Imperial troops, totaling some three thousand men, had turned traitor and joined the rebel forces. When the war ended four years later, the survivors of these units, including Colonel D’Endray himself, had been dealt with harshly. The punishments doled out by the then-Emperor were legendary.

“So am I to understand you’re the Emperor’s hand-picked man?” Coren asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Kilthanis replied.

“So I’m to only receive a farce of a trial then? Is that what the Emperor calls justice?”

“Far from it. The Emperor asked for me precisely because I’m so good at my job, and because of my ancestor’s actions. He wants there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind that you had the best defense available. If you’re convicted for this, it’ll be because you committed the crime, not because you didn’t have adequate counsel or a fair trial.”

“Well, then Lord D’Endray, let’s talk about my defense. What evidence do they have against me? I assume they’ve captured the desert man?”

“Kilthanis will be fine, Lieutenant. From what I was reading, they apparently have a vial, found in the Imperial kitchens, with your mark upon it. There was no mention of any desert man.”

“Well please call me Coren. I haven’t had a rank in over a decade.” He paused, then muttered to himself. “So they claim to have a vial with my mark. I must stop drinking when I work.” To Kilthanis he said, “It’s possible that one of the kitchen staff were using a cure I created for them. I am an apothecary after all.”

“I doubt you’ll find a servant working in the kitchens who will admit to having visited you, with the charges that have been laid in this case. There’s also the small matter that there’s poison residue in the vial. The Imperial Physician checked it himself.”

“Well, there’s no evidence that I placed the poison in that vial. I have no idea what becomes of the vials I use after I sell them to my customers. Perhaps one of them used it.”

“Perhaps. But again, you’d have to have sold a remedy to someone with access to the Imperial kitchens.”

“Not necessarily,” Coren said. “Someone could have sold the vial in one of the market squares. Anyone could have picked it up. My mark doesn’t cease being on it merely because the vial has left my possession,” he pointed out.

“True. But I am assuming the magicians can put the vial in your hand within hours of the poisoning,” Kilthanis replied.

“Magicians?” Color drained from Coren’s face.

“Indeed. Remember, Coren, we’re not out in some backwater kingdom, without resources. This is an attack on the Imperial family we’re talking about. The Emperor will bring to bear all the resources at his disposal. And that includes use of the Imperial magicians. I understand they can read the impressions on objects. And the courts are very sympathetic to their testimony.”

“But…but…I didn’t know!” he cried. “There was no way I could know what that man wanted the poison for. I find it best not to ask. They can’t prove I intended to hurt the Emperor!”

Kilthanis nodded. “Correct. They can’t force you to testify, and I believe that if they did, you would be able to testify under Oath that you had no idea the Emperor was the intended victim. Unfortunately, trafficking in poisons carries a death sentence. And I don’t think you could testify under Oath that you weren’t doing that. And I can’t prevent the Imperial Prosecutor from asking, if you do decide to testify.”

“So I’m a dead man, either way.” Coren’s voice was flat.

Next>

Chapter 6

2008-05-19T20:00:00.001-07:00

Coren awoke in a cell beneath the palace in Dhekar. At least, he assumed that’s where he was. It was dark and he felt water dripping down around him and on him. He looked to the only source of light, a large wooden door with small iron bars set at eye level.

He idly wondered - were all cells in the Empire built to the same specifications? He knew he was in trouble, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had known for years that he traded in death, in more ways than one. Yes, he sold potions and powders that could kill. And the penalty for that was death. He knew he would have a trial and that could take a while. He wouldn’t live a comfortable life, but at least he would live, for a time.

He was contemplating the various options he had. It was possible that they hadn’t caught the desert man. Clearly, some of his poison had gotten through to a member of the royal family. That didn’t exactly calm him. Nothing he could offer them would make up for the death of the Emperor.

He was pursuing these dark thoughts when he heard a rattle of keys outside and the door opened. He looked up and saw two guards waiting for him.

“On your feet, Vishod,” the one on the left said.

He slowly rose, using the wall to steady himself. “Where are you taking me?”

“The lawyer you requested is here. And he’s a good one. You might get out of this yet.”

The guard’s voice carried true admiration in it, and for a brief second, Coren dared hope that he might yet see the outside world again.

His guard escorted him to the end of the long hall and up a flight of slick stone stairs, to a waiting area near the surface of the dungeon level. Sitting at a round table was a well-dressed man, with dark brown hair and green eyes. He was reading a piece of parchment. Before him, he had a stack of blank paper, an inkwell and a griffin-feather quill. This last marked him as someone both well-off and important. Most people used bird-feather quills. Coren was confused.

“Hello? Are you my lawyer?”

The man looked up from his reading. “That depends. Are you Coren Vishod?”

Coren nodded.

“Then I’m your lawyer, Lieutenant Vishod. Please, have a seat. This is quite the list of charges. We have quite the battle before us.”

Coren took a seat, his hands shaking a bit and his knees feeling weak. “You needn’t call me Lieutenant. I am but a simple merchant,” Coren protested.

“Come now, Lieutenant Vishod. No need to be modest. I know you used to be a messenger for the royal family of Mareth’totam. I know you have done some military service, in their intelligence core in Ethsheya. And I know you’ve been living in a bottle for the last seven years, since you were discharged."

Coren looked pained at the memory of his dismissal from service. But there was something else on his mind.

“I…” He paused. “I’m sorry, sir. I just wasn’t expecting such a….What I mean to say is, I didn’t think I’d be assigned….” He didn’t know how to say what he wanted.

“Well, you have a right to have a lawyer assigned to your case, and I understand you requested one.”

“Yes, sir. I did. And I know my rights. I’m just not sure I can afford someone of your obvious cost.” He eyed the quill.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that Lieutenant. My services are complimentary.”

Coren raised his eyebrows.

“Well, Lieutenant, this is the first case of treason in the Empire in over two centuries. And I have some…unique…experience in the area. So I’ve been asked to defend you.”

Coren’s eyes widened as the implication of what his lawyer said sunk in. “You mean…?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’m Kilthanis D’Endray. And my ancestor defected from the Imperial Army during the Third War for Et’alash.”

Next>

Chapter 5

2008-05-16T19:36:00.000-07:00

Coren was startled awake for the second time that day by loud banging on his door. He looked around the darkened interior of his wagon and guessed it was sometime in the middle of the night. Who could possibly want to see him now?

That thought triggered a memory of the first knock on his door that day and his blood ran cold. He was suddenly sober. There was only one reason anyone would be slamming on his door at that time of night, and that reason meant his death. He had left the Imperial City shortly after he had made the earlier sale. He found it best not to stick around after dealing in his less legal commodities, even if there was nothing to link him to the poison. How in the name of all the Gods had they found him?

“Open up in the name of the Empire!” A muffled voice shouted through the door.

“Uh...just a…just a moment!” Coren called back. He looked around the wagon. He had left nothing out in plain sight, and his hiding space had fooled customs officials in a half-dozen kingdoms. He smoothed his hair and put on his best innocent face. There was no way they could link him to the desert man. Unless he had talked. Coren gulped nervously, then opened the door.

“Good evening, Captain,” he greeted the man in the blue and silver uniform. “How may I help you?” That was odd. These men were dressed in the uniforms of Imperial troops, not those of the Maruth constabulary.

“You are Coren Vishod?” the man asked.

Briefly, Coren considered lying, but there was really no point to it. They’d just take him in anyway and probably have him mind-probed. If he started out with a lie, it would only make him look guiltier.

“Yes,” he replied. “That’s my name. Can I help you?”

“In the name of the Emperor, I place you under arrest,” the Captain said. “Please step out of the wagon and accompany us.”

“Arrest?” Coren feigned shock. “On what charges?”

“Trafficking in illegal poisons, conspiracy, murder and high treason.”

The blood drained from Coren’s face. “High treason?” He had been arrested before and had faced charges of trafficking. Liberal bribes had gotten him out of some scrapes and a lack of evidence had helped him escape others. But treason? What the hell had the desert man done with that vial?

“Step down from the wagon and come peacefully, or we will take you by force.”

Coren stepped down, briefly contemplating a run. It would cost him his wagon, but his freedom was worth that. Unfortunately, there was no cover. Furthermore, he found the wagon surrounded. In addition to the men on the ground, he saw several griffins being tended by their riders. For whatever reason, they wanted him badly.

“On what basis do you charge me with high treason?” As he spoke, men walked up to him and grabbed his arms, binding his hands together behind his back.

“The evidence against you will be presented later, before a court of law,” the Captain replied.

“That’s not what I meant, Captain. You’re an Imperial soldier, not a member of Maruth’s or Dhekar’s constablary. On what basis do you charge me?”

“There’s been an attack on the royal family. That makes this an Imperial matter, rather than a kingdom one or local one.”

Coren stammered. “I…I want a lawyer!”

“That’s your right, sir. But for now, you’re coming with us.”

He was guided to a waiting griffin. Coren shied away from the large beast. It looked down on him with impassive, avian eyes. The large beak clacked and Coren cried out in fear. This brought some low chuckles from some of the men.

“Enough of that,” the Captain barked. “Let’s get mounted up and head back to the palace. Commander Donal wants to have a word with him.”

Coren was unceremoniously heaved up onto the griffin’s leonine back, then tied to the saddle. The creature’s rider placed one foot in a stirrup and vaulted up to sit astride the saddle lashed between its wings. The others mounted up as well. At the Captain’s signal, the great beast reared onto its hind paws and launched itself into the air, it’s large wings spreading to catch the wind.

Coren made the mistake of looking down. As the ground sped away beneath him, Coren Vishod fainted.

Chapter 4

2008-05-14T23:27:00.001-07:00

Men in the blue and silver of the Imperial guards drew weapons and moved to surround the Emperor and his dead bride. Various nobles and dignitaries stepped back to give them room, the more curious craning their necks to try and see past the human wall.

Liam Donal stepped forward, signaling to a pair of officers and the Head Steward. He turned to one of the officers, a lieutenant. “Seal the kitchens. Everyone there must be questioned. This is an attack on the royal family. We must figure out who is behind it as quickly as possible.” He turned to the other officer, this one a captain. “Get to the gates and have them closed as well. Chances are, the culprit or his accomplices are long gone. But we must make every effort to try and capture the men responsible.”

The officers nodded and hurried off to carry out his commands, gathering men as they went, while the Head Steward waited for orders. Normally, the Head Steward wouldn’t respond to a military commander. He worked for the royal family. However, Liam was right. This was a special circumstance.

“First, we need to clear the Hall and get these nobles back to their homes. There’s little we can do to stop the spread of the story. We certainly can’t hold them here in the palace against their will.” The steward nodded. Liam continued. “Once they’re gone, you and I need to go through the kitchen staff. You served his Majesty, so you know who last had his plate before you. And you know who’s new to the kitchens.”

The Steward breathed a sigh of relief, noting that Commander Donal didn’t consider him a suspect in the poisoning. Otherwise, he would have had him held with the kitchen staff, rather than allowing him the opportunity to slip away as he was showing the guests out.

Liam moved to the Emperor, signaling for his men to spread further out, giving them privacy. He leaned down and spoke quietly. “Your Majesty…we must get you out of here.”

Kilthane shook his head, still staring down at the body of his wife clasped in his arms.

“Your Majesty, please. We don’t know if this is the extent of the attack, or merely a distraction. The men responsible –“

The Emperor’s head snapped up, a look of hatred in his ice blue eyes as he interrupted Liam. “The men responsible will be captured and executed. They will feel my wrath. They will suffer as no men have ever suffered before!”

Liam looked around, realizing that many of the notables who had come to celebrate the Empire’s birthday were still within earshot, despite the attempts of the soldiers and the Head Steward to escort them out. While the Emperor’s feelings could well be understood, such talk was disturbing to a people who loved their freedom and respect for the rule of law.

“Your majesty, I’ve already ordered the kitchens and gates sealed. If the people responsible are still within the palace, we have them.”

“That’s not good enough!” The Emperor’s voice was sharp, but low, tightly controlled. “Seal the city! You and I both know that the men behind this aren’t here in the palace. Even if we catch the man who poisoned my plate, he didn’t act alone!”

Liam was taken slightly aback. The Emperor was talking about declaring martial law, something that hadn’t happened in the Imperial City in over 300 years. But he wasn’t being irrational. It was clear from what he said that he was aware of the implications of an attempt on his life, and was thinking strategically. Yes, the city hadn’t been sealed in three centuries, but then, there hadn’t been an attempt on the life of a member of the royal family in at least as long. He realized he hadn’t responded to the Emperor as he thought this through.

“At once, Your Majesty.” He turned to one of his men, pulling off a ring with a griffin rampant over a flag on its face. “Head to the West Gate. Tell the officer there to seal the city. No one goes in or out but by my order. If he has any questions, show him this. Then head to the East Gate and give the officer there the same message. Then return to me. Take a griffin to speed you.”

“Yes, Commander,” the soldier replied, taking the ring and turning toward the door. He broke into a run as soon as he felt decorum would allow. Clearly, speed was of the essence.

Liam turned and surveyed the Hall. Most of the nobles had been shepherded out by this point, but one delegation, that from Reth’methil, was still in evidence. Chancellor D’Inday stood to one side of the large doors, eyeing the Emperor.

Liam walked over to her. “Chancellor, is there something you needed?”

She eyed him carefully, a thoughtful look on her face. Liam knew that she was a shrewd politician. She had to be, to be elected by the Senate of Reth’methil to the position of Chancellor. She was also a part of the most powerful family within that Kingdom.

“Commander Donal,” her voice was low, for him only. “Clearly something terrible has happened here. This was not an attack on the Emperor or his family. This was an attack on the Empire itself. You need to make sure that the blow wasn’t more successful than it at first appears.”

Liam nodded, in understanding. Allyson D’Inday was warning him that the proper forms had to be followed. Martial law would have to be lifted as soon as possible, and he couldn’t allow the Emperor to order summary executions in a fit of pique. “I am pledged to defend the Empire, Chancellor.”

“It is well you remember that, Commander. You are pledged to the Empire, not the Emperor. And as he himself reminded us not ten minutes ago, it is the will of the people, and not a grieving husband, that is the law of this Empire.”

Liam stiffened as she reminded him of his duty. “I thank you for your words, Chancellor,” he said, his words clipped. “I am well aware of my duty, both to the Empire and the man who runs it. Now, if there’s nothing else….” He let his voice trail off.

Allyson D’Inday knew she had upset Liam. He had been a faithful servant of the Empire for over thirty years. He had served in the Griffin Cavalry the whole time, starting as a private in the Emperor’s father’s time, and had worked his way up to his current position. He was widely regarded as an excellent officer, with a refined sense of duty. But he had known the Emperor since he was a boy. That was why Allyson had felt it necessary to remind him of that duty now. He would get over whatever insult he felt.

“No, Commander. That was all I had to say. May your investigation be as swift as the griffins you command.” Liam nodded to her, and she and her party turned to leave. As she did, the Head Steward returned to the hall.

“See to His Majesty,” Liam ordered crisply. “Have the doctor fix a sleeping draught, and prepare the Empress’s body for a state burial.”

Without waiting for a response, Liam turned and headed towards the kitchens, a look of grim determination on his face.

Next>

Chapter 3

2008-05-12T20:46:00.001-07:00

Kilthane Rychart, Emperor, sat at a large round table. He looked out over the crowded dining hall as the various lords and ladies of the Empire crowded in. This was just the first of many celebrations of the Empire’s millennial birthday. A variety of high officials and their emissaries were in attendance.

While the rulers of the farther flung kingdoms could not, or chose not to attend, those closer to the Imperial capital of Dhekar had turned out to pay their respects. Seated at his right was Allyson D’Inday, Chancellor of Reth’methil, the island kingdom to the south, and the place from which the Empire sprung. She had to have a place of honor at this banquet.

Kilthane turned his head to his left, to smile at his young bride, Elizabeth. She was a beautiful woman, and the apple of his eye. And she adored him almost as much as he cared for her.

Kilthane was a fairly young man, only in his early thirties. He had thick black hair and a matching beard, kept trimmed short. But the most striking thing about him were his piercing blue eyes. They lit up whenever he smiled, which was often, when Elizabeth was near. He was dressed impeccably in Imperial blue, a griffin rampant stitched in silver across his breast.

The walls were lined with various members of the Imperial Army, and standing near to Kilthane was Liam Donal, head of the Imperial Griffin Cavalry, the major source of the Empire’s power. With this flying armada at its command, the Empire had expanded to encompass eleven kingdoms, spanning the known world, from the polar ices in the far south to the jungle lands of the north.

Directly across from Kilthane at the large round table sat Nicodemus Darkwater, the High Priest of Borean, the Griffin God. He had made the trip from the eastern mountains to celebrate the birth of an Empire his church was largely responsible for forming. It was the 14^th year of the Empire when a delegation from Desanth, the City of the Church, first arrived in Dhekar with a message from the Griffin God. It was Nicodemus’s long ago predecessor who had pledged the first griffins to the Empire and thus started its spread.

He was an old man, with long white hair and a beard to match. It looked as if the snow from the mountains had permanently settled upon him and took root. His skin, when he had shaken hands with Kilthane, felt like old paper. You’d have never known that both Kilthane and his father had chaffed at having to defer to this man and his church.

Tradition held that the Emperor was the voice of Borean, for he was Emperor by the Grace of the Griffin God. But the High Priest carried considerable sway, especially since the Church still maintained a monopoly on the breeding and training of griffins. And Kilthane well knew that the existence of the Griffin Cavalry was viewed by the populace as a sign of the God’s continuing favor. So despite misgivings, generations of Rycharts had paid homage to nearly seventy High Priests throughout the last millennium.

Kilthane made small talk with various ambassadors who dropped by to pay the respects of their various leaders. At a signal from the Head Steward, he raised his glass and his voice.

“Friends, Lords and Ladies, Heads of State and citizens of the Empire! I welcome you to this, the celebration of the birth of our glorious Empire. A millennium ago, my ancestors, as well as many of yours, first crossed the Bay of Storms from Reth’methil to Maruth, founding the first Imperial capital at Dekiyem, the ancient City of Law, where Bokiyem, the God of Law first handed down the rules that govern our lives. Over the last thousand years, we have spread and prospered, while living under these same laws, as well as using the gift Bokiyem gave man – the power to govern ourselves.

“Therefore, I ask you to join me in a toast. The ancient words, that have guided us to our current pinnacle, and have served as the Imperial Motto! In the words of our ancestors ‘Alu Utos-Merethil tur alu Kiyem-Tethos’! The Will of the People is the Law of the Empire!”

“Alu Utos-Merethil tur alu Kiyem-Tethos” rang from the rafters of the great hall as the gathered assemblage thundered back the toast.

As the echoes died down, the Head Steward signaled to the servants and they swept into the hall, carrying trays and plates heaped high with lamb, the traditional spring meal. They served the guests quickly and efficiently, the Head Steward serving the Chancellor, the Emperor and his bride personally.

“And now my friends, please, enjoy the feast. And here’s to another thousand years!” As Kilthane spoke, Elizabeth darted her fork onto his plate and stabbed a small piece of lamb, quickly eating it with a glint in her eye. This was a game they played often. Despite having her own well-stocked plate, Elizabeth always insisted that food tasted better when she took it from his plate. He knew it was silly, as did she, but he couldn’t resist smiling each time she did it anyway.

This time, however, his smile turned to horror as she suddenly started choking. He cried out in alarm as she coughed and sputtered, her lips turning blue and her eyes bulging. Servants scurried as Chancellor D’Inday called for a doctor. The Imperial Physician hurried over from his position around the table.

He quickly slapped her on the back several times and then opened her mouth to try and see what was obstructing her throat.

By this point, her tongue was swollen and starting to turn black and she doubled over in pain, tears flowing from her eyes. These tears were matched in the eyes of the Emperor as he watched the life slipping away from his wife.

She fell out of her chair and landed heavily on the floor. She turned pleading eyes towards her husband, looking terrified as darkness closed in. Her body convulsed and shook on the floor of the Great Dining Hall as the doctor tried to hold her still. Kilthane dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his lap as the physician called for his bag of healing draughts. But he knew it was too late.

Slowly, her shudders subsided and her body went limp with a final soft rattle of breath in her throat. Her dark hair was plastered to her forehead and her eyes were staring vacantly upward at the ceiling. Her tongue, now completely black, protruded grossly from between blue lips.

Sobs racked Kilthane as he rocked back and forth, holding her body to his, willing her to come back to life.

The doctor placed a soft hand on the Emperor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Your Majesty. There was nothing I could do. She’s been poisoned.”

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Chapter 2

2008-05-09T20:46:00.001-07:00

The desert man walked quickly away from the wagon, losing himself in the crowd of the market. He made his way across the Imperial city to an inn that catered to travelers from across the Empire. He strode through the common room, ignoring the rest of the patrons as they ignored him. That was the other reason he’d chosen this inn. It was known for housing a more discreet clientele.

He headed up the stairs to the room he had let on the second floor. He checked for the tell-tale he had left on the jamb and saw that it remained undisturbed. He took out a key and let himself in. His eyes scanned the room, confirming that it remained undisturbed since the last time he left it.

He crossed to the wooden chest where he’d unpacked his belongings. He opened it and withdrew a set of robes. They were blue, edged in silver, the traditional robes of an Imperial page. He quickly changed out of his traveling clothes into the robes, tucking his long black hair into a large felt cap. He placed the vial he had purchased from the apothecary into a small pocket inside the robe, then grabbed a large cloak and drew it around him. People at this inn might be discreet, but even they would notice an Imperial servant.

He let himself back out of the cramped room, locking the door, and replaced the tell-tale. He headed back into the city, heading in the direction of the Imperial palace. An hour later, he found himself nearing the main gates. He strode up and through them, just as the bells in the high tower chimed the seventh hour after noon.

There was an unusual amount of traffic passing through the gates at this hour, but this was an unusual night. After all, it was not every day that the Emperor celebrated the 1000^th Anniversary of the Empire.

He slowed his walk, looking around the palace parade grounds, ducking his head as he passed the assembled Lords and Ladies. This helped hide his complexion. Pages were a common sight around the palace and they tended to blend into the background. However, there were not many pages who were desert folk, so to avoid notice he kept his head bent. The presence of so much aristocracy made this submissive behavior seem normal.

He made his way to the west wall, heading around back towards the servant’s entrance. Pages were not allowed entry through the main doors of the palace. He arrived near the door to the scullery and paused. Two minutes later, the door opened and a man dressed like a chef strolled out and dumped out a large pot of dirty water.

The desert man spoke the pass phrase in High Katakan. “Abi boki alu merethil.”

The cook looked up at him and responded in the same language. “Abel etay kashe-il.”

The desert man reached into his robes, pulled out the small vial and passed it to the cook. He nodded quietly and turned back into the kitchen. The desert man reached back into his robes and pulled out a large sealed scroll. He turned and made his way back across the parade ground and out the gates. He grabbed his cloak from the alley where he left it and disappeared into the crowd.

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Chapter 1

2008-05-08T21:58:00.001-07:00

It seems odd that it all started with a drunkard named Coren Vishod. He lived in his ramshackle wagon, traveling from kingdom to kingdom, throughout the Empire, hawking his services. He was an apothecary, dealing in herbal remedies and useful unguents. He was also a smuggler, dealing in darker drafts and potent poisons, brought from his home in Mareth’totam. He didn’t advertise these services, but those who wished could find him.

He was slumped over his workbench in the back of his wagon, an empty flagon laying next to his unshaven face, the last drops of the amber liquid it had contained running out across the rough wooden surface.

There was a loud knock at the door. Coren groaned in pain as each knock drove into his head like a spike through the ear. “Great Gods! Who could be needing aid at this early hour of the morning?” Coren shouted through the door, regretting it instantly. His hand fumbled around until it closed around a dark bottle, filled with amber liquid. He pulled it close and pried the cork out.

“It’s the hour after noon,” came the accented reply.

Coren took a long swig from the bottle, squinting against the bright sun streaming in through the blinds. Perhaps his visitor was correct. He stumbled over to the door and opened it.

Standing before him was one of the desert people. His skin was a deep brown, almost red in color. His hair was a long, shiny black, in twin braids. His eyes were a bright green, unusual for one of his kind. But Coren was too busy looking over his rich clothing, gauging the man’s ability to pay. “What can I do for you?” He took another healthy swig from the bottle.

The desert man stepped into the back of the wagon, pulling the door closed behind him. Coren looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing? Customers aren’t allowed back here.”

“The business I wish to conduct shouldn't be done in the open,” the man replied, looking around the wagon in mild disgust.

“And what sort of business is that?” Coren asked, noting the man’s distaste.

“I wish to buy something special. No mere folk remedy, but a special gift for a special friend.” The way the man said the word friend indicated that the recipient was anything but.

“I’m sorry. I don’t sell those kinds of gifts. No one does. Those sorts of ‘gifts’ are illegal in the Empire. To sell them would mean my death.”

“Only if you’re caught, Vishod.”

Coren arched an eyebrow, setting the bottle down. “You know me?”

“I know you. And I know you can sell me that which I seek.” The man locked his eyes on Coren’s.

Coren thought for a moment. It was possible that this man worked for the Imperial police force. But they didn’t usually stoop to subtlety. Additionally, the man was too richly dressed to be in the Empire’s employ.

“Let us say that I can,” Coren began. “My supplies are limited and the risk is great. Such a gift would be quite expensive.”

“Enough circumspection. You have what I want. Name your price.” The man’s manner was brusque.

Coren considered. “Three hundred kekil.”

The man snorted. “You’re drunker than you look if you think I can afford that. Fifty kekil.”

Coren grabbed his chest as if he had just been stabbed. “Sir, you wound me. I couldn’t possibly afford to part with anything for less than one hundred fifty kekil.”

“Spare me the theatrics. Seventy five kekil.”

Coren got serious. “One hundred twenty five kekil.”

“Fine, one hundred kekil. But I need something slow acting.”

“How slow?”

“The victim must live no less than three hours after ingesting.”

“Hmm….I have something that might work. But I’ll have to mix it. For that, I’ll need an extra ten kekil.”

The man stared hard at Coren, but finally relented. “Very well. How long until it’s ready?”

“Come back in an hour. It’ll be ready then.”

“One hour. But no payment until it’s ready.”

“Of course not, sir.”

The desert man left the confines of the wagon, and Coren took another drink. He then set the bottle down and began his work. He grabbed a pestle and mortar and set them on his work bench. Then he shuffled to the front of the wagon, climbing down to his hands and knees.

He tripped a small latch and a piece of the wagon wall came out, exposing a small hidden space behind it. A variety of dark, unmarked bottles sat there, carefully arranged. He grabbed three bottles, looking at them carefully. Sure that he had the three he sought, he closed the small compartment and returned to his work bench.

Two of the bottles contained dried herbs. The third an odorless liquid. He took two small leaves from the first bottle and a small bulb from the second. He placed this in the mortar and used the pestle to grind them into a fine paste. He was carefully measuring five drops into the mix when his hand shook, splashing the mixture with a liberal dose of the liquid.

Coren cursed and grabbed his wine bottle, taking a long chug. The potion was still lethal. Indeed, it was much more lethal than the client had asked. Oh well. These ingredients were too expensive to start again. Besides, prolonging death was cruel. Three hours of pointless agony followed by death. What did it matter if the intended victim suffered first? The end result was the same.

He sat debating with himself for a few minutes more. Chances were, he’d never see this desert man again. And if he did remake the potion, he would suffer a loss. The man was a shrewd bargainer. He had set the price before naming the conditions. Coren shook his head. He knew better than to haggle when hung over.

There was another knock at the door. Either he had another customer or his original client was impatient. It didn’t matter. He’d padded the estimate of the time it would take, in order to squeeze out the extra ten kekil. He reached for an empty bottle, forgetting in his haste to grab one without his mark. He poured the lethal brew in, and sealed it with a wax stopper. He then opened the door, just a crack.

The desert man was there. “You have what I ordered?” He apparently didn’t want to risk being seen entering the wagon.

“I do. You have my money?”

The man reached into his belt pouch and removed two coins, a lashak and a kerek. “One hundred ten kekil, as agreed.”

Coren reached for the money with one hand while slipping him the small vial with the other.

And just like that, a war was begun.

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Foreword

2008-05-08T21:57:00.001-07:00

It is unusual for a book of this type to have a foreword. Then again, it is unusual for a scholar of my caliber to be writing a book of this type. Therefore, to avoid confusion from those of my usual readers who are used to a more academic account from me, I felt it necessary to write this short foreword and clarify my intent in writing this.

What you hold in your hands is a work of historical fiction. That is, the events that are depicted actually occurred, and many of those who play a role in this volume actually lived. Many of the events discussed in the following pages are those you studied in school. In that sense, it is historical. It is, however, fiction, in that many of the conversations depicted, the thoughts revealed and motives displayed are entirely the creation of this humble author.

Inasmuch as possible, I have drawn from the historical record, cataloguing actual dates and events. Where available, I have drawn on first hand accounts and personal correspondence and journals. In this, certain aspects of the following narrative are more accurate than others.

While many of the events have been told countless times, it is one of the oldest propositions that history is written by the winners. Often times, the surviving accounts from non-official sources depict events in a very different light than what tradition holds. Therefore, I have done my best to triangulate from surviving accounts, to attempt to give a full picture of what transpired all those years ago.

Where information was lacking, I have filled in, to the best of my ability, with events and actions that seem consistent with what we do know. This may explain why I chose to go this route, rather than my usual more scholarly work. For those who are interested in Imperial Law of the period, I humbly suggest my earlier works, Imperial Law of the Millenial Era and Imperial Law in Times of Crisis.

Finally, I must extend my thanks to several individuals, without whom this work would not be possible. First, to the Imperial Records Keeper, for her aid in providing me access to the royal archives. Without these records, this work would not be possible. To the High Court in Dekiyem, for providing copies of key court decisions as well as full records of the trials. Many of the facts contained herein are based on the testimony of those who were witness to key events. To the history department at the Imperial University in Dhe-akatheyo, who’s extensive collection of personal correspondence and accounts from the time, for supporting me while I did my research. To the School of Law, for providing a sabbatical while I worked on this decidedly non-academic work, I am eternally grateful.

And finally, to you the reader, for your interest in this fascinating period of Imperial history. It is for you that this book was written. It is my greatest hope that by learning from the mistakes of the past, we can avoid the hazards of the future.

L.H. D’Orne

Professor of Law and Legal History

Imperial University School of Law

Dhe-akatheyo, Reth’methil

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