Big Announcement!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“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

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

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

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>