Kleirus lifted several of the rune-bones from his game and placed them on the page, next to the drawings of that ancient Sartan author. The matches were almost perfect. “It’s so blasted obvious. Why didn’t I ever notice before?”
Shaking his head, vexed at himself, he resumed reading.
The Wave, for the moment, appears stable. But there are those among us who fear that the Patryns are growing stronger and that the Wave is beginning to bulge again. There are some who argue that we must go to war, stop the Patryns now. There are some, myself included, who caution that we must do nothing to upset the balance or the Wave will bulge in the other direction.
The treatise continued on, but the dynast dosed the text. It contained nothing more about the Patryns, wandered into speculation about what might happen if the Wave bulged. The dynast already knew the answer. It had, and then had come the Sundering, and then life in this tomb of a world. So much he knew of the history of the Sartan.
But he had forgotten the Patryns, the ancient enemy, bringers of darkness, possessors of a “crude but forceful” magical power.
‘Absolute and complete domination . . .” he repeated softly to himself. “What fools we’ve been. What complete and utter fools. But it isn’t too late. They think they’re clever. They think they can catch us unawares. But it won’t work.”
After several more moments’ reflection, he beckoned to one of the cadavers. “Send for the Lord High Chancellor.”
The dead servant left, returning almost instantaneously with Pons, whose value lay in the fact that he was always where he could be easily found when he was wanted and was conveniently absent when he wasn’t.
“Your Majesty,” said Pons, bowing low.
“Has Tomas returned?”
“Just this moment, I believe.”
“Bring him to us.”
“Here, Your Majesty?”
Kleitus paused, glanced around, nodded. “Yes, here.”
The matter being an important one, Pons went on the errand himself. One of the cadavers might have been dispatched to fetch the young man, but there was always the possibility, with the dead servants, that the cadaver might bring back a basket of rez flowers, having completely forgotten its original instructions.
Pons returned to one of the public rooms, where large numbers of couriers and suitors were wont to be found. The dynast’s appearance in the room would have struck them like a bolt of lightning from the colossus, shocking them into a frenzy of fawning and bowing and scraping. As it was, the appearance of the Lord High Chancellor sent a mild jolt through the throng. A few of the lower-ranking members of the nobility bowed humbly, the upper echelon ceased their rune-bone playing and conversations and turned their heads. Those who knew Pons well gave him greeting, much to the jealous envy of those who did not.
“What’s up, Pons?” asked one languidly.
The Lord High Chancellor smiled. “His Majesty is in need—”
Numerous couriers rose instantly to their feet.
“—of a living messenger,” Pons finished. He gazed about the room with apparent bored indifference.
“Errand boy, huh?” A baron yawned.
The upper echelon, knowing that this was a menial task, one that probably wouldn’t even involve actually seeing the dynast, returned to their games and gossip.
“You, there.” Pons gestured to a young man standing near the back of the room. “What is your name?”
“Tomas, My Lord.”
“Tomas. You’ll do. Come this way.”
Tomas bowed in silent acquiescence and followed the Lord High Chancellor out of the antechamber into the private and guarded section of the palace. Neither spoke, beyond one brief exchange of significant glances on leaving the antechamber. The Lord High Chancellor preceded the young man, who walked several paces behind Pons as was proper, his hands folded in his sleeves, his black and untrimmed cowl drawn low over his head.
The Lord High Chancellor paused outside the library, made a sign to the young man to wait. Tomas did as he was bid, standing silently in the shadows. One of the dead guards thrust open the stone door. Pons looked inside, Kleitus had returned to his reading. On hearing the door open, he glanced up and—seeing his minister— nodded.