“They are sending, this cycle, a message to the prince’s people, telling them of their ruler’s untimely death. In three cycles’ time, when the resurrection is complete, the duke and duchess plan to rescue the prince’s cadaver and return him to his people and urge them to declare war on Your Majesty. The earl’s faction will join with the people of Kairn Telest.”
“So, in three cycles, they plot to break into the palace dungeons and rescue the prince.”
“That is true, Sire.”
“And you offered them your willing assistance, Tomas?”
“As you commanded me, Sire. I am to meet with them this night, to go over the final details.”
“Keep us apprised. You run a risk, you know that? If they discover you are a spy, they will kill you and send you into oblivion.”
“I welcome the risk, Sire.” Tomas placed his hand over his heart, bowed low. “I am completely devoted to Your Majesty.”
“Continue your good work and your devotion will be rewarded.” Kleitus lowered his eyelids, resumed his reading.
Tomas looked at Pons, who indicated that the interview was at an end. Bowing again, the young man left the library alone, escorted through the dynast’s private chambers by one of the servant cadavers.
When Tomas was gone and the door shut behind him, Kleitus looked up from his book. It was obvious, from the staring, searching expression, that he hadn’t seen the page lying open before him. He was looking far away, far beyond the cavern walls surrounding him.
The Lord High Chancellor watched the eyes grow dark and shadowed, saw lines deepen in the forehead. A tingle of apprehension knotted Pons’s stomach. He glided nearer, treading softly, not daring to disturb. He knew he was wanted, because he had not been dismissed. Approaching the table, he sat down in a chair and waited in silence.
A long time passed. Kleitus stirred, sighed.
Pons, knowing his cue, asked softly, “Your Majesty understands all this: the arrival of the two strangers, the man with the runes on his skin, the dog that was dead and is now alive?”
“Yes, Pons, we believe we do.”
The Lord High Chancellor waited, again, in silence.
“The Sundering,” said the dynast. “The cataclysmic war that would once and for all bring peace to our universe. What if we told you that we didn’t win that war as we have so fondly assumed all these centuries? What if we told you, Pons, that we lost?”
“Sire!”
“Defeat. That is why the help that was promised us never came. The Patryns have conquered the other worlds. Now they wait, poised, to take over this one. We are all that remains. The hope of the universe.”
“The prophecy!” Pons whispered, and there was true awe in his tone. At last, he was beginning to believe.
Kleitus noticed his minister’s conversion, noticed that faith came rather late, but smiled grimly and said nothing. It wasn’t important.
“And now, chancellor, leave us,” he added, coming out of his momentary reverie. “Cancel all our engagements for the next two cycles. Say that we have received disturbing news concerning the hostile enemy force across the Fire Sea and that we are making preparations to protect our city. We will see no one.”
“Does that include Her Majesty, Sire?”
The marriage had been one of convenience, meant to do nothing more than maintain the dynastic rule. Kleitus XIV had produced Kleitus XV, along with several other sons and daughters. The dynasty was assured.
“You, alone, are excepted, Pons. But only in an emergency.”
“Very good, Sire. And where will I find Your Majesty if I am in need of counsel?”
“Here, Pons,” said Kleitus, glancing around the library. “Studying. There is much to be done, and only two cycles in which to do it.”
CHAPTER * 27
OLD PROVINCES, ABARRACH
THE TIME PERIOD WAS KNOWN AS THE DYNAST’S WAKING HOUR AND, although the dynast himself was far away in the city of Necropolis, the household in Old Province was up and stirring. The dead had to be roused from their slumber time state of lethargy, the magic that kept them functional renewed, and their daily tasks urged on them. Jera, as necromancer in her father’s house, moved among the cadavers, chanting the runes that brought the mockery of life to the servants and workers.