The war against the humans was going well for the elves. They were near victory. Then their charismatic and most skilled military general, Prince Rees’ahn, fell under the influence (some say the magic) of a song sung by a black-skinned human known as Ravenlark. This song made the elves remember the ideals of Paxar Kethin and Krenka-Anris. Elves who hear this song see truth, see the corrupt, dark heart of the dictatorial Tribus empire, and know that it means the destruction of their world.
Now, the towers of the Sartan continue to send forth water, but armed elves stand guard along its route. Rumor has it that large parties of human slaves and captured elven rebels are building secret aqueducts that lead from the rivers directly into the Imperanon. Every month, the water flowing from the towers is less than the amount that flowed last month. The elven wizards, who have studied the towers at length, report that for some unknown reason, their magic is starting to fail.
And none knows how to save it.
CHAPTER 20
THE IMPERANON
ARISTAGON, MID REALM
“THEY CANNOT DO THIS,” AGAH’RAN STATED WITH A SHRUG. HE WAS feeding a slice of orange to a pet hargast* bird and did not look up as he spoke. “They simply cannot do this.”
*A rare species claimed, by legend, to nest in the brittle branches of the hargast tree. Since no one has ever found a hargast-bird nest, this cannot be verified. The birds are difficult to net and are therefore extremely expensive. Their song is quite exquisite.
“Ah, but they can, O Exalted One,” replied Count Tretar, head of the Tretar clan,* and currently His Imperial Majesty’s most trusted and valued adviser. “What is more to the point, they have.”
*The seven elven clans are: Paxar, Quintar, Tretar, Savag, Melista, Tribus, and Kenkari. The emperor is a member of the Tribus clan, as is his son, the rebel prince, Rees’ahn. Intermarriage has blurred most clan lines, with the exception of the Kenkari, who are forbidden to marry or bear children outside the clan. None has ever been known to disobey.
“Closed the Cathedral of the Albedo? Accepting no more souls? I refuse to permit it. Send them word, Tretar, that they have incurred our extreme displeasure and that the cathedral is to be reopened at once.”
“That is precisely what Your Imperial Majesty must not do.”
“Not do? Explain yourself, Tretar.” Agah’ran lifted painted eyelids slowly, languidly, as if the effort were almost beyond his strength. At the same time, he waggled his hands in helpless fashion. His fingers had juice on them, and the stickiness displeased him.
Tretar motioned for the valet de chambre, who summoned a slave, who ran with alacrity to bring the emperor a warm, moist towel. Agah’ran laid his fingers limply on the cloth. The slave reverently cleansed them.
“The Kenkari have never proclaimed allegiance to the empire. Historically, My Liege, they have always been independent, serving all clans, owing loyalty to none.”
“They approved of the forming of the empire.” It was nearing his nap time and Agah’ran was inclined to be petulant.
“Because they were pleased to see the union of the six clans. And therefore they have served Your Imperial Majesty and have supported Your Majesty’s war against your rebel son, Rees’ahn. They even cast him out, as Your Imperial Majesty commanded, ordered his weesham to leave him, essentially damning his soul to live outside the Blessed Realm.”
“Yes, yes, we know all this, Tretar. Come to the point. I grow fatigued. And Solaris is very hot. If I am not careful, I shall begin to sweat.”
“If Your Radiance will bear with me a moment longer.”
Agah’ran’s hand twitched, an action that, in another man, might have been the clenching of a fist. “We need those souls, Tretar. You were present. You heard the report. Our ungrateful son Rees’ahn—may the ancestors devour him—has been conducting secret negotiations with that barbaric fiend, Stephen of Volkaran. If they ally… Ah, see what this upset has done to us. We are trembling. We feel weak. We must retire.”
Tretar snapped his fingers. The valet clapped his hands. Slaves brought forth a sedan chair that had been standing nearby. Other slaves lifted His Imperial Majesty gently in their arms, carried him bodily from the cushions on which he’d been seated to the sedan chair, where His Majesty was settled, with much fuss and bother, among the cushions. The slaves hoisted the chair onto their shoulders.