Chapter Twenty-Four

The sun was setting over the bay when Elandra and her escorts rode into Imperia. She could see the huge, ruddy orb of the sun dropping to the horizon despite the veil of gloom that shrouded the city. The black cloud covered the city completely, keeping it in perpetual twilight. The air smelted of smoke and ashes, and the cold wind of winter seemed especially sharp as her horse picked its way over the rubble and debris filling the streets.

She rode with her father, Lord Pier, Iaris, and a handful of frightened servants, surrounded on all sides by calvary. The soldiers had their hands on their weapons and were alert for trouble, their eyes shifting constantly, aware of every noise and movement.

Elandra said nothing, nor did her companions. The sight that stretched before her horrified her. Imperia, a city once so magnificent, now lay in ruins. Charred beams and timbers poked up here and there; sometimes a wall still stood, as though by accident.

She was reminded of the destroyed city Vyrmai-hon in the realm of shadow, and hastily shoved that comparison away.

“Don’t ride too close to any walls,” the officer in charge said. “Sometimes they fall.”

There had been fire everywhere, decimating every house, every temple, every shop. There had been earthquakes, leveling what remained. Nothing looked recognizable. She searched for landmarks and could not find them. Even the hills stretching up from the bay looked different, and she saw there had been a landslide that scarred the slope and altered the curve of the bay itself. Crude tents and makeshift shelters housed what few citizens remained. Scavengers poked through the rubble, clutching shawls over their heads against the cinders and ash that still blew in the air.

The air reeked of death. She saw picked bones here and there in the rubble, although an effort had clearly been made to clear the streets of corpses. Vultures perched on walls, fat and unafraid even of the living. In the distance she thought she saw something inhuman and swift leap a pile of rubble and disappear around a corner, but she was not sure.

It was as though Beloth had already risen, destroying Imperia with one flaming breath. Elandra looked at the devastation numbly, too exhausted to weep for the grandeur of this once-proud city. It had been beautiful and corrupt. It had been magnificent. Now there was nothing.

If Tirhin expected to remain here, he must be insane. She could not imagine living in this place, beneath the cloud, breathing the evil miasma of death and decay.

A gang of men darted out to block their path, bringing even the soldiers to a halt. The ambush spot was well chosen. Half-fallen walls hemmed them in on both sides. Little torchlight reached here.

Brandishing clubs and crudely made spears, the men seemed unafraid of the soldiers, who were already drawing their weapons.

“Give us your horses!” the spokesman shouted. “Give us—”

“Shut up!” the officer replied. “Get out of our way.”

“Just one horse. We have to eat. Please, we need to eat!”

Elandra could not bear their pleading. She glanced at the servants. “Throw them one of the food bags—”

“No, Majesty!” the officer said, turning in his saddle. “They’ll be on us like demons, hordes of them. Give them nothing.”

It was narrow here, and dark. Elandra could feel eyes watching her from all sides.

The brigands spoke to each other with quick whispers. “Who is she?” the spokesman called.

“Damn,” the officer said.

“Who is she?”

“Tell them,” Elandra commanded.

Albain reached over from his horse to grab her wrist in warning, but she pulled free.

“Tell them,” she said again.

This had been her city. These had been her people. She had escaped, but they had not. She could not bear to witness this now, yet she forced herself not to flinch. She felt responsible for all of them. She must find a way to help.

The officer rose slightly in his stirrups. “You are blocking the path of her Majesty, the Empress Elandra,” he said sternly. “Let her Majesty pass!”

The men fell back. “The empress,” they said to each other, elbowing and pointing. “It’s the empress.”

Someone appeared at the top of the wall, holding a torch. It shone full on Elandra as they kicked their horses forward, and more people appeared as if by magic.

“The empress!”

“It’s the empress!”

“Thank the gods, she has returned to us safely.”

Their feeble cheers broke her heart. She waved to them, trotting past as the soldiers took advantage of the chance to get free. Again she glanced back at the servants.

“Give them the food,” she commanded. “All of it.”

“Majesty!” the officer protested in horror. “No—”

But the servants were already tossing out the food pouches. Five of them landed among the townspeople, who leaped on them in sudden kicking, screaming, flailing savagery, fighting like starving animals for scant reward.

“Move!” the officer bellowed.

They galloped away, bunched so tightly together that Elandra’s leg was crushed against her father’s stirrup. Then at last they broke clear. The streets widened in a place where fewer buildings were standing. Much of the rubble had been cleared away.

The horses slowed down, their shod hooves clattering loud on the paving stones. Up ahead, Elandra again saw something lurking in the shadows. Something that looked almost human, yet was grotesquely bent at the shoulders. It did not run, but watched them from the darkness as they hurried by.

“Blessed Gault,” Albain breathed aloud. “We are surely at the end of the world.”

Shortly thereafter, they arrived at a villa, its three stories miraculously intact within its garden walls. The gardens were trampled and ruined, but only a jagged diagonal crack across the front wall of the house showed any damage. Welcoming squares of gold light shone from the windows. Torches burned at the entrance. Elandra could hear sounds of music and laughter from inside.

She frowned. How could anyone feast and make merry when the city was like this? She was so appalled she could not comment on it.

A soldier’s strong hands lifted her from the saddle and supported her a moment when her weary, cramping legs could not quite hold her.

Albain came and put his arm around her. “Can you walk, my dear?” he asked gently. “Try a few steps and see if your muscles don’t loosen.”

The journey had been long and brutal. They had spent hours in the saddle, riding at a hard pace that spared neither horse nor rider. In camp at night, she had wept with weariness, unable to eat, too frightened to care. Iaris had tried to care for her, but Elandra did not want her mother. She wanted only Caelan, but he was shackled and kept elsewhere where she could not see him. Every day she struggled for a glimpse of him, if only to know he was still alive, but they kept him hidden. He had been brought into the city by a different route from hers. Now his whereabouts were a secret. She grieved for him already, knowing Tirhin would grant him no mercy.

Elandra burned with resentment. She had tried to enlist the aid of the Lord Commander, but he refused to even grant her an audience.

Now she was here, being delivered against her will and her prayers, and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Her jinja came darting over to cling to her skirts. Albain pushed it away and it snapped at him, barely missing his fingers.

He swore, and Elandra pulled the jinja around to her other side, away from him.

“Stop that,” she scolded. “You must behave.”

“Danger,” the jinja insisted, tugging at her cloak. “Danger!”

“I know,” she said wearily, and walked into the villa.

The hall was cramped by Gialtan standards. Albain glanced around, his one eye bloodshot and glaring, but Elandra had no curiosity for her surroundings.

Minions in Tirhin’s blue livery scurried and bowed, offering them wine, taking dusty cloaks and gloves.

The servants were courteous and well trained. The furnishings were beautiful. A fire burned nearby, providing warmth against the chill of the night.

Elandra was oblivious to all of it. She stood in a fog, and cared not where she was.

“Welcome!” a baritone voice rang out.

Tirhin stood at the landing on the staircase, his arms outstretched in greeting. “My dear friends, I give thanks for your safe arrival.”

He came down the stairs slowly, favoring one leg, then limped over to them. His handsome face beneath its jaunty velvet cap was beaming with delight. He made it seem as though they hadn’t been brought here by force.

Pier bowed, but Tirhin came straight to Elandra. Taking her cold hands in his, he kissed her knuckles.

“My dear Elandra, the sight of you fills my heart with joy. I am relieved at your safe return. Welcome.”

Elandra focused on his face. He looked flushed and sweaty, a little tipsy from wine. She saw nothing but deceit and treachery in his eyes. Her own hardened with contempt. Drawing her hand from his grasp, she said nothing at all.

Tirhin flushed, frowning in quick anger. He glanced around self-consciously.

Albain cleared his throat. “About the conditions in the city—”

“Terrible, are they not?” Tirhin said, looking glad to change the subject. “That is why I had you brought here to my residence. For safety—”

“Where is Lord Sien?” Albain asked. “Where are the Vindicants? Why haven’t the temple fires been lit and something attempted to lift this cloud?”

Tirhin glared at him. “Is that a criticism, Lord Albain?”

Albain glared right back. “When I see chaos in all directions, people starving, hardly any organization or security to the place, and demons running amok as freely as they please, I feel I may comment, sir.”

“We’re all very tired,” Lord Pier interjected, trying to smooth over the sudden tension. “Perhaps in the morning, everyone will be in better temper.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Tirhin said, turning to him with a smile. He snapped his fingers to summon a servant. “We are cramped here, you understand. If the ladies will consent to share her Majesty’s chamber, then I am sure we will be able to find accommodations for these men.”

The servant bowed low.

Albain and Pier exchanged hostile glances.

Elandra turned her gaze upon Tirhin, noticing as she did so that some of his guests had ventured out onto the stairs and were gawking at her. She raised her chin very high.

“Your highness,” she said loudly, using his old title to annoy him, “your men have dragged me here against my will. Now I am to be kept your prisoner in our once proud city, which you have ruined. I hold you to blame for everything which has befallen Imperia, and I state now that I shall never marry you to preserve the throne which you have seized by deceit. I love another man, and he alone shall possess me, body and soul. As long as he lives, I am his. As for you, I would rather die first. Good night.”

Without another glance at Tirhin, who looked livid, she picked up her skirts and walked toward the stairs, forcing the servant to run after her.

“Show me to the quarters where I shall be imprisoned,” she said, and swept past the gawking courtiers, who had heard every defiant word. In silence they bowed to her, although she did not acknowledge their presence with even a glance.

Looking vexed, Iaris hastened after her. Elandra smiled to herself. Tirhin was a drunkard and a fool. He would make her pay for tonight’s humiliation, but right now she did not care.

Her chamber was luxurious and more spacious than she had expected. The opulent furnishings were not to her taste, but she had to admit the bed looked comfortable. Food and drink were waiting on a table, filling the air with their aromas. Flowers—if scraggly and none too fresh—stood in a small vase.

The gesture brought tears to her eyes. How pathetic to offer her flowers—and where had they possibly been gleaned from?— as though that was all it took to soften her heart. She sighed and stretched out her hands to the fire.

All she wanted now was a dab of water to wash her face, and the oblivion of sleep. Every part of her ached.

Iaris moved around briskly, peering behind drawn curtains at windows shuttered and barred, then coming back to rearrange the flowers and peek under the food covers.

“The food is hot,” she said. “Come and eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be a fool. Do you expect to starve yourself to death? I warn you, it is easier to be defiant on a full stomach.”

Elandra turned slightly to glance at her. The fragrance of food made her feel ill. “No, please go ahead. I don’t want it.”

“You’ve barely eaten in days,” Iaris said. “Pining for your lost lover is one thing, but you must—”

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Elandra broke in rudely. She crossed the room and sat down on the bed.

The lamps were too bright. Her eyes hurt, and her vision was blurred. She felt dizzy from the hot room and let herself sink down. The bed felt as though it were spinning. She closed her eyes.

The touch of Iaris’s hand on her brow made her open them again. She frowned, wishing Iaris would leave her alone. Her mother had been hovering near her through the entire journey, watching and criticizing, providing little comfort.

“No fever,” Iaris said. “You’ve been looking ill. Tonight you’re very pale. Did the city upset you that much?”

“Why shouldn’t I be upset?” Elandra retorted, draping her hand across her eyes to shield them from the light. “There’s nothing left.”

“Cities can be rebuilt,” Iaris said.

Elandra pushed herself up on one elbow and glared at her mother. “Stop it,” she said angrily. “Stop trying to meddle.”

“You must think positively. The empire will go on—”

“We are being swallowed by darkness, the darkness that Kostimon and Tirhin have unleashed on us,” Elandra cried. “We face our doom, and ignoring the problem does not solve it.”

“You are fretting for a man who is condemned. You are being excessively dramatic and exaggerating everything.”

“Didn’t you hear the soldiers?” Elandra asked her. “It’s dark even when the sun rises. The dark god is coming—”

“Stop it!” Iaris said, jumping up from the edge of the bed. “I will not hear such blasphemy.”

“Then stay away from me!”

“It is my duty to help you.”

“No,” Elandra said curtly. “You hope Tirhin will reward you if you persuade me to marry him. Dear Gault, the man’s arrogance knows no bounds. He acts like a bridegroom already.”

“But, Elandra, is that so awful? Yes, you’re infatuated with this Caelan. But that must end. Your rank, your lineage all forbid anything more than a mere dalliance. It’s time you thought about your future, and the future of your family.”

“Meaning you,” Elandra said in a tight voice.

“Albain and Pier will both profit from this alliance, if they negotiate carefully.”

“There will be no alliance,” Elandra said through her teeth. “I will not consent.”

“Your actions tonight were foolish. Tirhin is clearly besotted with you—”

“No!” Elandra stared at her in amazement. “He is not.”

“I saw him, child. He was beaming until you were rude to him. That is unwise, no matter what your feelings.”

“You forget that I know him all too well,” Elandra said. “He could barely tolerate me while Kostimon lived. This is nothing more than an act, part of his hypocrisy.”

“More drama. More exaggeration,” Iaris said with a sigh. “Look at this room which he has given you. The best in the villa, obviously. Food, flowers, and a good fire have all been provided for your comfort. He is—”

“What else could he offer me?” Elandra asked coldly. “I am the empress, and he is only my stepson. At the moment, most of his consequence lies in his imagination. Without me, he has nothing.”

“Then take care how you deal with him,” Iaris said in exasperation. “You are in an excellent position to negotiate. Few women are given this opportunity. Make the most of it.”

“I do not want to hear anything more from you,” Elandra said, averting her face. She was too tired and ill to go on arguing. The whole discussion was futile.

“You are putting all of us at risk!” Iaris told her. “If you care nothing about yourself, then think of your father at least.”

“I am. But I am not for sale.”

Iaris glared at her. “You have no choice.”

“No. I had no choice the first time my father arranged a marriage for me. This time is different. He cannot force me. You cannot force me.”

“As your mother—”

“You forfeited that status when you sent me away!” Elandra said. “Besides, I have given my vows to Caelan. I will not take them back.”

Rage spread through Iaris’s face. She slapped Elandra hard across the face. “You fool!”

The crack of her hand stung mercilessly. Elandra lifted her fingers to her cheek. Enraged and shocked, she stared at her mother.

Iaris glared right back. Her eyes were wide and furious. “Do you carry his child?”

Rising from the bed, Elandra said nothing.

“Do you?”

Elandra still did not speak. Inside, however, her mind was spinning at the thought of it. Perhaps that was why she was so prone to crying of late. Perhaps that was why she wanted no food, why she felt so tired. She suddenly wanted to clutch her stomach in fierce joy and triumph. Caelan’s child. Oh, blessed goddess mother, let it be true. Let her have some hope in this.

But she refused to show anything to Iaris. Nor would she answer.

“You will not tell me,” Iaris said, pacing back and forth in front of her. “Insolent, stupid girl. If you are breeding, then you will ruin everything. Tell me the truth!”

“I will tell you nothing,” Elandra said.

“You look green enough to be quickening,” Iaris said. “And by Gault, if you are, then you have put all of us in jeopardy.”

“No more than we already are.”

Iaris uttered a sharp, short laugh and tossed her head. “Really? Then think on this, my girl. If Tirhin entertains even the most remote suspicion that you have lain with that gladiator—”

“And what if it were Kostimon’s child?” Elandra said.

Iaris stopped in mid-stride and stared at her. Conflicting emotions chased themselves across her face. “The Penestricans ordered you to bear his child, did they not? They taught you how to seduce him. They gave you exact instructions as to—”

“If I bear Kostimon’s child,” Elandra said coolly as though she did not see the naked ambition in her mother’s face, “then the empire is his. The child would outrank Tirhin, whose mother was only a consort, and Tirhin’s claim would be futile.”

“Take care with your lies, my girl,” Iaris said suspiciously. “Everyone in your father’s palace saw how you looked at that gladiator. No mourning for Kostimon. No veil of widowhood. This wanton behavior—”

“I know exactly which man is the father,” Elandra said wickedly, “for I have lain with only one of them. But the rest of the world will have to wait until the child is born to know.”

Iaris glared at her, too angry to find a retort.

Elandra turned her back. “Leave me. I wish to be alone.”

She stood there, exhausted by the scene, but glad that for once she had left her mother speechless. laris’s footsteps crossed the room, then returned. “Forgive me, Majesty,” she said with mock courtesy, “but I cannot obey you. The door is locked. It seems we are prisoners together.”

Sighing, Elandra started to speak, but just then the floor trembled beneath her feet.

The bed hangings swayed, and a crack ran up the wall from the corner of the fireplace.

Iaris cried out in fear. “Merciful gods, what is happening?”

Elandra glanced up, saw the ceiling cracking, and dodged a piece of falling plaster. She grabbed a bedpost to keep her balance, and the motion stopped. The room was silent, except for the hiss of the fire.

Iaris stood white-faced with terror. “What was it?” she asked. “Where is your jinjaT’

The tiny creature popped out from beneath the bed and began to explore. Elandra brushed plaster dust from her hair.

“Stop shrieking, Iaris,” she said. “It was only an earthquake.” “It is the return of the gods,” Iaris said. “The world is ending. We are all going to die, consumed in—”

Elandra poured a cupful of water and threw it in her mother’s face.

Sputtering, Iaris stared at her.

“Now be quiet,” Elandra said. “I want my rest.”