They were here to stop him.
He wondered if Liyana was with them, or if Bayla was.
“I had hoped to avoid any deaths,” the emperor said.
General Xevi grunted. “Your Imperial Majesty has inherited your father’s optimism. It is an admirable trait.”
“But not a realistic one, you believe.” He had hoped that during the journey, his generals would learn to trust him. The emperor caught himself before he sighed. Around them, soldiers were watching him for his reaction. He smoothed his face to project unconcerned interest.
General Akkon nodded his agreement.
“We outnumber them ten to one,” General Xevi said. “As you ordered, we have allowed their scouts to return unharmed. By now they must know the size of our force.”
The emperor heard the disapproval in his voice and ignored it. He had hoped the sheer size of his army would cause the clans to disperse. But instead the clans had pitched their camps as if this were a joyous festival. “Gentlemen, your recommendations,” the emperor said.
“Cavalry,” General Akkon said.
He was a man of few words. General Xevi was not. “Indeed. It will show our intent and our power. We hold the remainder of the army in reserve to emphasize our superiority, and we trounce the savages with one elite force.”
“The ‘savages’ could win,” the emperor pointed out.
“Extremely unlikely,” General Xevi said. “We have superiority of armament and training. If they had chosen their battle in an area of topographical variation, then I would say they’d have the geographical advantage due to their familiarity. But a flat plain? Their choice of location reveals their inexperience with battle tactics.”
“They have resources beyond sheer numbers,” the emperor said.
General Akkon grunted. “Bedtime stories.”
“Might I remind you of the horses, as well as the worm that terrorized our finest?” His pet magician had not captured all the deities. The ones who still remained in the Dreaming would not be a problem, but a few had reached their clans successfully. Add in the ones who escaped. . . .
“Luck,” General Akkon said. “A localized abnormality.”
“Look at these people,” General Xevi said. He waved his hand at the clans. His jeweled rings flashed in the glaring sun. “They are barely above animals, scratching their lives out of the sand. If they had access to special powers, they would have built cities! We would be facing an advanced culture with civilized tools and weaponry. As it is we are facing the equivalent of our ancestors. Let us show them what the modern man can do.”
“One strike with one elite force,” General Akkon said.
“Yes!” General Xevi said. “Shatter their naive belief in their own power. Teach them what it means to stand in the way of the Crescent Empire.”
The emperor thought about Liyana and pictured her as he’d first seen her, walking into his tent as if she owned it. He hadn’t seen her escape, but he’d heard about it. She had ridden on the back of that monster, the salt worm. She must have been magnificent. He wished he could have seen it. After the chaos had died down, he had not ordered pursuit. Looking at the gathering of clans, he wondered if that had been an error.
Mulaf had seemed so certain that it was Liyana, not Bayla. But Mulaf was not available now to lend his expertise. He had been unconscious ever since they entered the desert. The doctors had hopes for his recovery— they reported moments of alertness and said he often twitched unlike any coma victim they had ever seen—but they could not identify the cause of his ailment. In his moments of clarity, he was said to be in good spirits, even giddy. Regardless, the man was useless in the moment in which the emperor needed him. The emperor had no one of the desert to mediate. Still he had to try.
“We will parlay,” the emperor said.
“They will not listen,” General Akkon said.
General Xevi nodded vigorously and opened his mouth to expand on that sentiment.
The emperor interrupted him. “Slaughtering them is a poor welcome to the empire for our future citizens. Send messengers to issue invitations. Invite one representative from each clan.”
He returned to his tent to prepare his speech for the representatives, but he imagined saying each phrase to Liyana.
One by one the messengers filed into the emperor’s tent. Each held a folded parchment. Each handed the parchment to the emperor, bowed, and retreated without ever meeting the emperor’s eyes. A few sported bruises and broken noses. One limped. None spoke.
The emperor accepted each parchment and thanked each messenger for his service. He then opened it, read the single line printed or scrawled on it, and laid it in a pile. Finishing, he bowed his head.
“Your Imperial Majesty?” General Xevi ventured. “What is the response?”
He swept the parchments off his desk with a swat of his hand and stood up so fast that he tipped over his chair. It crashed backward, and the gilded edges cracked. He stalked to the back of the tent and stared at the broken diamond statues that Liyana had left behind. Liyana had destroyed nearly all of them, even those without deities inside them. Resourceful woman. And stubborn. Like her clans. He’d kept the broken statues to ensure that he did not forget that. He couldn’t underestimate her or the clans.
He heard the elderly generals bend to scoop the parchments off the floor. Each was stamped or marked with the symbol of a clan: wolf, silk, horse, raven, scorpion, wind, sun, snake, tortoise . . . Each held one sentence:
“We must proceed with the aim to minimize casualties,” the emperor said. These were Liyana’s people, not his enemies.
General Akkon grunted. “Cavalry. Or fifth squadron.”
Turning to face them, the emperor shook his head. “You misunderstand me. The only way to minimize casualties is to ensure that we win the war, not merely one battle. We must convince them of the impossibility of opposing us now and in future generations. This victory must be swift, decisive, and thorough.”
“Merciful brutality,” General Xevi said. “Your father would have approved.”
He thought again of Liyana and wondered what she would say. “I am not doing this for him,” the emperor said. “Spread the word. We attack at dawn.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Liyana woke before dawn. She burst out of her tent and scanned the horizon. Black shadows, the tents of the emperor’s army, still filled the eastern view. Gray blue, the predecessor of the dawn, tinted the east. She saw a flash of distorted stars overhead—a sky serpent twisting in the sky. Ever since the clans and the army had pitched their tents at the foot of the forbidden mountains, the sky serpents had circled overhead. Liyana hoped that they would convince the emperor to retreat. But still he sent his messengers and made his demands.
Her heart raced, and she didn’t know why.
Bayla was silent for a moment, and then she said,
Guards typically paced the perimeter of the emperor’s camp. Liyana had gotten used to seeing them, a distant audience, as the clans went about the business of establishing their base. She had also become used to the sounds of the large camps as they drifted across the desert—their horses, their cooks, their hunting dogs, their endless practice drills. It was never quiet. Until now.
Liyana accepted the magic from Bayla as easily as catching a ball, and she flowed across the desert to the emperor’s encampment. She expected to touch the souls of the sleeping soldiers. . . . But she felt no one.
Keeping herself tethered to her body, Liyana sped beyond the camp. She swept the distant horizon, and she
