confusion.
Naamen said, “Kelis, they’re madmen. I see them now. Really see them! What should we…”
Kelis did not hear the rest of his sentence, his mind stuttering over the realization. Those who saw them… For people did see them! It was clear in the way they cringed in surprise, the way confusion melted into fear as soon as their eyes touched on them. The Santoth were visible now, and horrible! Revealed here right in the heart of the empire. They now looked taller than normal men. Seven, eight feet, perhaps-towering over the gathered crowd. Their long arms swung in great arcs, like scythes attacking wheat. They headed for the gates of the lower town, the entry point for everything else on the island.
“Brother, go back to Benabe and Shen,” Kelis said to Naamen. He turned away from the sorcerers long enough to draw his gaze. “That’s what you should do. If anything happens”-he paused, snapping his head around to watch the disappearing Santoth, then met Naamen’s eyes fiercely-“protect them with your life. If this goes badly, hide them. Don’t hesitate. Hide in the lower town. Do what you must, but protect them. Do not try to go to the palace. Stay in the lower town. If things are calm, come at sunrise to the inner gate-the lion gate that opens to the second ring. I will come for you there.”
That was all he had time for. He peeled himself away from Naamen’s entreating eyes and looked at Leeka instead. He called the man by name, and when he had his attention said, “Are you with me? Or with them?”
Leeka answered, “I’ve been deceived.”
“We’ve all been deceived,” Kelis said. He raised his ironclad hand, as much for himself to note as for Leeka.
“Yes, but I for many years now.” He stared after them, thoughts clearly racing behind his eyes. “They used me. When I thought they were teaching things, they were really pulling knowledge from my mind, learning about the world. Without even knowing it, I helped them find Shen. I can’t explain it, but I feel it. They worked to win her trust from a distance. When they felt Shen was within their reach, they sent me out to bring her in. They couldn’t do it themselves, so they used me. Now my eyes are open. I know things about them as well.”
To Kelis’s surprise, Leeka jumped the gap to the pier and began shoving his way through the roiling, agitated crowd behind the sorcerers. He moved not with their speed but as if he were grabbing hold of the energy in their wake and heaving himself forward.
Kelis made the same jump and ran in pursuit.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
T hough aspects of Acacian royal culture had always been strictly formalized, one thing had remained variable. Akaran monarchs had never been required to wear a specific insignia of their rank. They had to wear something for official state functions, but just how they chose to mark their status was left to their personal inclination. Edifus had stayed a warrior, choosing to display his status purely through the deference strong men showed him. Tinhadin was often pictured with a narrow crown; but others over the years had necklaces fashioned for their coronations, earrings, even brooches like the one Corinn’s mother wore-a turquoise acacia tree set against a silver background.
Corinn had worn that piece at many a state function. She did not wear it today. She had a choice from her ancestors’ jewelry, but when her servants had offered to bring her the family’s heirlooms, she had said that it was not necessary that she examine them. She knew what she wanted. “I’ll wear Tinhadin’s crown.”
That was what she wore as she entered the Carmelia via the same tunnel through which she had run in panic just a few months earlier. She walked along the causeway at the slow, ceremonial pace the priestess of Vada inflicted upon them from the front of the processional. Corinn’s eyes flew around joyfully, taking everything in. How different this entry was from last time. Back then, she stumbled in with her garments shredded. She had been stained with her own blood, her lungs heaving, and every fiber of her body twisted in fear. A scene of carnage greeted her. Dead Marah on the field. Numrek swinging their massive swords. Mena fighting the monsters with a sword so large she looked like a child holding it. Aaden nowhere to be seen. Oh yes, things were different now.
Joyous onlookers filled the massive stadium. Thousands upon thousands of them. Agnates and other Acacian aristocrats; senators from Alecia who sported that city’s latest fashions; Aushenian royalty and chieftains from all the Talayan tribes; all the generals and officers near enough to attend; merchants from all the provinces in their respective garb, colorful, bejeweled, grinning: they all stood up and applauded the royal party’s entry. Corinn adored the colors of people’s garments and the various hues of their skins and idiosyncrasies of their cultures. Think of the breadth of rule they symbolized.
The floor of the stadium thronged with Marah officers, each of them stationed before units of troops adorned in all their finery. They were but a fragment of the army she could call on, and everyone admiring them knew as much. In the sky above, Elya’s children circled. Their wings stretched wide and glorious, beating with strength the world had never seen. Savagely beautiful. Awe-inspiring. The queen controlled the skies and the land. It would not be long before the seas were hers as well. She imagined that the leaguemen in their plush viewing boxes sensed as much.
She loved it all, even the way the sky had cleared to a marvelous blue, a mild winter day with enough of a breeze that the long banners attached at high points all around the stadium rippled with serpentine grace. She had filled the Acacian air with a mild euphoria for several days now, and she knew that the Prios vintage flowed freely. Still, the bliss that she felt came from satisfaction with what she had achieved. There was an irritation somewhere beyond the euphoria, some other song out in the world beyond the Carmelia, but she ignored at, as she ignored the visions she had of things that nobody else saw. It would not ruin this day.
The tunnel gates slammed shut heavily. They would stay that way for the duration of the ceremony.
The procession turned and began to ascend a series of five flights of stone steps toward the ceremonial dais. Corinn studied her brother. He would be king in just a few short hours. He looked marvelous. It was impossible to imagine that he had ever been removed from life. The energy in him shone from his tan face as if a sun heated him from the inside. His smile was a gift he gave out freely as he walked. He greeted people by name, nodded at others. Occasionally taking a hand offered to him, he blessed them with his touch. His flowing blue robe hung perfectly on his slim frame, the rich hue of the satin fabric radiating kingly calm, depth, and even an air of wisdom.
Corinn had been skeptical of the emblem he chose to wear as the embodiment of his royal rank, but she had to concede that there was a bit of flair in the simplicity of the gold tuvey band he wore around his right bicep. All Talay would love him for that-and fight to the death for him.
Perhaps as the years passed she would loosen the grip she held on him. No, not perhaps. She would. Absolutely, she would. She would restrain only the parts of him driven to dreaming ideals the people were not ready for. That rash side of his nature, which had cost him his life, needed to be starved out of him. At her side all his strengths would shine; his weaknesses would atrophy and fall away. He would learn the rightness of her rule and take it into his heart. Then they really would do fine things together.
They would fight off the attacking horde. The Auldek could not stand against her command of the song any more than the Numrek could. After that, who knew the extent of what she and Aliver could do? Wash the sin of the quota away from reality and from memory? Put the league in its place, humbled and obedient? Extend the empire right across the Gray Slopes to Ushen Brae? Of course! That was why a double monarchy was so perfect. Aliver would eventually rule in the west as she would rule in Acacia. The possibilities were endless.
After them, Aaden would be there to inherit it all. He walked just behind her, beaming, bubbling with excitement. Already, she found herself concocting the wonders that would mark his coronation. By then she would speak the Giver’s tongue as if it were her first language. And he will, too. Aaden will, too.
The queen sat with all this humming within her as the priestess opened the ceremony. She watched as Elya’s children dropped out of sight, to rest until after the coronation. She listened without listening as the sect’s purple- robed scholars read through the entire chronology of monarchs since Edifus. She greeted the procession of representatives offering gifts from around the empire: a pair of mating cranes from the Aushenian marshes, dining bowls of blue glass from the Ou family of Bocoum, a silver and turquoise necklace from Teh, a clutch of large crimson ostrich eggs, some delicacy of the Bethuni that the chieftain claimed made them more valuable by weight than gold.
