them a place in a fashionable regiment, or under a famous commander. All of them glared at her as she entered, sensing a potential rival. She smiled sweetly back at them and composed herself to wait. She was quite surprised when Xephan’s secretary stepped from the chamber and called her name.
Now some of the matrons smiled back at her. After all, she might have some power herself, or be a personage of some importance to the Prime Minister, a lover or a mistress perhaps. She nodded to one or two of them in a friendly fashion just to encourage their hopes and illusions, and then she stepped into the office and was face to face with the most powerful male Terrarch in the Empire.
“Tamara,” Xephan said. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
“And it is a pleasure to look upon you as well,” she replied, quite honestly. There was no denying that he was worth looking at. He was a Terrarch of quite astonishing beauty, his hair long and dark and glossy, his features sharp and masculine. Tamara could appreciate his looks with an unbiased eye. She preferred a somewhat rougher type herself but she could certainly see what the Empress was said to see in him. His good looks made up for the comparative poverty of his House, and the rustic upbringing he had spent the past century distancing himself from.
He strode across to the door and made sure it was closed, then returned to his desk and uncovered the warding globe there. A few passes and an incantation and it glowed brilliantly, letting them know they could not be overheard by sorcery.
“Your father was indiscreet,” he said, and she was surprised by the amount of anger in his voice. “The Empress is very unhappy. Killing Kathea has upset her greatly. I do not need to remind you, surely, of how any reminder of Royal mortality does that to her.”
“How do you know my father was behind the killing?”
“I have my agents. They saw his body by the way. Asea had him killed and dissected. Our Lady of the West is quite the anatomist.”
So Xephan knew about her father’s death. A stony feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. It was confirmation, if she needed it, of what Rik had said.
“Are you sure your agents are reliable?”
“Indeed I am, sweet Tamara. I had one of them recover his head from where they buried it. Would you like to see it? I have it kept in preservative fluid to remind me of the cost of failure.”
It was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping. She would not have believed it was possible to get from Halim any faster than she had, and yet, if he was to be believed, Xephan has managed to have her father’s head shipped here. His reach had grown very long indeed.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said calmly.
“Your father’s incompetence, and his protege Jaderac’s, has brought us all to the attention of the Inquisition. Joran is in Halim, making inquiries. There are matters afoot that the Brotherhood did not want brought to their attention for as long as possible.” There had been a time, not so long ago as Terrarchs measured time, when Xephan had been her father’s protege too. He seemed quite determined to forget that.
“Your spies have been busy,” she said, letting a note of amusement show in her voice.
“I am the Empress’s first minister. It is my duty to know that such things are going on. It is your duty to let me know.” She studied him closely.
There was something different about the way he talked to her, about his whole manner. He was more assured, more confident. It was as if he had stepped out of the shadow of her father and become wholly his own person. And there was something else, something she could not quite put her finger on, a subtle difference in the way he carried himself. He was more poised and graceful, seemed to have achieved the control of a dancer or a master swordsman.
“Are you talking about my duty to the Empress or to the Brotherhood?”
“Both.”
“So you speak for the Brotherhood as well as Arachne now?”
“The Council met when news of what had happened to your father reached us. It was decided that I would lead.”
“I should have been there.”
“Alas, you were not here, but do not worry, the meeting was quorate.”
“It’s nice to know that you still consider yourself bound by the same petty rules as others.”
“Do not be foolish, Tamara. We both know the Council’s decision merely reflects the realities of power. They support me because I am the best Terrarch for the job and because I have the most power.”
“And if I disagree?”
“Then you disagree, but your father is dead, killed by some half-breed apprentice, and I do not think you wish to set yourself against the Council.”
In this he was right. The Council contained some of the most potent sorcerers in the Brotherhood as well as some of its richest and most influential members. She felt a growing sense of resentment. Xephan was taking too much for granted, and so were the others. Her father had founded the Brotherhood, and she was his heir. She should at least be consulted. Xephan took her by the arm, gently, as if seeking to mollify her. His grip was surprisingly strong.
“Do not worry,” he said. “Your father did a most excellent job until his regrettable madness set in. We will see that his work is completed and the Enlightened Ones come to rule here.”
There was a total and frightening assurance in his voice, and for a moment, it seemed to her as if something else looked out at her from behind his eyes, something ancient and wicked and not entirely mortal. She was reminded of Rik and what had happened to him, but whatever was in Xephan was both more Terrarch and less innocent than the half-breed youth had been.
“How can you be so certain?” she asked, to see if she could goad him into speaking.
“Because I am their messenger. I have looked into the Black Mirror and seen what lies beyond.”
So that was what had happened, she thought. The Mirror had been centuries in the making, and now they had finally found the courage to use it. Had her father known about this, she wondered? And if so why had he not told her? The Black Mirror was the Brotherhood’s greatest artefact, a device intended to allow communication with Al’Terra.
“That was my father’s role.”
“Your father lacked the purity of spirit. His hungers soiled him and made it impossible for him to look into the depths.”
“So you claim.”
“So I know. Believe me, I now know more about these things than anyone in this world. More even than the likes of Lady Asea or Ilmarec or the other so-called sorcerers of the First.”
There was a fearsome pride in his voice, and a resentment that she understood all too well. They had both stood in the long shadows cast by the First. For someone as ambitious as Xephan that must have been a hard thing to bear.
“I have become greater than your father, greater than the Scarlet sorceress, and soon you shall see proof of it.”
His fingers bit into her arm painfully now, and the malevolent thing behind his eyes looked at her with something like hunger. She began to feel a little bit afraid.
“And you too will have a place in the new order of things, do not worry, Tamara. Your place among us is assured.”
“I am glad to hear it,” she said. “You have taken so much else for granted.”
“The Brotherhood values you very highly,” he said. “Just how highly you shall soon find out.”
“You have a mission for me, I take it.”
“Soon. Soon. Sweet Tamara. After you have renewed your vows of service.”
“To you?”
“To the Brotherhood. We have introduced a new oath and it must be sanctified in the sight of the Enlightened Ones.” Tamara thought she understood where this was going, and she did not like it in the slightest.
“You mean I must look into the Mirror.”
“You grasp the essence of matters so quickly.”
“And what will that do to me?”
