went through Khristos as he tried to imagine what they might hold. Turning, the First Mistress again faced him as he hovered helplessly in the night.
“We shared some tender moments, you and I,” she said. “But now they are finished. You must be wondering why I chose you for this, rather than some other wizard or sorceress. The answer is simple. You have come to love me, Khristos, and too much, I’m afraid. That makes you the logical choice. From the moment I first learned of the Tome and the Paragon, you became no more to me than a means to an end.”
Fearing for his life, Khristos again tried to scream. But as before, his voice was gone. All he could do was stare in horror at the determined First Mistress as she stood there in the moonlight. Then she detailed her plan for him.
If it became clear that the war was irrevocably lost, she would return to this brook and commit suicide, releasing her blood into the water, Failee said. That would activate the final part of the spell and release Khristos so that he could start his grisly mission. Khristos would rise from the water a new being. His existence would have but one goal, as would the lives of the evolving creatures that would serve him. As he listened he silently begged her to stop, to change her mind, to abandon this madness. But she did not. When she finished her tirade she turned and walked back to stand near the many earthenware jugs.
Failee levitated the first of the vessels into the air and caused it to float to a place directly over the deep pool. Suddenly the plug flew out and landed on the dewy bank. Then the jug tilted toward one side, emptying its haunting contents into the water.
The bright azure fluid coming from the jug was slimy and slick-looking. Holding thousands of Blood Viper embryos, it caused the pool to churn and glow. One by one Failee did the same with the remaining jugs. After returning each jug to the wagon bed and again covering them with the canvas, she turned to look at Khristos. For the briefest of moments he thought he saw hint of sadness cross her face. Lowering her hands, she walked down the riverbank to where he hung in her carefully crafted warp.
“Goodbye, Khristos,” she said quietly. “We shall never meet again.”
At once Khristos floated out over the pool. Again he desperately tried to break the sorceress’s spell, but it was no use. As he entered the cold brook water there was nothing he could do but succumb to Failee’s trickery. Little by little the water rose until it covered his chin, his nose, his vision. His last view of the world was of Failee’s cold, beautiful eyes staring at him.
As Khristos submerged, the brook again churned and glowed with the color of the craft. Then the water settled down, showing no trace of what had happened. After staring at the brook for a time, Failee turned and mounted the wagon. Clucking to the horses, she started back to her war camp.
In the end, Failee’s war would take her far afield, never giving her the chance to return to this brook or to send an emissary of left-leaning blood to do her bidding. Little did she know that her spell would intern Khristos and the vipers for centuries, only to be activated by a common hunter whose endowed blood meant nothing to her. Nor could she have known that when Khristos and his servants were finally liberated, Gracchus and thePon Q’tar would intervene and set the Viper Lord on a parallel but different course.
As the centuries passed and the spell held its sway, the newly minted Viper Lord came to understand Failee’s need for revenge, and his heart softened against her treachery. He still loved her, he realized, and he always would-despite how she had used him.
So much for what my life might have been, Khristos mused as his mind returned to the moment at hand. There had been no report of theJin’Sai, but he knew that it would soon come. And so I again wait in darkness with my many servants, he mused. But this time my prey is far more important. Come to me, Jin’Sai, he thought as the azure waves pounded against the shore.
Come to me and meet your fate.
CHAPTER XXV
“THE NATION WILL BE DIFFICULT TO CONTROL IF I AM not victorious,” Vespasian said sternly. Taking a deep breath, he looked Tribune Flavius Maximus squarely in the face.
“You must understand that,” the emperor added. “In the end there may be little glory in this task that I offer you. Should we fail to secure the Shashidan mines, the depleted state of the treasury might well give rise to a revolt. Only two legions will remain here in Ellistium with which to enforce martial law. Moreover, all thePon Q’tar and Heretic ranks go with me, for I will need them in the field. That leaves only you and a handful of other tribunes who can employ the craft. I do not envy you this job.”
Turning away, Vespasian resolutely folded his arms across the breastplate of his dark blue dress armor and looked around the room. He would be leaving the palace soon, perhaps never to return. He would miss it.
Vespasian stood in his private office. Broad and spacious, the room was magnificently decorated. Massive oak doors lay in the far wall, closed for the moment and guarded by two centurions on the other side to ensure privacy. The floor was made of highly polished onyx and alabaster checkerboard squares, and in its center was inlaid the letterV in solid gold. The walls were tall, with fluted pilasters between the many colorful frescoes. A wide skylight let in air and sunlight. Vespasian’s elaborately carved desk stood nearby, its top littered with parchments, beeswax plaques, styli, and abaci.
Vespasian turned and walked out onto his balcony, thinking. His legions and armada were ready and the momentous day had finally arrived. The forum lay before him, its beautiful columns and majestic buildings glistening in the midday sun.
Looking down at the impatiently waiting throng, it seemed to him that every single Ellistiumite had come to this spot to cheer the war procession’s departure from the city. The sun was high and the day hot, and the eager spectators had already waited for hours. Turning back to look at Flavius Maximus, Vespasian realized that the citizens would have to wait longer still, for he refused to leave the tribune in control of the capital until matters were clearly understood.
“What say you?” he asked sternly. “Are you up to the task? Will you and your two legions fight to the death if need be to maintain control in my absence? If not, simply tell me and I will appoint another in your stead. I will attach no shame to your decision should you decline. But I must know that whomever I leave in charge can be relied on.”
Putting down his wineglass, Flavius rose from his seat at the meeting table he shared with Persephone and Lucius Marius. Without hesitation he walked to his emperor. Thumping his clenched right fist against his chest, then opening his palm and thrusting it forward, he gave Vespasian his best military salute. Vespasian eyed him warily, wondering whether the show of loyalty was a bit too hearty.
“You have my devotion unto death,” Flavius answered. “Surely you know that. We have fought in many battles together, and I wish I were going with you yet again. But we each know that a soldier cannot choose where he fights. I have every confidence that you will succeed in taking the Shashidan mines and return home in triumph. Seeing our forces parade back through the forum with countless wagons full of Shashidan gold will indeed be a day to tell our children’s children about.”
Thinking about how his course had come to be set, Vespasian thoughtfully walked farther out onto the balcony, this time allowing the adoring crowds to see him. At once thunderous cheers arose and thousands of flower petals filled the air like so many snowflakes suddenly in a blizzard. Despite having secured the public’s badly needed confidence, Vespasian remained worried, ever calculating.
My subjects desperately want this campaign, Vespasian thought as he waved back at them. And why wouldn’t they, after the Suffragat took such pains to persuade them of its righteousness. But what do civilians know of war? Just one day on the battlefield would change many minds, but there can be no going back now. As he watched the crowd, his thoughts drifted back to the difficult Suffragat meeting that he had overseen yesterday.
The ordeal of choosing a tribune to rule in Vespasian’s absence had been politically charged and time consuming. ThePon Q’tar had wanted a man named Magnus Attilus to oversee Ellistium in Vespasian’s absence, and in many ways Attilus would have been a good choice. Attilus was mature and wise, a brilliant field commander and a powerful craft practitioner. He might have served well, and he had been on Vespasian’s list of choices.
But in the end Attilus was thePon Q’tar ’s man through and through, and because of Vespasian’s growing concerns about Gracchus’ motives, the emperor had finally rejected him. As expected, thePon Q’tar immediately
