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Chapter Thirty-Five
The tension in the Emperor Garim Chancellery could have been used to chip flint as Darcel Kinlafia settled into the place in the gallery to which his candidacy for the House of Talents entitled him.
The sunlight streaming in through the windows framed in the black-and-white ba
Zindel chan Calirath, who should have been at the Temple of Saint Taiy, preparing for his coronation, sat like a statue of Ternathian granite. The black mourning band around his right arm was matched by the bands around the arms of every other man and woman in that enormous chamber, and the flags of every nation of Sharona flew at half-mast. The death of the heir to any imperial throne was always a world-shaking event; the death of this particular heir had shaken an entire universe to its foundation.
Andrin Calirath sat beside her father, her own face pale and drawn with grief. The preparation of her Glimpse had done nothing to lessen her sorrow or the profound, brutal shock of her loss, and nothing could have prepared her to deal with her younger sisters' grief. She'd argued against her father's decision the night before, but she knew now that he'd been correct. She had needed rest ... and she was profoundly grateful that her mother and sisters had no official reason to be here this morning. Indeed, she wished desperately that she hadn't had to be here, either. But there was absolutely no choice about that, despite her youth.
With Janaki's death, Andrin Calirath, at seventeen, had become not Heir-Secondary to the Winged Crown of Ternathia, but Heir Apparent to the Throne of Sharona, and all the crushing weight of the multiverse seemed to be bearing down upon her shoulders.
I should still be with my tutors, a small voice wailed in the back of her mind. I'm not ready for this—it wasn't supposed to be my job!
Yet even as that little voice cried out in protest, she knew it was her job. That it had always been here, waiting for her, if anything happened to Janaki.
Shamir Taje, unlike Andrin, was not in his place at his Emperor's elbow. Since the formal ratification of the Act of Unification, Taje, as the effective First Councilor of the worldwide empire to be, had replaced Orem Limana as the presiding officer of the Conclave. Under the terms of the Unification, the Conclave was to continue to function as the effective caretaker government of the new empire until after the formal parliamentary elections scheduled for two months after the official Coronation. Now, that Conclave's members sat almost as still as Zindel as Taje stepped up to the podium Orem Limana had occupied when it first assembled.
"This Conclave is now in session," Taje a
That morning, the invocation was short and to the point: Guard us, heavenly protectors, and help us choose wisely in this battle to save ourselves.
Then Taje took the podium once again.
"As all of us, I'm sure, have already been informed," he said, his voice harsh and rusty with fatigue,
"Crown Prince Janaki chan Calirath has fallen in battle against the enemies of Sharona. Regiment- Captain chan Skrithik and Division-Captain chan Geraith both agree that it was only the Prince's Glimpses which allowed Fort Salby to hold. And—" he looked up, forced to clear his throat hard, despite all his years of political experience "—the Division-Captain has confirmed that Prince Janaki knew it was a Death Glimpse before he chose to remain as part of the garrison defending Fort Salby and Salbyton's civilian population."
There was a moment of profound silence, and then Taje straightened his shoulders.
"Rather than rehearse the truly harrowing details, which have been summarized in reports that are being bound for distribution as we speak, I will turn the podium over to His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor- Elect of Sharona. But first, I ask that all please rise and bow heads for a moment of silence to honor the Crown Prince and the thousands of others that we estimate have been murdered in this Arcanan assault."
Kinlafia heard Temple bells tolling in the distance as the word raced out through Tajvana and the rest of Sharona, signaling Voices across the world to sound the bells in honor of their dead, royal and common, military and civilian. He shivered as the listened to those deep, rolling tones of grief and respect. He'd never heard so many Temple bells at one time. The sound reverberated through the city, through his bones. They rang out their dirge for five full minutes, calling to the thousands of Sharonian souls trying to find their way to the heavens of home.
In the end, the last shivery tone died into silence, and Zindel chan Calirath took the podium.
It was obvious he hadn't slept. Kinlafia's seat was close enough for him to see the bloodshot eyes, haggard with dark circles. The Emperor gripped the sides of the podium for long, silent moments, simply standing there in the heartlessly plain black and white mourning tunic and trousers instead of the jeweled coronation robes he ought to have been wearing.
Then he began to speak.
"Over the past several weeks," he rasped, his deep voice rough-edged with fatigure and grief, "we have wondered and debated over Arcanan's possible intentions. Those intentions are now brutally clear. We neither asked for nor provoked this war. We attempted to deal fairly and openly with the enemy—only to be met with treachery and escalating violence.
"I have been closeted with the Chiefs of Staff, the elected Speakers of this Conclave, and the first Director of the Portal Authority for most of the night. We've discussed threats and options for meeting them, and we have reached the following decisions.
"We are instituting an immediate recall to active duty of every Soldier, Sailor, and Marine under the age of forty. We realize the terrible hardship this will place on families and businesses, but we have no choice. Our standing army is far too small to fight a war of this magnitude. If circumstances force our hand, we will recall all former military perso
"We are also asking for emergency volunteers from the Talents to fill critical positions in communications, intelligence gathering, medical care, and many other areas. If we ca
Shock detonated through every Talented delegate to the Conclave. Even Darcel was stu
"You will be silent!"
Zindel chan Calirath's bull-throated bellow stu
"By our best estimate, judging from when we initially lost contact with our forces in Hell's Gate," he said into the ringing stillness, biting off each rough-edged, husky word like a sliver of bone, "the Arcanans advanced over four thousand miles in approximately twelve days. They are now little more than forty-four thousand miles from Sharona. If they launch a second—and successful—assault on Fort Salby and continue to advance at the same pace, they could cover the remaining distance to this very city in barely three months. Do not presume to protest anything the Throne demands in a war of survival. We don't have time for it, and I will not let any of you jeopardize all of us. Is that clear?"
No one said a word, and Zindel chan Calirath's nostrils flared with satisfaction.
"Good," he said much more quietly. "Then understand this, as well—all of you. We did not start this war, but we will finish it. We will take back the portals they've taken from us in their treacherous attack.
We will punish the atrocities they have committed against our people. And we will insure that this
'Union of Arcana' will never again pose a threat to us, to our children, or to our grandchildren."
A roar of approval went up, louder by far than the previous protest. Kinlafia found himself on his feet with the rest, applauding madly, yet even as he did, he looked down from the gallery at Chava Busar's face and saw the cold, calculating eyes that watched Zindel with carefully veiled contempt.
When the tumult finally died, Zindel continued his implacable, methodical outline of his preparations.
Troops to be raised and trained, railroads to be extended, shipyards to be built, munitions factories to be expanded, fortifications to be pla
"What I require from you," he finished finally, "is the immediate passage of sufficient taxation to pay for these utterly critical measures. We do not have time to wait for formal parliamentary elections. The Arcanans have taken that luxury out of our hands. When those elections are held, I will seek approval of our present emergency revenue measures from that Parliament, but they must be passed now, and they will not be a negligible burden for anyone. This will be an expensive war. Never doubt that. Every Sharonian will feel the bite of higher taxes, and that bite will be deep. Many will protest when they realize just how deep. But when they do, ask them this question. Which do you prefer—higher taxes and higher prices, or Arcanan dragons in your skies, burning down your homes and loved ones? That is their choice. We did not ask for this war, but we will, by the Triad, fight it with everything we have—with every ounce of strength we possess!"
Another ovation met that statement, although it was more subdued than the last one. Talk of things like higher taxes and conscripted labor forces had that effect.