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“You won’t be rid of it that easily.”
Kurnos started at the sound of voice. Turning, he peered down the rows of empty vaults, gray shadows in the gloom. There were tales of ghosts-the Seh was a burial place, after all-but the cold voice belonged to no spectre. After a moment, he caught his breath, seeing it a deeper shadow amid the murk. A cold wind seemed to blow through the catacombs as he looked upon the dark hooded figure.
Kurnos had to try a few times before his voice came. “Why not? I am Kingpriest now. I have power.”
“Indeed.” Fistandantilus inclined his head. “Much good it will do you, though, if another usurps it.”
“Usurps it?” Kurnos asked, his eyes narrowing.
“The First Daughter’s pet The monk. He already wields great power, with no crown on his brow.” The dark wizard chuckled softly. “You don’t know, do you? You don’t even know where Lady Ilista and this Brother Beldyn are right now, do you?”
Kurnos glowered, shaking his head… then it came to him, and he caught his breath, looking sharply at the sorcerer. “The borderlands. He’s in Taol?”
“Just so,” Fistandantilus said. “If you doubt me, ask your adviser, the Emissary. I have been using my magic to listen to his private conversations with the First Daughter. They scheme against you, Holiness-nothing spoken aloud yet, but that will coma Unless you use your vaunted power rather than merely talking about it.”
With a croaking laugh, he stepped hack and was gone, vanished in the darkness.
Kurnos stood silent, trembling as he stared at the emerald on his finger. The shadow within danced, mocking him, and he looked away. At once he wished he hadn’t, for his eyes turned back to the empty vault, where one day he would find eternal rest. Now, with Fistandantilus’s laughter echoing in his mind, he wondered if that time might come sooner than he hoped.
When he held court the next morning, Kurnos found everything, everyone, in the Hall of Audience looked different from the top of the dais-smaller, somehow, like Symeon’s enchanted khas pieces. The pieces were his now, though, as was the manse… the Temple… the empire. He was Kingpriest, and when the courtiers spoke to him, there was true reverence in their voices and in their eyes.
His first act was to get rid of part of his court. Power bases always shifted after a new Kingpriest’s coronation, and this would be no exception. There were certain hierarchs Kurnos favored more than the ones who had served Symeon-priests more inclined to support him-and so he dismissed Avram of Branchala and Thendeles of Majere, sending them back to their home temples elsewhere in the city. That done, he also named a new First Son: a young, raven-haired cleric named Strinam, who had vowed to support Kurnos at court, no matter what. Balthera he kept around for now. She was malleable and not the true First Daughter anyway. He had his plans for Ilista.
Finally, after Kurnos finished arranging his human khas pieces to his liking, he smiled. Shifting on his throne-it wasn’t as comfortable as it looked, and the armrests were too high for his liking-he raised a bejeweled hand for silence and made his first move.
“On my first day as Kingpriest,” he began, the dome ringing with his voice. “I make this declaration. I am not Symeon. I will not sit idly while my empire frays.”
The courtiers glanced at one another, murmuring. A few, like Lord Holger, nodded approvingly. Others frowned. He paused, noting the dissenters. They would soon follow Avram and Thendeles. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and went on.
“I speak, of course, of the traitors in Taol,” Kurnos continued. “Had we acted early, we could have hunted down these brigands easily. We didn’t, though, and now they hold Govi
“This shall no longer stand. I will not brook rebellion in my lands. Thus, I call upon Lord Holger to ride forth to Ismin. There he will meet up with the second and fourth Dromas and march to the borderlands at once.”
An explosion of voices erupted, jangling the crystal dome. A Droma was one of the largest divisions in the imperial army- some ten thousand men strong. Cities had fallen to a force that size, and now Kurnos was ordering two into the field. Not once in his reign had Symeon taken such bold action against his own people, and the courtiers quickly began to exclaim and argue with one another, everyone talking at once.
“Rubudo!” Kurnos bellowed, surging to his feet. Silence!
The noise stopped at once, all eyes turning to the dais. Symeon had never risen from his throne, either.
“I will have order in this court!” Kurnos barked. His face was florid, his nostrils flaring. To his left, he saw Loralon step forward, bowing, but he gestured sharply to stay him. “The time for conciliating with our enemies is done. I command the empire’s armies now, and I mean to use them. By Year-Turning, every Taoli who has taken up arms against this throne shall swing from a gibbet. Is that understood?”
Loralon blinked, then bowed his head and stepped back, a frown creasing his ageless face. Kurnos glared at him, then turned back to Lord Holger to give further orders. Even as he spoke to the Knight, however, he felt the ancient elf s eyes on him.
He allowed himself a wolfish smile. There would be resistance from Loralon, he knew. He was pla
The smile returned an hour later, when a soft knock sounded on the door of his private dining chamber. Kurnos ignored it, lingering over his midday meal-cockatrice stuffed with figs and a salad of Falthanan greens-until the knock sounded again. Sipping watered claret, he looked up at last.
“Enter, Emissary.”
Loralon stepped in, signing the triangle. His slippers whispered across the Tarsian carpets. Kurnos drank from his crystal goblet, watching him approach.
“Holiness,” the elf said, “I must ask you to reconsider-”
Kurnos slammed the goblet down on the tabletop with a noise that would have made most men jump. Loralon only blinked, but he did fall silent.
“I am Kingpriest now,” Kurnos growled. “I have made my decision. I will not always heed your counsel, as Symeon did.”
Loralon hesitated then clasped bis hands before he went on. “I understand that, but there is something else you must know. Lady Ilista is in Taol, in the army’s path.”
“I am aware of that, Emissary,” Kurnos said, sipping his wine. “I am also aware-as you are-of why she’s there.”
“Sire?” The elf’s eyebrows rose.
With a sweep of his arm, Kurnos knocked his goblet across the room. It smashed against the wall, making a crimson stain on the white marble. “Don’t play the fool with me, Emissary,” he snapped. “I know she and that monk of hers are consorting with the bandits even now! For that duplicity, Ilista is no longer a friend to crown or church.”
Loralon might have argued, but instead he sighed, looking at the floor. “And the monk?”
“I will cast him out as well. You are to have no further contact with either of them. If I learn you have disobeyed me in this, I will send you back to King Lorac.”
Loralon withdrew shortly after, his face drawn with worry. Seething, Kurnos turned back to his meal-and stopped, his eyes falling on the emerald ring.
It shimmered on his finger, reflecting the light that streamed in through the room’s high windows. Within the light, the shadows wavered seductively. He grimaced, feeling its band tingle against his skin, and tried to look away. To his horror, he found he couldn’t. The gem and the dark shape within caught his gaze and held it.