Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (58 page)

The Orm had banked to the west, and the Barathosian riverboats were out of sight. He lifted her out of the water and placed her on a piece of wreckage three boards wide. It would have to do for now.

Voices downriver drifted up on the wind, and it took Aelron a few moments to realize he wasn’t alone.

“There!” Morrigan said.

A riverboat with a covered deck, smaller than the two blockading the Egis port, traveled up from the south, its great wheel spinning fast against the raging current.

That’s why the bastards didn’t pursue us. They knew there was another one coming.

What should he do? Should he look for help or take his chances? The shock of the explosion was clouding his mind.

Morrigan began shouting and waving.

“What are you doing? They’re Religarians!”

“No. It’s a cargo vessel!”

A brown-turbaned Religarian with thick muttonchops pointed at Aelron and was shouting to someone else on the ship.

“Grab the lines!” the man yelled. He never took his eyes off Morrigan.

Two thick ropes landed in the water next to Aelron and Morrigan.

“Hurry!” the man yelled. “They have spotters!”

Aelron nodded and fastened a rope around his waist while Morrigan did the same with hers.

As the strangers lifted them out of the water, the turbaned man approached the side of the boat and pulled the right side of his shirt open.

On his chest was a sapphire tattoo of a radiant sun.

“Dear gods,” Morrigan said. “What have I done?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Coteon’s death in 669 BCE was a great loss to the scholarly community, and a great loss to Clan Mukhtaar. I say this because Nuuan and I found the Mukhtaar Chronicles to be largely neglected in his absence. I can only hope one of the countless sealed chambers within the Mukhtaar Estate contain additional works and commentaries of his.

I’ve removed the insane ramblings of Tycon Mukhtaar and placed them into a separate volume. The writings are little more than “pure blood” propaganda, legitimizing genocide in the name of keeping the Mukhtaar Lordship “sacred”. I’ll make them public one day so that the priesthood can judge for itself.

I shall endeavor to fill in the gaps where Coteon left off. Following his example, I will not continue the system of numbering verses. The chronicles of the lords is not intended to be a collection of sacred writings as was the Origines, and I do not wish to lend any more weight to my words than they deserve.

- Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 12 CE

Nicolas paced between a gold-trimmed buffet and a door with a golden handle.

One minute, he’d been escorted from the throne room, and the next he was having some crazy acid trip about a picnic at the Pinnacle, complete with a healthy dose of
512 Pecan Porter
and Kagan singing Maori party songs.

Saleem must have had something to do with it. Was he the aging cognitomancer Nuuan had warned him about?

And speaking of Nuuan, how could he betray them like this? Had Nicolas followed his gut, he would
never
have told the emperor about Kaitlyn.

There has to be something I can do!

Nicolas leaned his head back and looked up.

He stood under a ceiling trimmed with gold crown molding. A spiderweb pattern of gold filigree led from the molding to the center of the ceiling, where a gold-trimmed chandelier hung. The room was well appointed. Not in a “this place has tasteful furniture” sense. It was more like a “let’s cover everything in gold to let people know we’re rich” sense.

But it wasn’t the waiting or boastful display of wealth that was upsetting Nicolas. He had no idea where Kaitlyn was or what they were doing to her.

The imperial guard had brought them there to wait on Zorian, according to Saleem. And while it wasn’t a proper jail cell, the guards posted outside made it clear he wasn’t welcome to roam.

“You’re smart enough to know you’re in danger, I presume?” Kagan asked.

The sudden sound of Kagan’s voice was startling.

“What do you mean
I’m
in danger?” Nicolas said. “You think you’re making it out of here alive if they turn on us?”

“If I make it out of here
alive
, it will be a miracle for the chroniclers.”

“Semantics. You need to find a way to tie them up in conversation so I can slip out and find Kait.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I
know
it’s not a good idea!”

The golden door handle turned, and the door swung open.

Zorian Osa and a man in simple tunic and trousers entered. Zorian swept his gaze around the room and settled on the gold-trimmed buffet. He made a clicking noise with his tongue and looked at the other man.

“Tullias,” Zorian said.

The man in simple clothing stepped forward and bowed.

“The emperor’s manners are lacking,” Zorian said. He flashed a fake smile at Kagan. “Have refreshments brought from the kitchens.”

“At once, Zhuma.”

Tullias bowed and left.

Start doing what you do best
, Nicolas said through the necromantic link.

What I do, as you put it, doesn’t simply happen,
Kagan said.
It requires weeks…months of meticulous planning. Politics isn’t magic. Zorian has all the advantages here.

“Zhuma,” Kagan said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that is a Barathosian word, is it not?”

Zorian lost the fake smile and stepped closer to Kagan.

“I serve the Diamond Throne,” Zorian said. “I am here to bring you to justice for the death of Yotto. The Glorious One demands it.”

Kagan chuckled.

“You find this amusing?” Zorian said.

“Your empress’s son breached protocol and failed to identify himself,” Kagan said. “Do you think I’d be foolish enough to kill the heir of a foreign nation while trying to establish diplomatic ties? Summon the emperor. At
once
!”

Zorian casually went to a gold-painted chair next to the buffet and sat facing Kagan.

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of puppet masters, Archmage,” Zorian said. “I hold Toren Relig’s strings now. And you’ll find I have a firm grip. He may fear losing his soul to you, but I assure you he fears losing his empire to me much more.”

Kagan sat in the chair facing Zorian, adjusted his clothes and leaned back.

“Then we are at an impasse,” Kagan said.

Zorian clicked his tongue. “An impasse is only possible when power is in balance. Your power was forfeit the moment you arrived.”

Every word he spoke is correct,
Kagan said.
He holds the power here. You bumbled into his trap like a fool, and now we will pay the price.

“Need I remind you I’m a magus and you are not?” Kagan said.

“You disappoint me, Archmage. I was told you dealt with such matters with grace and finesse. Yet here you are threatening me like a cutpurse with a blunt object. Come now. It’s beneath you.”

“Then you tell me,” Kagan said. “This is your show. How does it play out?”

“
Show
is a wonderful choice of words, for reasons I’ll come to. Suffice it to say I’ll not arrest you. You’re free to go.”

What’s his angle?

I have no idea,
Kagan said. “Setting me free is an odd way to bring me to justice.”

“I have a great deal of respect for you,” Zorian said. “I’m told you are—or were, forty years ago—an eminently reasonable man. I intend to appeal to that sense of reason. We will have two conversations. Consider it a play in two acts, to use your earlier metaphor. I have every confidence that by the end of our second conversation, you will come with me to Barathosia of your own free will.”

Is he insane?

You can bet your life he is in full control of his faculties,
Kagan said.
This is a very dangerous man.

“If you decide to do
otherwise
,” Zorian said, “there is a
very
angry admiral sitting off the coast who would love nothing more than to take vengeance on you in the name of the Diamond Throne.”

“
Now
who’s threatening with a dull object?” Kagan said.

“Some dull objects are sharper than others.”

Tullias entered the room carrying a tray, which he set on the buffet.

“I’ll return soon for our first conversation,” Zorian said. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

Zorian and Tullias left, closing the door behind them.

“I am at a complete loss,” Kagan said. “He could have had me killed or arrested, yet he leaves me here to wait on a
conversation
.”

“There’s something bigger at play here,” Nicolas said. “If he represents the Diamond Throne, and that Admiral does as well, then why do they seem to be at odds with one another? The
angry admiral
wants you dead, but Zorian wants you to go with him?”

“Whatever this is, it will not end well. Perhaps you should take his offer and leave.”

“I know you’re not that ignorant.”

“Ignorance would have you remain in danger when you should flee to safety,
Archmage
,” Kagan said.

“You don’t see how trapped we are because you don’t care a whit about what happens to Kaitlyn.”

“There are many females in this world, boy, and many of them will want to spend time with a man of your status.”

Heat rose in Nicolas’s face.

“Was that how you saw my mother?” Nicolas said. “Just another
female
in the world?”

Kagan stood, toppling the chair behind him. “No! And don’t you ever suggest it!”

That was…unexpected.

“So you
did
have feelings for her?” Nicolas asked.

“Of course I did! I loved Allyson!”

Kagan sat once more.

“This existence is a strange one,” Kagan said. “I don’t know how much of what I do is my own volition and how much is compelled. I don’t know where I stop and you begin.”

Nicolas sat in the chair Zorian had left behind.

“I’ve never heard a penitent speak like you,” Nicolas said.

“You commanded me to be myself. I suspect that has something to do with it.”

“One thing is certain,” Nicolas said. “There’s no way I’m slipping out of this room with those guards outside.”

“Then all we can do is wait.”

Nicolas nodded. But he couldn’t help wanting to fight his way through that door.

Hold on, Kait. I’ll be coming for you.

True to his word, Zorian didn’t keep Nicolas and Kagan waiting long. He returned to their well-appointed, gold-encrusted, wealth-exuding room about an hour later. His servant Tullias followed with a full dinner tray, which he placed on the buffet.

A small part of Nicolas was surprised the food wasn’t gold plated too.

“I’ll begin our first conversation with a very simple question,” Zorian said. “Will you accept that what you did was wrong, a crime against the Diamond Throne, and turn yourself over to me?”

Zorian held up a finger to forestall a reply.

“Before you answer, there’s a story you must hear,” Zorian said. He stood from his chair and paced.