The Eternal Emperor was sinking a broken piece of bread into a dip thick with seeds when his Aura escorted Aralim out of the iron pillars. The Walker was often surprised by how lavishly Tag’na dined—after all, he preferred to dress shirtless and walk barefoot across the warm floor of his Palace. His ample table offerings, even for a midday lunch, seemed more extravagant than many of his other habits. There were three meats—one Aralim was certain was heavily seasoned boar steaks—a soup set above a candle, a few baskets of various breads and fresh produce, and dozen accompaniments of sauces, seasonings, and snacks. As Tag’na waved Aralim forward and finished his mouthful, Aralim thought, No doubt he’s eaten every food his chefs can prepare to the point of exhaustion.
“Aralim,” the Emperor called, waving him to one of the strewn cushions. “I didn’t think you’d be back already.”
Aralim, who had delayed more than three months, smiled as he sat down. He knew time passed the ancient ruler in a blur. He set aside his old staff and put his hands in his lap. “I’ve had a thought, but I wanted your input first.”
“By all means,” Tag’na invited, then paused. “Did you hear about Vanra’s discovery from last week?”
Aralim blinked. He had not. His last couple weeks had been filled with Yoreen, social visits from Hayan and Arith, and his usual rounds to the city’s homeless shelters and chapels. “No—does it have to do with your work with the Aura?” he asked.
Tag’na wiped his mouth with a small silk cloth. He waved for Aralim to help himself as he explained, “Actually, it does not. One of Vanra’s undercover operatives found an abandoned warehouse across the river that had clearly been used as a hideout by a group of people. There were bedrolls, food supplies, signs of numerous small cookfires, a training area—the location has been secured and a thorough analysis is being conducted.”
“That would fit with the current theory that these gang members are coming from outside Rema…” Aralim realized. “Do you think this discovery will slow them, or push them to action?”
“Assuming they lost as many supporters as it seems they did against Soot, I hope it slows them,” the Emperor expressed. “Vanra has calculated that the average amount of time between attacks so far has been about a month. Maybe we’ll get two this time?” He took a sip from a glass of wine.
Aralim nodded. He still had not touched the meal. “That brings me to the reason I came here today. I think Rema—not the guards—should be resisting these attacks.”
The Emperor regarded him with raised eyebrows. “That sounds rather similar to what I suggested to Athanu. I had heard you were in protest of that idea.”
The Aura heard… Aralim thought. He doubted Niyal had interest in gossiping over their conversation with the Emperor, but the Emperor’s ears heard much farther than the company of his lunch table. “Perhaps that was a bad way to phrase it,” Aralim commented. He went on to explain, “It appears that the motive of this gang is to continue Ovoe’s goal of taking important things from you. This time, they hope to take Rema from you. The only way to truly defeat that is for the people of Rema to reject it directly. When Soot was attacked, the people simply watched. They did not stand for their country or city.”
Tag’na nodded appreciatively. Likely no others had reported what the crowds did, only what the soldiers and attackers had. He leaned back thoughtfully in his orange and red cushions. “Yes, I can understand that. So, what would you propose we do?”
“If we tell the people to stand and fight along with us, do you think they will fall to chaos, searching for something to strike against?” Aralim asked. This was his primary uncertainty with the plan his mind had formed.
The Emperor raised his wine glass again. The red liquor swished against its gleaming sides; only in Rema could you find glasswork so complex and pure. “You mean arming and authorizing them?” Tag’na questioned. “If Lord Sunaza’s reporting is right, there would be a fair bit of unnecessary bloodshed—and the Third Court would certainly receive a lot of crime allegations to assess.”
“Yes,” Aralim admitted, “a militia would go awry. Sunaza said many of the reports are of neighbors growing suspicious of each other. Do you think we could narrow it to involvement during the next attack?”
“Ah, I see,” the Emperor said. He tore off another piece of the warm bread he had been eating. “I’ll think about it. We’ll give Vanra a chance to learn what he can from the warehouse base—then I’ll decide.”
“Of course,” Aralim affirmed, bowing his head. “It seems that the attackers are being brought in from outside Rema; they lose too many men in each attack. In the very least, the people should know these are not their neighbors we are looking for.”
“We can certainly announce that,” Tag’na said. He grinned. “If only to preserve Lord Sunaza’s sanity.”
“The poor man can barely be seen beneath his paperwork,” Aralim joked. He paused and finally reached for one of the open coconuts arrayed on a platter near his elbow. He had been drinking coconut milk since he was a boy. “On another note, I have a more philosophical question for you.”
The Eternal Emperor smiled and folded his arms. “Oh good. It’s been a while.”
Aralim finished his drink and then broke apart some of the fresh pulp. “You allowed Ovoe’s schemes for quite some time and I’m sure you are well aware of both Aglo and Soot’s goals,” he explained. “Do you simply not fear them? Or do you feel their plans increase their usefulness?”
“Ah,” Tag’na said, and then he chuckled. “I’ve been asked this one before. Niyal was the last to ask me, when he joined the First Court. While I’m sure their scheming does increase their efficiency, I’m afraid the answer is more selfish.” The Emperor tilted his head and smiled with mock guilt. “It’s entertaining.”
Aralim raised his eyebrows, though he was still chewing.
His Ascendance explained, “I’ve endured 200 years of schemers, but they still have to covet and plan to steal what is mine. Sometimes it’s a study of human nature. Other times, it’s…. Well, I once asked you to overthrow me if you could. I’ve seen so much in my life—but I haven’t seen that. I want to see someone outsmart or overpower all that I am and all that I’ve built….” He trailed off, then added, “If that’s even possible.” He raised his wine glass with a grin and then took a sip.
“That’s the best answer I could have hoped for,” Aralim responded.
Tag’na laughed at the remark. After a moment, he leaned forward. “I imagine you quite like Soot, don’t you?” he asked.
“Quite a bit,” Aralim admitted. “It could be a good study of the Path to see him compete with you. Many Walkers try to visit the Orrish. Few get to see someone try to become it.”
“I’m intrigued by Soot’s approach. Did you know he wouldn’t be on the Courts if I had not intervened?”
Aralim blinked. “I hadn’t heard that. Why did you intervene?”
The Emperor opened his mouth, but then paused. A member of the Aura shuffled out of the shadows and passed Tag’na a folded note. He glanced at it, raised his eyebrows, and then passed it to Aralim. “Miresh has had another vision,” was written on the small page.
“Shall we?” Tag’na asked, gesturing toward the magician’s yard beyond the Palace proper.
“Of course!” Aralim said, standing up with his wooden staff.
There was a strong, hot breeze coming down from the mountains that day. The cherry trees that lined the outskirts of the magician’s grove were showering pink petals everywhere. Aralim felt his throat dry out before they reached the yard with Rattar’s kapok tree. Many of the magicians sat on cushions, meditating or reading. The Aura led the Emperor and his Ambassador through the courtyard and its shallow pools of water. Guards and more orange-robes trailed behind them.
They entered a small alcove lit by a brazier. Miresh was sitting inside, writing in a book. Enarrin stood on the other side of the small space and said, “Sometimes the vision isn’t about the focus. The focus is just there, somehow.”
Aralim stepped aside to allow the Emperor to enter, too. “Sounds like this one was different from the others?” he asked his young friend.
Miresh glanced up and smiled at him. Then she answered, “Not really. I just didn’t see the knife there, this time. There was a reflection in the water—it might have been that.”
“Start at the beginning,” Tag’na said.
“It’s as confusing as most of my visions are,” Miresh told them. “I see a woman diving into sea water. She swims down, straight down. I know, somehow, that she’s not just going for a swim. She’s going to swim until she can’t hold her air anymore, and then keep going. She’s… miserable. It takes a few minutes and she gets real deep and then she lets go—air bubbles cloud upward and away. But she doesn’t die. She’s just drifting down there at the end of the vision.”
“And you spoke,” Enarrin said. “She said, ‘Heart-hunter’, and ‘Unskillful Stitches: The Treatment of Infected Wounds.’ That last part sounds like a title of a book. I’ve already asked the Aura to check our records. Who knows, maybe the first part is, too?”
“Could the blade have been on the woman you saw? Just out of sight?” Aralim asked. He was always searching for clues to finding Miresh’s focus.
“Maybe,” Miresh said. “I didn’t have much of an impression of her clothes or equipment.”
Aralim nodded. He glanced at Enarrin. “Another question: I’ve been curious for a while. Visions show the focus at the current moment? There’s no time difference between visions and reality?”
“Certainly not,” Enarrin said. Miresh looked at Aralim quizzically—likely because she had known for a while—while Enarrin explained, “Visions depict the focus at any point in time. For magicians who see something broader, like a city or place… it can be even more difficult to place visions in time. For Miresh’s dagger, we can assume such an item would last… well, centuries, before decaying beyond recognition. Its intentional destruction would be another possible endpoint for her visions. But she might have had a vision two years ago that perceived events that will take place years after this woman diving, or maybe tomorrow she’ll see a vision of the knife decades before the woman dove. There’s no way of knowing. Visions are wildly open to interpretation and are rarely clearly connected to real events. Nonetheless, many presume that as the goal.” Enarrin glanced uneasily at Tag’na, but didn’t hold his gaze. They both knew His Ascendance wanted Miresh’s knife found.
“So, we have to compare these visions over the course of history,” Aralim clarified. “Could the water have been in the Eye of Maga? It seems like the least likely water to drown in.”
“That was my first thought,” Tag’na agreed. “You seemed to be on good terms with Rel, the Royal Aide there. Perhaps we should ask him to keep us apprised of visitors to the Eye?”
Aralim added, “And possibly a list of all female users until now. Miresh, can you clearly remember the face of the woman you saw?”
“I don’t,” Miresh said. She was still writing a description of the vision in the book. “It was not as clear as some past visions have been.”
“That’s fine,” Aralim assured her. “I was just thinking: the late Queen Zanna was supposedly killed in the lake. Fear is a good motive to stay submerged.”
Miresh’s eyes widened. “Are you saying she might still be down there?”
“Her body was on display at the Palace,” Aralim reminded them, “but politicians have lied before.”
“Aralim, would you write this letter?” the Emperor asked. “As a familiar name, your words would likely carry the same weight as mine, there.” Miresh and Enarrin looked back to Aralim once again.
“Of course,” Aralim said. “I’ll send it immediately.”
Miresh closed her book and stood up to walk with Aralim. Her unlit lantern staff leaned in the corner of the alcove—she picked it up and Aralim led the way out. “So, I asked Tag’na about Soot today…” he began. He said it in earshot of the others—it was good for them to know that Miresh and he were still on the same page. They might be separated by half of Gethra at some times of the year—but they always walked the Path together.