“Your friends ought to stay here,” Athanu said, as they strode through the first orange curtain of the aura to enter the grounds of the Iron Palace. “The Emperor, if it is decided you should meet with him, will not speak with a group so large.”
Aralim paused. “Is it required for Miresh and I to appear before the Second Court alone?”
“Not required, no,” Athanu said. She folded her arms.
“We follow the Path together. We will remain together as long as possible,” Aralim said. He nodded to Hayan and Naeen, and then looked back at their sponsor.
Mistress Athanu smiled. “Very well. Aura, bring them before the Second Court at the request of Vas’vir Athanu.”
A member of the Aura had been walking by, across the crowded yard of the Palace grounds. It was a short, robust woman; her head was shaved like all of the Aura. She paused, as she was walking, and glanced at them with small green eyes. Then, without a single word, she led them across the large stone tiles to the staircase in front of the Iron Palace.
The Second Court of Rema gathered at the top of a long flight of stone steps, some twenty feet up from the courtyard. As the Iron Palace was all metal pillars, a number of red, white, and aqua cloth partitions divided the Court from the rest of the Palace. There were lots of councillors again, but not as many as the Selected of the Third Court. And instead of sitting on the rocky steps of an outdoor amphitheatre, they rested in wide wicker chairs on iron or wood poles. There were seven women, and seven men, seated in alternating order. All of them had darker skin than Aralim and Miresh, but some were copper skinned like the Raderans.
“Welcome…” drawled one of the darker skinned men, with deep wrinkles and errant whiskers.
Aralim bowed respectfully, and his friends followed suit. “I’m Aralim,” he replied. “And this is Miresh.”
“Of what family?” asked the man.
Aralim tilted his head and shook his blue-shining lantern staff. “Of the Path…” he answered, confused. Surely, the people in such prestigious seats had heard of it.
“And what business have you for our Court, Aralim and Miresh of the Path?” asked the man. His bead tunic chattered whenever it moved.
Aralim paused, and considered his words. “We seek the guidance of the Emperor for a young magician who discovered her gifts on her own.” His words echoed a little, even though the iron columns were as large as walls and spaced out before him.
“Has her gift, as you say, been confirmed by one of our own?” asked a tall woman with big earrings and a dozen golden chains dangling in her plunging neckline.
“Mistress Athanu of the Third Court,” Aralim said. “She has spoken with Miresh, and determined that she has been born with the abilities of a magician.”
The woman nodded. “And what gifts has Miresh demonstrated that would be on interest to us?”
Aralim leaned on his lantern staff. “She has had two visions.”
“We speak with many untrained but gifted individuals,” drawled a copper-skinned man with his hair in dense, dark braids. He raised a hand and smiled. “A blacksmith who dreams of foreign kings, now a lord of the Selected. What is it that this young one dreams of?”
“Miresh?” Aralim asked. It was not his to tell. And Athanu had said that it should be told with caution.
Miresh smiled though. She stood in the presence of lords and ladies more powerful than anyone she had ever heard of in the streets of Lantern Town. She told them, “I dream of a dagger. I think it has changed hands a few times already. I have drawn it, I can show you.”
She reached for Aralim’s pack until the one who had asked them held up a hand. “That’s sufficient.”
The man with the bead shirt spoke up again. “What is it that you hope to gain from speaking with the Eternal Emperor?” He smiled, politely after he asked it.
“We follow the Path,” Aralim said. “My friend has made leaps and bounds along it, in just a few months. I hope to gain the guidance and wisdom of someone so far along the Path, to help us along it too.” He knew it was a long shot—the more enlightened that a being was, the less likely they were to concern themselves with the actions and opinions of less powerful beings. That was not unfair, that was only sensible. It was the way of the world.
A nod passed between the councillors of the Second Court. “Please, give us one moment to decide what should be done,” the old man said. He bobbed his head to Aralim, and the group of friends withdrew.
They waited for a few minutes on the stairs of the Iron Palace. They had arrived at the very beginning of the day, and avoided any line. But now a line had formed, and there were a handful of others waiting on the steps. Mostly, they looked to be business folk or mercenaries. The Iron Palace must have contracted a lot of work to remain involved in the state and the governance of Numa’nakres.
Naeen and Hayan didn’t say much. They seemed surprised; perhaps the
A member of the Aura approached a few moment later, bowing and leading them back to the Second Court.
“We have sent for the First Court to gather,” a man with blue streaks in his greying hair said. The man lounged in his wicker chair, wearing an open folded robe. “You will be led to a waiting room nearby. When the time comes, only Aralim and Miresh may meet with his Ascendance. Feel free to ask the Emperor’s Aura for anything else you may need.”
Aralim stifled his smile, and bowed respectively to the lords and ladies of the Second Court. “Thank you,” he said, and nothing else was necessary.
The same member of the Aura stepped up to them. The short man had dark eyes, that almost never looked up at Aralim. He led them to the right of the Second Court, and into the big forest of iron columns. Each pillar was etched with words and designs, but none of it was depictions as he had seen on tapestries or paintings in other wealthy places. This was just a uniform decoration to avoid plainness.
The shadows of the enormous roof were kept at bay by the occasional brazier. Sometimes, servants or citizens stood near them, talking quietly. They passed groups of people dining on a low table, and another area that had been turned into some sort of gambling den, with a few chairs and tables and dice sets left open.
At last, the Aura ushered them to an empty set of cushioned chairs, between four of the big columns. A platter of fruit, cheese, and nuts sat nearby, while another table held a selection of drinks. No sooner had the Aura left them, than Hayan and Miresh looked at one another with huge smiles.
“I’m going to meet the Emperor!” Miresh gasped. After all their travels, it was going to happen. Aralim sat down near his friend and let his face grin, at last. They had journeyed for months to get here and their power was guiding them on the Path as they had sought it.
Naeen sat down, smiling too. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “You folks are never out of surprises…”
They didn’t have to wait long, but they spent the time in quiet conversation, scarcely containing their excitement. For Aralim, the wait felt like an hour, but he knew it was far less. They didn’t even glance at the foods that had been provided. The others might, while Aralim and Miresh were speaking with his Ascendance.
When the Aura returned to bring them before the First Court of Rema, Aralim and Miresh stood up, and then exchanged one more look. The young brown-haired girl grinned and winked at him. He winked back, and then they followed the orange-robed servant.
They strode quietly through the shadows of the Iron Palace, and it occurred to Aralim that he had not yet seen any of the Aura speak. They served quietly, and without bias, it seemed.
The highest lords of Rema were scattered, when they reached the First Court. There were two speaking behind the cushion seats, another was pouring wine from a pitcher, and another was writing in a book, while leaning nearby. Ten guards were present, in matte grey armour. They did not look at anyone, merely stood in two ranks on either side of the space, making half a square out of the area between columns.
The Eternal Emperor was undistracted. He sat on an enormous red cushion, with his knees bent and his elbows resting upon them. His craned back was bare—he was not wearing any shirt. His jet black hair was medium-length and held behind his head by a metal clasp; his skin was smooth and completely unmarked. He had a small grey earring in each ear, just a square pin made out of iron. Though he was unarmed, his angular muscles and visible physique was that of an athlete or a warrior. His sharp, wide eyes, watched Aralim and Miresh as they approached, unblinking.
Behind him stood four bodies of his Aura, unspeaking men and women in orange robes that matched his loose, dark trousers. Now it all made sense to Aralim; the Aura surrounded the Emperor and it did not speak. He was its voice, and they, his senses.
“Welcome to my Court,” the Ruler of Rema intoned, quietly. He blinked, at last, and looked around him. His inner circle gradually drifted toward their seats. “Please.”
At his word, more Aura moved out of the shadows and set down more cushions behind Aralim and Miresh for them to sit upon.
Aralim bowed, at the waist, while Miresh awkwardly followed suit. Then they sat back upon the rests. “Thank you,” Miresh said to the person that had brought it, but it was, of course, the Emperor who replied.
“Think nothing of it,” the man said. His voice was clear, and did not bear quite the same accent that the other Numa’nakres natives did. He spoke quietly, with no concern about whether they could hear him. “I am Tag’na. I am god in Numa’nakres. I have ruled here for many generations. I heard you in the Third Court, and I’ve heard you in the Second. You seek my guidance along your Path, and, more practically, you seek my knowledge in the ways of magic. My advisors have some questions, and then I will make a decision.”
“Thank you,” Aralim said.
“You said that your focus is a dagger, yes?” asked one of the councillors, sinking into place on a cushion. There were six others than the Emperor, three seated on his left, three on his right. Only one member of the First Court was a woman, and she sat two seats from Tag’na’s right.
Miresh nodded. “It is.”
“Have you ever tried to find it, or retrieve it?” asked the woman.
Aralim shook his head and Miresh said they had not.
“What about this Path?” asked a fat man with a bald head. The man had big tattoos along his arms, but they were clearly stretched. He had not got them when he was this size. He had earned this position throughout his life. “And your home?”
Tag’na nodded, and looked at Aralim for an explanation.
“It is south of any maps I have seen in your lands,” Aralim said. “I can provide details to a cartographer if needed, as I sailed those coasts for many years. Most of my kinsmen followed the Path, but not all feel called to wander it. I seek enlightenment and power, and I see Miresh’s gifts as a confirmation of her progress on the Path. We left five months ago to find you, and now we stand here speaking. To me, that can only mean one thing.”
“Destiny?” asked Tag’na, quietly. He was smiling, but Aralim could not say if it was a smirk or an expression of interest.
“Not destiny,” Aralim said. “Greatness. Strength. There is no fate, there is only us.”
That satisfied the Court, who looked on in consideration. One by one, they all looked back at the Emperor. Aralim had a moment of realization that most people in this land must have already had. This man looked to be about thirty years old, maybe thirty-five, but he had made public appearances for as long as anyone could remember.
Tag’na looked at the man to his right, a short man with wrinkled skin and a bald head. The man nodded to his Emperor, and looked across the cushioned court at Miresh. “These dreams you have had… Describe how you had them.”
“How I had them?” Miresh asked.
The bald man nodded. “Were you asleep?”
“I was,” Miresh said. “Aralim says I spoke the first time, and he recorded four words. The dreams themselves were strange, with some details clear and others blurry.”
“Words as well,” the man noted. “And the same knife was in both?”
Miresh bobbed her head. “I believe so. In the second dream, the dagger was shining like the sun, so I didn’t see as much detail of it.”
“Interesting,” the man mumbled. “Have you spoken to any other magicians? Have you any training yet?”
“No,” Miresh said. “There was a wise man in Bellasa, gave us the name of the Eternal Emperor. But I grew up on the streets.”
“In Bellasa?” asked one of the others.
“In Lantern Town,” Miresh replied.
Someone laughed, but it was a quiet and short sound.
The bald man looked back to the Emperor and gave him a nod. Tag’na leaned forward. “I will not be training you, Miresh,” he said, with is smooth, quiet voice. “But my head magician, Rattar, will be.”
The bald man smiled, and tipped his head to Miresh and Aralim, who also started smiling.
The Eternal Emperor continued. “During this time, I will give you and your friends accommodation in the city, and guards for your security.”
“Thank you,” Aralim interjected, when the Emperor’s words paused. This was better than he had expected.
“Since you will be spending time here, allow me to introduce my council,” Tag’na said. He raised his hands to indicate members of the Court. “This is Rattar. The big tattooed man is Aglo, who handles my mining industry. This is Greatfather Athanu, the father of their clan, and the magistrate of Rema. The man with dyed-white hair is Ovoe the Keeper, the keeper of my information. Yakalaka handles foreign affairs, both in Numa’nakres and beyond—she is the wisest politician I have ever met. And General Ro, he’s in charge of my military and security.” The latter had not said a word throughout the entire session. “Rattar will speak with you soon, but I will have a private word with you, Aralim. The rest are dismissed.”
With his declaration completed, the members of the First Court stood up and started to walk away. Aralim stepped hesitantly toward the Eternal Emperor, while Rattar introduced himself to Miresh.
Tag’na walked close enough that only Aralim and the Aura could hear. “Miresh’s training and her security is my guarantee, but when the time comes, you’ll go and fetch that dagger of her dreams for us.”
“Me?” Aralim asked, caught off guard by his demand. He had known since it first came up that day, that a portable vision target, like the dagger, could be of great political value.
“It will be your contribution to the Path, if you would. To demonstrate your power, and all that,” Tag’na’s voice was still soft, but there was an edge to it. The man’s dark hair looked dried out, though his skin looked young and flesh. His big brown eyes were fixed on Aralim’s.
“Of course my only concern is Miresh’s progress on the Path,” Aralim said. It was neither an agreement nor a refusal. He bobbed his head and stepped back a pace. The Eternal Emperor let him. “I trust we will speak again?” Aralim asked.
“Of course,” Tag’na said. “You seek my enlightenment, and one day, if I trust you, I may tell you of it.” With that, the Emperor turned to walk away. He moved with a smoothness that did not match with grace, but rather with a military training. A controlled, pacing gait, that led him through the robes of his Aura and into the shadows of his grand iron stronghold.
Aralim turned back to Miresh, the apprentice of the Great Mage of Rema, and smiled.