After the banquet with Dullah was a lull of uneventful days. General Ro never showed up for tea—and secrets concerning Rattar’s flawed Crux—and Dullah extended him no new invitations, though they saw one another twice a week at Court. Aralim walked quietly toward the Iron Palace. Miresh had slept in, after a few days of alternating her sleep schedule in an attempt to attain new visions quickly. She had not had another since her third.
Aralim spotted three guards patrolling the main street toward the Palace and put his pace in tune with theirs. It took only a little small talk—and one recognizing his lantern staff—to confirm that General Ro was in fine health and public appearance. Perhaps a second meeting to again invite the General to visit? Aralim wasn’t sure that would work.
In the courtyard of the Emperor’s Palace, his Aura was waiting for the Walker of the Path. A short man in a clean orange robe made eye contact with Aralim in the midst of a crowd of merchants and politician, and bobbed his head. He turned on one heel and walked toward the Iron Palace proper. Aralim shrugged and followed wordlessly. He errantly wondered if he was going to be brought to the secret basement into which the merchant Brallo Ma’kreo had vanished.
“Did someone want to speak with me?” he asked, but of course got no reply from the silent man.
The Aura delivered him to a short table he had briefly sat at before. The structure was shadowed by the building in the center of the iron pillars, but lit by lanterns mounted high above. The Eternal Emperor rose from the cushions and spread his toned arms to greet Aralim. “I heard you think we had tea last time, but if I recall… tea was not one of the options. Let’s fix that.”
In front of Tag’na rested three small kettles and two small, rectangular cups. Ornate carvings covered the kettles and the cups, and Aralim could not name whatever material they were made of. Aralim grinned and glanced to his right—the Aura had disappeared, of course, leaving him alone with the Emperor. Aralim stepped closer to the steaming dishes and said, “You know, I keep inviting people for tea. You’re the first to follow through for me. Did you prepare these yourself?”
“I have masters of every craft and trade for a reason. I can prepare an excellent tea, let me assure you,” Tag’na muttered, “But not something like this. We have a green tea traditional of North Radregar, the creative butter tea of Tal’lashar, and a common local variety of spiced tea.” The Emperor waved him to a cushion opposite the table, and the two sat down in unison.
“Exquisite, although I’m most interested in the local tea,” Aralim said.
As soon as he started to speak, the Emperor lifted the butter tea and started to pour his own cup. Aralim followed suit, and inhaled the warm scent deeply.
“Does it bother you that my aura reaches to many corners of this city?” Tag’na asked, before taking a sip of his tea and licking his lips.
“I don’t really think about it often. The Aura is somewhat of an enigma for me. I’ve just come to accept it.”
“Good, many people do, which is my intent.” His Ascendance took another sip, and grimaced. “I never get used to how sweet that is.” Nonetheless, he touched the tea to his lips once again, then lowered the square mug into his palm. “A few can’t stand the thought of me knowing what they are talking about, so I feign unawareness with them.”
“I thought you had grown used to everything…” Aralim murmured, and grinned. The Tag’na returned his humour with a flash of white teeth. “But to the point, I don’t see how anyone could be bothered by your information gathering. You don’t seem to have any intent to use it. You let Ovoe and his like exist. You asked me to destroy you. Your goals are more of an enigma than your youth.”
Tag’na raised his eyebrow. “Goals… you have had me thinking lots about them over the last few weeks.” He leans back into his cushions and spread his arms. “How was Councillor Moy’s banquet?”
Aralim blinked, and took a sip of the spiced tea. The square shape of the vessel was a little unusual, but it was narrow enough to not let any liquid spill. The taste hit him—he had tried this type of tea once before, but this was almost an entirely different experience. It made him wish to have his own tea master too. When he lowered his cup, he had to reply to Tag’na’s question. “It was good to do something not related to plots, although that might only be on my end,” he explained, considering Dullah’s rather humorous ulterior motives.
“Not all of my court nobility is concerned with plots, though they are all quite ambitious. One of the problems of gathering the powerful into one place.”
Aralim raised his cup with a wink. “Imagine what they could do if they worked together.”
The man leaned forward and blinked. Every once in a while, Tag’na made a move that made him seem more human, some mannerism or sense of physicality snuck through his powerful façade and reputation. But then Tag’na would say something and that uncanny sense would vanish once more. This time, the Emperor told Aralim, “I’ve been trying for two hundred years. I like to think that I’ve accomplished something at least—my Empire has outlasted the rise and fall of many.”
“It would be great to think I’m some unique puzzle piece to help to accomplish that, but I somehow doubt that…” Aralim took another sip of his tea.
“Aralim,” Tag’na said, frowning at last. “I’m aware that you feel you need a position to grow here, but you’ve said you don’t enjoy plotting. I don’t see any way to get you involved in the unity of my courts. However, your continued attitude of seeking greater goals has led me to consider turning my gaze outward once more, and therein, I find a position that might be of more interest to you.”
“I’m honoured that you consider my preferences so.”
His Ascendance chuckled. “People always see my attention as honouring, but it’s only instinct that my focus be in the areas I haven’t yet become accustomed to. That said, you’ve done nothing to let me down since your arrival here. Though, declining this offer will not let me down either, rest assured. Would you consider a position as an Ambassador of Numa’nakres?”
“It’s more that plotting seems to be a cornerstone of the Palace. It takes effort to think around it and I appreciate that.” Tag’na’s face frowned deeper, so Aralim quickly said, “As for the position of Ambassador, traveling to different lands is the very definition of a Walker of the Path.”
His words didn’t distract the Emperor’s scowl. “Let’s settle the topic for now: the only way ambitious people work together is for a goal greater than any competing goals. As long as immortality is their perceived reward for scheming, no team-oriented goal will succeed. And my numerous secrets do not create a good environment to contest their perceptions.”
Aralim raised his shoulders. “Consider it settled, but as a thought to ponder—there could be more co-operation if people thought there was a path to immortality that didn’t require replacing you. Not that I think you should bestow it on anyone, but you’re more or less okay with lying to the populace.”
“I don’t lie to my people,” Tag’na replied. “I do not correct their incorrect assumptions, but I do not lie to them.”
Aralim blinked and took a sip of his tea. “That is a fair distinction,” he said. “Which makes me think of a personal question if you don’t mind. It’s out of pure curiosity.”
Tag’na shrugged and tilted his cup in Aralim’s direction.
“What was your reaction the first time someone commented on your lack of aging? How did your now obvious reputation begin?” the Walker asked.
Tag’na smiled. “Those close to me knew, from that very first, cursed day,” Tag’na replies. “My wife, my closest friends, my servants. I was… or am… thirty-six years old. My people did not notice for about six or seven years. When there were enough whispers, I assembled lords from throughout the land and shared the truth with them. Many doubted. Some even called me mad. There were a few rebellions, but not many, because that has never been our way. By the time I conquered Old Numa, fourteen years later, everyone knew my claims to be true, and the city surrendered after only a few military clashes.”
“That cursed day?”
He paused in mid tea sip. “Surely you don’t believe I am a reborn god like so many of my people—I was referring to the day the spell was cast. And pardon me, but you already know I have come to see my agelessness as a curse.”
Aralim put on an innocently blank face. “No, I just don’t really understand magic… So basically, people commented that you weren’t aging, and you said they were correct, and let them come up with their own explanations?”
“Enough!” Tag’na exclaimed. His tea cup collided with the wooden table with an echoing clap. “I said I did not want to speak of that time.”
“Of course,” Aralim said, bowing his head. “I’m sorry. I let my curiosity of people get the best of me. I got caught up in the history, and forgot you lived it…”
“Those who follow me have so many interests, interests I will fulfill in good time and with earned trust. I know how many questions you ask about me, but I’d ask you to remain patient. If the truth is what you desire, I will give it to you. But, you must understand… I’ve known you for only a blink of my eyes,” Tag’na said, shrugging.
Aralim nodded. “It’s very easy for me to forget that. Especially since I am more interested in the ‘Emperor’ than the ‘Eternal.’ You have held this country together for nearly three centuries. That indicates a power along the Path much greater than what keeps you alive. But enough of that talk. At least one of us is growing old, and I’m sure there are things other than yourself you’d like to talk about.”
“Thank you,” his Ascendance said, tipping his head to Aralim. “I thought the position of Ambassador would fit you well, because, as you say, that is the very nature of the Path. I’m certain you have some questions, as do I.”
“I’ve been asking most of the questions today. It’s your turn, I think.” Aralim said, tapping the table and smiling as he poured himself more tea.
The man nodded and leaned back in his cushions once more. “If you set out as my Ambassador, I’d provide you with a handful of guards, in the very least. However, I must know… would you insist Miresh accompany you?”
“I don’t think I’d have any say in the matter. She would insist she came with me,” Aralim explained.
“She does seem to make the decisions for you two.” Tag’na winked and took a sip of his tea.
Aralim rolled his eyes. “It’s a Path thing,” he said, chuckling.
“I’m concerned about her training slowing down if she were to leave. Let me speak with Rattar about this before any decisions are made,” Tag’na said.
“I’d speak with her directly too,” Aralim suggested. “She considers you and Rattar close friends. But she is strong willed. She basically got us here. I just walked with her.”
Tag’na nodded. “I will then,” he said, his deep voice thickened by the tea he was drinking. “Other things you should know… I’d expect you to return for a few months each year. Even though I’m considering sending a writer with you, I’d also request your own insights into the lands you travel, written or verbal upon your return.”
“A writer?” Aralim asked. “I imagined you would just send an Aura with me.”
Tag’na smiled. “Yes, I probably would, but I’m not certain if there are any skilled writers among them. Besides, that’s more for the public’s record of the lands you visit than anything else.”
“That makes sense,” Aralim said. He leaned forward. “I do have one last question as to communication while I’m away… how do the Aura communicate with you? If one came with me, would you receive messages instantly? Or are letters just as efficient?”
Tag’na looked at him for a long moment and scratched his cheek. “Swear to me that you will not speak of this to a soul. Not to Ovoe. Not to General Ro if he ever reveals his secrets to you. Not to your friend Dullah, or Hayan, and not even to Miresh.”
“Of course, I only asked because its relevant to the work at hand. No one other than me needs to know,” Aralim assured him. He finished off his second cup of tea—it was delicious!
“Very well,” the Emperor said. He lifted his hands and clapped them twice. A member of the Aura strode out of the shadows almost immediately, though Aralim was still thinking about the gesture. The Emperor didn’t clap to summon the Aura under normal circumstances. He simply spoke what he wanted and it appeared. This particular member of the strange order was a middle-aged woman with a nearly shaved brunette scalp. She bowed quietly before approaching into comfortable speaking distance. “This is Cayaza. She is one of the Argots.”
“Hello, Master,” Cayaza said, and bowed at the waist to Aralim.
“Hello,” Aralim said blinking. Wait—she spoke?
The Emperor didn’t pause for Aralim to think through the ramifications of this. “The Aura sees and hears from all of its vantages. Cayaza, as well as her peers, relays that information to me. If you take an Aura out of my lands, Cayaza will be able to tell me what they experience, and relay events, words, even sights, to me.”
Aralim slid his empty tea cup across the table as he analyzed the new information. “So, while written reports will be sent for the people, I can deliver a daily report to you through the Aura,” Aralim said.
“Exactly so,” Tag’na replied, smiling. “But we will not be able to have a conversation, so as I said, I expect you to return each year.”
“That’s all I need to know,” Aralim said. He looked at the stoic woman in orange and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Cayaza.”
“You as well, master,” the woman said. She bowed again and backed away. A moment later and she was gone, walking away into the darkness of the Iron Palace.
Aralim looked back at the Emperor who was finally finishing his butter tea. “This visit seems to have been all business. I’m sorry. I like to think our friendship is more than that.”
“After the last few weeks, it seems clear that friendship isn’t enough for you.” Tag’na set his square grey mug onto the tabletop and poured more tea. “But if you wouldn’t mind, tell me of the most fascinating place you have visited so far.”
Aralim blinked. A more personable question implied their conversation would continue, so he shrugged and poured himself more tea. He didn’t need to think about the Emperor’s question in order to answer. “Lantern Town, where I met Miresh, but not because it’s where I met her,” he explained. “It was the beginning of change for me. Before then, I didn’t really think there were people that didn’t believe in the Path.”
Tag’na smiled and leaned forward. “Really?” he asked. “I don’t believe anything in the world is fully constant.”
Though it was a new statement from the Emperor, the concepts were familiar to Aralim. He already knew many of Tag’na’s standings on this topic. The Emperor asked him more about Lantern Town, and he replied with more story. They kept drinking tea and chatting until Administer Muria sent an Aura to summon the Emperor for a meeting of the First Court.