The Emperor was leaning against one of the very first metal-plated columns this time, and met Aralim in advance of the meeting that the Walker had been invited to. Wearing a dark purple cape and a golden clasp around his neck, the ruler of Rema smiled to his friend and asked, “Have you enjoyed the month of celebrations?”
Aralim chuckled. He was wearing a dark yellow robe made of the lightweight material he’d adopted in Rema. On the road, he’d revert to a sturdier cloth—and a sweatier forehead. “I’m not much of a partier,” he confessed.
“I used to be,” Tag’na said. Aralim thought he might follow up the comment as they walked, but then he changed the topic after a few paces. “Let’s get the other business out of the way, so we can talk about your immanent journey.”
“Very well,” Aralim replied.
The Emperor looked ahead, and his words grew a little less personal. “Have you a recommendation for the seat on the First Court, a new Keeper of Information?”
“Three people come to mind,” Aralim told him. “Asharo seems to have a connection-base that would make her suitable for the job, and she’s loyal to Rattar and reveres you as a god. She could provide you with some stability in your court. On the other hand, Nera has the pure brains for the job. Her love of knowledge could lend her to information gathering, if she started reading people like she reads books.”
“And the third?” Tag’na asked after a moment.
Aralim took a deep breath. “It’s worth noting that Athanu is most capable of reviving Ovoe’s information circles, though I don’t know where her loyalties are now. She cursed about revenge and left when I pressed the topic.”
“Very interesting recommendations,” the Emperor drawled. He snorted. “And you’re correct, I had no intent of appointing Miss Athanu to my correct.”
“I’m glad to hear that. There’s a part of me that thinks she could become even more dangerous than Ovoe.”
Tag’na smiled, his white teeth splitting his dark face as he continued walking amidst the enormous columns. “I’ll miss your worrying when you’re gone. Everyone else doesn’t let me hear worry because they do not think I’m capable of it.”
“Worrying is likely a weakness on my part, but that’s not to say I think even you are completely beyond it,” Aralim said, emphasizing the minimalism of the potential weakness. Implying otherwise seemed like a dangerous attitude to take with the Emperor.
“I think I’ll survive Miss Athanu.” Tag’na chuckled. “But you’re right to fear for the safety of those I keep close.”
They continued walking, and Aralim saw others up ahead, waiting for them. Aralim paused his pace, and the Emperor did too. They faced one another for another moment of conversation. “Speaking of worries, Dullah the Selected seems intent on coming with me.”
The Emperor waved a hand. “This whole thing is seeming trickier and trickier the closer it gets, but, very well.”
“I’m sorry,” Aralim muttered.
The Emperor brushed past him and into the next set of iron columns. There were guards, some in a line that waited for the Emperor’s attention, while others seemed more on-duty. A few members of the Aura milled about, while a man in plain red tunic spoke with Grandfather Athanu. Everyone in proximity stopped and bowed at the waist as his Ascendance entered.
Niyal smiled, as he came out of the bow and said, “Hello Aralim.” He stepped forward and the Emperor took a triangular position between him and Aralim.
Tag’na cleared his throat. “I present to you my Seal; you may use it in the lands you travel to identify yourself as my representative. Athanu and I had the royal smiths prepare it for you.”
At a nod from the Emperor, Niyal Athanu lifted a small object bound in soft brown calfskin. From it, he slid out a four inch by six-inch plaque made of iron. Gold gilt and etchings drew an image of the Iron Palace on the seal’s surface, while illustrious embossed lettering read ‘By the royal decree of the Eternal Emperor Tag’na.’ Athanu handed the seal and its sheath to Aralim and smiled, while the Walker bowed respectfully.
Next, Niyal stepped aside and the Emperor invited the clean shaven man in the red tunic to step forward. “This is Devran of Rainrest. He’s written many books about the lesser known area of Numa’nakres and is well known by the people for teaching them of the land. He’s also experienced with travel in the wilds, with a guide of course.”
“I’m so honoured, your Ascendance.” Devran turned to Aralim and nodded as well. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Aralim.”
“I’m happy to have you along,” Aralim told him.
“I look forward to whatever new stories we will be able to tell together,” the writer said. With a nod of respect, he stepped back and continued his quiet conversation with Grandfather Athanu. He seemed a very polite, quiet man, though Aralim was certain he’d find out more about the chronicler once they set out from the city.
The Emperor indicated another person, waving two fingers at a man with a shaved head, in the orange robes of an Aura. “That will be the Aura who accompanies you. He’ll meet you at your estate in a few days.”
Aralim nodded in comprehension but didn’t have much to say.
Next, the Emperor led him before four guards that stood in a line. The soldiers bowed in unison, but rather than beginning with their names or roles, Tag’na walked along the rank and analyzed them with precise movements of his eyes. He stopped in front of the second. “You’re dismissed. Please send Lerela the Silver-eyed in your stead.”
“Sir,” the soldier said, and swiftly withdrew, unquestioning.
Tag’na turned to Aralim. “These, and one woman I have sent for, will be your protection on this journey. This is Carrak. This is Grendar. And Yovin. Each of them have been selected by General Vanra for their loyalty, trustworthiness, and skin.” By the time he had finished this, the sound of another soldier’s jogging boots, came to a gentle pace. A woman in beige fatigues appeared amidst the rank of metal-armoured soldiers. She’d been summoned from a training yard or even her bed, likely. “Ah, and this is Lerela.”
Aralim nodded to them all. “Pleased to meet you all,” he said. He assumed the switch that Tag’na had ordered was because he had informed the Emperor that Dullah would be along. It gave the party more options for security in certain circumstances. He followed the Eternal Emperor away from the soldiers, who stepped back to a nearby pillar.
“And this is Master Muriva, the royal cartographer,” Tag’na said, bringing forward a man with a satchel around one shoulder and balding, silvery hair.
“We’ve met,” Aralim recalled, bowing to the Master of Maps. Muriva had questioned him and shared maps with him when he had first arrived in the Iron Palace. Aralim had given his expertise from his years aboard a fishing vessel of the coastlines he knew south of the Numa maps.
Tag’na smiled. “What have you brought for us today?”
Two members of the Aura that walked beside the map maker set a small wooden table in front of him. Muriva laid out a square map, the curled corners suspended off the edge. He waved his hand across it. “This is the latest masterpiece of my craft, I assure you. The oldest portion of knowledge obtained for its design is only eleven years old—these islands here, and the Great Isle. And of course Var Liyal’s coasts are laid out only to indicate its presence as so little is known of that land.”
“Where is Tal’lashar?” Aralim asked.
“Why, here of course, on the edge of the Expanse,” Muriva said. The desert in question spanned one-quarter of the map, and Aralim’s destination was across many miles of it from the region marked Numa’nakres. The map maker went on. “There are several options for reaching it. You might choose to sail down the Ake’ma East Run, to portage onto the rivers of Maga. From the Eye of Maga, you would purchase passage along the Crimson Highway, directly to the Jewel of the Torn Shore. Tal’lashar, as it is named.”
“That is the most direct option, I understand,” Aralim said. “And what others?”
“If you prefer the lapping of the tide, you might also follow the Ake’ma to Trader’s Bay and set sail for the port of Varravar. From there, a river vessel will take you again to the Eye of Maga, and thus the Highway to Tal’lashar,” the cartographer murmured. “If you seek to avoid the Crimson Highway, there are two more options. You could instead disembark from the Stormy Sea past Varravar, in the Bay of Nordos. You’d travel many leagues in the wilds.” With an extended finger, tapping the table, Muriva showed him the way directly north to Tal’lashar’s dot. “Lastly, you could sail even further on the seas, around the entire coast of Radregar. Sailing to the Torn Shore this way would last many, many days, but would involve very little travel in the wilds.”
Aralim listened to the explanation and considered the four routes. Then he looked at the Emperor. Tag’na had barely been listening, but smiled to Aralim and nodded his head. ‘It is your choice,’ he was saying. Aralim looked back at the map. “I’d like to sail on the sea again, not portage. We’ll see the coasts to Varravar. I’ve heard once or twice of the Eye of Maga, so I will see it firsthand on the way to Tal’lashar. That is alright?”
“Of course,” the Emperor said, in unison with Muriva.
The map maker stuttered and took a step back. “My apologies, your Ascendance.”
Tag’na looked at him and smiled, then turned back to Aralim. “You should be able to requisition a ship in Maykren using that Seal,” he said. “But a few coins will be sent along with you, for that and for the Crimson Highway.”
“Thank you,” Aralim said. He had heard a little about the toll road, and knew that travelling it would be necessary, but risky nonetheless. He carried the iron slab under one arm—it was weighty but genuine.
“Do you have any other questions?” the Emperor asked.
Aralim blinked. It was an incredible journey, across hundreds of miles of ocean and land, but he could feel the tug of the Path more than ever, the call to wander, the call to search for whatever it was he would find next. He started to smile. “I think that’s all,” he said. “I think I’m ready for this.”
The Emperor nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. “You and I both know you’d have been ready without any guards or maps or coin… But as my Ambassador, this is how it should be.”
“I agree,” Aralim concurred. He watched the guards speaking and felt the weight of the Seal. He would go where the Path led; fortunately for now, it included these things. It also included his friendship with the Emperor. “I’ll come and say farewell before I leave.”
Tag’na smiled. He nodded, and released Aralim’s shoulder. By the time they wandered back to the edge of the Iron Palace, a fresh drizzle was falling on the jungle. The low hanging clouds rolled over the mountain tips, and warmed Aralim’s hair with glistening dots.