"Scum," the ambassador spat the word. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but in Seranthia we give short thrift to non-citizens."
"But don't you see, Ambassador?" Melovar was desperate for him to understand. "Isn’t that going against the very tenets of what the Empire stands for? What we here at the Assembly stand for? The Evermen gave us the relics for a reason. They gave us the Lexicons and the ability to create works of lore, but for what? I'm beginning to believe that perhaps magic is more of a cause than a solution to our problems. Magic is driving our greed — our constant striving for more wealth, more power. We aren't helping people, we're using them. And when they're all used up, we discard them."
"Without lore there would be no Assembly," said the ambassador. "No templars."
"Ah, but you are forgetting our original purpose," said Melovar. "To guide the people, and teach them of the Evermen. To help them lead lives free from sin. I am the spiritual head of the empire. My job is to help. Somehow, with the constant demand for essence, that has become lost."
Melovar waited for a reply. The Tingaran ambassador opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, frowning.
Melovar spontaneously gripped the man’s shoulders. "Look, Ambassador, look when you are there. Look deep within. Then, let us talk again."
The ambassador shook his head. "Your Grace, what can I do? There will always be those who help themselves, and those who don’t. I bid you leave."
The ambassador left Melovar standing at the window, staring out at Salvation and the masses of the poor.
The ground suddenly heaved and the boom of an explosion made the earth tremble. The Primate put his hand to his head, shaking off the fugue, bringing himself back to the present. The conversation took place some time ago; it was just a memory. How long had it been? He’d been several minutes without the elixir, and he quickly sipped from a golden goblet.
Instantly he felt rejuvenated. Where was he? He looked around him, at the fitted stones that made up the walls. The parade-ground voices of soldiers called, somewhere outside.
Ah, yes. He was far from Stonewater, in Torakon. He was encamped with his army, in the middle of the Azure Plains, standing in the command centre the builders had constructed at his request.
The last vestiges of the remembered conversation left him. The elixir had been having a strange effect on him of late.
Primate Melovar banished such thoughts and looked at the great map spread on the wall. Half of the Tingaran Empire was now under his direct control. Soon the black sun would fly from every building in every city of the world.
Moragon entered the room. "Your Grace, the Halrana attempted a sneak attack. We’ve repelled them, but some men were killed."
"Ah, Moragon. I was just about to summon you."
The Emperor’s executioner had required little persuasion to join the Primate’s cause. Not an intimidating man by nature, the Primate had enjoyed the fear that Moragon inspired in others. Primate Melovar now took great pleasure in seeing people react the same way to himself.
"Your idea was an interesting one, Moragon, but the eldritch didn’t return. Is there someone who knows more of these matters? Raj Tingara’s lore is not a strong suit of mine."
"The Tingaran loremaster…"
"Bah, the loremaster can hardly keep his wits about him. The addiction is killing him."
"And you?"
"Don’t presume to worry about me. I have the Evermen on my side."
"Yes, Your Grace. But still, the Alturan Lexicon…"
"I know," Primate Melovar snapped. "Yes, we need it, and I don’t know how far the thief can be trusted. There must be something in its pages to explain this addiction. Send Saryah."
Moragon’s face turned grim. "Saryah? Are you sure?"
"Yes, Moragon. I am sure."
Moragon nodded. "I’ll see to it."
"Oh, and Moragon?"
"Yes, Primate?"
"These ironmen are proving troublesome. I’m growing weary of the animators. Send word to Stonewater. I think it’s time to put the elixir to its greatest test. Let us destroy the Halrana Lexicon."
Moragon bowed and left. His eyes closed as he sipped from the goblet, the Primate barely noticed.
40
Have you no wish for others to be saved? Then you are not saved yourself, be sure of that.
— Sermons of Primate Melovar Aspen, 537 Y.E.
ELLA entered the town of Hatlatu with a terrible feeling of foreboding sending a chill through every bone in her body.
She’d changed into her most neutral garment, a grey dress with white and blue stripes on the hem. It was still perhaps too revealing, if she compared herself to the Petryans she was seeing, but it would have to do.
She was feeling completely out of her depth. When she’d finally made it to the base of the mountain she’d thought it would be easy to follow Killian’s path, but there was no path to follow. It was as if he’d vanished into the dark forest of brown and red trees.