Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

Hadrian noticed Royce glance over the side of the ship at the water, which foamed and churned as it rushed past.

“If a sentinel is on board,” Royce continued, “we can assume there are seret as well. They never travel alone.”

“Maybe below.”

“Maybe disguised in the crew,” Royce cautioned.

To starboard, a sailor dropped his burden on the deck and wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag. Noticing them standing idle, he walked over.

“Yer good,” he said to Royce. “No man’s beaten Jacob aloft before.”

The sailor was tan and thin, with a tattoo of a woman on his forearm and a ring of silver in his ear.

“I didn’t beat him. We landed together,” Royce said, correcting him.

“Aye, clever that. My name’s Grady. What do they call you?”

“Royce, and this is Hadrian.”

“Oh yeah, the cook.” Grady gave Hadrian a nod, and then returned his attention. “Royce, huh? I’m surprised I haven’t heard yer name before. With skills like you got, I woulda figured you’d be famous. What ships have you served on?”

“None around these waters,” Royce replied.

Grady looked at him curiously. “Where, then? The Sound? Dagastan? The Sharon? Try me, I’ve been around a few places myself.”

“Sorry, I’m really bad at remembering names.”

Grady’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t remember the names of the ships you served on?”

“I would prefer not to discuss them.”

“Aye, consider the subject closed.” He looked at Hadrian. “You were with him, then?”

“We’ve worked together for some time.”

Grady nodded. “Just forget I said anything. I won’t be getting in the way. You can bank money on Grady’s word, too.” The man winked, then walked away, glancing back over his shoulder at them a few times as he went off, grinning.

“Seems like a nice sort,” Hadrian said. “Strange and confusing, but nice. You think he knows why we’re here?”

“Wish he did,” Royce replied, watching Grady resume his work. “Then he could tell us. Still, I’ve found that when hunting Merrick, stranger things have been known to happen. One thing’s for certain—this trip is going to be interesting.”





CHAPTER 5





BROKEN SILENCE





Although it was early, Nimbus was already waiting outside the closed door of Amilia’s office with armloads of parchments. He smiled brightly at her approach. “Good morning, Your Ladyship,” he greeted her with as much of a bow as he could manage without spilling his burden. “Beautiful day, is it not?”

Amilia grunted in reply. She was not a morning person, and that day’s agenda included a meeting with Regent Saldur. If anything was likely to ruin a day, that would do it. She opened her office door with a key kept on a chain around her neck. The office was a reward for the successful presentation of the empress nearly a month before.

Modina had been near death when Saldur had appointed Amilia imperial secretary to the empress. At that time, the young ruler had not spoken a word, was dangerously thin, and had an unwavering expression, which was never more than a blank stare. Amilia had provided her with better living conditions and worked hard to get her to eat. After several months, the girl had begun to improve. Modina had managed to memorize a short speech for the day of her presentation but abandoned the prepared text and publicly singled out Amilia, proclaiming her a hero.

No one had been more shocked than Amilia, but Saldur thought she had been responsible. Rather than exploding in anger, he congratulated her. Since that day, his attitude toward Amilia had changed—as if she had bought admission into the exclusive club of the deviously ambitious. In his eyes, she had not only been capable of manipulating the mentally unbalanced ruler, but willing to do so as well. This raised opinion of her had been followed by additional responsibilities and a new title: Chief Imperial Secretary to the Empress.

She took her directions from Saldur as Modina remained locked in the dark recesses of her madness. One of her new responsibilities was reading and replying to mail addressed to the empress. Saldur gave her the task as soon as he discovered she could read and write. Amilia also received the responsibility of being the empress’s official gatekeeper. She decided who could, and who could not, have an audience with Modina. Normally a position of extreme power, hers was just a farce, because absolutely no one ever saw Modina.

Despite Amilia’s grandiose new title, her office was a small chamber with nothing but an old desk and a pair of bookshelves. The room was cold, damp, and sparse—but it was hers. She was filled with pride each morning when she sat behind the desk, and pride was something Amilia was unaccustomed to.

“Are those more letters?” Amilia asked.

“Yes, I am afraid so,” Nimbus replied. “Where would you like them?”

“Just drop them on the pile with the others. I can see now why Saldur gave me this job.”

“It is a very prestigious task,” Nimbus assured her. “You are the de facto voice of the New Empire as it relates to the people. What you write is taken as the word of the empress, and thus the voice of a god incarnate.”

“So you’re saying I’m the voice of god now?”

Nimbus smiled thoughtfully. “In a manner of speaking—yes.”

“You have a crazy way of seeing things, Nimbus. You really do.”

He was always able to cheer her up. His outlandishly colored clothes and silly powdered wig made her smile on even the bleakest of days. Moreover, the odd little courtier had a bizarre manner of finding joy in everything, blind to the inevitable disaster that Amilia knew lurked at every turn.

Nimbus deposited the letters in the bin beside Amilia’s desk, then fished out a tablet and looked it over briefly before speaking. “You have a meeting this morning with Lady Rashambeau, Baroness Fargal, and Countess Ridell. They have insisted on speaking to you personally about their failed petitions to have a private audience with Her Supreme Eminence. You also have a dedication to make on behalf of the empress at the new memorial in Capital Square. That is at noon. Also, the material has arrived, but you still need to get specifications to the seamstress for the new dress. And, of course, you have a meeting this afternoon with Regent Saldur.”

“Any idea yet what he wants to see me about?”

Nimbus shook his head.

Amilia slumped in her chair. She was certain Saldur’s appointment had to do with Modina’s berating of the clerk the previous day. She had no idea how to explain the empress’s actions. That had been the only time since her speech that Modina had uttered a single word.

“Would you like me to help you answer those?” Nimbus asked with a sympathetic smile.

“No, I’ll do it. Can’t have both of us playing god, now can we? Besides, you have your own work. Tell the seamstress to meet me in Modina’s chambers in four hours. That should give me time to reduce this pile some. Reschedule the ladies of the court meeting to just before noon.”

“But you have the dedication at noon.”