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

“That was the result of an unfortunate error on the part of my predecessor, the archbishop. Something he paid for with his life. I was the one who salvaged the situation.”


“Yes, I know. Some idiot named Rufus was supposed to slay the mythical beast and thereby prove he was the fabled Heir of Novron, the descendant of the god Maribor himself. Only instead, Rufus was devoured and the beast laid waste to everything in the vicinity. Everything except a young girl, who somehow managed to slay it, and in front of a church deacon, no less—oops. But you’re right. That wasn’t your fault. You were the smart one with the brilliant idea to use her as a puppet—a girl so bereft from losing everything and everyone that she went mad. Your solution is to hide her in the depths of the palace and hope no one notices. In the meantime, you and Ethelred run a military campaign to take over all of Avryn, sending your best troops north to invade Melengar just as the Nationalists invade from the south. Brilliant. I must say, with things so well in hand it’s a wonder I was contacted at all.”

“I’m not amused,” Saldur told him.

“Nor should you be, for at this moment King Alric of Melengar is setting into motion plans to form an alliance with the Nationalists, trapping you in a two-front war, and bringing Trent into the conflict on their side.”

“You know this?”

“It is what I would do. And with the wealth of Delgos and the might of Trent, your fledgling empire, with its insane empress, will crumble as quickly as it rose.”

“More impressed now?” Guy asked.

“And what would you have us do to stave off this impending cataclysm?”

Merrick smiled. “Pay me.”





The grand, exalted empress Modina Novronian, ruler of Avryn and high priestess of the Church of Nyphron, sat sprawled on the floor, feeding her bowl of soup to Red, who expressed his gratitude by drooling on her dress. He rested his head on her lap and slapped his tail against the stone, his tongue sliding lazily in and out. The empress curled up beside the dog and laid her head on the animal’s side. Amilia smiled. She was encouraged by seeing Modina interact with something, anything.

“Get that disgusting animal out of here and get her off the floor!”

Amilia jumped and looked up, horrified. Regent Saldur entered the kitchen with Edith Mon, wearing a sinister smile. Amilia could not move. Several scullery maids rushed to the empress’s side and gently pulled her to her feet.

“The very idea.” He continued to shout as the maids busied themselves with smoothing out Modina’s dress. “You,” the regent growled, pointing at Amilia, “this is your doing. I should have known. What was I expecting when I put a common street urchin in charge of … of …” He trailed off, looking at Modina with an exasperated expression. “At least your predecessors didn’t have her groveling with animals!”

“Your Grace, Amilia was—” Ibis Thinly began.

“Shut up, you oaf!” Saldur snapped at the stocky cook, and then returned his attention to Amilia. “Your service to the empress has ended, as well as your employment at this palace.”

Saldur motioned to the empress’s guard and then said, “Take her out of my sight.”

The guard approached Amilia, unable to meet her eyes.

Amilia breathed in short, stifled gasps and realized she was trembling as the soldier approached. Not normally given to crying, Amilia could not help it, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

“No,” Modina said.

Spoken with no force, barely above a whisper, the single word cast a spell on the room. One of the cooking staff dropped a metal pot, which rang loudly on the stone floor. They all stared. The regent turned in surprise and then began to circle the empress, studying her with interest. The girl had a focused, challenging look as she glared at Saldur. The regent glanced from Amilia to Modina several times. He cocked his head from side to side, as if trying to work out a puzzle. The guard stood by awkwardly.

At length, Saldur put him at ease. “As the empress commands,” Saldur said without taking his eyes off Modina. “It seems that I may have been a bit premature in my assessment of …” Saldur glanced at Amilia, annoyed. “What’s your name?”

“A-Amilia.”

He nodded as if approving the correct answer. “Your techniques are unusual, but certainly one can’t argue with results.”

Saldur looked back at Modina as she stood within the circle of maids, who parted at his approach. “She does look better, doesn’t she? Color’s improved. There’s”—he motioned toward her face—“a fullness to her cheeks.” He was nodding. He crossed his arms and with a final nod of approval said, “Very well, you can keep the position, as it seems to please Her Eminence.”

The regent turned and headed out of the scullery. He paused at the doorway to look over his shoulder, saying, “You know, I was really starting to believe she was mute.”





CHAPTER 7





THE JEWEL





Arista had always thought of herself as an experienced equestrian. Most ladies had never even sat in a saddle, but she had ridden since childhood. The nobles mocked, and her father scolded, but nothing could dissuade her. She loved the freedom of the wind in her hair and her heart pounding with the beat of the hooves. Before setting out, she had looked forward to impressing the thieves with her vast knowledge of horsemanship. She knew they would be awed by her skill.

She was wrong.

In Sheridan, Royce had found her a spirited bay mare to replace her exquisite palfrey. Since setting out, he had forced them over rough ground, fording streams, jumping logs, and dodging low branches—often at a trot. Clutching white-knuckled to the saddle, she had used all her skills and strength just to remain on the horse’s back. Gone were her illusions of being praised as a skilled rider, and all that remained was the hope of making it through the day without the humiliation—not to mention the physical pain—of falling.

They rode south after leaving the university, following trails only Royce could find. Before dawn, they crossed the narrow headwaters of the Galewyr and proceeded up the embankment on the far side. Briars and thickets lashed at them. Unseen dips caught the horses by surprise, and Arista cried out once when her mount made an unexpected lunge across a washed-out gap. Their silence added to her humiliation. If she had been a man, they would have commented.