"Get me Zavros," Melovar said. "Now!"
As he waited for Zavros, the Primate gathered his thoughts. The Akari had rejoined the Tingaran Empire and Dain Barden was now at Melovar's disposal. The Primate would continue to dangle the relic in front of them, but first, it was time for the Akari to show their worth.
They wouldn't fight in the warmer lands; that was what they had said. Perfect — Moragon was now in Torakon, and the desert men were heading for the Gap of Garl. It was time for Melovar to find out if the revenants' reputation was deserved.
"You summoned me, Your Grace?" Zavros asked, bowing as he entered the room.
"You told me the new plants were functioning well, Zavros. Obviously not well enough. They've taken back Ralanast. Moragon is giving up Loua Louna and pulling back to Torakon."
"It isn't my plants that are to blame. The facility near Ralanast was the first, so problems there were inevitable, but the two other facilities are functioning well. Each body has a certain cost to transport to the facilities and dispose of, as I'm sure you can imagine, but we are easily recouping this cost in essence using the Akari's technique." Zavros paused. "However, Primate, essence isn't everything; you know that better than any. There is no substitute for enchanted weapons from Altura, constructs from Halaran, and Louan orbs and mortars. Half the world's industry is gone, Primate. We've been set back a hundred years."
"It won't matter when I send in the Akari," Melovar said. "Perhaps it's time to convert our friend Dain Barden."
"Are you sure that's wise, Your Grace?" Zavros said. "The Akari are a tight-knit people, and the revenants can just as easily be turned on us as our enemies. It might be better to save that card to be played later, when the revenants are far away."
"Fine," Melovar snapped, the pain of his ruined flesh returning. "I can control him with or without the elixir." He looked around for the one thing that seemed to ease the pain. He finally found his crystal goblet resting on a nearby table, and drank the foul black liquid greedily. "We'll send the Akari to combat the Alturans in the west and the desert tribes in the south," the Primate said, setting the goblet down. "Moragon's legionnaires will fight with them, and we can control Tingara with the templars."
"A wise decision." Zavros nodded. "Sending the Tingarans away is a good idea."
Melovar caught something in Zavros's tone. "Why?"
"Primate," Zavros licked his lips, "word is starting to get out. Think about what the first Emperor did to the Akari. He cast them out and banished them to the north, because people find the idea of animating the dead repulsive, and the concept of recycling the used-up bodies even more so." Zavros let his words sink in. "Then think about what we're doing. We're not the Akari — we don't ask our people to serve in death as they did in life. We're taking prisoners of war and murdering them for the essence in their bodies. Even our own people with the taint won't stand for it, Primate, the Tingarans especially."
"You're one to lecture," Melovar snapped. "What about the things I hear you're doing at your laboratory? Playing with the stuff inside people's skulls, testing how much pain a person can endure before he is rendered insane? Trying to breed women with other creatures?"
"What I do," Zavros said stiffly, "I do for knowledge."
"And what I do, I do for the masses of the world, to show them all that there's another way to rule, with unity above all else," the Primate said.
"I know," Zavros said. "I am with you, Your Grace. I am merely showing you what other eyes see. The masses still respect the Assembly, as they still worship the Evermen. But be careful, Your Grace. I merely ask that you be careful."
After Zavros left Melovar picked up the book of the Evermen. Now, above all else, he longed to find this powerful relic. It was a weapon. He knew it would be a weapon. He lusted after it, thought about it night and day.
Where was it?
44
AMBER was stunned by the wonderful normalcy of what she was doing: she was at the market, shopping for the ingredients she would use to cook Miro's supper.
She knew she was welcome at the conference, but Amber had no desire to be with all the lords and officers as they decided their next course of action. She knew Miro would come up with a good plan, and he would tell her all about it afterwards.
But even as Amber picked up and examined withered yellow peppers, squeezed old potatoes, and weighed onions, she still felt apprehensive. It was only the day after the liberation of Ralanast; what if there were some of the Black Army's soldiers still in the city, desperate men who had taken to hiding and hadn't yet been found by Miro's men? Amber tried to force down her fears. Surely she had nothing to worry about.
Miro had tried to reassure her. "Remember," he'd said, "to the guards you were just another prisoner."