"You can't simply change centuries of tradition and belief in an instant. Bastian says there's a conspiracy. He says the war was Emperor Xenovere's fault and we've simply blamed it on the Primate to discredit the priesthood. This 'revelation' about the Evermen is yet another attempt to take power away from the Assembly of Templars."
"People are stupid," Ella said.
"Yes, but people have power. And they're listening to Bastian, Ella. There have been riots. Nothing we can't deal with, but I worry about what comes next. The army is holding together, but even some of my men aren't sure what to believe."
Ella reached out and squeezed Rogan's hand. "Don't worry," she said. "You'll think of something. You always do."
"I hope your faith is justified," he said, smiling thinly.
Ella took a deep breath. "What about the Hazarans? Are they helping?" It was dangerously close to what she came here to ask.
"They're surprisingly good at dealing with the Tingarans," Rogan said, "perhaps because the Tingaran officers prefer not to deal with us Alturans. I suppose that's not surprising, given our past. But since Prince Ilathor left, the Hazarans have been more difficult to lead. They're not interested in following a foreigner, no matter what their Prince says."
"Prince Ilathor left?" Ella said. "I thought you were both joint regent?"
"He did." Rogan turned his piercing gaze on her, and Ella remembered he was not an easy man to fool. He could probably see right through her. "His father, the Kalif, is ill, and he was called back to Agira Lahsa."
"So he won't be at the wedding, then?"
"No, Ella. He would have been on his way home when we received the news, and I'm sure he has bigger things to worry about. Not only are we trying to find a new Tingaran High Lord, if Ilathor's father dies he'll be the new Kalif. Marshal Beorn's back in Seranthia trying to hold things together, much as he'd like to be at your brother's wedding. I don't envy him."
"I see," Ella said. She didn't know whether to be relieved, or disappointed.
"I'm sorry if you're disappointed, Ella."
"I'm not disappointed. I'm excited. We're going to the wedding of the two people I love most in the world."
"Ella?"
"What?"
"Prince Ilathor. He's a hard man… He would be a difficult man to love."
"Thanks, Rogan," said Ella. "I know."
3
GUESTS and well-wishers came to Sarostar from far and wide for the wedding of the now famous Alturan Lord Marshal, Miro Torresante, the man who kept hope alive through the darkest days of the war, and his childhood love, Amber, an enchantress of the Academy.
The wedding would take place on the banks of the Sarsen, below the Crystal Palace, where people who had journeyed from all over Merralya could watch from one of Sarostar's tall bridges. There would be music at the palace fountains to start the day, followed by a river parade of flower boats. Four Alturan bladesingers would lead a procession of the elite palace guard, while the ceremony would take place exactly an hour before sunset, when the Crystal Palace began its evening display of colours. The ceremony would be followed by the performances of acrobats and musicians scattered throughout the cobbled streets of the Poloplats and Woltenplats. With feasting and ale, the revelry would continue into the early hours of the morning.
The guests were a roll-call of the most powerful people in the Empire. They arrived in the city with their retinues until every inn and guesthouse in Sarostar was filled to bursting.
High Lord Tiesto Telmarran came with the Halrana High Animator, Salvatore Domingo, along with a retinue of handsome dark-haired soldiers in brown.
Jehral, Prince Ilathor's right-hand man, arrived with a score of terrifying Hazaran horsemen in black and yellow.
High Lord Rorelan and High Enchanter Merlon would of course be attending, as would the Tartana of the Dunfolk, whose arrival was perhaps the most exciting of all, with children skipping along behind and hiding from the mischievous glowers the wizened old man gave them.
Sailmaster Scherlic came via Castlemere, regretfully docking his Buchalanti storm rider the Infinity and setting foot on land with a shudder.
Ameet Ptolmec, the new High Lord of Petrya, arrived with a dozen elementalists in blood-red robes, while the High Lords of Torakon and Loua Louna came together in a display of unity. The isolationist Veznans typically declined the invitation, sending their regrets.
Then one came who surprised everyone.
Dain Barden Mensk of the Akari arrived with a small personal guard of tall, blonde-haired, pale-skinned warriors. The ice-dwelling men and women strode through the streets of Sarostar proud and tall, with weapons of all description at their sides, from war hammers to broadswords. People drew back into doorways, whispering as they passed, looking fearfully for decaying revenants; fortunately the Dain had the presence of mind to bring none with him. The Dain looked uncomfortable in thick grey clothing and silver furs — much too hot for spring in Altura. Ill at ease in the city, he was quick to retreat to his lodgings.