Emperor of Thorns (The Broken Empire, Book 3)

Kosson threw me a hurt look, for a moment a child with his enthusiasm dashed. ‘Yes, but see who we have here!’


We edged around the invisible glass surrounding the man. That was how it felt. Slick glass, cold to touch, the edge of time where hours and minutes die to nothing.

‘See?’ Kosson pointed to a white rectangle attached to the man’s chest, to the left. It looked to be a piece of plasteek and bore the legend ‘CUSTODIAN’ in black. ‘That means he’s the guardian, the protector. The guard archivists have books that tell the meanings of ancient words.’

‘He looks soft to me.’ Weak, white, fear in his eyes.

‘The strength of the Builders was never in their arms. That’s what the Lord Commander says. I agree with you myself, he’s no warrior. The Lord Commander tracks his ancestry back to the first custodian. This man. He’s the family’s patron saint.’

And in that moment I understood why the man’s broom-thing seemed familiar. ‘That staff of office Hemmet’s got. It’s copied from this, isn’t it? Shorter, prettier, but this?’

Kosson nodded.

‘Patron saint, you say?’ I sucked my teeth trying to figure that one through. ‘You’re telling me Roma canonized a Builder?’

‘You’ll have to ask the Lord Commander that one.’ Kosson shook his head. ‘Come on.’ And he led back the way we’d come.

We were reunited before the throne, a plain wooden chair, high-backed and sturdy, ancient work, crudely fashioned. Here and there gleaming bolt heads drew the eye, on the armrests, the front legs, the sides, smoothed flat to the wood. Legend had it that kings among the Builders had sat in this same seat and the same secret fire that ran through their machines had run through their veins. It had been shipped in across a great ocean long ago.

‘Will you have me keep my distance? Stand over here? Unclean as I am.’ I paused some yards back.

Sindri grinned and waved me forward. Elin intercepted me as I approached, lifting her fingers to touch my scarring. ‘The North knows how you came by your wounds, King Jorg, and they are no taint.’

The throne stood on a dais of two high steps. The throne hall itself reached to the great dome covering the whole palace complex, and lay in a great circle surrounded by many chambers.

‘The wedding ceremony will be conducted here before the throne with an honour watch of one hundred and fifty guard, the troops assigned to escorting each of your fathers to Congression,’ Lord Commander Hemmet told Sindri.

‘A priest of Roma speaking the words within the Gilden Gate,’ I said. ‘That must grate, Lord Commander?’ Whatever the disrespect the guard showed to the Hundred it paled next to that reserved for the Pope and her underlings, be it cardinal or choirboy.

‘Never that, Jorg. The emperors maintained a personal priest swearing no allegiance to Roma. Such clerics are still available from a church within the palace. The Pope holds no sway within these walls, her corruption of the faith doesn’t touch the guard, we keep to older ways. I doubt me that the Gate would allow any priest with Roma’s stink to pass.’

‘Well and good,’ I said. ‘I hold to older ways myself.’ And I stepped closer to Elin. She smelled good, of woman and of horse, neck slender, eyes wicked. I nodded for Hemmet to continue his show and tell. Not that he was waiting for my permission.

‘At Congression the Hundred break into their bickering groups and secret themselves in the preparation halls.’ Lord Commander Hemmet swung an arm to encompass all the side chambers. ‘Lord Sindri and Lady Freya may take a chamber each to house their respective wedding parties.’

‘Can they choose which?’ I asked.

‘Your pardon, King Jorg?’ He had a way of speaking that made ‘king’ seem a very small word.

‘Can they have any of the chambers they wish? There must be thirty or more.’

‘Twenty-seven, and yes, they can have any of them.’ He nodded.

‘Well let’s go exploring then,’ Elin said, and took my hand, leading me off toward a distant archway.

I heard Sindri snort behind me. ‘Come Uncle, Norv.’

‘And I’m supposed to know what to look for?’ I heard the uncle growl behind us. ‘It’s just a damn room.’

We had a fair walk to the first chamber. The emperor’s throne room would fit within Ibn Fayed’s but with not much space to spare, and I judged it more ancient, turned to this purpose at a time when the empire was still in bud.

We halted before double oak doors inlaid with ironwood, the marquetry depicting two battling eagles facing off across the dividing line. Elin’s hand felt cool in mine. She nearly matched me in height, the whiteness of her making something alien yet intriguing. She pushed a door and led me in.

The room beyond lay cavernous and dark, lit in patches by light from small windows in the ceiling, glazed using lost skills or stolen glass.