Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

Hochopepa said in chiding tones, “I fear that if so famous a personage as yourself wishes not to have such things occur, then such a personage should have his mouth sewn shut.”

 

 

Shimone laughed, and Milamber felt his own mirth rise. “Very well, Hocho,” answered Milamber. “I will take the blame. Still, I don’t know if the Empire is yet ready for the changes I think needed.”

 

Shimone said, “We have heard your arguments before, Milamber, but today is not the time, nor is this the place for social debate. Let us attend to the matters at hand Remember, many of the Assembly are offended by your concerns over matters they judge political. And while I tend to support your notions as refreshing and progressive, keep in mind you are making enemies.”

 

Trumpets and drums sounded, signaling the approach of the Imperial Party and cutting off further conversation. The Tsubar folk and the insectoids were chased from the arena, handlers herding them away. When the field was cleared, grounds keepers hurried out with rakes and drags to smooth the sand. The sound of the trumpets could be heard again, and the first members of the imperial procession, heralds in the imperial white, entered. They carried long, curved trumpets, fashioned from the horns of some large beast, which curled around their shoulders to end above their heads. They were followed by drummers who beat a steady tattoo.

 

When they were in position in the front of the imperial box, the Warlord’s honor guard entered. Each wore armor and helm finished in needra hide bleached free of all color. Around the breastplate and helm of each, precious gold trim gleamed in the sun Milamber heard Hochopepa mutter at the waste of this rare metal.

 

When they were stationed, a senior herald shouted, “Almecho, Warlord!” and the crowd rose, cheering. He was accompanied by his retinue including several in black robes—the Warlord’s pet magicians, as the others of the Assembly referred to them. Chief among these were the two brothers, Elgahar and Ergoran.

 

Then the herald cried, “Ichindar! Ninety-one times Emperor!” The crowd roared its approval as the young Light of Heaven made his entrance. He was attended by priests of each of the twenty orders. The crowd stood thundering. On and on it went, and Milamber wondered if the love of the Tsurani people would sustain the Light of Heaven should a confrontation between Warlord and Emperor take place. In spite of the Tsurani reverence for tradition, he did not think the Warlord a man to step down meekly from his office—a thing unheard of in history— should the Emperor so order.

 

As the noise died down, Shimone said, “It seems, friend Milamber, that the contemplative life doesn’t suit the Light of Heaven. Can’t say that I blame him, sitting around all day with no one for company but a lot a priests and silly girls chosen for their beauty instead of conversational ability. Must become frightfully boring.”

 

Milamber laughed. “I doubt most men would agree.”

 

Shimone shrugged. “I constantly forget you were quite old when you were trained, and you have a wife also.”

 

At mention of wives, Hochopepa looked pained. He interrupted. “The Warlord is going to make an announcement.”

 

Almecho rose and held his hands aloft for silence. When the stadium fell quiet, his voice rang out. “The gods smile upon Tsuranuanni! I bring news of a great victory over the otherworld barbarians! We have crushed their greatest army, and our warriors celebrate! Soon all the lands called the Kingdom will be laid at the Light of Heaven’s feet.” He turned and bowed deferentially to the Emperor.

 

Milamber felt a stab at the news. Without being aware, he began to stand, only to have Hochopepa grip his arm and hiss, “You are Tsurani!”

 

Milamber shook himself free of the unexpected shock and composed himself “Thank you, Hocho. I nearly forgot myself.”

 

“Hush!” said Hochopepa.

 

They returned their attention to the Warlord. “. . . and as a sign of our devotion to the Light of Heaven, we dedicate these games to his honor.” A cheer rang through the arena, and the Warlord sat down.

 

Milamber spoke quietly to his friends. “It seems the Emperor is less than ecstatic at the news.” Hochopepa and Shimone turned to watch the Emperor, who was sitting with a stoic expression upon his face.

 

Hochopepa said, “He hides it well, but I think you are right, Milamber Something in all this disturbs him.”

 

Milamber said nothing, knowing well enough the cause, this victory would blunt the Blue Wheel peace initiative, and would gain the Warlord more power at the Emperor’s expense.