‘Deathpriests?’
‘Two Dasati Deathpriests materialized within your garden and started killing everyone in sight.’ She paused for a moment, then said, ‘It was a suicide attack, without a doubt. Varen wouldn’t care how many Dasati die and they are fanatics in the service of their Dark God.’
‘Return to the subject of why I must leave my palace,’ said the Emperor.
‘As Wyntakata, Varen has enough knowledge of the palace to continue to attack you here. He knows that despite a fierce loyalty to the Empire, the High Council would be thrown into confusion by your death. With no obvious heir—’
‘It becomes a struggle between cousins as to who next sits upon the Golden Throne,’ finished Emperor Sezu. ‘Yes, it makes sense. But where should I go?’
‘Has Wyntakata visited any of your country estates, Majesty?’
‘I cannot be certain,’ said the Emperor. ‘Perhaps before I took office…’
‘Not that far back,’ said Miranda. She considered how long it was since Varen’s last apparent ‘death’ during his attack on Sorcerer’s Isle. ‘Just in the last year or so.’
‘No, not that I’m aware,’ said the Emperor. ‘I will have my First Advisor consult with the house staff.’ Then he brightened. ‘One place I’m certain he has not visited. The ancient Acoma estates, south of Sulan-Qu. No one has lived there since my grandfather took the throne, but we have kept those lands and the buildings in the imperial house as a shrine, a site of veneration as the birthplace of the Mistress of the Empire. Yes, it is certain he has never been there.’
She nodded to Manwahat, and the young magician said, ‘If the Light of Heaven pleases, I can have you and your closest retainers there in a matter of minutes.’ The Emperor seemed about to object, but the magic-user added, ‘Others can ensure that your household follows quickly.’ He nodded at Miranda.
‘I’ll pass word back through the Assembly and if we must we’ll move the entire seat of government down there. I can issue orders from there as quickly as here if the Great Ones will aid us.’
Manwahat nodded. ‘If it is your will, Majesty, it is our will.’
The Emperor turned to a servant. ‘Instruct the Warlord to convene the High Council tomorrow, and I shall leave instructions on what must be done to prepare for the coming invasion.’ The servant bowed and hurried off to discharge his duty.
A palace official appeared to inform the Emperor that the fires in the garden pavilion were extinguished. The Emperor dismissed everyone, but bade Miranda to linger. When they were alone with the remaining bodyguards, the Emperor’s calm mask fell away and Miranda now saw a very angry young man before her. ‘The war has begun, hasn’t it?’
Miranda assumed a level of familiarity she wouldn’t have risked even hours before. She reached out and put her hand on the Emperor’s shoulder. Guards in the room shifted position slightly, ready to leap to their ruler’s defence if the outland woman should attempt any harm. ‘It has begun,’ she said softly. ‘And it will not end until the Dasati are completely repulsed from this world and this realm, or Kelewan lies in ruins at their feet. You are about to do something no other Emperor has ever been forced to do: order every house in the Empire to arms, to muster the entire armed might at your command, for never in its two-thousand-year history has the Empire stood at greater risk.’
The anger remained, but the Emperor’s voice was calm. ‘We will do what we must. We are Tsurani.’
Miranda hoped that would be enough. ‘What of the message?’ she asked.
The Emperor looked off into the distance. ‘I… where would we go?’
Miranda knew that was the heart of the issue. The cryptic message from some future Pug to the Emperor instructing him to make ready an evacuation left a lot of room for interpretation. But taken at its worst possible meaning, to remove everyone from this world, or even just from the Empire, would be a colossal enterprise. A hundred rifts would have to be fashioned and controlled day and night, a task that would challenge the entire Assembly. Even with help from the Academy and Sorcerer’s Isle, the enormity of the undertaking would be overwhelming. And during a war with the most dangerous enemies ever confronted? Miranda knew what the Emperor was thinking: it was an impossible choice.
Moreover, his question still hung in the air: where would they go?
Miranda saw a look of relief on her son’s face as she entered the office her husband had created at the rear of their home. She wished she could smile at the look, but she knew that he was about to be disabused of any notion that she was there to relieve him from his duty.
‘Mother,’ he said, rising and kissing her on the cheek.
‘Caleb,’ she replied, ‘you look as if you’re ageing before my eyes.’