“So no one knows the truth.” It was a statement more than a question.
“No one. Only the Ray of the Sun is allowed to pass in and out of the Empyreal Domain. My longtime adviser—Khalden Wat, the servant of the Ray—cannot enter the domain, but he will assist and serve you as best he can.”
Arko was confused. “Serve me?” he asked. A dim, nagging feeling at the back of his head told him there was something more happening here, something monumental—something that would be far more important to him personally than the revelation about the emperor.
“Why yes, isn’t it clear, Arko Hark-Wadi? You are to be the new Ray of the Sun. Only the Ray of the Sun can survive the divine light. Once the people discover you have survived the audience with the emperor, they will acknowledge you as his holy conduit.”
“This is folly,” Arko said. “You mock me. I am no Ray. My father could have been Ray, but not me. Kill me or send me back to Harwen, but leave off this nonsense now, before you make a mess of everything.” Arko shook his head. He had been expecting to meet the emperor, to gaze into the face of a god and perish. Instead he would live, and Suten expected him to serve the empire as the next Ray of the Sun. It was impossible. He was Harkan. He was the enemy.
Suten’s hand on Arko’s forearm was dry and cold, too cold for the warm day, but soothing. “Perhaps this will make you understand,” he said, and Suten led Arko to a chamber deep beneath the earth. He left Arko at the door and moved to the center of the room, picking up a burning torch and throwing it into a round iron receptacle. A dim light filled the chamber, a circular space with a domed roof and curling symbols carved into the walls. Two spheres hung from the dome, one large and one small. Suten stoked the brazier, the flames brightened, and the spheres rotated about the center of the room. One represented the Earth, the other its moon. The fire was the sun, Suten explained. As the spheres spun about the dome, the moon continued to pass between the sun and the Earth, but with each revolution the moon went slightly out of sync with the planet. Finally, it missed the yearly alignment that caused the sky to darken. “The failed eclipse,” Suten said, stoking the brazier as the spheres continued their silent revolutions.
As Arko watched it fail he sensed some deeper meaning. The machine was telling him something, but he didn’t know what it was. “What is this?” he asked, tugging at his beard as the spheres came to rest, the flames darkened, and the room went quiet.
“That’s a question I’ve pondered for a great many years.” Suten stoked the brazier. “This instrument was crafted by the Soleri and imbued with their wisdom and light. It signals the yearly eclipse, but that is not its true purpose—it was designed to predict the coming of a single event, one it has now revealed. And that is why I have brought you here to be the new Ray.”
“But those people, your citizens, think I am some sort of sacrifice to soothe their anger. When I become Ray their anger will only double. So why place a Harkan on your throne?”
“The Devouring.”
“What about it?”
“Ever wonder what the name meant?” asked Suten.
“The Harkans—”
“Do not properly honor the Devouring,” finished Suten. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard of your games. The Devouring is a tradition that stretches back to a time before the empire, and even before the Soleri.” Suten drew in a long breath, his wrinkled features hidden in the darkness. He stoked the brazier, but the flames were gone, only embers remained, and their light was fading.
“On the last day of the year, the moon devours the sun, but this is not the true Devouring. The very first Devouring was not just a dimming of the sun but a devouring of the land and the cities upon it. The stories of this first Devouring are etched in the burnt ruins of the Shambles and the worn temples of the Waset, in the fractured caverns of the Hollows and the crumbling fortresses of the Stone Reefs. In these places, there are walls that lay crumpled like parchment or shattered like glass. There are whole cities reduced to ash, leaving only desert.
“Have you ever wondered why so much of Solus is built beneath the earth, why the Soleri chose to hide half of their great capital beneath the sand? Why the throne of the sun god’s children lies buried beneath the desert stones? And why the Soleri erected the Dromus, and the Shroud Wall? What were they hiding from? What did the gods fear?”
Arko did not know, he was out of answers, out of breath too. A first Devouring. What did that mean? And what creature could devour the very landscape?
“What do they fear?” he echoed.
Suten shook his head—he didn’t have all of the answers, but it was clear the old man had been frightened enough to invite his enemy to stand with him as a friend. “The last Devouring is upon us. The moon and the stars are misaligned. The amaranth, the sun god’s sacred plant, is in scarcity. The people rioted, they set fire to the city of the Soleri and tore a priestess of Mithra from the wall; more will follow unless we have a leader who can hold this empire together by force of will alone…”
“And you expect me to be such a leader,” said Arko. If the Soleri could not abide it and created their entire empire in preparation against a hidden, shadowy enemy, what could one Harkan accomplish against such a foe?
Arko stared at Suten, speechless. He had expected death; he had not expected this. “I suppose you don’t know me very well if you believe me to be the kind of leader you require.”
“In that you are incorrect. I know you well. They call you the Bartered King, but in truth you are the last true king. Save for the interloper who now sits on Feren’s throne, you are the only king untouched by the Priory. If I ally your kingdom with Sola, we need no longer prepare for another Harkan-led revolt. Only the outlanders will possess a force large enough to challenge us, but you have proven deft at subduing them.