“For now,” Saad said. “There may come a time when I need to revisit the matter. At the moment, though, all my thoughts are on the rebel.”
“Good to hear it,” Arko said, though in reality he did not have the slightest confidence in this pup to defend the empire from a seasoned leader like Barca. Saad had spent his time in office bartering with generals and waylaying messengers. The boy had his eyes on Solus; he cared nothing for the lower kingdoms, the cities beyond the capital. Arko wondered if Saad would attempt to bait him, if he would ask about the messages that went missing. Arko decided to avoid such topics; they would serve only to highlight his weakness.
“What plans have you put in place?” Arko asked.
Saad went on to deliver a record of the army’s status and positions, bringing maps to show greater detail—how the still-loyal men of the Protector’s Army had moved to the Dromus to take up the positions Barca used to occupy, how Saad had positioned provisions and armaments for the coming conflict. It was all done with great pomp and ceremony, the colorful maps and figures laid on the table, the armies of the Protector represented in yellow, the army of Barca in red, the outlanders in white. Saad knocked them about with the tip of his sword, showing the movements of threat and counterthreat across the empire like some kind of elaborate game of Coin. Arko grumbled—he was a king, he wanted to remind Saad, one who for decades had commanded his own army. Arko knew and understood Barca’s strategy, its shortcomings and its strengths. But for a change he held his tongue. However silly it was, moving toys around a board, the message was the same: Barca was moving closer, using the outlander tribes to pillage while he moved around behind their lines, masking his movements and his strength.
“Thank you for that report, Protector,” he said. Then he waved a hand to dismiss the Protector’s men. “Leave us,” he said. “We have matters to discuss.”
The soldiers looked at Saad, whose face was darkened by the shame of having his own men dismissed by the Ray, but he wisely nodded his assent and the men left the Antechamber. Then Arko told Khalden Wat to close the doors, leaving the three men alone. The Antechamber sat astride the Shroud Wall, half inside and half outside the Empyreal Domain. Wat opened a pair of shutters, revealing amber windows. The windows faced the Empyreal Domain, but the amber slabs prevented a visitor from seeing directly into the emperor’s precinct; only shadows passed through the honey-colored resin. Men from the Kiltet stood on the far side of the amber windows, their hazy silhouettes falling across the amber panes. To report back to the emperor, Arko wanted to say, but Saad did not ask. The shapes of the men were enough to let him know: the emperor was listening.
“Tolemy commands you to send a legion of men to the Dromus,” he said, explaining that the Protector’s Army was to reverse Barca’s progress through the Wyrre and Harkana, capture the rogue captain, and rebuild the Outer Guard. Barca’s trained soldiers would be reintegrated into the new Outer Guard, and the farmers and fishermen whom the traitor had drafted into his service would be sent back to their homes. In truth, Arko didn’t care about Barca attacking the empire, but he was worried about his kingdom. The rebel had already moved against Harkana and was even now advancing on the Hornring. Arko needed to block that advance, but also wanted to get Saad out of Solus, and war was the best way to make the Protector leave. The campaign against Barca might take years to complete and Saad’s absence would give Arko time to cement his power and make changes to the empire. I need to get rid of you, Saad. And this is the best way to do it. Arko faced the amber windows. A shadow fell through the resin, giving an eerie sense of movement beyond.
“What of Barca?” Saad asked.
“What of him?” Arko asked. “You’ll take his head or he’ll take yours. Let’s hope it’s the former,” Arko said, smirking. “You will need to leave Solus in one week’s time.” Arko held out a scroll with the emperor’s seal—gold, shining with the rays of the sun. Saad accepted the document silently, his anger already visible in his face. His temper may yet get the best of him. That is, if Barca doesn’t kill him first.
Saad had five hundred men at his back; he could easily strike now and take the Eye of the Sun from Arko’s brow, but he did nothing. The boy straightened his back. Khalden Wat led Saad to the corridor, where the sounds of soldiers beating their feet echoed once again in the stony vaults. Their chants grew louder when they saw their leader approach. The soldiers raised their spears as Saad passed into their lines.
Arko circled the empty chamber, listening to the chants fade as the last soldier left the yard. He spoke when the yard was empty. “He’s not leaving Solus. I saw it in his face, Wat.”
“You might be right.”
“If he doesn’t leave Solus, I’ll need options—ways to defend myself.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Find some men.”
Wat narrowed his eyes.
“Men that are good at killing,” Arko continued. “I assume there is no shortage in the capital. I’m sure Suten employed more than one during his reign.”
“I’ll find what I can,” Wat said, looking uneasy. He seemed accustomed to the intrigues of politics, but not the ways of war. Arko, on the other hand, was well accustomed to such things. He had more than once fought the outlander tribes and was each time victorious. If a fight were inevitable, he would not shrink from it. He found politics vexing, but a war he could manage.
“Do you still want me to post the proclamation?” Wat inquired. “The boy waits with the parchment.”
“Yes, do it now,” Arko said, but there was no need.
Below him, in the empty yard, a door opened and a boy appeared with a large sheet of parchment in his hand. The page held Tolemy’s decree—a brief but eloquent proclamation detailing the amendment of the imperial system of tributes that was initiated two centuries prior by Tolemy I. Wat had asked him to soften the language and to post each amendment separately with a long interval between each, to lessen the shock, he said. But Arko would not hear it. If his directives caused unrest, he would embrace it. He would not shrink from his responsibilities. Suten had not offered him power so he could squander it.
The boy held up the sheet and hammered it into the wall.