“We had the same storm,” Arram reminded him. “I saw it. And it had no lightning, Ozorne. No lightning and no—”
Ozorne lunged and clapped his hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it,” he whispered. “What if someone believed you? I saw them—didn’t see them—too, remember? You, me, Chioké—and Faziy. And she’s dead.” Arram stared at his friend. “That was in Uncle’s report, too,” Ozorne whispered. “Chioké told them she was dead, weeks dead, when she was found. But others knew she was supposed to be able to get lightning to come when she called. He vouched for you and me—that’s why we haven’t been called before the examiners. Forget them, Arram. Forget her. Forget lightning snakes.”
Arram nodded. Ozorne was right. There were too many ways someone might think they had a part in that murderous storm. Stiloit was gone. Faziy was gone. What did he know of murder and emperors?
“I believe in ugly storms and the mortality of men. It was poor Stiloit’s time, that’s all. No one killed him.” Ozorne refilled his glass and swallowed deeply. “May the Black God show him and those who died with him every mercy he can show.”
Including Faziy, Arram thought. Even if she used the lightning that sank those ships, or got the lightning snakes to do it, surely her own death paid for it. I only wish I knew why.
They watched the brightening stars and the rising moon in companionable silence. In the university below they could hear students laughing and shouting, enjoying their last free night for the next few months.
Finally, since they had skirted the possibility already, Arram asked softly, “What would you do? If you were emperor?” He drank a little of his wine and made a face.
Ozorne sat up and looked in the direction of each of the guards. When he saw no sign of them, he sank back and whispered in return, “I’d build a statue to my father in Imperial Square.”
Arram nodded, then remembered he was a shadow against other shadows. “What else?”
His friend chuckled. “I’d build Mother a palace at least two hours’ ride away.”
Arram choked, then said in reproof, “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” came the answer. Ozorne was quiet for a time. “I’d build two more universities, one in Ekallatum Province and the other toward the eastern borders. Students will be able to study early before they need to come here. Or they can get their certificates at those schools. Our strength is in our mages, that’s what Father always said. And two big schools for magecraft—ours and the one in the City of the Gods—isn’t enough. Too many people with the Gift are forced to make do with bits and pieces, when they could learn greatness.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Arram said, awed. He hadn’t even thought of that for the future. “Have you thought…about the slaves?”
“What about them?”
“Freeing them. The North manages without slaves.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought it through, but…it’s different with our people, surely,” Ozorne replied slowly. “So many of them are uneducated—taken from the inland tribes. They can’t care for themselves. Their masters do that.”
“They could be taught,” Arram said. “The ones in the Eastern Lands managed.”
“But that area, those Eastern Lands, they don’t have the open ground we use for crops,” Ozorne said, amused. “They don’t have the acreage along our northern coast, let alone what’s in the south and the east. We have hundreds of thousands of slaves. They had nothing like that number! Besides, they freed them a few at a time.”
Arram exhaled with impatience. “You could start with the children.”
“Maybe,” Ozorne drawled. “I would really have to think and talk with others about it. Why don’t you do the same? We need to avoid what happened in the Eastern Lands when they freed their slaves. People lost fortunes paying former slaves to do their old jobs—you read the same books I did. The great lords rebelled against their king—”
“Unsuccessfully,” Arram said impatiently.
“It would take time and careful planning. Years of it.” Ozorne filled Arram’s glass. “You are an idealist. Someone has to be practical. Not that we’ll get a chance to try any of this.”
Arram sighed and sipped the wine. It tasted even nastier. Why did so many people like the stuff? “You’re right,” he told his friend. “I don’t wish your uncle or your cousin ill, after all.”
“Me neither,” Ozorne replied, putting down his own cup. “If anything happens to them, I’ll have to work. There’s a dreadful fate!”
Preet descended through the dark and lit on Arram’s hand.
“Come here,” Ozorne begged. “Let me scratch that wayward little noggin of yours.” Preet complied. As she began to make her happy chirring noise, Ozorne asked, “Do you know what I’d really like to do? Or were you just pulling my hair over slavery?”
“Of course I’d like to know,” Arram said.
Ozorne sighed dreamily. “Southern Tortall or the Copper Isles. I’m not sure which I’d take first. I’d have to see what condition the navy is in. The lords of the Copper Isles have better ships than the Tortallans. It should be the Kyprish holdings, though. Once you have the Isles, Tortall is at your mercy, and the Yamani Islands. Get Tortall, and the Yamanis and Scanra are nothing. And once you have those four, you can sweep the Eastern Lands.”
Arram sat up straight, staring at his friend’s shadow. “You’ve put a great deal of thought into this.”
“I have to do something with all those history and military history lessons, don’t I?” Ozorne scrambled to his feet, making Preet flap over to Arram. He walked to the edge of the roof to stare toward the lights of Thak City. As he went, a wave of his Gift billowed out to form a dome over him and Arram: a privacy spell to keep Okot and his colleague from hearing. “Think of it, Arram,” Ozorne said quietly. “The emperor who did that would be known forever as the one who reunited the original empire, the Eternal Empire of the islands, the Eastern Lands, and the Southern Lands. One great empire—and one great emperor.”
Arram petted the bird for a moment, then forced a light note into his voice. “So what comes after that? The moon?”
Ozorne laughed and returned, rolling up the privacy spell with him. “Just dreaming, dolt. Let’s pack up and head off, before we fall asleep here. It’s not the most comfortable of beds.”
As he cast some light over them, Arram packed away their dishes. And you’ve given me an uncomfortable night, he thought. Whatever happened to the country villa, with Varice and me as your servants and counselors? It seems you have a far bigger household in mind.