Wrath of a Mad God. Raymond Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ antiquity, of a time of myth, and the arrival of the nations over the golden bridge.

      ‘Our lore-keepers suggest that what we fled from the Home Before Time was too monstrous a thing to even bear accounting, so no word of description, no tale or song even suggests what it was that drove us to this world. It is merely that thing from which the nations fled.’ He paused for a moment, then added, ‘We fear that now such a horror returns to task the nations.’ He fell silent to let his words sink in. Miranda knew enough of Tsurani lore to know he had struck a chord with the lords of the High Council, for the root of Tsurani history was the Myth of Arrival. It was a tale Pug had recounted to her more than once, the image of the majestic golden bridge of light through a massive rift across which thousands of refugees flooded into Kelewan, fleeing the terrors of the Chaos Wars. It was the foundation of every Great One’s training, the birth of those people who later would become the Tsurani, instilling a deep sense of community that was the heart of every magician’s oath to serve the Empire.

      ‘It is the tradition that when the nations go to war, the Warlord is given the power to conduct the business of war. That office has remained empty for years.’ Miranda could see half a dozen ruling nobles looking on eagerly. One of them by rights would be granted the office, the second most powerful position in the Empire, historically at times even more important than the Golden Throne. It was the ultimate prize for any ambitious Tsurani noble. ‘It is to our cousin, Tetsu of the Minwanabi, I turn.’ He looked towards a grizzled noble, still powerful in bearing despite his heavy physique and grey hair. ‘Will you accept this heavy burden, my lord?’

      Tetsu of the Minwanabi bowed his head, barely able to contain his emotions. ‘Gladly, Majesty. I live to serve: my life and honour are yours.’

      The Emperor turned to the assembled lords. ‘Send word to your commanders, my lords. The nations go to war. Go now and return at the second hour after sunrise tomorrow and we shall ready ourselves.’ He turned to his First Advisor, an elderly man named Janain who had previously been his father’s First Advisor. ‘Send word to the Priests of Jastur. I will arrive at noon tomorrow to break the Holy Seal.’

      Miranda glanced at Alenca, uncertain what this particular order meant. The old magician gave a slight shake of his head. But she could tell from the attitude of every man in the room that this announcement was both important and alarming.

      The Emperor continued, ‘I will take the counsel with the Lady Miranda, the Great Ones with whom she arrived, and the Warlord.’ He paused for a moment, then ended the assembly with the formal dismissal, ‘Honours to your houses, my lords.’

      He stepped down from dais and everyone in the room bowed, the common servants going to their knees. As the Emperor swept past, he glanced in Miranda’s direction, and indicated that she should follow.

      As the newly-appointed Warlord fell into step behind the Emperor, Alenca held Miranda back for a moment. Without preamble, he said, ‘By breaking the seal on the temple of the War God, the Light of Heaven ensures all other matters become moot. No faction struggle, clan feud, or debt of blood may be undertaken until the temple door is again resealed, and that will not happen until final victory is achieved.’ He glanced around as if worried about being overheard. ‘You must understand the gravity of this. He has told them that not only are we preparing for the possibility of war, but that we are going to war.’

      Miranda was confused. ‘Isn’t that what we wanted?’

      Alenca said, ‘It is not what I expected. Moreover, I never believed any emperor would again revive the office of Warlord. To promote a Minwanabi to that position …’

      ‘What does it mean?’ asked Miranda, wishing not for the first time but with more fervour than ever before that her husband were here. Pug would understand all of this.

      ‘There is an old saying, one that I am certain you have among your people as well: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. The Minwanabi were defeated by the Acoma, the Emperor’s ancestors, and rather than the usual obliteration, with every living member of that family put to the sword or sold into slavery, the great Lady of the Acoma, the Mistress of the Empire, in a gesture of mercy unimaginable to any Tsurani ruling noble, allowed the Minwanabi to survive. That made one of the original five great houses a vassal to a lesser house, an insult to our ancestors despite the generosity of the gesture.’

      ‘I don’t understand,’ said Miranda.

      ‘You would have to be Tsurani to understand fully, I fear,’ said Alenca, motioning for Miranda to follow. ‘A minor cousin, one of the last surviving members of the last true Minwanabi lord was made ruling lord and he later married an Acoma cousin, further binding the two houses together, but the insult to the Minwanabi by the Acoma was never forgotten. I suspect that breaking the seal on the temple and putting the most dangerous man in the Empire in charge of the war is our Light of Heaven’s tactic to ensure that his most bitter enemy within the High Council is otherwise occupied for the foreseeable future and not exploring the possibility of regicide.’

      Miranda took a deep breath to calm herself and wondered, not for the first time, if the Tsurani were truly mad.

      Miranda continued to observe the young Emperor as he oversaw the conference in his private chambers. They had met only briefly on two previous occasions, the first when he was a boy in his father’s court, and the second time when he assumed the throne. The later event was so dominated by Tsurani tradition that she had been in his presence for less than five minutes, and the entire conversation had been between the young Emperor and her husband. Miranda had found it annoyingly ironic that she was soundly ignored by a tradition-bound young man who owed his position entirely to a tradition-breaking woman, his great-grandmother.

      And again she was being left on the edge of the conversation while the newly-appointed Warlord and the Emperor directed the bulk of the questions to Alenca and the two other senior magicians from the Assembly. At one point in the hour-long interrogation she had verged on volunteering an observation, but Alenca had shot her a warning glance and a slight shake of the head and she had remained silent. Because of her husband’s affections for the old man and her previous dealings with him, she followed his lead, but wondered at what he was playing.

      Despite the injury done to her pride and independent nature, Miranda was impressed by how deftly the Emperor manoeuvred the discussion in the direction in which he wished it to go, deftly controlling the flow of debate and manipulating opinion. After another hour of discussion, she was now certain that despite his youth, this Sezu of the Acoma, First of that Name, Emperor of all Tsuranuanni and Light of Heaven, was nobody’s fool. When the meeting came to a close, he had fashioned a consensus without once having to appeal to his own authority.

      As she rose, the Emperor said, ‘Lady Miranda, a moment please.’

      Alenca hesitated, then bowed slightly again to the Emperor and with an expression of curiosity indicated to Miranda that he’d wait outside for her. Once the Tsurani nobles and magicians had departed, the Emperor said, ‘May I offer you something? Wine? I have several very good reds from your Kingdom of the Isles, as well as some of those that have been cultivated here, though I fear our hot climate makes for difficult vintages.’

      Almost charmed, Miranda realized he was attempting to get her to drop her guard. She said, ‘Water would be fine, Majesty.’

      He signalled and almost before the gesture was finished a large ceramic goblet of fresh water was presented on a tray by a servant. While she drank, the Emperor waved away the servants and pointed to two chairs placed before a massive window looking out over the central courtyard of the palace. ‘Please, no formality,’ he said in the King’s Tongue, almost without accent.

      She looked СКАЧАТЬ