4th day, Month of the Eagle, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Kelewan, Erumvirine

It occurred to Nelesquin, as an afterthought, that leaving the crucified soldiers high on the city’s walls might not give his visitors the correct impression of Kelewan. Yet, if any of the vanyesh noticed, they gave no sign. They had sailed across the Dark Sea and down the Green River, arriving at the quays with little ceremony. Dockworkers had known something was amiss when a ship came down the river faster than the current could have taken it, yet without oars, sails, or draft animals in sight. Most of them fled, making the sign of a circle to ward off magic, but one brave soul brought word of the ship’s arrival to the palace.

Nelesquin made for the docks immediately, but without apparent haste. It would not do for him to seem anxious-though, in truth, he was. Kaerinus appeared unchanged despite the years. Nelesquin wondered how time had treated those who had waited with him in the Wastes.

The first of the vanyesh bounded from the ship, vaulting over the wales to land on the docks in a crouch. He appeared to be nothing more than a skeleton, his bones wrapped in silver. The metal had been etched with fine sigils and symbols. The creature-Nelesquin could hardly think of it as a man-rose to eight feet, and a second pair of whiplike arms uncoiled themselves from around his spine. A knot of fine silvery filaments rose from his skull like a warrior’s topknot, and a pair of long swords crisscrossed at his back.

The only recognizable thing about him was his face. A metal mask replaced his flesh but moved with a fluid reality. The creature smiled and slowly stalked forward. When he reached a respectful dozen paces from Nelesquin, he dropped to a knee and bowed deeply, holding it for a very long time.

Nelesquin smiled. “Rise, Pravak Helos. Be welcome in Kelewan.”

The metal man’s head came up. “You are the dawn after a terrible night, Highness. We came as quickly as we could.”

“And I am pleased to have you here.” Nelesquin looked past him at the ship bobbing quayside. “How many of you are there?”

The giant lowered his head again. “Seventy-two. We had numbered more, but some did not survive the journey.”

Nelesquin glanced at Kaerinus. “See what you can do for them.”

“It has been a long time, brother.” Pravak gave Kaerinus a smile. “Many will need bearers. If you take them to the circle outside the city, they will get better. In our form, we need the wild magic.”

Kaerinus smiled, then headed back toward the gate to order bearers and other helpers.

Pravak stood and looked longingly at the small stone circle near the city gate. “If I could trouble you, Highness?”

Nelesquin smiled and led the way to the stone circle. Pravak stepped over the white stone rim and smiled with the satisfaction of a man entering a warm bath. “We stopped at a few small towns on the way downriver, but they have little enough magic trapped in their circles to help. We almost put in at Dreonath, for magic lingers there, but we could not countenance a delay.”

“You anticipated my need.”

“Circumstance forced our action. You won’t remember Tolwreen, Highness, though you have been venerated there as a god for eons. We worked hard to maintain our number so we could rejoin you when the time came. We kept to ourselves but Turasynd Black Eagles found us. Since you had allied with them in the past, we forged our own alliance. Barely a month and a half ago we concluded an agreement. The Black Eagles and their allies already maneuver to attack Deseirion.”

Nelesquin frowned. “At what cost?”

“They want Deseirion.”

“Ha! I would never give them part of the Empire. Did you agree to this?”

“Yes, Highness.” Pravak’s metal flesh flowed into a smile. “We never had any intention of allowing them to keep it. Prince Pyrust, as near as we have learned, is the most capable military leader alive. We wished to distract him.”

The Prince nodded. “Pyrust was the best. He’s dead now.”

Pravak shook his head. “The Black Eagles could not have reached Deseirion yet.”

“He did not die in Deseirion. He died here. I killed him myself.” Nelesquin rubbed a hand over his beard. “But, tell me, how did you learn of Pyrust and the state of affairs in the Nine?”

“There are wanderers in the Wastes who tell us much. We’ve used them in your service before.” Anger etched deep lines onto Pravak’s face. “One such was a man named Ciras Dejote. He bore the sword our brother Jogot Yirxan carried. We welcomed him and he told us much of the outside world. We thought him Jogot’s reincarnation and believed his arrival was a sign that your return was imminent. Then he betrayed us and almost destroyed our alliance with the Black Eagles. Worse yet, we believe he and his companion were searching for Empress Cyrsa.”

Nelesquin rested a foot on the circled edge, then leaned forward on his raised knee. “Cyrsa is in Moriande. Pyrust was her general. My troops defeated him and are on their way to lay siege to Moriande. I shall be leaving in a week and you shall join me. All who can travel will join me.”

Pravak shook his head. “How did you…?”

Nelesquin reached inside his robe and pulled out a black leather sack. “The stones warned me. They warn me of many things.”

The metal man laughed. “And I used to think you relied on them too much. They have served you well.”

Pravak looked back at the barge and Nelesquin followed his gaze. Two of the vanyesh — one hopelessly slender and the other with a human torso grafted to a metal scorpion’s body-carried a large wooden box off the ship. The scorpion bore it on his back while the other flitted to the left and right, steadying it. The nervous one calmed considerably once they reached solid ground and the box could not fall into the river.

Nelesquin’s mouth went dry. “That is it, then?” Without waiting for an answer, he shook the stones in the pouch, then opened it and peered within. “Almost. Almost.”

“As you wished, Highness.”

The Prince nodded and forced a smile onto his face. “Kaerinus, see that the box gets to the palace, in the place we have prepared.”

Kaerinus bowed deeply. “As you desire, my lord.”

Pravak frowned and lowered his voice. “Kaerinus looks odd, Highness.”

Nelesquin nodded. “He has spent much time away and has picked up some odd habits. He is yet as loyal as ever. Now how is it that you were taken in by the one who bore Yirxan’s sword?”

“He and his companion slew some looters who were despoiling graves for corpse dust. They showed respect for the dead. We tested him and he is Jogot reincarnated. We had no means of knowing he would betray us.”

“No, of course not.” Nelesquin smiled slowly. “He returns and repeats the betrayals of before. We’d known there was a spy in our midst, Pravak, and now we know who it was.”

“I would not have thought it was Jogot. I questioned him and never suspected.”

“Kaerinus did as well, and so did I. He was good, but he failed to destroy me then, and has failed to destroy our cause this time.” Nelesquin patted his comrade on the shoulder. “Think no more on it. You are here now. We have no more worries.”

The two vanyesh smiled at each other and turned to watch their surviving comrades leave the ship. So many of them could barely move. Nelesquin was struck by the number who could be carried in a child’s arms, hanging limply as rag dolls. These men had once been a proud company of sorcerers and warriors who feared little. Magic had become their way of life and now, for so many of them, it was life.

But when I employ them in battle, they will vanquish all they face. Cyrsa has nothing like them. They will crush her troops and my empire will be returned to its rightful owner.