“Now he has become very dangerous.”

“Nessagafel has regained a degree of freedom. He augments your grandfather’s power.”

“Nessagafel created the stone?”

“He or one of his minions. Had my father gotten his hands on it, disasters would have unfolded much faster.”

Keles nodded, then glanced right. “The globe, it’s slowing. The lights, too.”

Ryn pulled the blanket up around him. “It will be cold. We will be quite high.” His father tucked it in around Keles’ shoulders, then moved to the globe’s controls.

The sphere faded completely and Keles grasped the arms of the chair. The platform hung many feet in the air. They faced the east, with the sun coming up. Its light had just touched the eastern shore, but already mountains north and south blazed with light reflected from snowcaps. Long rivers ran through lush valleys and emptied through sparkling deltas.

“Do you recognize this place?”

Keles leaned forward. “Nalenyr? But I don’t see Moriande. And there are forests everywhere.”

“This is Nalenyr before there was a Nalenyr.”

“I never could have imagined…”

“But that’s what’s important, Keles. You have to study this. Your grandfather does imagine, and everything he imagines shifts what you see below.”

Keles shook his head slowly. “This is incredible.”

“Just wait.” Ryn worked two levers. “Look at this.”

The timeship came around, putting Keles’ back to the sun. Before him, where the Dark Sea should have been, a massive mountain thrust its peak into the clouds. Snow girdled the base but, above, the mountain became alive with green plants and flowers and flocks of colorful birds. Islands with beautiful palaces orbited and small airships passed from one to another.

Keles stood and staggered to the railing. “Rekarafi said Virukadeen was a paradise. He didn’t lie. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

“And Nessagafel would have eliminated all of it. The Viruk fought him and ended up destroying it. That won’t be for eons yet. Here, they have just mastered magic. This is what the Viruk lost, and why they feel they deserve no more future.”

Keles looked back over his shoulder. “They don’t deserve a future?”

“They destroyed paradise, Keles. They have no more children, and build no more empires, because they can never again have what they lost.”

“And that is what will happen to Men? That’s why you could not see a future?”

“That’s why I’ve brought you here. To guarantee we have one.”

Keles nodded. “Bring me lower. Let me study the world. Let me know how the land once was-how it is meant to be. I want to know everything. I can’t let Qiro change anything.”

Ciras spun, ducking beneath the whistling blade of a gyanrigot warrior. He twisted his wrist and it clicked into place. He slashed up, severing a control wire. The gyanrigot ’s sword arm went limp, but the weight of the arm spun the machine around in a circle.

Two more cuts, parting similar wires where a man’s hamstrings would have been, and the soldier went down.

Ciras leaped past him, blocked another sword blow, and stroked his sword over a gyanrigot ’s stomach. It folded around the cut. Its sword clattered to the ground.

A metallic scrape against the floor betrayed another attacker. Ciras whirled, bringing his sword up in a backhanded slash. The gyanrigot — an unconverted smith-caught the blade with tongs, then smashed a hammer on the swordsman’s blade. The sword spun from his grip.

Both Ciras and the gyanrigot stared at his empty hand for a moment, then Ciras lunged. He stabbed his stiff-fingered hand into the warrior’s chest and came away with a handful of wires and tubes. Hot oil sprayed. The gyanrigot crashed to the floor in a horrible din.

Ciras shook his hand, then let the oil drip from it. The black fluid drained away, revealing silver skin covered with lines of tiny script. He flexed his fingers. They did what he ordered them to do, and he could almost feel with them. Borosan had yet to work out heat and cold, but pressure functioned very well.

And, at least, I do not feel pain. Ciras smiled. Neither in my flesh nor in my heart.

Borosan lifted Ciras’ sword and wiped the oil from it. “I can make the grip tighter, if you want?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Ciras rested the metal hand on Borosan’s shoulder. “It works very well.”

“There are some other improvements I’d like to make. I can put a compartment in the forearm that will open and shoot darts, just like the mousers.”

“No, my friend, I am a swordsman. I am jaecaiserr. All I need is a blade. You’ve done enough already to make sure I’ll never be without one. I am happy.” He took the vanyesh blade from the inventor. “A strong arm and a good blade to wield. That is all I have ever really needed in life. I have them now, and my enemies, once again, have ample cause for fear.”

TheNewWorld

1st day, Month of the Bat, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Shirikun, North Moriande

Free Nalenyr

She stood at her bedchamber’s southern window, so serene despite the turmoil in the city below. I wondered at her composure and drew strength from it. All Moriande did and I hoped she had enough to see us through.

With the setting of the sun the biggest of the siege engines had come within range of the far shore with modest projectiles. Dozens of men hauled on lines, raising the counterweight, lowering the arm. Someone locked the arm into place, then others rolled an iron ball forward. They’d wrap it in a sling, then the engine’s captain would order the trebuchet levered to the left or right, as if an inch here or there could drop the missile on a specific target.

He’d shout an order and the men would scatter. The captain would yank a lanyard. The weight would fall, the arm rise, and the sling would hurl two hundred pounds through the air. The ball arced over the river. Sometimes it would pound the river wall and sometimes it would fly over. The iron balls struck sparks and bounced through buildings.

I had been down there, watching; but from her vantage point Cyrsa could see none of the hurried action. She’d just hear the shouts, might catch a flash of the weight falling, hear the distant echoes of stone striking stone.

Though I had tried to be quiet, she knew I was there. Her long, dark hair covered the five-circle crest on the back of her robe. She shook her head and highlights shimmered through her hair.

“This is what I hoped to prevent back then. I didn’t want a civil war.”

“I know.”

She turned, a tear on her cheek. “That’s why I ordered you killed.”

“It was a wise choice.”

The Empress smiled. “It was an unfair choice. I didn’t give you a chance to change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

She hesitated, then lowered her eyes. “Perhaps we speak about different things.”

“Perhaps.” I reached out and she placed a hand in mine. “I have not recovered all of my memories, but I know enough of them. I would have supplanted you. My desire was that great. I paid for that greed with my life.”

The Empress brushed her other hand over my chest, smoothing a wrinkle. “Then you don’t remember. I knew what you desired. I knew what it would mean. I knew the decision it would force upon me. But I gave you a choice. I loved you that much.”

“What choice?”

“I asked you to marry me, to become prince-consort.”

That sent a thrill through me. “You asked me to marry you even though you knew I wanted to overthrow you?”

“It was the only way.” She rested her cheek against my breast. “You would have been Emperor in all but name when we returned. You loved me. I knew that. You loved the idea of being Emperor. I had to know which you loved more.”