Chapter Ten

Imperium Primus, Palatine City

The tall man wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself as he made his way down the crowded evening street, careful to keep his hood pulled up so that his face couldn’t be seen. He didn’t think Lucian – Licinius, as he called himself now – was looking for him at the moment, but he couldn’t be sure, and it was better safe than sorry. He also couldn’t be sure how much danger he was in if he was; for centuries, he and Lucian hadn’t tried to kill each other, only to prove that their own philosophy and vision for humanity was the correct one. But then, Lucian had become so much more erratic lately as he drew closer to what he saw as his goal that it was hard to say for sure.

The Imperial palace gleamed on its hill above the city, towering above even the grand cathedral and the arena, but the man paid it little heed. He’d seen it before, after all, many times; once, he had walked its halls. And thought its occupants might change over the centuries, the building itself, and what it stood for, remained much the same. A sign, the man thought, of the rot that had been building for so long at the heart of the Empire. A rot that, unfortunately, his old friend had been helping to spread.

But he had not created it. This rot was as old as humanity itself; Verus Licinius, who had once been Brother Lucian, was merely its latest carrier.

But Shiran, who had been Aurelius and many other names besides, had plans of his own. Ducking into a dark alley, he carefully picked his way along it before coming to a nondescript door. He punched a series of numbers into the keypad at its side and the door opened, and he stepped inside into a dingy, dimly lit warehouse. Several armed men and women stood guard between the rows of crates, and in the middle of a cleared space was a table and a man who sat by it. His face was hidden behind a blank holo-mask, but the nondescript robes he wore couldn’t hide a body gone somewhat to seed.

“Shiran,” the man said as the old Adept took a seat across from him. “You’re late.”

Shiran smiled. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t followed,” he said. “You may be aware I had a run-in with some of the charming members of the Adept Cabal the last time I was in the Empire, and I would prefer not to repeat the experience. Luckily for me, they weren’t in evidence.”

“Alaen’s dogs are busy with the war preparations,” the masked man said. “I doubt they’ll have the time to bother us.”

“Well, I’ll cloak our conversation, just to be on the safe side,” Shiran said. “And I trust this building has adequate security of its own?”

“I’ve owned it for years and it’s never failed me,” the masked man said, his tone smug. “The walls are reinforced and block out any scanners, and there’s more guards – and other security – than you’ve seen. We can talk in peace.”

“Good,” Shiran said. “Now, as for what I want to talk about – well, I think you can guess.”

“The war,” the masked man said. “I’ve already been in contact with one of your Dozen Stars nobles over it – Naudar, I think the name was. Haven’t heard from him in a while, though. Apparently, he’s been arrested; something to do with treason and insurrection. He’s lucky; our beloved Emperor would have had him torn apart in the Arena for the amusement of the masses if he’d pulled something like that here.”

“So, you don’t approve of how Licinius is running things?” Shiran asked wryly.

“Would I be here if I did?” the man asked. “You’re talking to me for the same reason Naudar was; because you know I have influence in the government here, and that I’m a reasonable man. One of the last ones in the court, sadly. The priests and most of the senators are sycophants, Decimus is a mad dog waiting to be let off the leash, and the less said of that ghoul Alaen, the better. And I place the blame for all of them at Licinius’s feet. When he came to power, he promised to be an agent of change, that he would purge the Empire of corruption and return our lost glory. But that, it seems, is his problem. He dreams of the glories of the past and sees no future for us save for a return to the time when we ruled all mankind.”

“And you don’t?” Shiran asked.

The masked man sighed. “Part of me does pine for the past, I’ll admit,” he said. “I doubt there’s a son or daughter of the Empire for whom that’s not true. But the past is gone, Shiran. The age of Imperial hegemony will never come again – and good riddance to it, I say. We need to make our way in the modern age as one nation among many, not waste our time looking back to an age that will never come again. But Licinius won’t see that. He’s a man obsessed.”

“He has been for a very long time,” Shiran said quietly.

His contact chuckled. “You almost sound like you know him,” he said. “But here’s the point – I don’t want this war, and I’m not alone, even if nobody else has the courage to say it. Lord, I don’t even have the courage to say it, at least not to Licinius’s face. But we just came off one war with the Alaelam and we’re not prepared for another, no matter what the Emperor and Decimus say. We’re spread too thin. And I have no ill-will towards the Dozen Stars; they split away almost five centuries ago. Licinius does, though. He hates that Kingdom, and he hates its queen for reasons I’ve never been able to understand.”

“I think I do,” Shiran said, but he didn’t elaborate. Yes, he knew why his old friend feared his newest student so badly – and he did fear her; it wasn’t just hate. Memories of an old dream resurfaced in Shiran’s mind, and once again, for times beyond counting, he bitterly regretted that he had ever spoken of it.

Finally, he shook his head and looked back up at his contact. “When the war comes,” he said, “and it will be soon, now, tell me this – will you help the Dozen Stars?”

“I can’t stick my neck out too far or I’ll lose my head,” the masked man said. “And then I’ll be no help to anyone. I can’t promise anything material. But I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t want this war, and that I don’t like what Verus Licinius and his cronies are doing to the Empire. If I see a chance to undermine them, I will take it; trust me on that.” He paused, thoughtful. “And I’ll say this – I might be able to trade information to young Artakane, for the right price. I’m a well-connected man, and I know many things. But I can’t let it be traced back to me, do you understand?”

Shiran sighed. “I do,” he said. “And I suppose that’s all I could reasonably hope for.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal, then?”

Though his contact’s face was hidden behind the holo-mask, Shiran got the sense that he was smiling. “We do.” He took the Professor’s hand and shook it.

I’m sorry, Arta, Shiran thought to himself. I know it’s not much, but it’s something. And I will try to get you more help; as much as I can. I have come too far and sacrificed to much to let you fail now, and I don’t intend to.

///

Al’Aymar Alaen paused at the plain door that stood before him, deep in the heart of the imperial palace. In all the decades he had dwelt here, he had only been summoned to this chamber a handful of times; a part of him shivered at the thought of what this summons now might portend. Alaen was a man of great faith, both in the power of the One and of his own destiny that must be fulfilled; there were few things that shook him. But some of the things he had seen in this room…

They did not frighten him; Alaen was not a man who knew fear. But sometimes they made him feel a certain twinge of… unease. But then, if it meant the fulfilment of his ambitions and the culmination of his righteous path, Alaen could live with unease.

The door slid open and the dark-robed Adept stepped inside, finding himself in a small, circular chamber. It was a plain meditation room of a slightly different design from his own chambers far below the palace, and much smaller – this chamber was not intended for use by the Adept cabal but by one man only, and, on occasion those who he deigned to work with to achieve his goals. Alaen did his best to ignore the elaborate geometric designs that had been carefully inlaid into the chamber’s floor. There were some things that did not bear thinking about, even for him.

Verus Licinius sat on a low couch against the far wall; he was clad in a plain violet robe and was apparently deep in rest or meditation, his legs crossed, and his eyes closed. Alaen approached him and bowed from the waist – not the bow of subject to superior, but of one respected ally to another. For now, of course, the emperor was the senior partner in their arrangement, but he was not, and never would be, Alaen’s master. And, if the Alaelam cleric had his way, he would not be the senior partner forever.

“My lord,” Alaen said, “you summoned me; I am here.”

“Welcome, old friend,” Licinius said, opening his eyes. “Do you have counsel for me?”

“I am not a military man, my lord, but Admiral Decimus has informed me that the armada is almost ready to move out,” Alaen said. “The war begins soon, as you have foreseen.”

“And what of my other old friend, Aurelius?” the Emperor asked. “Shiran, as he calls himself now? Have you found him yet?”

“No, my lord,” Alaen said. “We believe he is here, on Imperium Primus, but he is careful and slippery. We have not found him again, but when we do, we will not fail.” That Shiran had escaped from his Cabal still stuck sorely in Alaen’s throat.

“No, you will not,” Licinius said. “When you find Shiran again, do not engage him. That was your minions’ mistake. He is stronger than any of them – even stronger than you, old friend. And I do not want him dead. Not yet, anyway. We share too much history. When you find him, merely keep a watch on him until I give you orders otherwise. The events that are coming soon – I want him to be there. I want him to watch.”

“Of course, my lord,” Alaen said. “But surely you did not summon me here to your private chambers merely to discuss this matter?”

“No,” Licinius said, shaking his head. “There are other matters which require my attention. I require information, and to get it I must consult sources that will require a great expenditure of effort to contact. I will require your help in this.”

“Of course,” Alaen said, bowing his head. It was as he’d feared, then. Well, the Emperor would not have engaged upon this course unless he felt it absolutely necessary. The best thing to do now would be to assist him and get things over with as quickly as possible.

A part of Alaen briefly considered withdrawing his strength from the Emperor’s at the midpoint of the ritual, leaving him to be consumed by the forces he tried to control and creating a power vacuum Alaen himself could step in to fill. As always, he rejected it – no Alaelam would ever be accepted as Emperor, and there was no guarantee Licinius would die. For now, Alaen needed him, and that need bound the two unlikely allies together far more strongly than any bonds of friendship.

The Emperor rose from his couch and strode into the center of the room, beckoning Alaen to follow a step behind. When he reached the strange geometric pattern, he knelt at its edge, Alaen taking his place beside him. Licinius raised his hands, and violet light began to play along his fingers; Alaen did the same, though his hands were shrouded in shadow. Then, together, they placed their hands flat against the pattern’s edge.

At once the symbol flared to brilliant life as the Adepts’ energies coursed through it. It burned in the center of the room like fire, and as it did so, Alaen could almost imagine that he heard a terrible call echo in his mind, a summons that reached beyond Imperium Primus and out into space – and beyond space into realms that lay hidden from human sight.

There were those who said that science and mysticism were somehow opposites; Alaen knew that they were fools. Mysticism was a science – this was one of the core elements of Matari’s teachings. The cosmos obeyed rules, and with patience and study those rules could be understood, and through that understanding it became possible to create procedures that produced expected, repeatable results. And yet the universe was a domain with many chambers; in the realm of the physical, those rules were dominated by laws of physics and biology, of engines and circuits and chemical reactions. But there were other realms beyond the merely physical, and while those realms could not be seen with eyes, they followed their own rules, and those rules could be understood. Adepts could see those realms, walk in them, and manipulate them.

But there were other things that dwelled in the darkness beyond human understanding. And, sometimes, if one were careful, they could be forced to reveal themselves and share their secrets – secrets that no creature of mortal flesh had ever guessed.

The symbol on the meditation chamber’s floor was a lure and a prison for one such entity. Even now, the call in Alaen’s mind was dimming, but another awareness was growing. Something was coming from the great darkness, pulled across the void by the call of the symbol and the will of the two mighty Adepts who commanded it. There was a great flash of light and a roar of sound, and then a shape took form in the air above them. What it was, exactly, could not be said, for its body seemed to flow and twist and looking at it too long did nothing but hurt the eyes and dazzle the will. But there was intellect there, and malice. Alaen’s distant ancestors on Lost Terra would have called it a djinn; Licinius’s would have called it a daemon. By any name it was not something to be toyed with lightly.

But Alaen and Licinius had dealt with this particular creature before, and they were equal to the task.

Why have you summoned me? A voice that was not a voice asked from the ever-changing chaos.

“I require information,” Licinius said. “You exist outside of time; you know things that have not yet come to pass. I have an enemy. You know her. You know why I fear her. I prepare my legions against her, but I must know – is this enough? What must I do to end this threat?”

The entity’s form seethed. And why should I help you?

“Give me the answer I seek, and I shall let you free,” Licinius promised. “Try to cheat me, and I will bind you here for an eternity!”

The entity seemed to laugh. You have not the power.

Licinius smiled coldly. “You think I do not?” he asked and raised his hands, gesturing for Alaen to do the same. Energy pulsed along both Adepts’ hands, wrapping the entity in a cage of force that constricted tightly around it. The thing thrashed and struggled, desperate to break free, and then finally, after what seemed an eternity, gave a ghastly yowl and slumped against the floor.

You must separate her from the source of her strength, the entity finally said, its not-voice weary and defeated. You must bring her before you, and she must die by your own hand. Only then shall the threat be ended. Only then shall you be secure.

“Can it be done?” Licinius asked.

I see many whens and hows and whys, the entity said, and in the future you would make, you will reign ten thousand years. It is in your grasp. But you must seize it.

“Do you know anything else?” Licinius demanded. “Answer me!” He clenched his fist and the cage of energy tightened once again around the captured entity, but it did not speak again, finally, Alaen put his hand on the Emperor’s arm and he sighed, releasing his grip.

“Very well,” Licinius said. “You have told me what I sought to know. You may go – but I may call upon you again. And be warned – if you have deceived me, then the agony you have known now is but a taste of what I shall bring to bear against you!”

The entity pulsed again as if with laughter, but it spoke no further word. Alaen and Licinius laid their hands once again on the symbol – the hieroglyph of the entity’s true name, which no human mouth could pronounce – and the light dimmed, then died. The entity began to fade, but before it was gone completely, it pulsed one final time.

Beware, it said. The Old Ones watch. Then it was gone.

As soon as it had vanished, Licinius fell forward onto his hands, breathing heavily. Alaen knelt by his side and helped him sit up. “Are you all right, my lord?” he asked. For now, at least, keeping Licinius alive was paramount. He was still useful to the One. “Do you require another offering? I can have one brought here within the hour.” The Emperor had just partaken of a victim not long ago, but he seemed to be requiring them more and more frequently lately, especially when he exerted himself. And he had borne the brunt of binding the daemon to his will; Alaen had merely supplied further energy.

Licinius waved a hand in the negative. “No,” he said. “I am weary, for the moment, but I will be fine. And I know now what I must do.” He turned to face Alaen directly, the ancient eyes in that ageless face boring directly into Alaen’s behind his mask. “Separate her from her power, the creature said. The girl’s strength is in her kingdom, and her companions. We must take them from her.”

His eyes narrowed. “Gather your cabal, old friend, and bring them to me at once. I have a mission for you all, and it must begin without delay.”

Alaen bowed again, his expression concealed. “As you wish, my lord,” he said.