Gaston nodded, setting the lens down.
“I rather believe that is a damn good idea, my lady.”
Mira tightened the sail lines, bringing the skimmer up into the wind layer, and turned away from the capital.
CHAPTER 8
The cloaked figure made his way through the crowds, occasionally pausing to rest. The city was one of the outlying metropolises of the empire, only a few hundred miles from the nearest God Wall. In the distance out past the walls of the city, you could see the God Wall rising to tower over everything, reaching out past the atmospheric envelope and into the cold emptiness beyond.
In the city, however, that symbol of the unknown had long since been relegated to everyday scenery, and it was the God Wall that the cloaked figure was looking at as he rested. After each brief rest, he once again pushed his way through the crowds of the market bazaar, finally ducking into a narrow alley and knocking on a doorway deeply shadowed within.
The door opened silently and he stepped inside, waiting until the door closed before throwing off his cloak.
“Did you find anything?”
“No,” William Everett said, shaking his head as he took a seat. “The rumors seem to be false.”
His contact nodded, unsurprised. It wasn’t the first time in the weeks since the coup that they’d tracked down rumors of the missing Scourwind heirs only to find nothing at the end of the search. The only good side of it was that the forces of the new emperor weren’t having any more luck than they were.
Every semiclandestine unit in the empire had orders to be on the lookout for the Scourwind twins, but so far nothing but rumors and ethereal stories had appeared since the day Edvard had died. None of it was common knowledge. Regular police and guardsmen couldn’t be informed without spreading rumors across the surface of the world in an instant, but the directives should have been enough to catch even the wiliest of criminal fugitives.
Had anyone asked prior to that day, no one would have bet that Brennan and Lydia Scourwind of all people would have a chance in the burning skies of evading an empire-wide search, and yet they’d done just that. William himself couldn’t believe it, and he knew them better than most.
Brennan was an overly pampered troublemaker and a dedicated pain in the ass to anyone in authority. His rebellious period against his father had started when he was barely thirteen and had still been going strong. Lydia was just as pampered, though her personality couldn’t be more different. She had embraced the cute image of her as a princess and acted it at all times. It won her few close friends but many admirers willing to do almost anything she asked.
The two of them should have been captured within a week of escaping the palace, though, in his mind, reports of Kayle being killed on the roof where Brennan’s flyer had been stored explained their escape.
“Thank you for your help and hospitality, my lord,” William said.
Lord Baron Kennissey waved off the honorific. “The Scourwinds were allies for a long time. They deserved more support than they received.”
“I believe this.” William nodded soberly. “However, it is difficult to hold for allies when you’re being ambushed.”
“We should have seen it coming.” The baron sighed. “Now Corian is moving to solidify his control over the Senate. The fighting has spilled out of the capital. We have reports of confused resistance being slaughtered by Corian’s legions. I do not believe that those who support him in the Senate expected Corian’s brutal response to relatively minor defiance.”
The baron laughed bitterly. “More than one of those fools is learning just who they backed. Scourwind may have been a hard man, but Corian has no inkling of how to manage the empire. He only knows how to command armies.”
“I know.” William nodded.
Corian was noted for the near fanatical loyalty of the soldiers under his command, but the man didn’t know how to manage allies. If you weren’t one of his soldiers, you were a nonentity at best … an enemy at worst. He’d begun by quickly taking the forward Scourwind allies out of the Senate with brutal efficiency. Baron Kennissey had only avoided this so far by virtue of being more interested in managing his own lands than spending time in the Senate and the capital.
Eventually, they both knew the new emperor would turn his focus to the fringes of the empire, even this far out.
“How are things looking?” William asked finally, though he was far from certain he wanted to know.
“The old group are stocking for a fight,” the baron admitted with a sigh. “They know Corian won’t leave well enough alone. It’s not in his nature. He’ll insist on military discipline in government, and we both know that’s never going to happen.”
William laughed darkly, shaking his head. “Not without a lot of blood spilled.”
“Not even then,” Baron Kennissey countered. “Bloodshed will get him the appearance of discipline, but it’ll also start the conspiracies running, if they’re not already.”
“Are they?”
Kennissey shrugged. “I haven’t made plans yet, but there are others not as forgiving as I am, and Edvard had friends. I don’t know. What about the Cadre?”
William was silent for a moment as he considered that question.
“Scattered,” he finally said. “The Senate limited our numbers, but Scourwind had the last laugh on them in that deal.”
“How so?”
William grimaced. “The limit was one century of Cadre, the elite of the empire.”
Kennissey nodded. “I know. What of it?”
“We never had enough men to fill half that, and the Scourwinds knew that we never would when they agreed to the limit,” William said.
“Men come from all over the empire to take a shot at a Cadre slot,” Kennissey objected. “How is that possible?”
William glanced around, but the room was empty. It was a reflex gesture more than a sign of real suspicion. He parted his cloak, exposing the Armati where it rested strapped to his thigh.
“These. They’re our Armati, our sworn weapons,” he said. “A symbol of office, if you will.”
“I know. The Senate was briefed …”
“No”—William shook his head—“you weren’t. I’ve probably already told you more than I should, but given the state of the empire, I can probably tell you a couple things even Corian isn’t aware of. The Armati aren’t manufactured weapons. The empire didn’t create them.”
Kennissey stiffened. “Then who?”
“They’re from the Atalans.”
“That’s a myth,” the baron countered, disbelieving. “No one believes they really existed.”
“They existed,” William said confidently. “The Scourwind histories go back far into the pre-empire history. The Atalans most certainly existed.”
“Then where did they go?”
William snorted. “Where do you think? They founded the empire.”
“Scourwind …” The Baron breathed out, shocked.
“And half a handful of other bloodlines”—William nodded—“and only those bloodlines can link to an Armati, or even neural projection interfaces. Today there are millions in the empire with some hint of the blood, probably tens of millions, but most of it’s thin. Scraping together enough men to fill a century of linked wielders? Effectively impossible, and growing harder with every passing generation. Another handful, and there won’t be a single person left in the empire who can link to an Armati. Be thankful that projection links are far less stringent.”