The halls appeared deserted, the ruler knowing many feared to be in his presence while his moods were so unpredictable. They must learn to live with it, he decided. He would not be a pariah in his own house. The passage wound down to the sea floor. Light blazed from normally dark walls as the palace reacted to his presence.
Aboshan reached the bedrock. A shimmering bubble stretched across the room to a partition. He could see a squad of tresias chivying someone behind the screen. At least he would not have to soil himself by looking on the land-bound. The sentry bowed to the ground, his stalk pivoting to bring his torso flat to the rock. The emperor ignored him as he swam closer to the bubble of air. The monarch remembered his ministers creating the spell. The problems with item preservation dictated that Aboshan, who despised all above the sea, have a pocket of air and dry land in his own house. Worse, he could not swim among his treasures but must walk on legs.
"Avert your eyes as we inspect our treasures," the emperor told the guards. He swam closer, then passed into the bubble. He writhed with unexpected pain. He had buried his ability to form legs at least as deep as the treasures below. He lay on the floor, gasping for air as his tentacles combined and formed legs. He laboriously expelled water cleared from his new lungs. He tried to stand, but i his muscles protested. The best he could manage was a I crawl as he neared the trapdoor. He sat at the top of the stairs leading down, the air feeling as chill as the ocean depths. At last he slid down the wooden steps. He gripped the banister and laboriously pulled himself to his newly created feet.
The room was lit by unpleasantly flaring lamps. Crystal globes captured traces of fire and threw their harsh rays from the chamber's corners. The shelves erected on the floor were taller than his head, his treasures laid upon them and cataloged. He tottered toward the first set, gripping the sides as his feet shuffled over the uneven floor. Some of the wooden planks groaned under their loads. The steel and glass heads of forgotten fighting machines stared at him as he worked his way down the aisle. Mechanical limbs threw threatening shadows. He passed a section of knives, their wavy edges promising death to who ever touched the blade, the wielder as well as the victim. A pile of jewels, separated by type, covered the wood at the end of the aisle.
"Is this all?" he asked himself. Where were the magics to sweep away his enemies? He had no interest in baubles or small devices. He could draw on an empire to build his armies. These items were inconsequential compared to his might under the sea. Perhaps the greater wonders were deeper under the palace?
Aboshan moved toward the hole leading down to the next room. His stride improved as he went down the ladder. He was no weakling to be overwhelmed by walking. The shelves seemed more of the same. A projector lay groaning on a set of tables. He could see the spears contained through gaps in the mechanism. The weapon might make a single warrior or machine nigh unstoppable but was of no use against the hordes a war must bring.
He strained to topple the trestles. He snarled at his impotence as he tried to move weights unsupported by water for the first time. Dry land oppressed him. All but a tiny fraction of his forces could not leave the water at all. The continent's interior seemed remote as distant islands to the savages inhabiting the world of air.
The real weapons must be hidden. He stretched out his senses, drifting between the shelves. He could smell the water and mud down in the lower levels. His eyes saw little sign of hidden cases or rooms as he worked his way back. It was only his meticulous attention to the walls that tipped him off.
One section of rock changed slowly as the light brightened. The shift reminded him of the palace walls, but it appeared bare rock. He approached and let his senses wash over it. The surface was a fagade, and he felt the thrill of discovering a secret trove. His will grated against the surface, and the covering slowly sloughed away. Water poured out, murky and stinking of metal and rot. The cache must predate the Cabal's arrival, Aboshan realized. The former curator must have hidden the object before dying in the rebel attack.
A leather sack lay on the floor. The emperor knelt down, nearly falling as he performed the maneuver. He opened the bag, the material tearing like paper. He held the world in his hands.
The orb was brilliant blue, the globe's surface covered in places by chop, as waves and weather collided. The depths of the sphere called to him, speaking its name.
"Mirari," the emperor whispered.
He stared in wonder, his senses diving beneath the surface to explore the world he ruled. The abysmal depths called to him, and he raced to answer.
The orb spun out of his hands as he toppled, the ball rolling away to fetch up against a shelf. The emperor's legs split into tentacles. He thrashed in panic as his lungs tried to turn back to gills. His mind convinced he swam in the ocean, his body had attempted to adapt to the new reality. Aboshan shuddered as his magic slowly halted the transformation and forced himself to revert to his land-bound form.
He rolled upright, furious that his being could betray him so. He walked quickly to the orb, the sphere's glory feeling slightly less. He stooped to pick it up and rapped his head against the wood.
"Everything conspires against us!" Aboshan swore, closing his eyes against the pain. "Forced to walk on legs like a common animal. How I despise them all!" The ruler put his tentacles to his head as if to press the anger back in. The land assaulted his mind. Even for the care of treasures like the orb he depended on the Cabal. He wondered what trick they had prepared for him?
He held the Mirari before his eyes. The sphere's endless seas were swept by waves without land's interruption.
"That is what I want. For my kingdom to stretch on forever." Perhaps his wife might come back to him if he were more powerful. But the continents seemed forever beyond his reach.
"We will sweep you all away!" he said madly and thrust his magic into the sphere.
CHAPTER 24
Laquatus swam down the corridor, his jack struggling to keep up with him. He had waited too long, and now everything might be at risk. He did not hear of the emperor's excursion until after he finished chastising Turg. Only after he started for the vaults did another courtier ask him if he was joining Aboshan's tour of the treasure rooms? "What do you mean?" Laquatus bellowed, as he crowded the noble back. His champion took hold of the aristocrat's limbs. Outrage filled the minister's face as the amphibian laid hands on him.
"I demand you let me go," he hissed. The frog broke his prisoner's collarbones at his master's surge of irritation.
"You might heal if you hurry to a doctor," the ambassador said intently, giving the broken bones a nudge with his hand. "Or you could suffer injuries leaving you with flippers instead of hands." Turg gave the noble a simple fracture in a lower arm. Guards and servants ignored the impromptu torture session. It was unhealthy of late to be interested in Laquatus's business.
"He is clearing the treasure rooms of workers and will inspect the rooms in person. He left while you talked with this animal." Turg broke his other arm in passing as Laqua-tus rushed to the vaults in the depths of the palace.
The way was clear, the servants keeping as much space as possible between themselves and their sovereign. The aristocrat passed guards and checkpoints, but they were never challenged. The ambassador was now the second most powerful person in the northern court, but he could be cast down at the emperor's whim.
Laquatus passed the interior banquet rooms, ignoring the delicacies that eternally awaited a courtier's dining. The hall changed shape and direction as he passed chambers that had been sealed at the emperor's pleasure. Rumors abounded of disloyal subjects interred in the finest rooms, lacking nothing but an exit. The swim was taking too long, and the ambassador accelerated, cursing the grand airs of the marine rulers. He and Turg neared the lower passages, leading to the vaults. There were few doors here, most of the space devoted to the organs which allowed the palace to live. Laquatus passed members of the imperial guard, posted to protect the emperor as he toured the bowels of the palace. A giant squid jetted back and forth through the narrow corridor. The ambassador wanted to force it aside.