Camille VI: The Inheritor of Raging Waves
“Most Puissant Spirit Levian, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.” Leclaire shouted to the sea, blue hair whipping in the wind. “In accordance with our ancient pact, I present this living human, born to the name ‘Pelleas’, the last Grimoire of Giton.”
Camille slithered closer to the shore, feeling the tantalizing contours of the bound human’s soul.
“A servant of Khali, he stood in the way of your High Priestess’s rightful conquest of these lands. He called upon fell darkness to oppose his rightful liege and slew two dozen loyal followers.” Leclaire lifted her sword above her head, turning her stern eyes towards the sacrifice. “For your crimes, Pelleas, Grimoire of Giton, you shall pay the ultimate price. In the name of the Fox-Queen, Marie Renart, by the power of my patron, the Torrent of the Deep, I sentence you to death.”
As soon as Leclaire’s sword parted the sacrifice’s head from his body, Camille began to feel the surge of power. Human souls were fragile things, as soon as they were parted from their mortal bodies, easily crushed and consumed to make Camille even stronger. And this one provides more than most. Sages always absorbed traces of their patron’s power as they used it, saturating their body with enough magic to make a hearty meal of their soul. Some of them could even burn their own life to fuel their magic, but the Grimoire had fortunately chosen to die at the height of his strength.
My strength, now. Sated, Camille turned back away from the shore, slipping through the water fast enough that the frozen lands were soon beyond her senses. And far enough to know I’m being followed.
As Camille twisted, poking her head above the waves, she saw a black and yellow lion with a magnificent dark mane, bounding across the surface of the water with its semi-ethereal tail flicking behind it. As soon as she breached the surface, the pursuer moved even faster, fading halfway beneath a sharp yellow aura as they skipped from the crest of one wave to the next.
Camille didn’t wait, drawing on her newly acquired energy to turn the sea against him, snatching him from the air with jaws of water and feeling the life within it die at the moment of contact. Perhaps another poison spirit, like Corro of the Wastes. Camille could only hope this lion spirit didn’t share Corro’s affinity for those nearing their end.
They darted from the water into the air in a golden streak, rising high enough that such a quick maneuver wouldn’t be enough to pull them back under again.
No matter. Camille rose from the water at the top of a new wave, pulling the water higher and higher until she could look the other spirit in the eyes, her wave casting a massive shadow over the water. She continued forward, but the lion merely matched her pace, flitting through the air.
“Stay still or begone,” Camille hissed, still assessing how best they could be fought. The reason they were here was of minimal importance.
“Then I shall stay, servant of Pantera.” The words flowed upward, dark droplets almost like rain once Camille turned her head down to get a better look. Hanging in the shadow of her wave was Khali, the Arbiter of Darkness, her power apparently sufficient to escape Camille’s sense of the water itself. “And you must listen.”
“This is quite a time to fight me,” Camille hissed, holding the wave in place long enough to watch with satisfaction as the lion sprinted past. “My servants have just won a great victory; my power has reached new heights on this day.”
“But you remain a lesser spirit, like me.” The lion spirit spoke through crackles in the air, the yellow on his body flashing blue an instant before each word. “We must not fight amongst each other.”
“I do not know who you are, but I have no desire to discover it when it would be so much more satisfying to be rid of you forever.” Camille dropped downward through the water, until she was facing Khali directly. “You have dealt with spirits who endangered your humans before, Arbiter of Darkness, as is your right. I merely empowered the humans to fight their enemies.”
In the textureless darkness of her form, a single white eye opened. “Do you know what that human did, Levian? She flooded our domains with water, only to freeze it in place. Your human will kill most of the vegetation in their conquered land before the frost melts. Killing the sages of Gemel and shadowcats of Indru will only weaken their hold on their domain, withering the darkness that keeps the sun at bay.”
“Let the land bake. Such a thing is a problem for Leclaire and the humans, not the likes of us.” The trick with the ice had admittedly been clever, an example of appropriating the magic of other sages when it could be made to fit well enough under Camille’s domain. What did it matter if it killed a few plants?
“The health of our domains is of crucial importance.” Khali rotated one arm of many to gesture back to the verdant plains of Giton. “If my Grimoire led a war against the sea, stripping back your power and your means of regaining it, the consequences would be devastating. What you have done is no different.”
“I find it difficult to see how this could truly threaten the Arbiter of Darkness.” Khali had killed more spirits than any other Camille knew of across her many millennia of existence. If Pantera told it true, her latest victim was a spirit sworn to serve her, slain solely because she had killed a few of Khali’s favored humans. “But if you wish to fight, let it be known that it was Khali who broke the peace.”
“I wish to make you understand.” Khali’s dark words cut through the water, rising high until they dissolved in the sky. “Even the Arbiter of Darkness is not above the needs of her domain, nor the humans that tend to them. Without my presence, the whole world would slowly begin to bake under Soleil’s light, each year hotter than the last. Your actions today are just as much an assault on spiritual balance as if you’d cleaved apart the land yourself.”
Not if I can get away. Camille was confident she could deal with Indru, the sparking lion, but Khali was another matter entirely. Even swollen with the Grimoire’s power, fighting both at once was far from a certain victory. Why shouldn’t I be patient, when Leclaire is giving me more souls every day? The human she served wanted to conquer the entire continent, after all. There would always be new sacrifices, each of them a new source of magic to deal with Khali more permanently.
Amusingly, it seemed that Khali’s threat was news to Indru as well. “Would you really curse the world so?” the lion asked from the sky above, mane blowing heavily in the wind as they approached.
“Not a curse.” Khali shook her head, a human gesture that Camille recognized from Leclaire. It meant Indru was wrong. “An inevitability.”
Camille took advantage of the moment to dive into the water, slithering deep beneath the waves. Khali could try to catch her, but none could outspeed the Torrent of the Deep this deep into the recesses of her domain. Her eyelids fluttered awake as her serpentine form was swallowed by the darkness of the deep, fading entirely by the time she pulled herself awake.
She still felt the energy from the chase, the thrill of facing down the Arbiter of Darkness and living to escape. And the power... Pelleas Grimoire had been a truly exceptional sacrifice.
For Levian, not me, Camille forced herself to remember. Things were always hazy when she woke up, the history of the magic inside her blending with her own sense of recollection.
Another Levian dream already. It’s only been two days since the last one. Most likely, it had something to do with the upcoming Convocation to replace his seat, but Camille had no way of knowing for certain.
But I hope so. That would mean they’ll end once the Convocation is over. The dreams were seldom a pleasant experience. So many involved berating and punishing whichever Leclaire had failed him in that particular century, or wanton slaughter at Levian’s own initiative. Camille had yet to see the massacre at Charenton, thankfully, but a part of her suspected that it was only a matter of time.
Still, there was no doubt that the visions were true, with potentially invaluable information. Camille flipped open the coded journal beside her bed to fill in notes on this latest dream while the details remained fresh in her head, foremost among them being the apparent falsity of the phrase, ‘Khali’s Curse’.
In retrospect, it made more sense than the alternative. Of course sealing the Arbiter of Darkness away would have adverse effects on the world’s climate, just as slaying Khali’s erstwhile partner had in the Summer of Darkness. And unless Lamante has been uncharacteristically responsible with her stewardship of her domain, it’s an issue we may still need to deal with now. Just as Lamante was no Khali, Gézarde was no Soleil, so Camille could only hope that the decrease in power would balance out and leave the temperature intact.
And Magnifico must have been hoping for that too, timing his murder when he did. Camille still remembered his chilling words from the vision she’d seen, an unhinged declaration of intent to exterminate the spirits, fully eliminating their influence over every aspect of the world. A world you’d promptly keep under your thumb, the last immortal. It would be wise to keep his agenda in mind now that his eldest living son seemed so determined to follow in his father’s footsteps. Their ideal world necessitates my death, alongside every spirit save perhaps Terramonde himself.
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Any and all of it had the potential to be a crucial edge once the Convocation of the Spirits began, so close now that Camille would soon have to depart lest she give up all claim to the Lyrion Sea. After betraying her patron, winning spirits to her side would be difficult, but she had a plan in mind.
If only it were a better time to leave... Three black-sailed ships flying no flags had been spotted in Torpierre, with Camille’s spy noting that several hundred knights and their horses had spent the better part of a week inspecting and boarding them, then departed. Another informant had spotted them sailing past Charenton, though where they were truly headed, there was no way to know.
From Charenton, they might continue north to Avalon, or east towards the Arboreum, or down the Rhan, and none of them seemed to fit their goals. All I can truly be sure about is that it isn't Malin. The immediate danger had passed, which made it all the more essential to ensure everything was stable before the Convocation began and Camille needed to leave.
She had yet to find a good replacement stagière, so for the moment, Camille was tending to her own calendar, truly miserable work for a woman as busy as she was. Half the time, she had to reread the last few pages of the datebook just to be sure she was even sure how her day would look, and constant interruptions and emergencies only served to make it more irritating.
In the corner, she kept notes to follow-up on if there was time, which there seldom was: the previous page noted that the Marbury leaks had finally broken, taking a surprisingly lenient position towards the larger Twilight Society. Either Scott didn’t know his friend as well as he thought, or he didn’t give him the message I asked him to. Or, worse, someone had gotten to the reporter before she’d published the story. None of the possibilities were good, but Marbury had yet to reach back out, and maintaining leverage would be vital to luring her in, so Camille simply copied the note to her current page and then added another beneath it.
Giton historians, researchers may help shed light on Levian dreams, Khali. Have Margot... Camille frowned, then crossed out the name. Have Margot new stagière compile list of foremost scholars and invite to Malin. Right beneath it, more thickly inking the letters, Camille added, Find new stagière.
Worse than the logistical issues of understaffing, the first item on today’s list was sure to be unpleasant.
Camille shook off the last traces of the dream and dressed, opting for practicality with navy slacks and a green blouse, viridian serpent insignia sewn into the collar. Anything nicer would have been wasted on visiting the prison.
“Anything interesting?” Camille asked the guard as she approached the cell of Raoul de Montgallet and his new neighbor, Yves Asselineau, the alderman of Calignac who had given the Blue Knights shelter until the legions had amassed in front of their gates. The hope had been that they might share things with each other that they would never reveal to an interrogator, especially with every listening ear kept firmly out of their sight.
“Nothing new, I don’t think. Asselineau mentioned de Sableton’s broad strategy was to win over the hearts and minds of the countryfolk, but he didn’t have any details, and I’m starting to doubt that de Sableton really had much of a plan in the first place.”
“That makes sense. Nothing about that rebellion seemed well thought-out.” Though it’s concerning to hear that they plan to turn my people against me at all. Camille would have to get ahead of it somehow, though the best approach was a far from trivial decision. “I’ll speak with him now. Leave Montgallet out of it; he’s already given me everything he could.”
Erelong, she was facing the alderman, a stout man with a long beard of brown and grey. “It’s shameful, M. Asselineau. Calignac was once a great town; despite its size, it boasted no less than four heroes of notable renown across the histories, from the Spinnerette Sage to Claude Renoir. Even without Teruvo, I’d only ever hoped for your success. Yet you rewarded me with treason.”
“I have no regrets. The misrule must end.” Asselineau placed his hands on the table. “You rewarded Levian, the spirit you were sworn to serve, with a sword through his neck. You stole his power to fuel your own, making a half-breed abomination of the heir to the throne. On every level, you perverted the natural order, and when the Fox-King tried to rein his unruly wife in, you silenced him. While Avalon invaded our allies the Arboreum, you stood back and did nothing. When they bombed Micheltaigne to oblivion, you cut a deal with the Prince of Darkness.”
You’re wrong on both counts, though I see no need to correct you. Her Verdance of the Arboreum was Camille’s honored guest, rescued on her orders, while the Red Knight was doing what he did best in Micheltaigne. I can only hope it’s enough. “You speak boldly for a man in chains.”
“There’s none braver than those with nothing to lose.” He shot her a defiant look, which Camille quickly extinguished with a spike of ice extending towards his eye. “Alvis and the boys are just trying to do right by the Empire. King Lucien would say the same, if he were here. Of course I gave them shelter. That’s not treason; it’s honor.”
Camille wrinkled her nose. “There was honor in giving yourself up to spare Calignac, I will grant you. Even, in its own twisted way, the escape you allowed de Sableton and the other knights at the cost of your own freedom. But what they’re doing is not honorable, and my Lucien would have their heads for it, along with yours. You can be certain I’m telling the truth.”
She didn’t wait for his response, flowing through the bars and marching quickly out of the prison, taking a moment to add another note to her list: Hasten the dates of the Asselineau and Montgallet trials and ensure that the best solicitor in the city is the one prosecuting them—tell Cynette Fields to stay away if she wants to keep her position as my legal expert. Such traitors could not be allowed to live, and the sooner they hanged, the sooner Camille could be sure that Malin was in a stable state.
She picked up a journal on the way out, ignoring the newsstand clerk beaming at her, then frowned when she saw the headline. I need to have words with Margot—she’s exceeded her mandate. Reining in signs of Scott’s disloyalty was one thing, but this sort of radical shift in presentation was far from what Camille had had in mind. It wasn’t insulting, exactly, and there could be useful angles to work with, but the fit seemed poor.
Her next two visits were faster, inviting Her Verdance and the Duke of Condillac to accompany her to the Convocation so that they could represent their patron spirits. Neither Cya nor Corva were certain to support Camille, not in the slightest, but their presence alone would go a long way towards improving her odds. And what better way to entice them in than a request from their Highest of sages?
Her Verdance had agreed without much question, but young Étienne was understandably more reluctant. Perhaps Margot could accompany him to sweeten the offer, if the journal could operate appropriately in her absence. But I’d rather not. This was frankly a terrible time to be leaving the city, and the more loyalists Camille took with her, the greater the danger she’d be leaving behind.
She told her council as much when they sat down for their last meeting before Camille’s departure. “Everyone in this room is entrusted with the Empire’s safety and well-being, but, to settle disputes and make any necessary final decisions, look to Annette and...” And Eloise, Camille would have continued, but stopped herself once she saw Annette’s offended look at the mere presence of the conjunction.
And why shouldn’t she be offended? It sends a message that I don’t trust her. Which wasn’t really the issue, but after her known collaboration with Guy Valvert and full-throated support of the blues in advance of the rebellion, well... It’s dangerous to leave her here unchecked, especially now that my court has grown so green.
Camille found herself remembering Jethro, once a steadfast ally in retaking Malin, who’d suddenly turned to attempted murder at the mere suggestion that Levian’s power not be left to go to waste.
You’d be abandoning your humanity, withdrawing from all you’ve known to embrace the world of the spirits. You haven’t thought this through.
A certain amount of paranoia was healthy for a ruler, as Mother had once told her. But distrusting everyone would leave you all alone, poisoned by your own fear.
“And don’t be afraid to be decisive. If the rebels attack, you cannot afford to cede the initiative just because I’m absent.” Camille gave Annette a warm nod, hoping she hadn’t noticed the pause in her command. “With that said, does anything demand my attention before I go?”
“If I may,” Simon began. “There are public policies that could serve to head off future rebellions, grievances that can be addressed before they spiral out of hand again.”
“Good point,” added Eloise, leaning back in her chair. “You saw what happened in Guerron when the people in charge got too careless with their looting. It’s the same reason you could wrest Malin from Avalon. Why do we still have aristocrats? Their legal privileges might not amount to much anymore, but their titles are real, their lands still their own. They have first-refusal trade privileges that set them ahead of everyone else even if they do start paying taxes.”
As is the natural way of things, was Camille’s first thought. But then, I’m already the greatest affront to tradition of any Leclaire who ever lived. Clinging to the past would do nothing to prepare the Empire for the inevitable conflict with Avalon, nor secure its leadership of the continent anew. She’d almost killed that alderman when he called Fouchand an abomination, only barely holding herself back with the knowledge that breaking the Code Leclaire so flagrantly would effectively unravel it.
Camille had spent so much of the last four years appeasing them, trying to dampen the outrage over the Code Leclaire, watering down countless laws in the doomed attempt to avert their ire. I’ve been doing it my whole life, really. Ever since Mother raised me with proper manners. In Guerron, the need to win allies for an assault on Malin had only increased the need. But now... Why pander to the people who have already forsaken me?
“You raise an interesting point.” Though it’s a surprise to hear it coming from you, of all people.
Eloise shrugged. “It’s about time those aristo fucks got theirs, present company excluded.”
“That is not what I had in mind,” Simon clarified. “The lowliest, most impoverished knight will die before they cede their position, because it’s all they have left. After the Foxtrap, the countryside abounds with them, each of them sympathetic enough to the Blue Rebels without further antagonizing them. Rather, you should extend a hand. Amend the Code Leclaire to return their legal privileges, perhaps? We can ill afford to change the tax code, but it seems to me that some kind of peace offering is warranted.”
“Why not both?” Annette asked, shocking Camille by completely missing the point. “We could reach out to the aristocrats and commoners both, each with a carefully tailored message to win them to our side.”
“Contradictory messages.” Camille shook her head. “If one person wants oysters for dinner and another wants duck, you please no one by serving a plate of oyster-ducks; you simply make a mess. How are aristocrats to believe my leniency when I abolish their trade privileges? How are the masses supposed to respect my reforms if I walk back a key plank of the Code Leclaire before five years have even passed?”
Simon seemed to accept it easily enough, though Annette looked slightly annoyed at being so blatantly gainsaid. “What would you have us do?” he asked. “Without your presence, I fear what might come to pass if we do nothing.”
“I think the time has come to change our approach. I tried to be a conciliator and ended up serving oyster-ducks.”
“So what do you want to do?” asked Annette, a hint of nervousness in her tone.
“It’s time to serve up some oysters.” Camille pulled out today’s Quotidien, tapping her finger against the headline that Margot had boldly prepared without consulting her: Empress Stands with Common Citizens, Clashes With Greedy Aristocrats.