Epilogue
Gearrach, Dansa Academy
Brother Ronall found the Headmistress in the Academy gardens, where she knelt beside a small bush she was carefully trimming. So absorbed was she in her work that Ronall didn’t bother her and simply stood silently, watching the small birds that fluttered around her until finally she stepped back, straightened and stood. One of the birds landed on her shoulder as she turned to face Brother Ronall.
“You do know the Academy maintains a gardening staff for that sort of thing,” Ronall said as he and the Headmistress began to stroll down the path.
Her feathery crest fluttered slightly, the equivalent of a shrug. “I enjoy the work,” she said. “It gives me time to myself, time to think, in a way that sitting behind a desk doing paperwork doesn’t.” She paused, seeming to take a moment to clean the dirt off one of her claws. “You have news for me?”
Ronall chuckled. “You know me well enough you barely have to guess, don’t you?” he asked. “I saw Latharna on the news earlier. Apparently, she’s been accepted as a knight in the service of the new queen of the Dozen Stars. Our girl’s certainly come up quickly in the world, hasn’t she? I’ll have to send her a message congratulating her.”
“Indeed,” the Headmistress said, her expression far off. Ronall frowned.
“You’re not surprised, are you?” he asked. “Did you know this was going to happen? How could you?”
The Headmistress was quiet for a long moment. “Did I ever tell you that I once met a Neraida?” she asked finally. She hadn’t, and Brother Ronall let her continue. “It was years and years ago when I was a girl, much younger than Latharna is now. I had gone to market with my family, and we were separated. While I searched for them, I stumbled into a tall person, wrapped in dark robes but with eyes that glowed within their hood. They looked down at me, and I sensed that they smiled. I told them I was lost, and they said they’d help me find my family. And as we walked together, we talked.
“The Neraida told me that I would become a teacher at a great school, and that one day I would have a child in my care who would grow to be the greatest knight the galaxy would ever know. That I must teach her well, for the day would come when she would stand alone against a faceless darkness, and that when she did, she must not falter, or all would be lost. Years later, when I first saw Latharna Dhenloc when she was brought to me by parents who felt they could no longer care for her, I knew she was the one. And she has not disappointed me.”
Ronall shook his head. “And you believed this… creature?” he asked. The Church had accounts of dealings with the Neraida, under many names, and while they were not considered evil, neither were they good. They knew much but dealing with them was perilous – something to be avoided.
The Headmistress turned to look at him, her crest stiffening. “My people have had dealings with them,” she said. “We know the risks… and the potential wisdom to be gained. When I found my family and the Neraida vanished, I took my story to our local seer, and she told me that the Neraida’s words had the ring of truth, and that I was to remember them.” She fell silent, deep in thought. She was Pervai, and it was hard to read their expressions, but Brother Ronall had known her long enough that he could tell she was troubled.
“There was more, wasn’t there?” he asked, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me, Tlaylli. What else do you know?”
The sound of her true name – which few knew, and fewer used – roused the Headmistress from her thoughts. “That there was to be a doom before this young knight,” she said. “That she would live a life of glory, and then… fall. There is a chance to avoid it, but it is slim. Slim.”
The Headmistress fell silent and turned to look at the sky, in the general direction from which Carann’s star would be visible; Ronall joined her. Finally, after a long silence, he heard her speak again, though not to him, the words a quiet murmur. “Oh, my poor child,” she whispered. “What dire path have I set you on?”
The old monk didn’t have an answer for her.
///
The planet Imperium Primus had once been the beating heart of human civilization; even now, fallen far from its height, it still looked the part. Seen from space the entire planet seemed to glitter, most of it having been paved over by layered constructions and mighty buildings that even Carann of the Dozen Stars couldn’t match. Mighty artificial rings hung in its orbit, housing shipyards and orbital defenses; about them clustered the great fleets of the Imperial Home Legion. The Empire might have lost much of its strength over the centuries, but Imperium Primus remained unassailable. And even now, its rulers planned for a new age of glory.
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Quarinis’s yacht passed through the orbital defenses without being halted, for he had given the proper codes and was authorized. The ship descended through the upper atmosphere and came down into the air above the mighty Palatine City from which the planet, and the entire Empire, was administered. He passed the immense shape of the Grand Arena where slaves and prisoners fought and died for the amusement of the masses, the spires of the great Basilica of the Church of the Cosmic Lord and the lower but intricately decorated columns of the Temple of the Imperial Cult and at last came to the great shape of the Imperial Palace atop its hill, towering even over the Basilica, unquestioned master of all it surveyed.
The yacht landed in the palace hangar; its ramp descended from beneath it and Quarinis strode out, setting foot on the ground of his home world for the first time in more than a decade. He was met by a young man in the uniform of a page, who saluted over his heart and informed him that the Emperor had returned victorious from battle, that he was even now holding court, and Quarinis was summoned.
A patrician did not run, not unless his life depended on it. But Quarinis walked rather more quickly than normal as he made his way to the audience hall, knowing that he dared not be late.
///
The audience hall of the Emperor was made to inspire awe. Dwarfing by far the council chamber of Carann, it stretched forward in its immensity towards the far wall where the Imperial Throne was set, and its walls were lined with people. Quarinis had been following the news as closely as he could on his way back to his home, and he knew that word across every channel was victory. Verus Licinius, with Admiral Decimus at his right hand, had faced the Alaelam Alliance and Bahrina and crushed them, forcing them from the Empire’s borders and back to their core territories. The Alliance wasn’t beaten totally, but their ability to wage war and threaten the Empire had been destroyed for a generation at least. The Third Alaelam War, which had raged on and off for most of Quarinis’s adult life, was over. He was still mulling over what exactly that meant for the Empire – or for him.
He did not let his doubts and fears show as he marched down the violet carpet that ran the length of the audience hall. He passed the senators in their togas, knowing that his elder brother was among them but not bothering to look for him. He passed the military officers in their sleek uniforms, who seemed to be almost glowing with pride and triumph. He passed the priests – prelates of the Church in white, pontifexes of the Imperial Cult in purple, regarding one another with their traditional hostility. He ignored them all. At last Quarinis came to the great dais at the end of the hall. A great banner depicting the Imperial Double Eagle in gold on a violet field hung behind it. Admiral Decimus stood on the right side of the dais, one step below the top, his gaunt face alight with a fanatic glow. Al’Aymar Alaen stood across from him on the left, wrapped in his customary cowl and mask, seeming sullen about something even though his face was concealed.
At the top of the dais was the throne, and on it sat His Imperial Majesty Verus Licinius, Emperor of Humanity in title and right if not in truth and master of a thousand worlds. He was a tall man, powerfully built, clad in gilded armor over which he wore his violet robes of state. He appeared to be a man in his fifties, younger than Quarinis, clean-shaven, with lines of grey at his temples standing out in his otherwise black hair. His eyes, however, were much older than his appearance suggested – the weight of centuries was behind them. There were few indeed who could meet their gaze and not be cowed.
“My Lord Emperor,” Quarinis said, going down to one knee and placing his hand over his heart. “As I am summoned, I have come. I submit myself to your judgment.”
“Indeed?” Licinius asked, an undertone of amusement in his resonant voice. “And why would you think I would wish to pass judgment upon you?”
Quarinis’s heartbeat quickened. Was Licinius going to force him to relive his failures before the entire court? “My lord,” he said, “I failed the task you set for me. The Dozen Stars still stands. Its queen yet lives.”
Licinius chuckled. “But you have not failed, my servant,” he said. “For your task is not yet done, and you shall have another chance to carry it out. For the first time in decades, the Alaelam Alliance is defeated; the threat they offer, quieted. The time has come for us to turn our attention towards other territories which have long defied us. The time has come to take back what once was ours.”
“My lord,” Quarinis said, heart racing now. “Can it be…?” Were his words to Artakane – words meant more to unbalance her than as a foretelling of the future – to come true after all?
“Indeed,” Licinius said. “Too long have the Dozen Stars and Realtran stood against us, in defiance of our Imperial will. No longer. We have won a great victory, but more victories are on the horizon. For the time has come for our rebellious subjects of the Dozen Stars to be brought to heel and made to bow before the Imperial throne once more. Their internal strife has weakened them; now is the time to strike. And when the Dozen Stars and Realtran are subdued, and the Alaelam crushed, then, at last, all humanity shall bow once again before a common ruler. Then, my servants, shall our destiny be fulfilled!”
A tremendous cheer erupted at those words. Admiral Decimus was the first to raise his voice in that cry, his eyes bright with malice and dedication. Al’Aymar Alaen was silent, watching the crowd with his inscrutable expression. The Emperor himself sat stoically, letting the sound wash over him, a god accepting the tribute he was due from his devotees.
Quarinis merely found himself relieved, for it seemed he was not to die today after all. And, in some small part of him buried deep within, he found himself pitying Artakane and those poor fools on Carann, who had no idea of the power that had woken from slumber and was even now turning its gaze on them.
HERE ENDS
REALM OF THE STARS VOLUME II:
THE ENDANGERED CROWN
THE STORY WILL CONCLUDE IN VOLUME III:
WAR FOR THE CROWN