Of Sea and Shadow (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 1) (33 page)

Calder couldn’t have put it any better. Maybe he would be able to come to an agreement with this Guild after all.

“So instead of letting the world develop its own leaders, the Guilds you mentioned seek to prop up an old and outdated system. Yet
another
Emperor, to rule the world for the next millennium.” She spread her hands. “Why? Even the last Emperor failed us, in the end. Why try to recreate the perceived glory of the past when we can move forward into the future?”

Calder’s personal dislike for the Emperor gave a little internal cheer at that, but another part of him protested vehemently. She was presenting the case as if there were only two options: another Emperor like the first, or leaving the world to stand on its own. The Elders would consume such a world in months.

There had to be another choice.

And there was Bliss’ warning to consider, too: she seemed to think that a world without an Emperor would be in grave danger. He knew her well enough to suspect that she wouldn’t care who ruled the world, so long as it wasn’t the Great Elders. That seemed like a wise enough viewpoint to him.

Andel picked up the conversation when Calder went silent. “How do you expect the Elders to respond to an empty throne? They would feed on the chaos.”

Kerian’s hand moved to touch the scar on her forehead, but she visibly forced it down. “The Regents and the Blackwatch have handled the Elders for the past five years. There’s no reason to suspect that the Guilds can’t keep the Great Elders in hand, along with whatever world leaders rise to the occasion.”

“And look what the Regents and the Blackwatch have accomplished,” Calder said. “The Dead Mother’s influence grew to the point that the Emperor was killed, and his successor is fighting over her Heart.”

“You seem oddly well-informed,” Kerian said. Her voice and expression were entirely neutral, but Calder wondered if he was in danger.

“The Head of the Blackwatch is a personal friend of mine.” An exaggeration, but Bliss would probably say it was true.

“And her right hand is your mother,” the Consultant finished. “I understand. Still, you have a better grasp on the situation than I would have expected.”

She straightened her spine, and Calder suddenly saw past her pleasant exterior. She didn’t get that scar from paperwork.

“This isn’t our usual policy,” she said, “but I’m going to give you some information for free. First, we will be taking Naberius Clayborn into our custody. Once we find out what he knows, we will find a place for him.”

Calder suspected that their ‘place’ for him would be a mile under the Aion Sea.

“Second, we do have your wife. She is alive and, as far as I am aware, completely unharmed.”

He missed a breath. That had been...so
easy
. All he had to do was ask, and they told him the truth? And she was unharmed! This was better than he had dared to hope—the best he’d imagined was that he would find Jerri after almost a month of torment and abuse. He had even told himself that she deserved it, for lying to him for years.

But unharmed...it was almost too good to be true.

So after his initial burst of excitement, he listened closely for the trap.

“You will be allowed a supervised visit with her, for a strictly limited amount of time. After which, you will leave this island with neither Naberius nor the Heart.”

There it was.

“That’s...very generous of you,” Calder said. “But I’m afraid we will need a little more than that. General Teach is on her way here looking for us. If we don’t have one of the two, she will see us all dead.”

Kerian’s smile returned. “Then we do have business to discuss! Excellent. We’re more than willing to let you stay on the island until circumstances have calmed. For a certain fee, of course.”

A black-clad Consultant walked up to Kerian, and once again Calder realized he hadn’t seen the man enter. How did they get around like that?

He leaned over, whispering behind his black half-mask. Kerian’s eyes snapped to him, and then over to Calder.

“A Soulbound has breached Bastion’s Veil,” she said. “You don’t know any Soulbound who may have snuck onto the island, do you?”

Urzaia. They’d found him already.

Calder exchanged glances with Andel, who shrugged. This could work out for them, after all.

“It’s probably my cook,” Calder admitted.

Kerian shut the file in front of her. “Urzaia Woodsman,” she recited. “Former member of the Champion’s Guild, exiled in bad standing, forced to serve a term in an Izyrian arena until his debt to the Imperial throne was cleared, or until his death. Liberated before his term was completed by person or persons unknown. The arena was destroyed in the process, its records lost. Later surfaced as the official cook aboard the Navigator vessel known as
The Testament.”

“Ah, so you know him.”

The room was filled with black shadows, now. A couple of Consultants even perched in the corners of the wall and ceiling, crouching like spiders.

“There are those who would take this confluence of circumstances as an attack,” Kerian said flatly.

Calder took another bite of chicken and vegetables, then placed his spoon down and raised his palms, showing that he was unarmed. “I can’t claim responsibility for Urzaia’s actions. Do you really believe I could have stopped him?”

Kerian gave no reaction. “Regardless, we still have business to conclude. I rarely have to ask this question, Captain Marten, but what do you want from us?”

Calder looked around the room, which was crowded with Consultants, and considered his answer. He wasn’t sure how to put it—everything had gotten so confusing.

But there were a few things he knew.

“I want to talk to Jerri. Depending on the conversation, I might take her aboard my ship, or I might leave her here with you. I want something to keep Jarelys Teach from killing us all as soon as we leave the dock. As for the Heart...” He reached into his jacket, and one of the Consultants pulled a knife.

Calder raised his hands again, showing they were empty, and slowly slid his hand into the jacket, withdrawing a gold circlet with two fingers.

The Emperor sits on his throne, considering the petitioners in front of him. He wants to give them mercy, but mercy is not what the Empire needs. Today, the Empire needs strength. Security.

“...I don’t want
either
of you to have the Heart. It’s not that I specifically care what happens to it, you understand, but it could get in my way. You may not know this, but I have certain ambitions.”

Casually, he placed the circlet on his head.

Kerian’s eyes widened. She was on the table before he could react, a bronze blade in her hand flashing for his throat.

“Stop,” Calder shouted.

Everyone in the room froze. The weight of his Intent pressed on them like chains, binding them with absolute authority. With all the Intent bound in the Emperor’s crown.

He still had nightmares about the voyage to recover this particular Imperial artifact.

But it was all worth it.

Kerian crouched on the table, her blade halfway to his neck.

“Kneel,” he ordered.

The room filled with the sound of men and women dropping to their knees. Even Kerian didn’t hesitate, but knelt, bowing her head and pressing both fists to the surface of the table.

Andel and Foster were still in their seats. Foster took another sip of coffee, eyes wide. “Holy Dead Mother, Captain. Did you know it would do that?”

“Absolutely not, Foster,” Calder said cheerfully. “I fully expected to die.”

“Huh.” The gunner drank some more coffee.

When he first found the crown, Calder had run some tests. Like all objects the Emperor had personally used, the crown was far more powerful than a normal invested object. However, it still had its limitations. It added a little more weight to his commands, but just to the degree of suggestions...
unless
the target considered themselves a loyal subject of the Empire. Then they would listen to anything he said while wearing it.

He had considered Awakening the crown, hoping that would allow him to control people perfectly, but upon further investigation found it impossible. The crown had such a weight of Intent and a depth of history that Awakening it would take years. Even then, it might not work.

The only man who could have potentially Awakened the crown would have been the Emperor himself.

Without being Awakened, the crown wasn’t nearly powerful enough to control people against their will. Even if he ordered a loyal Guild member, they could still refuse him. He had simply hoped to use the crown to help persuade the Consultants, not to take command.

So what was happening here?

“Rise,” Calder commanded experimentally.

The Consultants were on their feet before the word was fully out of his mouth.

“Touch your head.”

Hands went to heads all over the room.

Foster chuckled. “Make ‘em dance.”

Kerian’s eyes were wide, and she shook slightly. With fear or anger, Calder couldn’t tell, but either way he wouldn’t want to meet her without this crown.

“How did you do this?” she asked.

Calder tapped the crown. “It’s all in the headgear.”

“No, I understand. But our oaths shouldn’t—”

“Quiet,” Calder said. Her mouth snapped shut on the word.

If they all survived this, he was going to have to try very hard not to encounter Kerian in the future. If looks were anything to go by, she would tear his heart out of his chest.

For now, it was time to take advantage of his newfound authority.

“Members of the Consultant’s Guild, it’s time to escort me and my crew to your prisoners. You are to keep your mouths shut unless you are specifically addressed. If your fellow Guild members ask you any questions, say whatever you must to allay their suspicions. Is this understood?”

“Yes sir,” they said at once, even Kerian.

Calder tried to stop his smile from spreading, but he didn’t quite succeed. He reached for his hat, tossing it to Andel. He wouldn’t want to cover up the crown, in case that broke its effect.

Andel shook his head, but he tossed the hat under his arm.

“Let’s go, then.”

They were on the way out of the room when Calder noticed who was missing.

“Where’s Naberius?”

A couple of the black-masked Consultants glanced at one another before one volunteered, “He ran out as soon as we released him, sir.”

“And why did you release him?”

“You ordered us to kneel.”

Of course. Calder nodded. No point in worrying over past mistakes; he would have the whole Guild out searching for Naberius, if he needed to.

Come to think of it, how many people would follow the crown’s orders at one time? Was there a limit? Would it wear off over time?

Calder shoved the questions aside for later, and directed the Consultants out of the room. Together, the captain of
The Testament,
his two crew members, and a dozen Consultants headed out of the chapter house, deeper into the Gray Island.

“The successful man visualizes success rather than failure,”
Sadesthenes said. Well, Calder had imagined what a successful meeting with the Consultants would look like.

And this was
much
better.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE

Anyone may use an Awakened weapon, but only a Soulbound can wield power freely, as the Kameira do. It is therefore critical, when dealing with a Soulbound, that you identify their Vessel as quickly as possible.

Until then, assume that they are capable of anything.

-Jarelys Teach, Captain of the Imperial Guard

Eleven years ago

Calder’s Blackwatch coat was not the best fit on Jerri, but she wore black underneath and covered any gaps in her costume with raw, outward confidence. She’d watched her father at work since she was a little girl, and she remembered how everyone else deferred to Watchmen. They were the guardians who stood in the gap between normal people and unspeakable threats. Or possibly they were the acolytes of the Elders, drinking blood and carrying out indescribably rituals to bring about the end of the world. Either way, common sense said to run from anyone with a Blackwatch badge.

It had confused her to no end as a child, wondering why people kept scurrying away from her father or refusing to meet his eye, but today it served her well.

She marched her way into the Candle Bay Imperial Prison with a forged document in her pocket and wearing a look of determination like a mask.

The receptionist was just as Calder had described: pretty but empty, with a smile that made Jerri want to shiver. But a Watchman wouldn’t be bothered by a doll’s smile. In the Blackwatch, that level of strangeness wouldn’t even merit a second glance.

So Jerri slapped her fake Guild paperwork down on the desk and stared the receptionist in the eyes. “I need to speak with whomever’s in charge of this facility. Guild business.”

Just in case the woman missed it, Jerri tapped her badge.

The receptionist’s smile remained undented. “I’m sorry. The administration cannot be reached without an appointment.”

Jerri sighed as if she ran into stubborn bureaucrats every day. “Listen. I am a duly appointed representative of the Blackwatch Guild, and I have tracked an Elderspawn to this very location. We’re sweeping all the buildings in the area, just in case, but I will be searching this building for signs of an Elder infestation with or without your cooperation.”

The receptionist smiled down at the desk as she scanned the paper. “Elder infestation does qualify as an emergency situation. Please wait while I call security to escort you deeper into the building. Thank you for your paperwork.” She pushed Jerri’s fake papers back across the desk, then turned to pull a bell-cord that would doubtless summon guards.

Jerri tightened her fists in her coat pockets to prevent them from shaking with excitement. This was it! The thrill of outsmarting a prison full of guards, the tang of danger...she hadn’t felt anything like it in years. Oh, sure, the Sleepless promised a life full of risk and purpose, but they delivered very little on their promises, as far as Jerri could tell.