Seven Sorcerers(118)
“Even now we could turn these dreadnoughts toward the real Uurz,” said Ianthe. Her mane rustled like a mantle of white silk in the night wind. “Your legions of Men and sorcerers still outnumber them greatly, Sungui.”
Gammir watched Sungui’s face for a reaction. He knew that something about her was not the same, but he did not understand the nature of her change. Perhaps he sensed this among all of the High Seraphim. Yet Iardu’s gift had not affected the Wolf or the Panther. Possibly they were beyond its reach, as blind cave-creatures are beyond the reach of the sun’s glory.
“You already know my answer to that,” Sungui said. “I will honor my given word.”
“Of course,” said Ianthe. “You are anxious to see your homeland again, where you and your cousins will divide Zyung’s empire. The Land of the Five Cities is of little consequence with so many other kingdoms awaiting your rule. I understand this. In fact Gammir and I will help you to smash the Living Empire and reforge it in your own image. Then we will return here to reclaim our own lands. After all, we are immortal, and time is of little consequence to us. Let the people of the Five Cities believe us vanquished for a while; we will catch the next generation of Men unawares and take back what is rightfully ours.”
Sungui sighed as she watched the ranks of Manslayers file onto the broad decks of ships. At the center of the great circle of dreadnoughts lay the wreckage of half the armada and the bodies of uncounted dead, all withering inside a mountain of white flame. A warm wind blew across the inferno to warm her face, yet there was no smoke rising from this sorcerous pyre. Alua’s mystical flame would burn all night, and in the morning there would be no trace of the invaders left upon the spoiled plain. Only a great, leagues-wide circle of charred earth that would grow fertile and green again within a season or two.
She imagined the healthy green stalks of the steppe once more taking root in the black, rich soil. It made her long for the purple plains outside the Holy City. Zyung was dead, consumed into oblivion, but the great land that bore his name lived on.
It must live on. It must not burn like these shattered vessels and their crews.
In a moment of outward metamorphosis that strangely mirrored her inner transformation, Sungui shifted toward her male aspect. The silver robe rippled about expanding arms and shoulders. When it was done, he turned to address Ianthe directly.
“I do not think that I–that we–shall break apart the Living Empire after all,” Sungui said. The minds of the High Seraphim were like the lights of the distant city, gleaming about him with a newfound sense of peace and purpose. He saw them as clearly as any message beacons.
“What?” Ianthe placed a hand on her hip, cocking her splendid head at him.
Gammir growled low in his throat, like a suspicious mongrel.
Sungui crossed his hands behind his back and walked the fore-deck to the opposite railing. Panther and Wolf followed him, drawn along by his every word. They ignored his sudden transformation from female to male. It was his mental alteration that concerned them.
They will never understand this illumination. They are incapable of it.
“When we absorbed Zyung’s essence, we absorbed also his dream,” Sungui said. “His Great Idea. Call it his Wisdom, if that helps you to understand. We spent ages helping to build his great vision of order and peace. Tending the Tree of Empire, he called it. There are millions of people who benefit from the order we have created, perhaps billions. This was an idea born from long ages of chaos, suffering, and war. Zyung sought to end this plague that afflicted humanity.” He turned to meet the skeptical faces of his listeners. “For it was the same plague that afflicted us… the Old Breed.”
Ianthe laughed. “The power of Zyung is intoxicating, and it has made you drunk. Gammir and I have relished its potency as well, yet we did not absorb this dream of which you speak. The absence of Zyung’s order–his tyranny to be more accurate–means freedom for those of your kind. Why should you care if this brings chaos to Men, these wretched creatures? Their place is below us, ants beneath the heels of Giants.”
“You ate of Zyung’s salt as we did,” said Sungui, “yet you did not inherit his dream because you never understood it. You cannot. You are too deeply rooted in your own malady. Like Zyung himself, whose entire being was rooted in the empire that he built, you are incapable of change. We are not. And we have changed.”
Ianthe offered only silence for a moment. Sungui watched the flickering of stars in the black sky. How had he never noticed their sparkling beauty until this moment? The minds of his fellow High Ones shared this thought, as they had come to share so many things since the devouring.