The future of our cause will soon lie in your hand.
“I choose Earthfang,” Mendices told the wizard. “And vengeance for Tyro.”
Thaxus smiled and offered a small bow. He led Mendices out of the deep crypts into a cold night heavy with rain. Mendices turned to offer his thanks, but Thaxus was already gone.
The palace gardens were dark beneath the storm. Mendices knew exactly where to seek refuge among the quarters of the soldiers who had so recently served him. He carried the Blade of Gyron like a terrible secret, one that would soon avenge Tyro’s death and free Uurz from the bondage of its Scholar King.
Two weeks after his great victory, Lyrilan greeted the ambassador from New Khyrei in the Grand Hall. The celebrations were long ceased by that time, and the priests had officially ordained him as Emperor of Uurz. The City of Wine and Song was once again living up to its name. The multitudes hailed Lyrilan when he went among them on a palanquin chair, or rode upon a steed hung with golden mail. He kept a high profile in the first few days of his reign. The people needed to know that the Scholar King had won his feud with the hawks of Tyro, and that the city itself was safe from invaders.
Each day brought golden sun and silver rain to the city, and Lyrilan was glad to be back in his own land. How he had missed the bright spires and gardens, the minstrels and orchards, the simple folk that called him their own. He gave three speeches, all proclaiming peace and promising prosperity. He would do his best to keep both pledges, and he was confident in his power to do so. He visited the tomb of Ramiyah with a fresh bouquet of flowers at each sunrise, yet the pain of losing her had faded to a distant ache in the back of his skull.
It had nearly ruined him, yes, but he had found wisdom, strength, and salvation in the Books of Imvek the Silent. There he found also the means for vengeance, and a return to the throne that was stolen from him by his brother. He had accepted that the one thing his newfound powers could never return to him was Ramiyah. When he had acknowledged that fact–and it was much easier once the scales were balanced by Talondra’s death–he found himself capable of a far greater understanding. Discovering the true names of the Old Breed in Imvek’s final volume had changed everything.
Lyrilan would make sure that Imvek’s hard-won knowledge was preserved, never again lost to his people. It was the only power that would keep Uurz from falling prey to the dark whims of the original masters of sorcery. These ancient beings were fonts of untold power, and to master it was to master the Old Breed themselves. Yet contending with the Old Breed was something only to be done in the face of extreme desperation. It was far wiser for Men to make allies of them.
The threat of Zyung was gone, as was that of Khyrei. Lyrilan would not call his present mood one of happiness, but it was close enough to contentment. By joining with Iardu and the other sorcerers to face down the God-King, he had found an unexpected blessing in the company of Vaazhia. The lizardess could never replace Ramiyah. There were none in the living world who could do that. Yet he found Vaazhia fascinating, alluring, and ultimately irresistible.
Vaazhia told him stories of the Ancient World, calling up her memories like lost jewels plucked from the murky sea-bottom. Already Lyrilan had conceived the title of his next book: Chronicles of the Old Breed. He had learned many of their secrets from Imvek, and he would learn the rest from Vaazhia. When he was not enjoying one of her spellbinding narrations, he was relishing the splendidness of her lithe body. She was the first woman he had lain with since Ramiyah. Undroth and Volomses had returned from Yaskatha, and both of them approved his dalliance with the lizardess, although they did not quite understand it. Upon their advice he had refrained from appearing with Vaazhia in public, but he would not keep the relationship a secret for much longer. Her strange beauty thrilled him, and he disliked keeping it hidden. Yet there were more important considerations that needed tending before the revelation of his new consort.
Today was a banquet for the Khyrein ambassador, the first to visit Uurz in a century. The slave revolt in that kingdom had brought sweeping changes and a new King who, by all accounts, was a brave and honest man. As a former slave Tong the Avenger was bent on reforming the black city and restructuring its every institution. Never had there been a better time to forge a lasting treaty of peace and cooperation between Uurz and Khyrei.
Lyrilan wore the crown of gold and emeralds as he sat patient and silent upon the throne. The bronze statue of his father looked upon him from between the pillars. He had ordered it moved from the Plaza of Great Ones into the Grand Hall five days ago, so he would be reminded of Dairon’s wisdom whenever he sat in the high seat. A statue of Tyro was being erected in the Plaza even now, and it would stay there. Lyrilan would not trouble himself to look upon it. Not for a great while at least.