Sungui frowned.
How have I lost them so soon?
“We are Diminished in his presence now for ten thousand years,” said Lavanyia. “To live as a bright spark in the shadow of his divinity is far better than the darkness of annihilation. We must remain Diminished.”
“You fear him,” said Sungui. His voice was broken gravel. Anger gnawed at his heart.
“Of course we fear him,” said Damodar. “We listen… we remember… but we are not fools. If you believe this invasion will weaken him, or enable your treason in any way, you are very much mistaken.”
“Perhaps the fate of Mahaavar lies too heavy on your soul,” offered Darisha.
The salty remains lingered on Sungui’s tongue. “No!” he spat. “Let me show you more. Let me share another vision of our former greatness. You will see that he is no greater than any of us. And all of us together—”
“Would stand no chance,” said Durangshara. His beefy hands rose in a dismissive gesture. “His will made us what we are. His will can unmake us. All talk of rebellion must be forgotten, scoured from our mind as the remains of Mahaavar shall be washed from this floor.”
“They why did you come here?” Sungui faced the fat one, defying his arrogance with a puffed chest. “Why listen to me at all?”
Silence ruled the chamber. The crackling of flames in the sconces.
It was Myrinhama the Golden who finally answered. Her voice was honey and sunlight.
“We listen because we must remember,” she said, “as an adult remembers the joys of childhood… the time of innocencewhen the boundaries of reality did not yet exist. We listen to honor what we once were, and what we are now. Yet the grown woman does not seek to become a girl-child again. Children have no power, and they are meant to grow… to become. There is no going back, Sungui.”
How could he make them see past this conditioning? This was the earth working its magic on them. Zyung’s order took its power from the cycles of nature. Birth, Death, and Rebirth. These cycles did not apply to the Old Breed. They never had. Until Zyung had chained their kind to this world and so made them part of it.
The others nodded at the perceived wisdom of Myrinhama’s words.
“You are all fools,” Sungui said.
Durangshara chuckled. “There is only one fool among us here. We indulge you, Sungui. Yet consider what we have said today. You cannot hide your true self from His Holiness forever. Before he discovers your ambition, we will ourselves send you to salt.”
Sungui picked up the black dagger, stained with the pale residue of Mahaavar. He whirled to face the fat Seraphim once again, thrusting his chin forward.
“There is no threat within you,” Sungui growled.
Durangshara leaned back only a hair’s breadth. His glinting eyes followed the salty blade.
Lavanyia spoke again, her voice calm as night. “Durangshara means only that you must forget this treason, Sungui. You will not find peace until you do so.”
Sungui sheathed the dagger in the sleeve of his robe. The eyes of Those Who Listen followed him as he walked toward the arched exit.
They listened, yes. But they did not hear.
He would have offered some final word of defiance, but the chance was stolen from him.
The gray brick walls began to tremble. A rain of dust and pebbles fell from the ceiling, and the waters of the cooled bath grew confused with ripples and splashing. A torch fell from its sconce and extinguished itself in the bathwater.
Above the trembling of rock and soil and water, a tremendous note rang clear and powerful. The peal of the Great Horn, the voice of Zyung himself, giving at last the signal that was fifty years in coming. For a generation now, sons of the empire had labored to fulfill their fathers’ dreams of the coming conquest. The Holy Armada had been expanded and the ranks of the Almighty’s armies had swollen. The preparations for this westward expansion had captured the attention of the Inner and Outer Provinces for as long as any living man could remember.
Now it had come, on this night of all nights. The night of Mahaavar’s consumption.
The Almighty’s horn cast its thunderous knell across the Divine Province, and its din would roll on the evening currents into the lands beyond, igniting the cities where his flame-eyed visage loomed over Kings and Caliphs alike.
The time had come.
The Great Horn called them all to war.
The Invasion of the West was begun.
With a fleeting glance at the resigned listeners, Sungui ran from the chamber, leaping the prostrate forms of wailing slaves. Rising from the catacombs, he entered a courtyard and bounded up the heart-spiral of a tower, toward a series of arched stone bridges. This high route would bring him quickly to the dreadnought landing bay.