At the wizard’s suggestion they moved away from the library entrance. Once they turned the corner into a narrow side passage, Valaran heard the pack of impatient scribes scurrying back into the library.
Satisfied they were alone, Winath said, “Majesty, I have recently come across some writings of my predecessor, Yoralyn. I think they offer insight into the current crisis.”
Valaran could think of numerous crises facing them just now, but she merely waited for the White Robe to continue.
“The inability of our scryers to observe the doings of the bakali has always smacked of interference, Majesty. Now I am sure of it.”
Alarmed but outwardly composed, Valaran prompted her with a nod.
Winath lowered her voice even further. “Has Your Majesty ever heard of a millstone?” Valaran said she had not. “It’s an artifact, made by the ancient Irda race, for protection against magic,” Winath explained. “It works, so the old books say, like a sponge, absorbing all ethereal power it encounters.”
Although an interesting fact to Valaran the scholar, Valaran the empress could see no point to this conversation about a legendary artifact. She allowed her impatience to show.
Winath added quickly, “Majesty, according to Yoralyn’s papers, Lord Tolandruth possessed just such an artifact!”
Not even Valaran’s great self-possession could withstand that revelation. Astonishment bloomed on her face. The old woman’s words explained so much that Valaran instantly believed her claim.
Years ago, Tol and Val had enjoyed trysts in the garden of the wizards’ college, despite the barrier spells that protected it. As long as Valaran was with Tol, she could pass through the spells without hindrance. She’d asked him about his ability, but he would say only that knowing the secret would endanger her. He’d also survived every murder attempt by the rogue wizard Mandes, when others fell like autumn leaves around him. People said Lord Tolandruth possessed the gods’ own luck. Perhaps it was not luck, but the ancient knowledge of the Irda that protected him!
“Majesty,” Winath said loudly, interrupting Valaran’s thoughts. “I feel it must be the millstone that obstructs our efforts to spy upon the bakali. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Valaran did not understand the old wizard’s apology.
“Sorry to be the one who tells you that Lord Tolandruth must be collaborating with the enemy.”
The statement was so absurdly wrong Valaran almost laughed. Poor Winath. Although a notable scholar, she had never really been groomed for leadership. When it came to politics, she was out of her depth.
“Majesty, Lord Tolandruth must have turned against the empire out of hatred for his humiliation and exile.”
Valaran’s slow nod hid her racing thoughts. A chilling realization suddenly came to her. Maintaining her regal mask, she said, “Have you told anyone else about this, Winath?”
“No, Majesty. Yoralyn’s manuscripts are protected by grievous wards. Only the chief of the order has the power to read them.” A dark shadow passed over the wizard’s lined face. “Oropash must have known-may he rest in the arms of Draco Paladine.”
“You have not approached the emperor?”
Winath looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Such a powerful artifact should not fall into the wrong hands,” she replied carefully.
The empress agreed, and Winath relaxed. “Majesty,” she asked, “what should be done about this?”
Valaran linked her arm in the old woman’s. The wizard was startled by the intimate gesture. As Valaran began to walk, the White Robe accompanied her.
“That is indeed the question: what is to be done with this knowledge?” Valaran murmured. After a thoughtful pause, she asked, “You’ve had no success piercing the veil surrounding the bakali?”
Winath admitted they had not. Even attempts to scry ahead and behind the field of obscurity, thereby detecting the direction of the enemy, had yielded contradictory and unhelpful results.
The two women mounted the winding stairs leading to the servants’ quarters. It was midafternoon, and the warren of rooms was empty.
“Is it possible, Winath, that the veil over the bakali is a simple ward, well cast by a powerful magician?”
“It’s possible, Majesty, but there aren’t many who could work so deep and long-lasting a spell.”
“Could you?”
Winath shook her head, looking somewhat regretful. “My specialty is language and conjuration. I was never strong with wards. Yoralyn was a powerful wardmaster, as was Helbin.”
The White Robe glanced at the empress, but she did not seem especially disturbed by mention of the Red Robe, branded a traitor and coward by the emperor.
A whiff of smoke came to them. They were passing a window slit in the circular stairwell. Valaran glanced out and saw plumes of gray smoke rising from various parts of the city.
“Helbin, you say?” she murmured. “He disappeared, yes?”
“Yes, Majesty. Before the bakali reached Caergoth, he stole out of the city and fled. The Red Robes searched for a time, but Helbin is clever. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”
Winath stopped abruptly. “By all the gods! Helbin! Majesty, do you think he-?”
“Why not? You said he was skilled at warding.”
“But why would Helbin aid the bakali?”
The empress did not reply. They had reached the top of the spiraling stair, a turret on the roof of the palace. Still linked arm in arm with the White Robe, Valaran said, “Come, let me show you something.”
They went out onto the narrow balcony that encircled the turret. The balcony was protected by a low parapet. From here, the vast panorama of the imperial capital spread out beneath them. Four distinct columns of smoke rose from the sprawling collection of buildings, and the wind brought the sound of harsh voices, the clatter of arms, and the screams of the angry and anguished.
“The city is reeling,” Valaran said sadly, “like the empire. What has taken two centuries to create could be lost in our lifetime, Winath, unless we are prepared to fight for it.”
“Of course, Majesty.” Winath gripped the empress’s arm with both hands.
Valaran’s voice hardened. “The emperor is more than a cruel tyrant. He is mad. Not like my late husband, the unfortunate Ackal IV. He lost his wits completely. No, Ackal V knows exactly what he is doing, and he chooses the path that most gratifies his lusts. Do you understand?”
“No, I’m sorry. Majesty, let’s go back inside, please.”
“I have suffered many outrages, to my person and my lineage. When the bakali appeared on our border, I took them for a sign from the gods. They would be my instrument for removing Ackal V from the throne of Ergoth.”
The wizard’s face was ashen, and not from fear of the height.
Valaran added, “It was I who sent Helbin out of Daltigoth. And Helbin, not Lord Tolandruth, raised the veil over the bakali.”
Her eyes were distant, clouded by emotions Winath couldn’t read. “To save a dying man, it is often necessary to administer very strong medicine, unpleasant though the remedy may be. When the Great Horde is defeated, and the emperor’s authority exhausted, he will be overthrown.”
“That’s treason!”
The strange distance vanished, and Valaran looked down into Winath’s shocked face.
“No,” the empress said firmly. “Patriotic necessity.”
Valaran caught the wizard’s wrists in her hands and pushed her backward to the low parapet. Disbelief showed on Winath’s face for only a heartbeat, then horror suffused her expression. She fought the younger woman, hut was borne inexorably to the edge. They struggled briefly, Winath’s eyes tearing from wind and terror, Valaran grimly determined. All the hate for Ackal V that she’d stored over the years seemed to flow outward through her hands. A final shove, and Winath toppled. White robe fluttering like a moth’s wing, the wizard vanished into the canyon of lower rooftops. Her thin scream was barely audible above the wind.