Page 232 of The Cradle of Ice
A cloak was thrown aside, revealing the bright armor beneath. Pratik easily recognized the face, the stance, the imperial manner. Apparently, someone had changed allegiance since the meeting in X’or, deciding on another path to secure the imperium after Makar’s debilitation.
Prince Mareesh pulled free his sword and headed toward the palace.
* * *
FRELL PACED THE edge of the crimson bath. Tykhan knelt beside the emperor, who continued to soak in the water. Tykhan gently rubbed Makar’s shoulders—though Frell was unsure if this was to comfort the afflicted man or to firm up the emperor’s enthrallment.
Frell looked toward the door. Abbess Shayr had suggested four immersions a day. Sister Lassan—the nonne dedicated to the emperor—would be returning momentarily to collect Makar and return him to his garden palacio.
“What do you make of Aalia’s efforts so far?” Frell asked. “Is it enough to stop the kingdom’s assault?”
Tykhan continued his massage. “Are you asking me as a strategist or as an oracle?”
“Are you not a little of both?”
“Perhaps, but during times of conflict this unpredictable and chaotic, I am neither. Even I can’t track so many variables, trends, and potential outcomes. I can forecast a collision but not necessarily how the rubble will land. That’s where we’re at now. In the flux of possibility.”
Frell frowned at this answer.
Tykhan stood up and turned to the door. “This is one example, I fear.”
Distracted, Frell had missed the muffle of voices, but as they grew more heated, even he could not miss it.
The gold door swung open, and two dark-cloaked figures rushed in. They came so swiftly that Frell backed away and nearly fell into the bath.
The two Paladins posted outside pounded in after the intruders.
It took an extra breath for Frell to identify the two Rhysians, Cassta and Saekl. The two women skidded to smooth stops. The two Paladins closed on them, but Tykhan cut them off with a raised hand and a voice booming with authority.
“Fear not, Paladins! All is secure. These two are known to us and welcome. Their arrival is as predicted!”
The Paladins stumbled to a stop, looking confused, but they mumbled apologies, respecting the seer’s abilities. The pair retreated to the door, closing it on their way out at an urging from Tykhan.
“What’s wrong?” Frell asked, recognizing the Rhysians’ restrained panic.
“Prince Kanthe is gone,” Saekl said. “Taken.”
Frell stammered through all of his questions at once. “When … how … who?”
Cassta stepped forward and opened her palm, revealing a single black barb with a tuft of dark feathers. “We found this floating in his bath after one of our sisters caught a glimpse of shadows where they shouldn’t be.”
Frell pinched his eyes in suspicion. “That looks like a dart from one of your pipes. Was he attacked by one of your sisters?”
Both Saekl and Cassta looked aghast at this suggestion.
“Then who?” Frell pressed them.
Cassta tossed the feathered barb aside. “Such craftsmanship is distinct from our own, but also well-known. It’s the handiwork of the Brotherhood of Asgia.”
Frell knew that name and their connection to the Archipelago of Rhys. The Brotherhood was the dark mirror to the Rhysian sisterhood. Their group splintered away long ago, even before the matriarchy had been established across the Archipelago. It had less to do with an issue of gender and more to do with philosophy.
Both sold their talents, but Rhysians tempered their choices with consideration and a sense of justice. The Brotherhood operated with no such restraint. Purely mercenary, brutal, and cruel, they were as feared and as efficient as the two women standing before them.
“Someone must’ve paid them to grab Kanthe,” Frell said. “But who?”
Tykhan frowned at him, clearly disappointed. “Surely you can guess.” He shook his head sadly. “As predictable as he is, I thought we had more time. Still, it cannot be allowed to stand. It will mark the end of everything.”
“Then what should we do?” Cassta asked.
