Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

35

It was the middle hour of the night a couple of months after the first Integrated Council. The blue moon was high, but Matei had not yet gone to bed. He had passed the evening alone in his private drawing room—the room that had once been Emperor Korvan's most-used chamber, where he spent his time poring over letters and accounts and working well into the darkness. But for hours, Matei had not done any work; he had simply been sitting in a chair next to a pot of tea long grown cold, gazing into the flickering hearth and wondering how he could begin to handle the immense challenges that faced him.

There was the matter of ensuring the smooth function of the Integrated Council, something that seemed less and less likely with each meeting. Discussions often reached a fever pitch, with nary a matter being agreed upon without dispute. Matei took solace only in the fact that, as of yet, no one had died—but he thought it too much to hope that future sessions would not result in bloodshed.

Mhera's idea to engage their allies in Myori on a broader scale had at least produced fruit—edible fruit. As caravans continued to trickle in from the countryside, their letter to Myori, a stable nation and a great exporter of grain and other goods, was answered with a ship full of supplies and the promise of an ongoing trade relationship to keep what was needful flowing into the Holy City. Although anxieties had eased and more of the normal trade and work of the city resumed, food security and commerce continued to weigh heavily on his mind.

And there was the question of the archmage. Part of him wondered why he was so unsettled by the thought of the archmage at large, but he remembered the part Jaeron appeared to have played in the war. If he truly had murdered Uaran, Uachi's brother, could it be that he had done so intentionally, striking the spark to the tinder of decades of heightening tensions and resentments? But why? What could he have stood to gain? And where had he gone, almost certainly in possession of a supply of bloodstones sufficient to equip a small army of his own?

A yawn interrupted Matei's thoughts, drawing his attention to how fatigued he was—in mind and in body.

"I should go to bed," he said aloud, although there was no one to hear him. With a sigh, he stood up and stretched until his spine gave a series of satisfying cracks. As he straightened again, he scanned the room. It was becoming familiar, this place, with its warm red and gold furnishings and its comfortable, quiet atmosphere. Matei's eye fell upon the wooden writing desk where Emperor Korvan must have sat of an evening, writing letters to allies and enemies throughout the world well into the night.

Matei had rifled through the folios on the shelves and through various other deposits of letters and papers, but he hadn't yet delved into the depths of this writing desk's drawers. Curious to know whether there was anything of importance in the desk, Matei picked up his cup of icy tea and crossed the room, sipping the brew without truly tasting it. He set the cup aside when he came to the desk and tried the drawer, but it was locked. Crouching down, Matei studied the little lock, wondering if he might be able to break it. When he touched the metal hasp, it was hot to the touch.

Magicked, then.

With a frown, Matei laid his fingers along the lock, ignoring the heat, and closed his eyes. He channeled a dart of energy; the force of it rushed through his blood, a sensation that was at once delicious and uncomfortable, and then burst from his fingertips in a snap like an electric shock. When he tried the drawer again, it opened.

Inside one drawer was a healthy supply of writing materials—parchment, ink, fine quills, envelopes, and the tools for sealing in wax. In the second drawer were a few leather folders containing sheaves of paper.

Matei took the first of these out and opened it, leafing through the letters inside. They appeared to have been written by many hands. Matei recognized the signature of Ambassador Joris, Mhera's father, and a quick skim of the text of his letters revealed that they had to do chiefly with affairs of state: negotiations, trade, treaties and so on. Others were from unfamiliar people: noblemen, council members, wealthy merchants of Karelin and beyond. There were even two letters signed with an elaborate device: HIGH QUEEN CORATSE JA'ALLA OF HOUSE OLAPERIAN. He puzzled over the name, wondering whence the missive might have come. To his knowledge, in Tyrria the queen was called Odelta, and Myori was a more tribal society with chieftains instead of kings. Perhaps it came from the continent of Narr. Although it was in its entirety a part of the Penruan empire, Narr remained divided into kingdoms, most of them with their own royal houses to manage local government.