Blood and Iron: The Book of the Black Earth (Part One) by Jon Sprunk

Author:Jon Sprunk
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pyr®, An Imprint of Prometheus Books
Published: 2014-02-25T16:00:00+00:00

The afternoon waned as Horace spent two hours chanting with his hands locked into bizarre configurations while he tried to take control of his qa. By the end of the session, he was wrung out like he'd hiked twenty miles, and his head was killing him.

When Lord Mulcibar departed, Horace sat in the courtyard alone. The lesson played over and over in his mind, but rather than enjoying his limited successes, he dwelled on the failures. Control of the power seemed to slip through his grasp time and time again, leaving him frustrated and more than a little alarmed. He wished Alyra was there to talk to about it, and missing her added to his angst.

Someone knocked at his front door.

He hurried back inside his suite and answered it. Chancellor Unagon stood in the hallway with a pair of manservants.

“Yes?”

Unagon bowed and placed his right hand over his heart. Horace was getting better at understanding Akeshian, but the chancellor spoke too fast for him to follow. “I'm sorry. I didn't understand any of that.”

Chancellor Unagon frowned and then indicated that they wished to come inside. Horace backed up to give them room, and Unagon strode toward the bedchamber with his servants in tow. Horace hurried after them. “Hey! Excuse me!”

The chancellor opened the wardrobe and picked out a long magenta tunic with a silver starburst design on the chest, a matching skirt, and a pair of black sandals. Then he gestured to the servants and said something about helping Horace.

He held up his hands. “Wait a minute. Help me with what?”

Chancellor Unagon spoke slowly. “Dress you, sire. You are to meet the queen.”

Horace lowered his hands, and the servants went into motion. Soon Horace was wearing the selected outfit, with his face and hands washed and his hair combed. Chancellor Unagon fussed over him for about half an hour and then waved him toward the door. Horace obeyed. Outside, a squadron of the queen's bodyguard stood at attention. They saluted him in unison and then fell in around him.

What am I walking into now?

The soldiers took him a different way than before. As they started up a series of switchback staircases, a tremor of anxiety stirred in Horace. Visions of his last visit to the queen's boudoir flashed across his mind. He had to force some lurid thoughts out of his head.

Perhaps she's invited me to dinner on the roof?

The stairs opened into a hallway, a bit narrower than most of the palace passageways he'd seen. The soldiers opened a door, and ruddy sunlight poured in along with a strong breeze that rustled Horace's clothes. Stepping through, he entered onto a wide terrace at the top of the world. The patio was bedecked with so many plants—from flowers and shrubs to waving trees thirty feet tall—that it looked like a forest. Through the verdant décor, he spotted a marble balustrade along the edge overlooking a breathtaking view of the city below.

As the guards took up positions by the door, Horace looked around.

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