Sordaneon by L. L. Stephens

Author:L. L. Stephens [Stephens, L. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epic fantasy, political fantasy
Publisher: Forest Path Books
Published: 2021-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

34

The Lower Canal had the patina of old silver, its turgid water moving languidly beneath a placid winter sky. Marc Frederick had arrived in Dazunor-Rannuli the previous evening after traveling upriver during a lull in the weather. He now looked forward to weeks of meetings and grand parties, of receiving ambassadors and digging deeply again into the business of the empire. Here at the Emrysen Palace, he could take the pulse of the Triempery. Permephedon to the north was a steady note and Stauberg a strong one, while Sordan throbbed like a dull, uneasy ache to the south. Farther away still, Mormantalorus slithered on the edges of his ability to detect it. Overriding all of them was Dazunor-Rannuli, with its Rill thrum and bustle, its palaces and waterways, and a heartbeat as dark as the Rill was bright.

“Behold.” Marc Frederick sat at the broad table of polished white wood that had become his workplace. He held aloft several cards bearing invitations written in letters of gold. “A summons to the Customhouse. The cartel wishes my attendance at a dance celebrating the Heptacentennial of the Consignation.”

At another table nearby, Jonthan looked up from his writing. “Dorilian received a similar invitation.” To his father’s lifted eyebrow of inquiry, he added more. “He sent his regrets this morning.”

“That settles one fear. I want him kept well away from the coils of those vipers.” Marc Frederick wished he could practice just a little of Dorilian’s utter contempt for some of his subjects.

“Is it possible he now believes you? That you—that none of us—had a hand in killing his grandfather... and that the Seven Houses did?”

“Anything is possible with that young man.”

“You were right about the approach to take. I think he can resist almost any punishment. Pressure just makes him dig in his heels. You push, he shoves. You pull on the chain, he lunges for your throat. The man who engages a Sordaneon in a battle of wills is going to lose.”

“Opportunity is a strange creature. One can search its very hairs and see it not.”

Jonthan frowned. “Maybe he cannot recognize what he’s never seen.”

“Friendship? We’ve all seen that.”

“I think we forget how impossibly isolated he’s been. From his seventh year, Sebbord controlled all access to Dorilian. Before that, Valyane did. The men with whom Sebbord surrounded him surround him still: Tiflan, Tutto, Legon, the retainers of his Sordan household. He has protectors by the hundred—and subjects by the million—but very few friends.”

“No loyalties outside himself.” Marc Frederick found that insight illuminating. Sebbord had constructed the perfect Rill avatar, a being that would follow no mind but its own. He shook his head and sighed. “What have they done? That young man is human, and he needs to be human. He needs to feel a connection to humankind in his being, in his soul. All that potential—”

“He loves his brother. He protects him.”

“Yes. That is where he keeps his heart.” Marc Frederick threw down the invitations still in his hand. Unlike Dorilian, he could not hurl disdain at his enemies.

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