Queen of Fire полностью

“As all here will know,” the Empress began, “shortly before my Choosing, an attempt was made on my life and the life of my son. Many trusted and beloved servants died in this attack and my son and I escaped death by only the narrowest of margins. My attackers were a Volarian woman and a servant of the same fanatical heretic sect as the Hope Killer himself. It became clear to me in the course of my ordeal that these assassins had received intimate intelligence regarding my home, for how else could they gain access with such ease? Before I was rescued by the brave intervention of Commander Hevren, the woman spoke to me.” She raised an arm, the finger pointed at me, straight and unwavering. “Naming this man as the source of her intelligence. Apparently, he wanted me to know of his involvement, as befits a man mired in jealousy and hatred.”

I met her gaze, seeing only triumph. Beloved Emperor, I thought. What have you done to us?

I sighed and rose, keeping my gaze locked on hers, refusing to look away even as Hevren’s sword blade pressed against my neck. It stopped as the Empress raised a hand. “I will not spare this traitor a trial,” she said. “Our people deserve truth and the observance of law.”

“If you intend to kill me,” I said, “then do so, and spare me your farce of a trial. I only ask you first listen to my account of the conflict in the Unified Realm, to be verified by this woman, for it is of grave import to this empire.”

It was barely a smile, just a slight curl to her flawless lips, but I saw then a woman experience perhaps the sweetest moment of her life. “Lord Verniers, I have already heard far too much from you.”

CHAPTER ONE

Vaelin

As before, the first thing he noticed was the change in the air, the sulphuric taint of the mountain top replaced by something altogether sweeter. The damp chill was also gone, transformed into the warm caress of sunlight, leavened by the gentle brush of a summer breeze. But this time the sounds were different, no creak of forest branches or birdsong, but the clamour of many hands at work. The ground beneath the memory stone had also changed, carved rock replaced by smooth tiles of freshly hewn marble. Vaelin raised his gaze, finding that they in fact no longer stood atop the mountain but on a raised platform in the centre of a newly risen city.

Everywhere men worked amongst scaffolding, hauling ropes or carving stone, teams of tall shaggy-footed draught horses hauled huge wagons laden with blocks of granite and marble. The air was filled with calls and songs as the men worked, the absence of any whip-cracks or chains a clear sign these were not slaves. If anything they all seemed cheerful in their labour. His eyes alighted on the tallest structure, a narrow, rectangular tower near fifty feet high, its walls covered in scaffolding, but he could see the red marble and grey granite beneath. His gaze shifted to another building closer by, the walls in place but the roof not yet complete. It was a sizeable structure, larger than those surrounding it. A mason sat in a sling suspended over the lintel, his chisel leaving a line of symbols in the stone, symbols once ascribed meaning by Brother Harlick: library.

“The Fallen City,” he said aloud, a glance at the southern landscape confirming it. The ages might erode a city but not the mountains.