The Complete Tamuli Trilogy: Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City

Ambassador Oscagne leaned back in his chair. ‘Where to begin?’ he pondered. ‘When one looks at the incidents individually, they almost appear trivial. It’s the cumulative effect that’s brought the empire to the brink of collapse.’

‘We can understand that sort of thing, your Excellency,’ Emban assured him. ‘The Church has been on the brink of collapse for centuries now. Our Holy Mother reels from crisis to crisis like a drunken sailor.’

‘Emban,’ Dolmant chided gently.

‘Sorry,’ the fat little churchman apologised.

Oscagne was smiling. ‘Sometimes it seems that way, though, doesn’t it, your Grace,’ he said to Emban. ‘I’d imagine that the government of the Church is not really all that much different from the government of the empire. Bureaucrats need crisis in order to survive. If there isn’t a crisis of some kind, someone might decide that a number of positions could be eliminated.’

‘I’ve noticed the same sort of thing myself,’ Emban agreed.

‘I assure you, however, that what we have in Tamuli is not some absurd little flap generated for the purposes of making someone’s position secure. I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that the empire’s on the brink of collapse.’ His bronze face became thoughtful. ‘We are not one homogeneous people as you here in Eosia are,’ he began. ‘There are five races on the Daresian continent. We Tamuls live to the east, there are Elenes in the west, Styrics around Sarsos, the Valesians on their island and the Cynesgans in the centre. It’s probably not natural for so many different kinds of people to all be gathered under one roof. Our cultures are different, our religions are different, and each race is sublimely convinced that it’s the crown of the universe.’ He sighed. ‘We’d probably have been better off if we’d remained separate.’

‘But, at some time in the past someone grew ambitious?’ Tynian surmised.

‘Far from it, Sir Knight,’ Oscagne replied. ‘You could almost say that we Tamuls blundered into empire.’ He looked at Mirtai, who sat quietly with Danae in her lap. ‘And that’s the reason,’ he said, pointing at the giantess.

‘It wasn’t my fault, Oscagne,’ she protested.

‘I wasn’t blaming you personally, Atana,’ he smiled. ‘It’s your people.’

She smiled. ‘I haven’t heard that term since I was a child. No one’s ever called me “Atana” before.’

‘What’s it mean?’ Talen asked her curiously.

‘Warrior,’ she shrugged.

‘Warrioress, actually,’ Oscagne corrected. He frowned. ‘I don’t want to be offensive, but your Elene tongue is limited in its ability to convey subtleties.’ He looked at Ehlana. ‘Has your Majesty noticed that your slave is not exactly like other women?’ he asked her.

‘She’s my friend,’ Ehlana objected, ‘not my slave.’

‘Don’t be ignorant, Ehlana,’ Mirtai told her crisply. ‘Of course I’m a slave. I’m supposed to be. Go on with your story, Oscagne. I’ll explain it to them later.’

‘Do you really think they’ll understand?’

‘No. But I’ll explain it anyway.’

‘And there, revered Archprelate,’ Oscagne said to Dolmant, ‘there lies the key to the empire. The Atans placed themselves in thrall to us some fifteen hundred years ago to prevent their homicidal instincts from obliterating their entire race. As a result, we Tamuls have the finest army in the world – even though we’re basically a non-violent people. We tended to win those incidental little arguments with other nations which crop up from time to time and are usually settled by negotiation. In our view, our neighbours are like children, hopelessly incapable of managing their own affairs. The empire came into being largely in the interests of good order.’ He looked around at the Church Knights. ‘Once again, I’m not trying to be offensive, but war is probably the stupidest of human activities. There are much more efficient ways to persuade people to change their minds.’

‘Such as the threat to unleash the Atans?’ Emban suggested slyly.

‘That does work rather well, your Grace,’ Oscagne admitted. ‘The presence of the Atans has usually been enough in the past to keep political discussion from becoming too spirited. Atans make excellent policemen.’ He sighed. ‘You noted that slight qualification, I’m sure. I said, “in the past”. Unfortunately, that doesn’t hold true any more. An empire comprised of disparate peoples must always expect these little outbreaks of nationalism and racial discord. It’s the nature of the insignificant to try to find some way to assert their own importance. It’s pathetic, but racism is generally the last refuge of the unimportant. These outbreaks of insignificance aren’t normally too widespread, but suddenly all of Tamuli is in the throes of an epidemic of them. Everyone’s sewing flags and singing national anthems and labouring over well-honed insults to be directed at “the yellow dogs”. That’s us, of course.’ He held out his hand and looked at it critically. ‘Our skins aren’t really yellow, you know. They’re more …’ He pondered it.

‘Beige?’ Stragen suggested.

‘That’s not too flattering either, Milord Stragen.’ Oscagne smiled. ‘Oh, well. Perhaps the emperor will appoint a special commission to define our skin tone once and for all.’ He shrugged. ‘At any rate, incidental outbreaks of nationalism and racial bigotry would be no real problem for the Atans, even if they occurred in every town in the empire. It’s the unnatural incidents that cause us all this concern.’

‘I thought there might be more,’ Ulath murmured.

‘At first, these demonstrations of magic were directed at the people themselves,’ Oscagne went on. ‘Every culture has its mythic hero – some towering personality who unified the people, gave them national purpose and defined their character. The modern world is complex and confusing, and the simple folk yearn for the simplicity of the age of heroes when national goals could be stated simply and everyone knew precisely who he was. Someone in Tamuli is resurrecting the heroes of antiquity.’

Sparhawk felt a sudden chill. ‘Giants?’ he asked.

‘Well.’ Oscagne considered it. ‘Perhaps that is the proper term at that. The passage of the centuries blurs and distorts, and our cultural heroes tend to become larger than life. I suppose that when we think of them, we do think of giants. That’s a very acute perception, Sir Sparhawk.’

‘I can’t actually take credit for it, your Excellency. The same sort of thing’s been happening here.’

Dolmant looked at him sharply.

‘I’ll explain later, Sarathi. Please go on, Ambassador Oscagne. You said that whoever’s stirring things up in Tamuli started out by raising national heroes. That implies that it’s gone further.’

‘Oh, yes indeed, Sir Sparhawk. Much, much further. Every culture has its hobgoblins as well as its heroes. It’s the hobgoblins we’ve been encountering – monsters, afreets, werewolves, vampires – all those things adults use to frighten children into good behaviour. Our Atans can’t cope with that sort of thing. They’re trained to deal with men, not with all the horrors the creative genius of aeons has put together. That’s our problem. We have nine different cultures in Tamuli, and suddenly each one of them has taken to pursuing its traditional historic goals. When we send in our Atans to restore order and to re-assert imperial authority, the horrors rise up out of the ground to confront them. We can’t deal with it. The empire’s disintegrating, falling back into its component parts. His Imperial Majesty’s government hopes that your Church can recognise a certain community of interest here. If Tamuli collapses back into nine warring kingdoms, the resulting chaos is almost certain to have its impact here in Eosia as well. It’s the magic that has us so concerned. We can deal with ordinary insurrection, but we’re unequipped to deal with a continent-wide conspiracy that routinely utilises magic against us. The Styrics at Sarsos are baffled. Everything they try is countered almost before they can set it in motion. We’ve heard stories about what happened in the City of Zemoch, and it is to you personally that I must appeal, Sir Sparhawk. Zalasta of Sarsos is the pre-eminent magician in all of Styricum, and he assures us that you are the only man in all the world with enough power to deal with the situation.’

‘Zalasta may have an exaggerated idea of my abilities,’ Sparhawk said.

‘You know him?’

‘We’ve met. Actually, your Excellency, I was only a very small part of what happened at Zemoch. When you get right down to it, I was hardly more than a channel for power I couldn’t even begin to describe. I was the instrument of something else.’

‘Be that as it may, you’re still our only hope. Someone is quite obviously conspiring to overthrow the empire. We must identify that someone. Unless we can get to the source of all of this and neutralise it, the empire will collapse. Will you help us, Sir Sparhawk?’

‘That decision’s not mine to make, your Excellency. You must appeal to my queen and to Sarathi here. If they command me, ‘I’ll go to Tamuli. If they forbid it, I won’t.’

‘I’ll direct my enormous powers of persuasion at them, then,’ Oscagne smiled. ‘But even assuming that I’m successful – and there’s little doubt that I shall be – we’re still faced with an almost equally serious problem. We must protect his Imperial Majesty’s dignity at all costs. An appeal from one government to another is one thing, but an appeal from His Majesty’s government to a private citizen on another continent is quite another. That is the problem which must be addressed.’

‘I don’t see that we have any choice, Sarathi,’ Emban was saying gravely. It was late evening. Ambassador Oscagne had retired for the night, and the rest of them, along with Patriarch Ortzel of Kadach in Lamorkand, had gathered to give his request serious consideration. ‘We may not entirely approve of some of the policies of the Tamul Empire, but its stability is in our vital interest just now. We’re fully committed to our campaign in Rendor. If Tamuli flies apart, we’ll have to pull most of our armies – and the Church Knights – out of Rendor to protect our interests in Zemoch. Zemoch’s not much of a place, I’ll grant you, but the strategic importance of its mountains can’t be overstated. We’ve had a hostile force in those mountains for the past two thousand years, and that fact has occupied the full attention of our Holy Mother. If we allow some other hostile people to replace the Zemochs, everything Sparhawk achieved in Otha’s capitol is lost. We’ll go right back to where we were six years ago. We’ll have to abandon Rendor again and start mobilising to meet a new threat from the east.’

‘You’re stating the obvious, Emban,’ Dolmant told him.

‘I know, but sometimes it helps to lay everything out so that we can all look at it.’

‘Sparhawk,’ Dolmant said then, ‘if I were to order you to Matherion but your wife ordered you to stay home, what would you do?’

‘I’d probably have to go into a monastery to pray for guidance for the next several years.’

‘Our Holy Mother Church is overwhelmed by your piety, Sir Sparhawk.’

‘I do what I can to please her, Sarathi. I am her true knight, after all.’

Dolmant sighed. ‘Then it all boils down to some sort of accommodation between Ehlana and me, doesn’t it?’

‘Such wisdom can only have come from God,’ Sparhawk observed to his companions.

‘Do you mind?’ Dolmant said tartly. Then he looked at the Queen of Elenia with a certain resignation. ‘Name your price, your Majesty.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Let’s not tiptoe around each other, Ehlana. Your champion’s put my back to the wall.’