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“Take me where? What do you want me to do?” What choice does he have?
“We must retrieve Kerik to even have a chance of defeating Ur-Durik. We need to discover where Jareleezi has taken him. To get that information we must go to Ceruleum. To visit Doroth Zain in the Bride house. He works for our cause. And he holds there our greatest source of information about what we must do next.”
Doroth Zain. Damon swallows. “I know that. He has aided me before. But he is the High Word of Zai. Can we be sure that we can trust him? He charged me go to Ismagaar. To that witch.”
“He believes,” Perl says, “that you will retrieve the Books of Alios if you go to her. He does not know that she destroyed them. I never told him so. But other than that he knows the truth of the matter. Zai is…” Perl pauses. “The God that is worshipped in the Azurian Empire is Ur-Durik. Zai is simply an old word for demon king from the Bellator’s own language.”
Damon doesn’t know what he can say to that. He is no true devotee of Zai, but he has known Zai as the one true God all of his life.
Quietly Lyr says, “Zai is a demon? It makes a lot of sense.”
Perl looks at Lyr, still wary of him, but gives him a small nod of agreement. “Indeed. I have recruited useful people to our cause over the years, where I could. Doroth Zain, along with Princess Karo have worked tirelessly to assist me.”
“Karo?” Damon says, “My father’s first wife?”
“Yes,” says Perl. “She married Rafus, because we knew he would be the father of the five fae princes reborn. Her role was to ensure he sired them.”
Damon is starting to wonder who else in his life has been part of this scheming, moving people around like gaming pieces to ensure this demon will be defeated. “Karo? Karo ensured I was born? And Lukas, Tobi, Kerik and… there is another, isn’t there?”
“Correct. We knew exactly how to bring you forth. We had the writings of Batraous, my father, that explained how the princes would return. He had the gift of prophecy.”
“Batraous, the Hevelikar philosopher, is your father? But he lived a thousand years ago?”
“Five hundred. And he was more warlock than philosopher. But he had many gifts, including long life. He sired me two hundred years ago. My own mother was of the fae.”
Damon shakes his head, slowly. “And these people you have brought to your cause always believe you? They always agree to help you fight a demon? Princess Karo agreed to this?”
“I am quite particular about who I choose. And Karo agreed to marry your father on one condition. That when Ur-Durik was rising, and his part was done, she would kill him.”
“Kill my father? Karo wants to kill my father. You promised her this?” Damon doesn’t know how he should react to this confession. For all Rafus’s faults, a father ought to expect certain things from his son.
“It is done. Rafus is dead.”
“No,” Damon says. “I would know if he was dead. Killed by his own wife.” But he knows this is a strange thing to say. He has not seen his father since he was exiled. He knows his father believes him dead.
As Damon speaks, bells start to chime outside. Low and steady. Death bells. Almost as if they are answering. Peeling out the truth of Perl’s claims. But bells like that would not be rung for Rafus, even if what Perl is saying is the truth. Those bells mean…
Damon feels a deep dread in his belly. Bells rang like that when Erond died.
And if they are ringing now does that mean Lukas succeeded? An emperor is dead. If Selim is dead and Rafus too Damon knows what that means. Atticul will take the throne. Atticul who knows that he lives.
He needs to leave Attar. Inez too.
That hook in his guts is tugged once more.
Footsteps racing up the stairs make him jump up. Enforcers? So soon. Damon stands. He puts his hand on the Amber Blade, moving so he is between the door and everyone else.
Elric bursts into the room, face stricken.
29
CHANCELLOR VINDAR
THE ROSE PALACE, ATTAR
Chancellor Vindar is walking through the winter gardens with his son, on the morning of the first day of a new age of the Azurian Empire. Vindar spent his boyhood in Ceruleum, far in the north. Attar never gets as cold as Ceruleum used to during Lex moon, snows are rare, but the wind today is cool enough that both he and Umbert wear woollen cloaks.
Vindar looks down at his son. He is six summers old, crouching on the neatly kept gravelled pathway, looking at a beetle crawling along, trying to get it to scuttle onto a stick he holds.
