Heirs of the Blade_ Shadows of the Apt_ Book Seven - Adiran Tchaikovsky [114]
The air was full of soundless fury, of invisible fire, so that Gjegevey flinched from every moment of it. But in the physical world a great silence had fallen, and Seda’s grin simply widened, and the Masters were suddenly uncertain. The world of the new and the vital was brought here before them, incomprehensible and threatening.
And, at the very last, an answer: ‘What is it that you want, then?’ said one of the women. ‘Name it.’
‘Validation,’ Seda told them. ‘Confirmation. You, with your great legacy, must accept me as your heir in the modern world. Just a nod, Masters – just the smallest nod. All of us here know how power is defined by such symbols.’ She caught a glimpse of Gjegevey’s face, and he was wide-eyed in horror, but she had come too far now to turn aside. ‘Pass on to me the mantle,’ she insisted.
The Masters of Khanaphes, and there were many more of them now, exchanged slow glances, and Seda knew that thoughts must be passing between them, not by Art or even magic, but by virtue of their having spent so many centuries in each other’s company.
‘You claim to be the heir to the Age of Lore,’ one said at last, and when Seda nodded impatiently, added, ‘You wish us to crown you, to acknowledge you.’
‘You are the first-ever great magicians,’ Seda declared. ‘I will have you name me as your successor.’
‘And are you prepared to share your throne?’ asked another woman there.
Seda’s eyes narrowed. ‘With you?’
There was a murmur of laughter amongst them, more evident in the eyes than from anything she actually heard. ‘You shall never be our peer, little Empress, but perhaps you are fit to be named queen of what scant magic this withered age still owns. With our blessing you might do great things – might even turn back the sands a little and bring back some shadow of the old days. We cannot bless you, though, unless we also bless your sister.’
The Wasp Empress stared at her, and it was a few moments before she could form the words: ‘I have no sister. Maxin killed them all, years ago. I am the last of my blood.’
At her bafflement, the amusement among the Masters spread. ‘She was not born your kin, but she is your sister now. You and she were bloodied by the same thorn. In the instant that you attained your power, she came to hers. And, though her understanding is behind yours, you are yet walking in her footsteps.’
Seda glared at them all. ‘Explain yourselves!’ she demanded.
‘You have dreamt of these halls of ours,’ another of the Masters interposed. ‘But your sister was here before you. She broke our spells and made demands of us, though she was not so ambitious as you. You are joined, you and she, and though we bless you and grant you our acknowledgement, yet we must grant her nothing less. Your lives are intertwined, but only one of you can triumph in the end. You have a rival, Little Empress, and she is watching you even now.’
Che jerked back, trying to escape from the dream, trying to be anywhere but that subterranean tomb as the Wasp Empress glanced furiously about. I am not here, she had to remind herself. This is just a vision. This is nothing—
Seda’s eyes found hers, and there was a physical jolt of recognition and enmity between them, whereupon Che stopped lying to herself.
‘I see her,’ the Wasp growled, and she thrust out a hand towards Che, as though to sting her across the hundreds of miles that separated them. There came no searing light and heat, though, and Che was just beginning to relax when Seda bared her teeth in a savage snarl, and a wave of darkness pulsed out from her, faster than any eye could follow. Che had only a moment to register its approach before she was struck. Then a hammerblow of the mind detached her from her disembodied viewpoint and cast her far away, down into endless night.
Part Three