The Tears of Kas̆dael

Jasper shifted on his seat uncomfortably as Tōrîl continued his testimony. After two hours, the uncushioned wooden chair was beginning to feel like an instrument of torture, and the fact that he was dying of thirst didn't help. Reluctantly, he took another sip of the maqta, grimacing as the sickly sweet liquid completely failed to quench his thirst. It's like drinking hot liquid candy. I don't know how anyone stands it.

With nothing better to do, his eyes turned back to the Emperor and the woman sitting beside him. She was stunningly beautiful, with fair skin, platinum hair, and eyes so violently blue they seemed unnatural; if it wasn't for the absence of antlers peaking through her hair, Jasper would've guessed her an elf, but as it was, he felt certain she was at the very least a Celestian. I wonder if I'll ever get there.

However, judging from how close she sat to the Emperor and the occasional glances he sent her, it was obvious that they were together, so Jasper thought it unwise to stare. Instead, he studied the emperor, trying to get a read on the man before his own turn at interrogation began.

Unlike the goddess sitting next to him, the Emperor was nothing special to look at. He was a reasonably handsome man, tall and broad-shouldered, with wavy brown hair and bright green eyes that hinted at Fey ancestry. His hands were weathered and worn, the hands of a warrior rather than a noble at leisure, and his armor, though far more elaborate than anything Jasper had seen thus far, showed signs of use, with knicks and dents pockmarking the silver bear on his chest.

He was a warrior in a land full of warriors, seemingly unremarkable at first glance, but the longer Jasper studied him, the more he sensed what lurked beneath the surface. There was an aura around the man that went beyond mere charisma, an almost physical sense of pressure that promised violence, while the earthy smell of a field after a sudden summer downpour filled the chamber. His presence wasn't as overwhelming as the king of the Djinn's had been, but he wasn't sure the man was that much weaker.

"And what about you, Lord Yas̆peh? Tell me of this portal and the god you brought back." He started as the Emperor's presence turned on him and choked back a sigh. Looks like the fun is just beginning.

If he'd thought the captain's interview had gone long, he was wholly unprepared for how long the Emperor would question them. Daylight turned to dusk, and servants bustled around the tent, lighting lamps as the man continued to press him.

The Emperor's questions were endless. Questions about the portal and the damned city on the other side. About the fallen god, and the corruption that had brought him low. About the Bloodspiller and the frenzied battle in the sun god's temple. About his party - S̆ams̆ādur and Ihra bearing the bulk of his questions, although the Emperor's concern about her faded once he realized she was not a pureblooded elf. It was long past midnight when the Emperor finally relaxed back in his chair, not because his questions had ended, but because of the lady's persistent tugging at his sleeve.

"You're sure the Bloodspiller is dead?" He circled back to one of his greatest concerns.

"As I said before, my lord, I am certain Lord Dipāru slew him, but I cannot promise there is no way he could return. We were unable to retrieve his body, tainted as it was, so I suppose resurrection is at least theoretically possible."

"But he'd be trapped on the other side of a closed portal in a cursed realm," Ardûl pointed out.

"Aye, it would be difficult," the Emperor rumbled, "But not impossible for a man like him. He was reported dead in the siege of Yas̆kar seven years ago. After you reported his presence here, I checked those records myself, and I do believe he died there. So if he has a patron willing to resurrect him, we cannot rule out the possibility that he'll reappear. Mark his fate uncertain," he commanded Ardûl. "I want the army to keep an ear out for any rumors of his return, lest we be taken by surprise a second time."

The Moon-kissed bowed his head in acquiescence, and the Emperor turned his attention back to Jasper. He was clearly about to speak again when the woman intervened. "I think, my lord, it's time to call it a night," she said firmly. "I'm sure Lord Ardûl will still be here in the morning."

The man scowled, but as she wrapped her fingers around his, his expression softened. "Aye, I suppose you do need your sleep now," he said as his eyes drifted toward her stomach. Bidding the table goodnight, the pair left, leaving the three around the table.

With a loud yawn, Tōrîl rose stiffly and stretched his arms wide. "Anything further you need, Commander?"

The Moon-kissed shook his head and bade him goodnight, but as Jasper rose to follow, the man gestured for him to hold back.

With a frown, Jasper settled back into the seat, waiting in silence until the Corsyth had departed.

"Unfortunately," Ardûl began, as he continued to work through the reports and scratch out references to the Bloodspiller's death, "you seem to have caught the Emperor's eye. I had hoped to spare you further interrogation, but I suspect you will be summoned back tomorrow, so be prepared."

"You don't think he's suspicious of me? But why?"

"Suspicious?" The commander hummed noncommittally. "Not exactly, but you and your party are an oddity. A Djinn, a Corsyth, a durgu, an elf-"

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"She's not an elf-"

"An elf," he repeated, "Not to mention a second Djinn with powers that inexplicably favor the Fey rather than his own people. And, of course, let's not forget the Sidhe that mysteriously came to your aid."

"And that's a bad thing?" Jasper challenged.

Ardûl tutted disappointedly. "Come now, Yas̆peh, I know your mind is quicker than that."

As Jasper mulled it over, he realized why their party might seem suspicious. The durgu were preparing to imminently invade the empire, the elves had funded rebels supporting the previous royal house for decades, nothing needed to be said of the Empire's feelings for the Fey, who had slaughtered millions in their three invasions, and the Sidhe were viewed only slightly more positively.

"Okay," he admitted, "On paper, I can see why the Emperor might be concerned about our party, but surely our actions have proved otherwise. We closed the portal, for God's sake, killed the Bloodspiller, and the wyrm."

"Aye, but the losses here were grievous and there's no real proof that the Bloodspiller is dead."

"That's not our fault-" Jasper started to protest, but Ardûl cut him off.

"Of course not, but someone who was secretly in league with the mage could just as easily claim to have killed the Bloodspiller but been unable to retrieve his body. And, given the Durgu king's attempt to ally with the stoneflesh, there's a link to your party, however tenuous, through S̆ams̆ādu. I don't believe Lord Eligon truly suspects you, but after his recent betrayal, I'm sure trust does not come easily."

"Betrayal?"

"His own best friend was suborned into an assassination attempt against him," Ardûl explained.

"Crap," Jasper sighed. "I can see how that could muddy the waters. Is there anything I can do?"

"Tell the truth," Ardul replied bluntly. "I'm sure he'll bring truthsayers tomorrow. But aside from that," his expression turned thoughtful, "there might be one thing you could do to reassure him. Lady Naklāti seems to have the Emperor's ear and, as you know, the Celestians are rather fond of elves. Have Ihra invite her to do something, and once she sees that Ihra isn't a House Nūrīlī loyalist, that should help ease Lord Eligon's concerns."

"Won't you come to bed?" Naklāti propped herself on her pillows and reached a hand out.

"I'm not tired," Eligon grunted, pacing back and forth as he perused the casualty reports the Djinn had compiled for him.

The numbers were worse than he'd expected. It was not just the fort that had been entirely destroyed, but its people as well. Less than thirty men of the once six-hundred-strong garrison had survived, and under a hundred of the villagers had been rescued, apparently thanks to one of Yaspeh's party members.

The Djinn army had taken their share of injuries too, with nearly a full third of their forces wounded by the chimeras, wyrms, and poisoned rain - the rain that was once, again, caused by one of Yas̆peh's party. Fortunately, the successful closure of the portal had given the Djinn the chance to heal most of the wounded before they'd expired, but the casualties were still too bloody high.

"You're going to go over all those reports with the general again tomorrow, so just come to bed," she insisted.

"I need to know what they say, to spot any discrepancies before they get smoothed away," he growled.

Naklāti rolled her eyes, but rising from the cot, walked over and wrapped her arms around him, arresting his progress. "They're not our enemies, you know. What's really bothering you?"

Eligon started to protest, to angrily retort that they couldn't be sure of the Djinns' loyalty, but even he could tell he was being paranoid.

"Kruvas̆," he cursed, his shoulders sagging as he let her hug him. "I just can't stop thinking that what happened here could be happening anywhere," he admitted. "What if, right now, a dozen portals are being opened across the Empire? I mean, Selene's Grace, Naklāti," he sat down on the cot with a heavy thud, "we had no idea the stoneflesh were plotting this. Our soldiers wrote this off as some light banditry, an attempt to harass the supply lines between Abāya and Merom. If Lord Ardûl hadn't seen something we didn't, if he hadn't sent someone to investigate a few bandits, the city of Abāya would have been a smouldering ruin before we even realized there was a problem."

She sat down beside him, laying her head against his shoulder. "Do you really think there could be more attacks?"

"I…I don't know," he replied slowly. "The stoneflesh are not known for their mages; as far as we know, the Bloodspiller is the only mage they have capable of opening a portal like this, but we thought him dead. Seven years, Naklāti, seven years where we weren't watching him. What if he took apprentices, if he spread his foul magic-"

"Have there been any other reports?" she interrupted him.

"No," he admitted, "but that doesn't necessarily mean. We came this close, this close," he held his hand up, fingers barely apart, "to disaster, and we never saw it coming. It's hard not to feel a little paranoid," he added, with a touch of chagrin.

"At least you know you're being paranoid," she smiled back at him.

"Can you blame me?" he shrugged. "I think I earned that right when I had to stab Vayyābī through the heart."

"Maybe, but you have to trust people sometimes."

"I know," Eligon sighed. "And, frankly, I don't really think they're trying to deceive us. Ardûl seems like a competent man, and his officers backed up everything in his reports. I know I'm being a bit irrational, but I'd still feel better if you could do something for me tomorrow."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Check out Lord Yas̆peh's party. Take them on a hunt or something, and get to know them. If after spending the day with them, you think they're on the up-and-up, I'll let the matter drop - after the durgu has spoken with a truthsayer," he hastened to add.

"Alright," she shrugged. "I don't think I could take another day of sitting on those wooden chairs anyway."

"Aye, might as well be active while you still can."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Her head snapped up with a glare.

"I, uh, meant-" Courage suddenly deserting him to ask the question on his mind, Eligon smoothly switched to a lie. "That we won't have much free time once the campaign starts," he said, giving her a kiss as he pushed her back on the bed, and for a time, forgot his worries.