Odyssey

CHAPTER 23

"Shall we come to order?" Laquatus called as the generals gathered around the table. The delicate murals on the throne room walls twinkled like submerged stars, the emperor's image looming over his councilors and servants. In the continent's dead buildings, the ambassador could take the image down or cover it. However, in the sea, the palace itself would bleed the image through any barrier. Besides, Laquatus could not decide the fate of the emperor's face, not just yet.

Already he had turned the throne room into the command center. From here he directed the action against the supposed rebels and agents of the queen. Aboshan had retired to his rooms in disarray. There he spent his time in debauchery with occasional bouts when he planned paranoid purges. Increasingly, the court relied on Laquatus to deal with the day to day running of the palace. Many decisions, formerly the exclusive domain of the emperor, were decided by him. Best of all, he was able to blame the bolder and bloody moves on the now-isolated ruler.

A general droned on, but the ambassador ignored him for now. Most members of the new ruling body were military, for Laquatus had taken over the government's civilian functions. Ministers who were former rivals or could impede his decisions were already cleared away. The obstacles were removed by denunciation. Some died, and others fled to the southern courts, proving their treachery or at least their taste for living.

The valuable and respected ministers presented more of a problem. Too many traitors in the government's highest ranks might lead Aboshan to suspect Laquatus. Remembering the effect of his own exile in isolating him, the ambassador found compelling reasons for the highest officials to be sent abroad or to the empire's hinterlands. Embassies opened in dozens of cities, and the reluctant diplomats tried to remove the queen from her undersea allies.

Many of those courtiers remaining in the palace found themselves elevated due to Laquatus's influence and transferred their loyalty to him. Having the whip hand over the civilian administration, the ambassador was considering his next target-the army. It agitated constantly for additional funds, soldiers, and action. Even now, officers looked to him to implement their latest recommendations. He wondered what they were.

"I will hear the next report and inform you of the emperor's decisions regarding your requests, General." He would glance at the wax-covered slate later. He might even secure a decision if he thought the outcome personally favorable.

Another officer began to report, and Laquatus wondered how to gain ascendancy over the army. The problem was proving more resistant to his attempts to weed out leaders. The military had a higher sense of duty and loyalty to its own institutions. Moreover, he could not steer his own candidates to empty positions. Any openings were still filled at the pleasure of the commanding generals.

What he needed was an eviscerating purge of the army's officer corps. Laquatus needed his own armed force to implement it in the emperor's name. A personal guard, he thought, and his eyes drifted to the rear of the throne room. Turg and his lackeys were gathered together, gambling quietly. The killers and scoundrels his jack recruited and led in the raids lacked the strict discipline demanded by the army. However, there were many castes and species in ocean society that could be played against each other. The lower orders had their place, and if a bloodthirsty few managed to improve their lot to the ambassador's benefit, he saw no harm. His jack could find more compatriots while he looked for an excuse for Aboshan to create another army.

He thought of the emperor entombed in his rooms with Laquatus controlling access to the monarch. Expanding the current system of spies and thugs in a serious military force would not be too difficult. He could use subtle innuendo about the military's loyalty to the emperor. However, that course was risky. Aboshan might take personal command of the army leaving no forces loyal only to the ambassador. Perhaps it was time to find avenues to power beside manipulations in the throne room.

"Thank you all for your time," Laquatus said suddenly, cutting another general off in mid-speech. "I believe these problems deserve an immediate response. I will go to our beloved ruler and urge him to act on these concerns as soon as possible."

Many officers could not hide their irritation at the abrupt dismissal, but it was hard to complain of an advisor moving promptly to convey their problems to the sovereign.

Turg, he commanded mentally, ready to leave for the vaults.

The frog resisted, wanting to stay with his companions. The ambassador swam over, wondering what could be so engrossing. A huge glass cover from the imperial kitchens lay on a tabletop. The amphibian and a triton released fighting fish under the glass, sealing them in. The fish, at first, swelled until one appeared bigger than its opponent did. Laquatus thought of Aboshan's swollen ego as one tried to drive the other off. But the lesser was trapped and could not escape. Both fish attacked, forced to combat because one could not leave. The noble dragged his jack away, sick of resistance to his will. The other scum scattered at his show of wrath.

Laquatus led the sullen champion to a waiting room. He could leave for the treasure rooms in a little while. He could afford a little time to adjust his servant's attitude. The frog's sounds of distress carried into the throne room as his master took pains to educate him.

"My enemies decay in the depths," Aboshan, Emperor of the Seas, chuckled as he reviewed the execution lists. The wax showed his enemies' names, and he rubbed them out in glee, imagining himself rubbing them out of existence. He had erased them. No one mentioned their names for fear of contamination, and the state already held their property, appropriated in his name.

The past weeks had been difficult. He constantly feared conspirators might break in despite the increased guards and secret police. He stopped allowing his atten-dants into his quarters because assassins might infiltrate them. He had been reduced to looking at the names of his dead enemies. Suddenly he was afraid, perhaps removing them from the death lists would bring them back to plague him.

He rolled in the water several times, trying to shake off the black thoughts oppressing him. His forces were stripping the empire of criminals every day. Arrest and execution warrants traveled with the army and the police. He was growing safer, he reminded himself.

The emperor needed to get out, to make sure something existed outside these rooms. But where could he go where his enemies might not find him. Aboshan suddenly remembered the vaults and the land walkers that he employed to service his treasures. Surely in the depths of the palace he would be safe. Yes, he would go and see what wonders had been reclaimed.

"Guards!" he screamed, wanting to leave but afraid to unless surrounded. The waters frothed with predatory fish seeking attackers as mermen sped from their posts at the doors.

"What is it, Your Majesty?" a guard asked, his fellows splitting to sweep the room for intruders.

"We wish to inspect the treasure rooms under the palace," he commanded, his voice stronger than it had been in some time. "Have them cleared of undesirables for our tour."

The guard stared slackly then retreated at Aboshan's angry expression.

Servants streamed in as the announcement spread of the emperor leaving his rooms. They brought his jewelry and worked to make him presentable. The uneasiness made him wonder if he should stay. But it had been so long.

He must not allow his subjects to think him cowering in a corner. He was in control, not the rebels or his wife. Not even his loyal servant Laquatus directed the path of the empire. The realm was his to use as he saw fit. Aboshan resolutely swept out into the halls. Guards raced down side passages to clear a path for the monarch, unable to cut in front of the emperor.

The halls appeared deserted, the ruler knowing many feared to be in his presence while his moods were so unpredictable. They must learn to live with it, he decided. He would not be a pariah in his own house. The passage wound down to the sea floor. Light blazed from normally dark walls as the palace reacted to his presence.

Aboshan reached the bedrock. A shimmering bubble stretched across the room to a partition. He could see a squad of tresias chivying someone behind the screen. At least he would not have to soil himself by looking on the land-bound. The sentry bowed to the ground, his stalk pivoting to bring his torso flat to the rock. The emperor ignored him as he swam closer to the bubble of air. The monarch remembered his ministers creating the spell. The problems with item preservation dictated that Aboshan, who despised all above the sea, have a pocket of air and dry land in his own house. Worse, he could not swim among his treasures but must walk on legs.

"Avert your eyes as we inspect our treasures," the emperor told the guards. He swam closer, then passed into the bubble. He writhed with unexpected pain. He had buried his ability to form legs at least as deep as the treasures below. He lay on the floor, gasping for air as his tentacles combined and formed legs. He laboriously expelled water cleared from his new lungs. He tried to stand, but i his muscles protested. The best he could manage was a I crawl as he neared the trapdoor. He sat at the top of the stairs leading down, the air feeling as chill as the ocean depths. At last he slid down the wooden steps. He gripped the banister and laboriously pulled himself to his newly created feet.

The room was lit by unpleasantly flaring lamps. Crystal globes captured traces of fire and threw their harsh rays from the chamber's corners. The shelves erected on the floor were taller than his head, his treasures laid upon them and cataloged. He tottered toward the first set, gripping the sides as his feet shuffled over the uneven floor. Some of the wooden planks groaned under their loads. The steel and glass heads of forgotten fighting machines stared at him as he worked his way down the aisle. Mechanical limbs threw threatening shadows. He passed a section of knives, their wavy edges promising death to who ever touched the blade, the wielder as well as the victim. A pile of jewels, separated by type, covered the wood at the end of the aisle.

"Is this all?" he asked himself. Where were the magics to sweep away his enemies? He had no interest in baubles or small devices. He could draw on an empire to build his armies. These items were inconsequential compared to his might under the sea. Perhaps the greater wonders were deeper under the palace?

Aboshan moved toward the hole leading down to the next room. His stride improved as he went down the ladder. He was no weakling to be overwhelmed by walking. The shelves seemed more of the same. A projector lay groaning on a set of tables. He could see the spears contained through gaps in the mechanism. The weapon might make a single warrior or machine nigh unstoppable but was of no use against the hordes a war must bring.

He strained to topple the trestles. He snarled at his impotence as he tried to move weights unsupported by water for the first time. Dry land oppressed him. All but a tiny fraction of his forces could not leave the water at all. The continent's interior seemed remote as distant islands to the savages inhabiting the world of air.

The real weapons must be hidden. He stretched out his senses, drifting between the shelves. He could smell the water and mud down in the lower levels. His eyes saw little sign of hidden cases or rooms as he worked his way back. It was only his meticulous attention to the walls that tipped him off.

One section of rock changed slowly as the light brightened. The shift reminded him of the palace walls, but it appeared bare rock. He approached and let his senses wash over it. The surface was a fagade, and he felt the thrill of discovering a secret trove. His will grated against the surface, and the covering slowly sloughed away. Water poured out, murky and stinking of metal and rot. The cache must predate the Cabal's arrival, Aboshan realized. The former curator must have hidden the object before dying in the rebel attack.

A leather sack lay on the floor. The emperor knelt down, nearly falling as he performed the maneuver. He opened the bag, the material tearing like paper. He held the world in his hands.

The orb was brilliant blue, the globe's surface covered in places by chop, as waves and weather collided. The depths of the sphere called to him, speaking its name.

"Mirari," the emperor whispered.

He stared in wonder, his senses diving beneath the surface to explore the world he ruled. The abysmal depths called to him, and he raced to answer.

The orb spun out of his hands as he toppled, the ball rolling away to fetch up against a shelf. The emperor's legs split into tentacles. He thrashed in panic as his lungs tried to turn back to gills. His mind convinced he swam in the ocean, his body had attempted to adapt to the new reality. Aboshan shuddered as his magic slowly halted the transformation and forced himself to revert to his land-bound form.

He rolled upright, furious that his being could betray him so. He walked quickly to the orb, the sphere's glory feeling slightly less. He stooped to pick it up and rapped his head against the wood.

"Everything conspires against us!" Aboshan swore, closing his eyes against the pain. "Forced to walk on legs like a common animal. How I despise them all!" The ruler put his tentacles to his head as if to press the anger back in. The land assaulted his mind. Even for the care of treasures like the orb he depended on the Cabal. He wondered what trick they had prepared for him?

He held the Mirari before his eyes. The sphere's endless seas were swept by waves without land's interruption.

"That is what I want. For my kingdom to stretch on forever." Perhaps his wife might come back to him if he were more powerful. But the continents seemed forever beyond his reach.

"We will sweep you all away!" he said madly and thrust his magic into the sphere.