Mandate
The great city of Ignamaen, heart of the greatest empire the world had ever seen, thrummed with righteous fervor. Sacrifices to the gods were performed in market squares and revelers filled the streets. The war with the Duvik Princedom was going well. Some said that, before the next winter, the walls of the Princedom would be broken and the blood of its people would consecrate the earth.
Senator Aurellian sat in an uncomfortable chair in the backroom of a grubby tea shop that few would take any kind of notice of. He would rather not be in such a place, but love of Ignamaen demanded it. For his city, he decided that he could suffer the indignity. Of course, if the woman who styled herself ‘Duchess Ezra’ declined to appear, the indignity would all be for naught.
He sipped his tea as he contemplated the door. Eventually, it opened, and a young woman stepped through. Her hand rested on a dagger, and her steps were taken with unnatural grace. Aurellian narrowed his brow; she was not the woman he had hoped to see. But he thought he remembered her from among the Duchess’s retinue.
And so he curled his lips into a smile. “Ah, good, you came. I had begun to think that the Sixth Finger had abandoned me.”
The woman thudded into the seat across from him. “Well. The Duchess told us not to meet with you. Even with your discretion, she is worried that undue attention might be cast upon her. But, I still wanted to hear you out. For our purposes, you can call me Cassia.”
“She doesn’t trust me.” Aurellian had suspected that this might be the outcome. But he had not foreseen the arrival of this young woman in the duchess’s place. His fingers drummed against the table as he contemplated the turn of events.
“No, she does not. Anyone who turns against their friend deserves to be suspected.”
“Even if justice demands it?”
Cassia’s eyes were so wide and blue that it seemed as though he stared into the depths of the sky. “Who should ever trust a traitor?”
Her words tumbled within his chest, thudding heavily. It was not a true betrayal, was it? “One must act when their friend is in error. And if their friend does not see reason, one must do what is necessary for their empire. I have done all I could for him. All I can do is grant him passage into the safe hands of the gods. I would that I did not have to turn against a friend, but—if I must…”
“No, you’re right. If he stands in the way of Ignamaen and her people, he will be made to move. I do not care what the Duchess says. I joined the Sixth Finger because I wanted the opportunity to do what needed to be done. If you can give us an opportunity to kill the traitor, I will be happy to work with you.”
“Yes. I can.” He looked at the woman for a long moment, contemplating whether or not she would be able to satisfy the role he needed her for. She was more than willing, and that frightened him. “While he gives his oration on the war with the Duvik Princedom, I can ensure that you will be able to sneak into the Senate chambers.”
His words gave the woman pause as he knew they might. When she spoke, suspicion laced her words like a poison. “Why must we kill him there? There would be fewer witnesses at his house, and less of a chance of our people getting caught.”
“I wish that such a possibility were open to us. But I have only been invited to his house on one occasion. But I know the halls of the Senate as though they were my own heart. I give you my oath that I can get you in without any danger to yourself.”
“Would you swear it in blood?”
“If you promise that you have the capacity. I had hoped for the Duchess herself and for the entire weight of the Sixth Finger. How many do you have aiding you? And are you sure it will be enough?”
“I need only myself. But I assure you that if you only grant me an opportunity, Sextus will be dead and his body will be made an offering to the gods.” The woman smiled a mirthless smile, and lightning flashed within her eyes.
Aurellian could feel each of his hairs beginning to stand on end. He did not doubt her faith in herself. Perhaps she could break the sky if she had the inclination. It was always a dark wonder why people such as her so often got blessed with the Great Gift. But the gods had their reasons.
He said a silent prayer for his soul and for Sextus’ body.
“I would then be happy to give you my oath in blood,” he said. “Shall we use your dagger or mine?”
“Yours. I’ve always wanted to be pierced by a senator’s dagger.”
Aurellian nodded his assent. And from the depths of his robes, he drew a dagger. The hilt gleamed in the firelight. It was pale, far paler than even the greatest of stones mined from the best quarries in the Ignamaen empire. Only the horn of a unicorn foal that had not seen its first winter could shine like that.
He took it in his right hand. And—in a gesture he had practiced many times before—he pierced his palm, letting the blood flow. He did the same to the woman’s outstretched palm. They shook hands, letting their blood mingle. There was a sizzling sound and a burning sensation that one never quite got used to. But neither Aurellian nor the woman broke their grasp. They did not want to face the punishment for what would happen if they faltered.
When Aurellian withdrew his arm, the wound had sealed back up as though it had been cauterized.
“For Ignamaen and her gods”
“For Ignamaen and her gods.”
Sextus finished his speech denouncing the war with the Duvik Princedom. Few would listen. Some would decry him as a traitor. So many already did. Aurellian did not have the tears left to weep for his friend.
Aurellian wished that he could have lent his voice in support, but such was not Aurellia’s lot.
As Sextus left the podium, he had the gall to smile at his friend. Aurellian was unable to return it. He barely had the strength to glance at His attendant Lila and ensure that she would be ushering Cassia into position. All of their hard work had now reached the breaking point.
Sextus left through the Senate chamber doors, shoulders at ease, eyes shining. Aurellian tried to capture that moment within his mind, so that he might hold the pristine image of Sextus forever.
The next man walked up to the podium, but Aurellian could not hear the words that were being said. All he could do was watch the Senate doors. There was one more person who had to play their part, and all the bloody work would be over.
Perhaps he wouldn’t have to see it.
But as yet another man walked up to the podium Aurellian could not help but cast another glance at the Senate doors. If he were too obvious about it, all of his work would be for naught. Blood spilt for duty was riotous; blood spilt pointlessly was blood wasted.
And then he saw Decimus—head of Sextus’ guard—run into the Senate chamber. Panic and tears marred the man’s face. “The noble senator— he’s been attacked. Please, send your guards, send your men. Come to his aid.”
The amphitheater erupted into chaos.
And, against all sense, Aurellian could not help but rush to the door from which Decimus had come. He wanted to see his friend before he passed.
Aurellian arrived too early. He saw them, members of the Senate guard fighting Cassia. The air hummed with energy, and blood stained the ground.
“None of you will kill me,” she said with a voice like gathering thunder, “none of you have the metal, or the mandate. It is not your place to stand for those who would see Ignamaen’s destruction. Fate will not smile upon you.”
One of Sextus’ men stood alone, and he was the only one still standing. He was young, more a boy than anything else, and he held a spear in two shaking hands. But his feet were firm, and he looked ready to die for his senator, even as corpses lay around him. Aurellian wanted to stop the abominable thing right then, but such was not within his power. He had made his oaths—one signed in blood, and another that had truly mattered.
The boy charged, spear-tip pointed towards Cassia’s heart.
“No,” she said.
And then Cassia sang. The stones hummed with power; her feet lifted off the ground. The spear dropped from the boy’s hands as he was slammed to the ground, his body broken on the stone. His body erupted in black flames, all that he was being consumed by some dark power, his very flesh now a gift for bloodthirsty gods.
Fresh men came spilling out from the door behind Aurellian, and he hoped that Cassia would take it as her cue to depart. Her part had finished.
But it seemed that one should not pray to the gods for rain if they were unwilling to bear the storm. Cassia did not flee, and she did not cease in her song. The new men were flung aside, their cries inaudible by the roar of her power. The stone floors were slick with blood; the walls smeared with streaks that shone in the torchlight.
Then the hall began to thrum with new music. This soldier was old and bearded, with a face like one of the gods. His song was low, something felt more than heard. It mixed with the sounds that emerged from Cassia’s lips as everything began to slow. Gold etching spread across every surface, across dead bodies and cracked cobblestones. It seemed as though they had found another with a Great Gift.
Cassia raised her arms and redoubled her singing. Dark fire rained from the ceiling, and every broken thing in the room rose into the air. Aurellian felt himself being lifted. And then all was fury as they were flung at the soldier. Aurellian’s body slammed into a marble column.
For a moment, all was dark and Aurellian wondered if he was with the gods. Then the world returned in fragments. Through blurred vision he saw the old soldier standing at the center of the devastation, feet planted as if grown from the stone itself. The golden etchings that had spread across the hall now converged around him, forming a shimmering bulwark. Every piece of rubble, every corpse and shard that Cassia had hurled rebounded from that unseen wall and clattered uselessly to the ground. Aurellian even noticed thin threads of golden filigree spiderwebbing along his own body, giving him strength, keeping him from death.
The soldier’s song deepened, steady and inexorable, and the chaos bent around him like water around a rock. And Cassia’s song faltered. She looked up at the cracked heavens and whispered, “I have done my duty, o gods above. See that I have done what I had to. Please.” Her voice cracked.
And she then left, leaping out an eastern window. The bloody work was over.
Even as Cassia disappeared the soldier sank to the floor, the golden latices disappearing.
Broken from whatever stupor he had been in, Aurellian staggered over to where he now saw the shattered form of Sextus, not caring for the pain in his shoulder or the burning in his lungs. Perhaps it was selfish to neglect all the others and go to his friend. But Aurellian had already made so many selfish choices; he was the chosen to live.
And so he knelt by the broken body of his friend. Blood painted Sextus’s chest, and shards of glass adorned his side. The largest one pierced his stomach.
But, to Aurellian’s amazement, there was still some life in Sextus’ body, still some rise and fall in his breast.
“Aurellian,” the man choked out, “you made it. The plan has worked, or at least, very nearly.” A gurgling sound arose from Sextus’ throat, and he coughed up yet more blood. “I know that you will see it through.”
“You’re not dead yet.” Aurellian’s voice was barely audible, the words catching in his mouth.
“I know. And I am glad it is to be you and not the witch. It is… far better to die by the hand of a friend and for a noble cause than to perish in any other way.
“Please— don’t make me do this. I’ve already done so much for you and for Ignamaen.”
“Courage, Aurellian.” More blood spilled from Sextus’ lips. “We have crossed a chasm now. One more step and you will be on the other side. So many men have died today; what is one more? Do not let the blood those soldiers spilled go to waste. With what I have done—what we have done—we shall be able to end this war with the Duvik and save the empire.”
“I-”
“Now.” Something flashed within Sextus’ eyes.
Trembling and sobbing, broken and bloody, Aurellian seized the largest shard of glass with both hands. There was a moment when all there was was Aurellian, Sextus, and the shard of glass. And then Sextus was with the gods, a smile now stretching across his lips. Aurellian hoped his friend would be received with honor, into a far better empire than the one he had left.
Sextus had been a good man, and there was no room left for such people.
